About Ghosts

Summer (along with the heat) has arrived, and it's time for a fun beach read. I have one: Ghost Writer.  It is a virtual trip to Laguna Beach, California--complete with a charming and annoying ghost. Here's a little bit about it--and ghosts.

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go bump in the night,

Good Lord, deliver us!

~ Old Cornish Prayer ~

“I don’t believe in ghosts.” This is how Ghost Writer begins. My character, Nan Burton, adamantly insists she doesn’t believe. That is, until she's confronted with the noisy one living in her house.

I, on the other hand, do believe in ghosts. We had one living in our first house. Not a person, however. Ours was a cat.

Shortly after we moved in, I woke up on occasion with the sense of something walking across the foot of our bed. It felt like a small animal. I’d never owned a cat, but this didn’t feel like a dog, so I suspected a beastie of the feline persuasion.

After a couple of months, Larry and I both woke at the same time.

“It’s the strangest thing,” I started. “It felt like a cat has been walking across the bed during the night.”

“I’ve felt it, too,” was his matter-of-fact reply.

“Thank God! I thought I was going crazy.”

We speculated for some time about the cat, but he (or she) continued the nightly rounds.

Several months later, the woman who had grown up in the house stopped by. We showed her what we’d done to the house. She was very complimentary and told us stories about growing up there.

Just before she left, she asked, “Have you seen a cat around?” She went on to describe the cat, including what he like to do and where he liked to hide in the house. She mentioned that he’d patrol the house at night, his route taking him across each of their beds. Unfortunately we had to tell her that we hadn’t seen any animals resembling hers in the neighborhood.

“He disappeared the day my folks were moving. We came back and left food and left our contact information with all the neighbors, but we never found him.”

Her parents were the original owners and had lived there for seventeen years. The house had been on the market nearly a year before we bought it. So, any chance of locating the cat seemed pretty remote by that time.

We assured her that we’d keep an eye out, and she left.

A few weeks later, we realized that we no longer felt the cat walking across the bed.

“I wonder if it was the former owners’ pet. Maybe he was just waiting for them to come back before he could move on,” I told Larry.

“Hmm, maybe.”

A couple of years later, we adopted a stray kitten who appeared on our front porch. Like our ghost, our cat was nocturnal and roamed the house at night. We always kept our bedroom door closed, but in the morning when our daughter opened it, he’d take a stroll across the bed. And it felt just like the ghost cat.

How about you? Do you believe in ghosts? Have you seen any? Felt any? Sensed their presence? I’d like to hear your experiences.

ABOUT A DOG

 

I recently shared about Luanna Rugh’s book, Up in Flames, in which a scarlet macaw plays a major role. She has another with a dog in a central role in Love From the Sea.

Two strangers find a near-drowned puppy buried in seaweed on the beach. They rescue him together and name him Sandy. Amber Winslow wants to keep him. However, pets are not allowed in her apartment. Wyatt Andrews has a home with a kennel, but his hours are not conducive to meeting the injured pup’s schedule requirements for recovery. They decide to compromise. Both will care for Sandy together. Over the weeks and months of Sandy’s recovery, will Amber and Wyatt find love along with their love of the puppy?

In this book, Sandy, the dog, contributes to the narrative from a personal standpoint.

We spent a delightful day at the beach with Luanna’s dog, Gina, shooting photos for the cover.

Not long afterward, Gina passed away. Luanna was delighted that Gina will be forever honored as the cover model for this book.

If you enjoy sweet romance with humor, you will love this book.

LUANNA RUGH was born and raised on a dairy in Central California. She always loved animals, cats and dogs, cows and horses, not to mention the many wild animals living in the area. At ten, she decided she wanted to become a high school biology teacher.

Her family moved to Southern California the year she entered high school. Luanna followed her path in college until the summer of 1966. She worked at a local restaurant where she met the love of her life, Len Rugh. They were married in February of 1967. A year and a half later, Len was drafted and sent to Vietnam where he was critically wounded, but that’s another story.

When Len returned to California, she finished school and earned two teaching credentials in 1984.

At age fifty-seven, she discovered she could write when she co-authored the first of the six books in the Aspen Grove Romance Anthologies. She contributed to all six of them.

After she and Len published their award-winning memoir, Promises Kept: How One Couple’s Love Survived Vietnam, she decided to stretch her wings, and write on her own. She loves writing animals as supporting characters. In Love From the Sea, a dog plays a major role. In Up in Flames, another dog and a scarlet macaw are lead characters.

