Yes, I’ve been watching too many crime series lately. My current binge is Jane Seymour’s Harry Wild.

I love a good mystery. Heck, I love a middlin’ one, too. I delight in a chance for our sleuth to wander through a crime scene, pick up details no one else sees, then head off to track down more clues to unravel the mystery. So, let’s have some fun today.

You’re the detective. The body’s already been removed. You have an outline and a few evidence markers around it. How about you tell me a story about who you are, who is with you, and what you see (make up all the details!)? Where’s this taking place? Man or woman? Indoors, outdoors? Is it an establishment? Have fun with it!

Comment with your little story (doesn’t have to be fun or clever!) or list of clues for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card! 

I have a huge To Do List today. I have work to finish for another author, a myriad of chores to complete, and I need to pack for my trip. Since packing is on my mind, and I couldn’t think of anything else to load my puzzle with, that’s today’s theme! Yay for you, right?

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, what would you add to your packing list? I can already think of one I left off—my laptop!

Today, I had planned to talk about my newest children’s picture book I released in May… just in time for Summer and all the adorable flamingo goodies that are out there. Here is the Amazon link if you’re interested: https://www.amazon.com/Floria-Finds-Flavor-Tippi-Hickey/dp/B0F7FTR24P/

But what I really want to talk about—what’s been weighing heavily on my mind and heart these past several months—is family, family memories, and family history. And my seeming lack of.

Last December, my unmarried aunt passed away. I had been her POA the last several years as her health declined, taking care of the details so she could enjoy her final years living in the house her mother had built, surrounded by her beloved collections, and out in the quiet solitude of her rural home away from people. Then my task of settling her estate commenced. A huge part of that meant going through her house. The house my grandmother built just before I was born (so, just a few years ago 😜 ), which was large enough to tuck things away and forget about them.

I’ve unearthed three-plus generations’ worth of stuff while going through my aunt’s house. Framed photos, diaries, photo albums, Christmas and birthday and 50^th wedding anniversary cards and letters from people I never heard mentioned. Land deeds dating back to the late 1800s and even as early as 1810. The occasional random “momentos” such as Red Robin coupons from 2015 and canceled checks from the 1980s, in chronological order. But also the sketches of horses my aunt had drawn in high school, her binder of poems she’d written on work stationery, and “while you were out” notepads. My father’s baby clothes. And the Army decorations my grandfather, who passed away when my dad was headed to college, had earned as a Captain during WWII.

I’ve spent the past half year discovering my family and some of its history. And I’m bitter.

I’m going through the keepsakes and memories of people I never really knew. Many I didn’t know because they were long gone by the time I was born and no one talked to me about them. Or maybe I was too immature growing up to listen. But these are all strangers to me, even my aunt to an extent. This is a rich heritage no one ever felt was important enough to ensure the knowledge was passed along to me so I can pass it along to my own children. These are pictures of strangers.

Maybe it stemmed from the pragmatic attitude of being farmers. Maybe it stemmed from my grandmother being widowed and struggling as a single mother in the 1960s. Maybe it’s my own fault for not appreciating history until these past several years, when it was too late to ask anyone.

Whatever the case, I might as well be going through an antique flea market, for the emotional attachment I have with these items. And that’s sad; these treasurers should spark more than a simple “wow, that’s so interesting” from me. These people, their story, the items that were important enough to store for decades (but not important enough to store so that vermin and water wouldn’t ruin them), this heritage… most of it will fade away like a morning mist once I’m gone because I don’t have more than a smattering of family knowledge to pass along.

Fortunately, there are a couple of cousins who have more historical knowledge than me, and they are invested in documenting a lot of it. In fact, I’ve learned more about my own family from a couple days with them than I’d accumulated over a lifetime. Unfortunately, my own children are teens, and not at all interested in learning about family history. Hmmmm, sounds a lot like me when I was their age.

I urge you, if you haven’t already, to document your family history and share the stories and the people. Repeatedly. If we don’t know our roots, how can we truly grow?

Since I didn’t really talk about a book, I’ll give away a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly-chosen person who comments.

I didn’t post the puzzle-contest yesterday, so I’m adding it to my weekly Report Card! I have tons of excuses, but they all add up to me being extremely lazy yesterday. I couldn’t be bothered to post. I slept late, swam long, and watched a Chinese reel about a woman who was a goddess and didn’t know it. Perfect day, actually.

Puzzle-Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then let me know what content you enjoy on my blog. What catches your eye? What contests are fun for you? Do you like the puzzles? The visitors? Glimpses of my personal life?