Her books are available in paperback and Kindle editions. Most are also available as audiobooks.

She hopes you enjoy reading them as much as she loved writing them.

Why I Observe Memorial Day

This is a repeat post from several years ago.it is still relevant. 

Today, we observe Memorial Day. The holiday began three years after the Civil War in 1868 as Decoration Day, a time set aside to decorate the graves of the war dead with flowers. The date of May 30 probably was selected because flowers would be in bloom across the country in the late spring.

The first large observance was held at Arlington National Cemetery. The ceremonies began on the veranda of the Arlington mansion, once the home of Gen. Robert E. Lee. Washington officials, including Gen. and Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant, attended. After speeches, children from the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Orphan Home and members of the Grand Army of the Republic strewed flowers on both Union and Confederate graves as they recited prayers and sang hymns.

By the turn of the twentieth century, ceremonies were held on May 30 throughout the country. After World War I, the day was expanded to honor those who died in all American wars. In 1971, Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday. The date was also changed to the last Monday in May.

So, what does this mean for us?

Some communities hold parades. Local Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts place flags on the graves of veterans in cemeteries. Many cities and communities sponsor concerts and fireworks displays. And some families visit the graves of their relatives and friends.

Both my my father and father-in love served in WWII. Fortunately, neither of them was killed, but they gave years of their lives to the service of their country.

One family member, my grandfather’s brother, Charles Methven, died on October 20, 1917 in Ieper, Belgium during WWI. The family then lived in Canada, and Charles served for Great Britain. He was buried in West Flanders, Belgium near where he fell. He was twenty-three years old.

When I hear Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae’s poem and see the poppies on Memorial Day, I think of Uncle Charles. The poem was written in the same place where Charles died.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place: and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved: and now we lie

In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you, from failing hands, we throw

The torch: be yours to hold it high

If ye break faith with us who die,

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

This year, I will once again remember those, including Charles, who went to war when their country called and who never came home.

This holiday will continue to focus our attention on those who made the ultimate sacrifice so we can enjoy the freedoms we sometimes take for granted. They deserve our eternal gratitude and respect.

ABOUT A BIRD

Luanna Rugh is a close friend. I have edited several of her books. In addition, she participated in all six of the Aspen Grove Romance Anthologies.

Luanna’s stories nearly always include animals—usually dogs. Quite a while ago, she began a story with a scarlet macaw as a principal character. Other projects prevented her from finishing it, but I always loved it—especially the opening.

Up in Flames is a romance with lots of complications.

“Nine—one—one. What is the nature of your emergency?” “Our bird’s stuck in a tall tree.” “Young man, this number is for human emergencies only.” “It is. Honest, lady. My mom was trying to get our macaw down. Now her foot is caught and she’s stuck in the tree, too. I didn’t know what else to do.”

A young widow with a son in a new town, a bird stuck in a tree, an unsympathetic fire captain—how can this lead to romance? Lyanna Thomas and her son, Davey, have moved to Aspen Grove Colorado following her husband’s death. When their macaw, Scarlet, decides to go adventuring, a whole new world opens up for the family.

When our writing group had to stop meeting due to the pandemic, I encouraged Luanna to finish the book, and I did the final edit and formatting.

Larry designed the cover. 

Luanna knows all about macaws and parrots because she has one herself. She totally conveys their behavior. Scarlet is definitely a pivotal character in the book.

If you enjoy romance with a sense of humor, you will love this book.

LUANNA RUGH was born and raised on a dairy in Central California. She always loved animals, cats and dogs, cows and horses, not to mention the many wild animals living in the area. At ten, she decided she wanted to become a high school biology teacher.

Her family moved to Southern California the year she entered high school. Luanna followed her path in college until the summer of 1966. She worked at a local restaurant where she met the love of her life, Len Rugh. They were married in February of 1967. A year and a half later, Len was drafted and sent to Vietnam where he was critically wounded, but that’s another story.

When Len returned to California, she finished school and earned two teaching credentials in 1984.

At age fifty-seven, she discovered she could write when she co-authored the first of the six books in the Aspen Grove Romance Anthologies. She contributed to all six of them.

After she and Len published their award-winning memoir, Promises Kept: How One Couple’s Love Survived Vietnam, she decided to stretch her wings, and write on her own. She loves writing animals as supporting characters. In Love From the Sea, a dog plays a major role. In Up in Flames, another dog and a scarlet macaw are lead characters.

Her books are available in paperback and Kindle editions. Most are also available as audiobooks.

She hopes you enjoy reading them as much as she loved writing them.

A TALE OF TWO CULTURES

I met Carol Van Kirk at church. When she discovered we were authors, she said she had been working on a book for years. I invited her to join Lagunita Writers, our critique group.

She brought chapters of her book, and everyone looked forward to learning more of her story each week. Her writing was outstanding, and she had a compelling story to tell.

Then came the pandemic…

The group stopped meeting, and the majority did not want to continue via Zoom.

I knew Carol was anxious to get her book finished and published. I called her, and we worked on the edit together. When it was ready, she published it.

Her husband, Nick, a graphic artist, produced an amazing cover.

The Yellow Lizard: A Tale of Two Cultures is Carol’s memoir. Written with contributions from her daughter, Allison Langbridge, Carol tells the bittersweet, and often funny, story of sharing the raising of her children between Southern California and Tahiti.

As a recently divorced mom of two teenagers, Carol agreed to paternal visitation rights of every other weekend and a month in the summer for her children. Soon after the marital dust settled, however, Dad moved to the remote island of Moorea in French Polynesia, aka Tahiti.

Thus began summers in Tahiti for these two over-indulged kids. Eventually, Allison graduated from school and settled into a conventional job and lifestyle in California. Her brother Alec, however, fell in love with and married a local vahine, Anne. This bicultural couple launched a vagabond lifestyle between an Island Paradise in the South Pacific and staid Orange County, California, filled with adventures, mostly comical and implausible. When two children arrived, however, they settled into a house in Opunohu Bay on Moorea. Subsequently, Grandma Carol became a regular visitor on this island that many people, including James Michener, have referred to as the most beautiful island in the South Pacific. Over the years, she became familiar with the Tahitian traditions and superstitions, some she embraced, others she found amusing, absurd, and sometimes downright scary.

But when tragedy struck, it was the Tahitians, not her American friends, who brought peace and comfort with their close spiritual connections to nature. Who then, she wonders, are the unsophisticated primitives?

The book includes many photos. I created a video trailer for it (something I rarely do for books I edit).

The book is available on Amazon in print and Kindle versions. I’m sure you will enjoy reading about her adventures in Paradise.

CAROL VAN KIRK is a technical writer and editor, who has written for various publications including alternative healthcare periodicals, trade journals and technical manuals, training manuals and online computer Help systems. She was copy editor three years for the magazine Yerevan, which was circulated internationally.

The Yellow Lizard was written as a project to share her family’s unusual background and history with the younger generation, but it soon grew into a full-fledged memoir. She is currently at work on a book of myths and legends of the Maohi Tahitians. Carol currently lives in southern California with her daughter and great-grandson.

A MOTHER’S HEART

Another book I loved working on was It’s Amazing – She Looks Just Like You: The Story of Sophia and Me, by Dawn Mauro with Carol Ann Mauro.

Dawn always wanted to be a mother, but the husband/partner in the equation never appeared. She tried all the options here in America to become a single parent, but for one reason or another, they did not work out.

By what can only be described as divine intervention, she was led to All God’s Children International (AGCI) in Nepal. She recounts the arduous journey of application, multiple forms, and other requirements—and lots of waiting, expense, and red tape—before she was finally approved for adoption.

So, she and her mother, Carol, set off for Kathmandu, and the adventure of a lifetime. Her determination was tried many times, but she felt God had led her to this place and this orphanage—and this child.

Carol contributes her memories to the book, adding a special dimension. The love of these two women, provided the foundation for the love of this precious child.

In editing the book, I got to know both Carol and Dawn. Their deep love of the orphans of Nepal transcends Sophia’s adoption. Carol; has become a major supporter of the orphanage and is now known as the “godmother” of the children there.

I so loved all the beautiful photos Dawn included in the book that I prepared a video trailer for it. (This is something I rarely do for the books I edit.) 

Their story is a triumph of hope and love. It is inspiring and will leave you with tears of joy. It’s a feel-good read you will truly enjoy.

Sophia just became a teenager, but she continues to inspire. She recently shaved off her long hair in order to make wigs for kids with cancer. You will not regret getting to know this inspiring family.

ON THE WINGS OF FREEDOM

 I recently wrote about my ancestor, William Blackwood, who was a publisher and editor. In the last few years, I have done more editing and publishing than writing. I love helping others achieve their dreams of being published authors. In the next few weeks, I will share with you some of the wonderful books I have been privileged to work on. (I help the writers I work with to self-publish their books so they have total control over them.)