Enjoy today’s puzzle! It’s of the now-11-year-old being her not-so-angelic self when she was little. ~DD

Report Card

Last week…

1. I continued working on edits for two authors.
2. I’ll continued reading entries for the Burn: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology!
3. I had my every-three-week infusion on Monday and was hit hard with fatigue and other unpleasant side effects for the following three days. (I’m feeling better today!)
4. I swam every day, at least once!
5. I didn’t paint a thing. *sigh* And I only have one more piece to complete to finish up #the100dayproject.

This next week…

1. I’ll complete edits of a manuscript for another author and continue working on another author’s story.
2. I’ll continue reading the Burn: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology entries!
3. I’ll get some chores out of the way—laundry, packing—in preparation for my trip to visit my sister this week!
4. I’ll pre-post blogs for the days I’ll be on trip so you have some fun things to read/do while I’m away from my desk!
5. I’ll (hopefully) paint my last piece for #the100dayproject.
6. I’ll swim every day the weather cooperates!

Open Contests

Be sure to check out these posts and enter to win the prizes that are still up for grabs:

1. What are your favorite romance tropes? (Contest) — Last day to enter! Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Gabbi Grey: Jane Austen as a Muse for Queer Romances (Contest) — This one ends soon! Win two eBooks and an audio book!
3. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: What are they doing? — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
4. Gabbi Grey: Rucking Yet Again?!?! (Contest) — Win a FREE book!
5. Sliding Puzzle: A visit to the apothecary… (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
6. Story Cubes — Tell Me a Story (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
7. Health Update & a Trip News (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
8. Anna Taylor Sweringen/Michal Scott: Jessie Redmon Fauset — Mother of the Harlem Renaissance (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

Langston Hughes wrote this about Jesse Redmon Fauset in his memoir, The Big Sea, “Jessie Fauset at The Crisis, Charles Johnson at Opportunity, and Alain Locke in Washington were the three people who midwifed the so-called New Negro literature into being.”

As I learned more about Ms. Fauset for this blogpost, I believe mother is a more accurate title for Jesse since she was the first to publish the work of many Harlem Renaissance luminaries, including Hughes, and literally gave birth to their careers.

She was born Jessie Redmon Fauset on April 27, 1882, near Camden, New Jersey, the seventh child of Rev. Redmon and Mrs. Annie Fauset. She grew up in Philadelphia and graduated valedictorian from the Philadelphia High School for Girls. The school’s valedictorians traditionally received scholarships to Bryn Mawr, but Bryn Mawr president, M. Cary Thomas, raised money for Fauset to attend Cornell University instead.

In addition to her degree in classical languages from Cornell University in 1905, Fauset received a Master’s degree in French from the University of Pennsylvania (1919). She also spent summers studying at the Sorbonne in Paris.

Until 2004, she had been mistakenly cited as the first black woman accepted into the Phi Beta Kappa society. That honor belonged to Mary Annette Anderson, the subject of my June blog post.

Fauset became a teacher at M Street High School in Washington, D.C., which was renamed in 1916 to Dunbar High School in honor of poet Paul Laurence Dunbar. In 1912, she began contributing poetry, short stories, reviews, translations, and essays to the NAACP’s magazine, The Crisis.

In 1919, W.E.B. Du Bois offered her the position of literary editor, where she worked until 1926. She introduced new talents and especially championed the works of women like Zora Neale Hurston, Nella Larson, and Alice Dunbar-Nelson.

Fauset was also the editor and co-author of the African American children’s magazine The Brownies’ Book from 1920 to 1921 where “children of the sun” could learn to appreciate their heritage.

Disgusted by white authors’ stereotypical depictions of African American life, she published four novels that offered authentic portrayals of the black middle class’s experience: There Is Confusion (1924), Plum Bun (1928), The Chinaberry Tree (1931), and Comedy, American Style (1933).  

Once she left The Crisis she taught in New York City public schools from 1926 until 1944. In 1929, she married businessman Herbert Harris and remained so until his death in 1958. She then returned to Philadelphia, where she died from heart disease on April 30, 1961.

A portrait of Jesse painted by Laura Wheeling Waring (subject of my May blog post) is on view at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C.

For a fascinating look at Redmon’s life and times in Harlem, read Victoria Christopher Murray’s historical novel Harlem Rhapsody.

I continue to stand in awe of women like Jessie Redmon Fauset. I hope one day to leave a legacy that inspires others the way her example inspires me.

Contest: For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts on Jesse and women like her in the comments.

“The Patience of Unanswered Prayer”
by Michal Scott in Cowboys

Kidnapped and destined to be another victim of Reconstruction-era violence, a feisty shop owner is rescued by a trail boss whose dark secret might save them both.