One of these books is On the Wings of Freedom.

I was recommended to first-time author Malanna Carey Henderson as an editor. (These days, most of my editing is done for people on the recommendation of others.)

The book contained a McGuffin—a bird in flight carved out of bone. (McGuffin is a term coined by Alfred Hitchcock for an object that serves as a trigger for the plot. Think of the blackbird statue in The Maltese Falcon.) Strangely, I had one! My dad had sent it to my mom when he was in the service in WWII. It had a letter in its mouth, but Larry assured me he could remove it digitally.

This felt like a sign that I should work on this book. I also liked the theme and plot.

Because we write historical fiction, I was well-aware that readers of the genre will destroy an author in reviews if they get anything wrong. Unfortunately, I discovered quite a few things in this manuscript that were inconsistent for the period. Thank goodness, Malanna was willing to do the necessary research—and rewriting—to make it correct.

During the writing process, I mentioned the carved bird to my daughter. “I have one, too,” she responded.

Shortly afterward, we went to visit her, and she showed it to me. It had been with my mother-in-love’s jewelry. Neither she nor I nor Larry knew whose it was originally. I really loved this one. It was in full flight and precisely the image Malanna had described.

Larry liked it, too and used it for the cover.

When the book was published, my daughter said I could send the original bird to Melanna to be used for whatever purpose she chose. Mine will go to my daughter, and she will know the story behind it.

This is the synopsis of the story:

Born free in New York City, Carrie Bennet is unprepared to hear the family secrets her ailing mother, Sarah, reveals. An educated woman who has led a sheltered life, Carrie travels south to fulfill her mother’s dying wish―to free her grandmother from slavery. Circumstances set her on a perilous path that jeopardizes her freedom and leads to a charge of murder. Fearing she’d never get a fair trial, Carrie travels north on the Underground Railroad and joins Harriet Tubman. As her life hangs in the balance, Carrie fights an unjust judicial system as she struggles to deny a forbidden love.

Malanna Carey Henderson has written and produced ten plays which have been performed in Brooklyn, New York; Culpeper and Fredericksburg, Virginia. For the past two years, she has worked with members of the Friends of the Wilderness Battlefield, Shiloh Baptist New Site, the United Methodist Church, and St. George’s Episcopal Church to produce vignettes under the title: Untold Stories. These vignettes focused on little-known historical events featuring the contributions of African Americans as spies and military heroes to celebrate Black History Month. The one-act plays included To His Excellency George Washington, Camp Casey, It Was a Matter of Pride, Democracy is a Weapon, Secret Codes and The Pension Office.

In 2009, she won first place in the One-Act Play Festival sponsored by Stage Door Productions for The Eclipse. She won a first-place award sponsored by the Tulsa City County Library for A Question of Color.

A native Detroiter, she earned a Masters of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing from City University of New York, Brooklyn Campus and a Bachelor of Arts degree in Liberal Arts from the University of Detroit.

On the Wings of Freedom is her first novel. She lives in Fredericksburg, Virginia with her wonderfully supportive husband.

Malanna as a Civil War reenactor

I hope you will give the book a try. I’m sure you will enjoy it as much as I have!

I will continue to share some of the wonderful, but little-known, books I have been privileged to have worked on.

What We Inherit

I have been interested in genealogy for many years. My grandfather’s Mormon family heritage is pretty well-documented with lots of stories about the Pioneers who helped settle Utah. (My grandfather was one of twenty-three children.)

My dad’s mother was Irish. I traced her side back a couple of generations, but like many Irish-Americans, the early records seem to have been lost.

Larry’s aunt did a great job of documenting his father’s family. She even wrote several articles for a publication in celebration of the centennial of her hometown. His mother’s mother was a Woolworth, but not the rich branch. Their family heritage has been traced back to Charlemagne. Larry laughed at all the European royalty in his tree. But when we had our DNA sequenced, the findings tended to support everything I had found. (He is descended from both leaders of the Battle of Hastings—William the Conqueror and King Harold—and many, many other kings, queens, and other royalty.)

I knew my maternal grandfather’s family was from Methven, Scotland. We visited the town when we were there in 1995. His branch moved to Clyde Bank, a famous shipbuilding city, before they emigrated to Canada and then to the US.

My maternal grandmother claimed that her family was 100% Scottish. I’m sure she didn’t know about her second great-grandmother. I received copies of the family records from her family’s Bible from a cousin on that side some years after my grandmother died. Her great-grandmother was listed as “Grace Smith from County Cork.” I was tickled when I found this, thinking how disturbed Grandma would have been to know this.

I knew her father was a school teacher and a member of the school board. I was proud to know that her family valued education.

I have had a membership in Ancestry.com for many, many years. I’ve uploaded all of the material I received from Larry’s aunt and my Mormon ancestors there, along with the family pictures and stories I have acquired. I have also been able to link to the work of others.

Last week, I got one of the best surprises ever. I discovered that my fifth-great-grandfather on my maternal grandmother’s line was William Blackwood, an editor and publisher. What a fascinating man.

In 1804, he opened a store where he sold old and curious books. From there, he moved into publishing. In 1817, he began to publish Edinburgh Monthly Magazine. It eventually became Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine. His magazine was the first to publish work by an American, an essay by John Neal.

It also published many famous English writers: Joseph Conrad, George Eliot, and E.M. Forster, among others. After William died, various other family members continued the business. It lasted until 1980, when it was amalgamated. (No members of my immediate family were involved.)

For the last twenty years or so, I have not only been an author, but I edited for several independent publishers. Throughout my career, I wrote policies and procedures for every job I ever had. One boss used to plop down in the chair in my office and say, “Make me sound good.” He’d then tell me what he wanted to say in a letter to a vendor. I’d produce a formal business letter to which he attached his signature.

Another company I worked for insisted that a copy of every piece of correspondence—including memos and documentation of phone conversations—be sent to a group called “Presentation.” If there were any errors, the group gave the author feedback. As usual, I created a lot of documentation. One day I had a call from the head of Presentation. “Don’t send me any more of your writing. It’s always right, and I don’t need to take the time to look at it.”

A few years later, I began to ghost write corporate procedures for other company leaders. My phone rang. A laugh was followed by: “I thought I told you not to send me any more of your writing. Even though _____’s name is on this, I recognize your writing.” By this time, we were using word processing. The documents were produced in a separate group from my originals. “I don’t have a choice. They distribute everything.”

Periodically, I’d hear from him whenever I started creating documents from someone new. He just wanted to let me know he still recognized my writing, and we’d laugh.

As an editor, I have been privileged to work on some wonderful books. I’m known as a tough editor because I do both content and line editing. I love doing it, even though I rarely charge enough. The satisfaction of helping someone fulfill their lifelong dream is worth it.

Finding William Blackwood pleased me. I had a sense of connection to him. My love of words, editing, and publishing didn’t come to me from nowhere. Somehow, I had a sense of inheritance—intangible, but nevertheless real.

Do you have any characteristics inherited from your ancestors? What are they, and how do they impact your life today?

My Brother, Ron

Today is Siblings Day. I lost my only sibling, my brother, Ron, on August 31 of last year. He died peacefully in his sleep, for which I am most thankful.

My normal way of coping with loss and grief is to write about it, but I was not able to do so. His death was so unexpected, I didn’t have the words for once in my life.

The first month was a nightmare of cleaning out his mobile home. I won’t even try to describe the terrible condition of his place. Several days the temperature neared 120 degrees—without air conditioning. Fires raged nearby, so the smell of smoke permeated the air, and the place itself stank. He hadn’t allowed anyone inside for several years, so even his best friends had no clue as to how awful it was. I wish I had known.

We located his medicines, and it quickly became apparent that he had not been taking them—no doubt contributing to his demise. He was still under a doctor’s care, having undergone prostate surgery several weeks before, so she was able to confirm his heart issues and diabetes.

I was thankful he didn’t suffer for a long time. He would have been a terrible patient and would have done his best to make everyone around him miserable as well.

Among his things, we discovered a spiral notebook filled with his handwriting. I knew what it was because about ten years ago, he told me he had an idea for a story. At the time, I asked him to send me a couple of chapters and said I’d edit them for him. He did so, and the kernel of an idea was a good one. He wanted to describe what life was like growing up in post-WWII Southern California.

I encouraged him to finish the book and promised I’d edit it and get it published. I never heard any more and assumed he had given up the idea. Yet, here was the notebook.

It contained only six pages―more of an outline and not a complete story. It was lacking details and development to bring the story to life. Fortunately, Larry also grew up in the same neighborhood and agreed to work on fleshing out and completing the book. (Ron never told us how he wanted it to end.)