Buylink: https://amzn.to/3zfDpo2

Excerpt:

So, this was how one got to heaven, in the arms of a beautiful black angel. Or was it Jesus himself? Eleanor had made a game of memorizing images of blackness from the Bible. A description from the Book of Revelation surged to the fore.

And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters…His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire.

This had to be heaven. Where else would she find a fine Black man with hair like wool – not white but black shot through with threads of gray and silver – with wonderfully hairy arms to be her cushion? She’d never experienced the ecstasy now ablaze between her thighs on earth.

This had to be heaven.

A different kind of fire burned along her shoulder. She hissed against the pain.

Pain in heaven? Perhaps the transition from the earthly to the heavenly came with pain at first. Like having a tooth pulled. Ache and pang overwhelmed until a peace settled.

Like the peace of surrendering to the patience of unanswered prayer.

I’m a little muzzy-headed this morning. I woke at 1:30 AM and didn’t get back into bed until 5:30 and was up again at 7:00. I took a pain pill when I got up the first time, a nice hydro because I was generally achy, and my back in particular was making it hard to rest comfortably. It happens. I guess it could’ve happened without the Big C, too, but I like to blame the bitch anyway. 🙂

So, I’m sitting at my desk, feeling woozy, weaving a little in my chair because the hydro lingers. Not a bad feeling. I’m just wondering if I’m going to regret trying to write this post while I’m high. So forgive any typos…or anything else I write. HaHa!

This past Monday, I had my every-three-weeks immunotherapy infusion. It happened to fall on the day I had to take my Lenvima targeted chemo pills, too. While I’ve been doing well with the every-other-day pills (a general lessening of the fatigue and diarrhea), having the Keytruda infusion and the Lenvima pills on the same day walloped me. The next few days, I had to stay very, very close to the bathroom. TMI—I know. I have never had problems with my bowels before all this started. I was disgustingly regular. These days, I have to think on the daily, do I need to take an Imodium pill, and if I head out anyplace, should I be wearing Depends? Gah.

Anyway, I met with my oncologist on Monday, and he said to keep to the every other day schedule until he has a chance to see my lab work. I’m fine with that. It’s…manageable, and needs to be next week because…

I’m taking a trip! I haven’t traveled other than trips to the big city for surgeries or appointments since I was diagnosed (with Stage IV endometrial cancer, if you weren’t aware) last year. I’m not going that far. Five of my family members, including me, are heading to North Arkansas to spend five days at my sister’s place (sis is author Elle James). It’s about a four and a half-hour drive—it will be an Imodium-proofed/Depends day while on the road for sure, for me). Again, TMI, I know, I know, but I promised you all I’d always be real.

My daughter has restaurants already picked out for us to try. We live in a restaurant desert—several Mexican restaurants, one Italian, assorted burger joints, a Cracker Barrel, and another that makes good catfish—but my sister’s city boasts a bunch of ethnic restaurants, so we’ll be trying out a Lebanese place, a Korean place, a retro pizza joint with free, vintage pinball machines (for my SIL, who suffers through our food choices) and the like. We’ll also be hitting the flea markets/antique shops, because that’s our jam. She’s planning on shopping sprees and restaurant meals for late morning through mid-afternoon because she knows my energy lags and wants me home so I can wander off to bed for afternoon naps if I need them.

I’m not going to feel guilty about how everyone’s schedule is going to revolve around me and my energy/health limitations. They can head off for an evening if they want. I just want a change of scenery and to visit with my sister, anyway. At this point, I can’t imagine going on a cruise or flying anywhere. The “logistics” would be mind-bobbling.

In the meantime, my pool is crystal clear and temperature perfect for morning and early evening swims. I try to get in twice a day. My sister has a pool, too, so I won’t be missing my exercise. 🙂

Well, sorry for the boring post, but this was what was on my mind. I’m really looking forward to the trip. It may not be to some far-flung destination, but it will make me feel like I’m back “out there.” And I love road trips with the family. My SIL isn’t an “enjoy the journey” kind of traveler, but my girls and I are. We’ll probably drive him nuts with our sing-alongs, and “Ooh! Check out that sign—should we stop to have a look around?” Journey, not destination!

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me whether you make the most of the journey or are single-minded about getting to your destination when you travel!

Let’s play!

I bought this little brainstorming tool years ago at a writers’ conference. “Story Cubes” is a brainstorming game. You roll the dice, and whatever pictures appear face-up are the ones you use to riff off a story.

You can try to include all the cubes in your “story” or choose a few. The story you tell doesn’t have to be long or even any good. They all count!

To make this fun, I’ll offer a prize—a $5 Amazon gift card—good for purchasing one or two stories…
Have fun with this! Don’t overthink! Here’s the roll…