Larry and I completed the book, and it provided the catharsis I needed. Larry designed the cover using an old street sign from our street Ron had acquired many years before. He modified the name to the name of the book. (Ron and I had agreed on the title when he sent the first chapter to me.)

Dominic Drive was published on January 15, 2021. The immediate response was terrific. A number of his friends commented on how they could “hear” Ron saying some of the words. I loved this because in some instances, I wrote them. Our goal was for his voice to be consistent throughout the book, and the comments indicated we had accomplished our goal.

You can read the reviews on Amazon, but some of the ones I received in letters from friends were even more meaningful. Here are a few. (I have removed spoilers.)

This was from my neighbor: “Lorna, I had to tell you how much I enjoyed your brother’s book. I just finished it and cried so hard at [the end. Charlie’s] character was so well developed that I felt close to him. I also enjoyed reading about growing up in a neighborhood much like mine, even though it was in CT. It is wonderful that you and Larry completed it. Ron would be so pleased.”

This was from a friend who is also an author: “Darn you, Lorna. I was supposed to be making dinner, but I couldn’t put the book down. Then I came to [the end] and I sat and ugly cried. What a heartbreaking (but probably predictable for the time period) ending. Now I’m going to the kitchen. Just wanted to let you know.”

A distant cousin in Canada wrote: “Hi Lorna, I just wanted to let you know I read "Dominic Dr." I loved the characters in this book. My own personal enjoyment came from reminiscing about where I was when certain things happened. JFK's assassination, I was 12 and Canada felt the shock and sadness as if he were our President. I was 15 when I went to Disneyland and I kind of felt like the family in the book took me on a tour. I was 17 when many families moved to British Columbia to avoid the draft...Vietnam. I loved the ending of this book. So many stories end and leave you hanging as to what happened with the characters, real or not. I loved reading a proper ending. Thank you sooo much.”

As I was trying to channel his voice in completing the book, I remembered the little boy I grew up with. I created this video about him.

I also created a video for the book.

So, today on Siblings Day, I share my brother with you. RIP, Li’l Bro.

HUGS

Those of you who know me are aware that I am a hugger. Always have been. I discovered a big secret years ago: you can’t give a hug without getting one.

This past year has been very hard on those of us who are affectionate. We are people who need people. And we want to be with them in person.

A year in virtual isolation has been difficult for us.

Larry and I got our second vaccinations several weeks ago. It felt like the beginning of hope. It felt like the promise of being with friends and family again.

From the start, we chose to follow the science. We paid attention to CDC and NIH. guidelines. We listened to Dr. Fauci. We read the studies and papers written by scientists. No personal biases. No opinions. No emotional rants. Just facts.

We also listened to friends who were treated for COVID. We followed their treatment. We followed their therapy post-disease. And we mourned those who did not survive.

At this point, we are willing to be together with fully vaccinated friends and family members for a meal or visit—unmasked.

Yesterday, we celebrated my brother-in-love’s birthday at a local restaurant (Harpoon Henry’s). We sat at a table overlooking the water. We enjoyed a wonderful meal. For an hour or so, life felt more like we had known it pre-pandemic.

Casey and Lucy

Tables were still spaced, and servers were still masked.

Of course, the very best part of the evening was hugging again. It felt far too long since we had done so.

This past year has been the most difficult of my life. Too many deaths (most non-COVID-related). Too many lost friends—dear friends—long-term friends. Too many lost family members.

My brother, Ron Lund

Larry's cousin's wife, Claudia Tedford

And without any way to reach closure.

The usual means (funerals, memorial services, etc.) were not possible. Some may happen at a later date, but meanwhile, the losses accumulate. The pain remains.

For the first time in my life, I began to wake in the night with panic attacks. Often. Larry didn’t sleep well, either. He wanted to be sure to wake so he could touch me and reassure me everything was okay. I was okay.

The promise of some return to a form of normality feels like a breath of fresh air. The renewed hope feels like a new beginning. And the panic attacks have subsided.

Of course, we haven’t reached the point where we go out in public without masks. Many people remain unvaccinated. Some refuse. Some are waiting for their opportunity. But more and more are receiving their shots. And they pose less of a threat to everyone else.

So, I look forward to growing hope. I look forward to spending more time with friends and family. I look forward finding closure for some of the losses of friends and family members.

And I look forward to many more hugs.

How are you feeling? Do you sense growing hope? Do you feel more freedom? Have you also lost friends and family members? Do you need closure? And have you missed hugs?