New EBOOK!

I just sent the following to close friends:I HAVE JUST PUBLISHED MY FIRST KINDLE, MY FIRST HISTORICAL NON-FICTION AT AMAZON. IT WAS NOT AS MUCH FUN AS DOING FICTION BUT i AM PROUD TO HAVE COMPLETED IT.ONLY 70 PAGES LONG BUT BE WARNED IT IS BORING FOR ANYONE WHO IS NOT A HISTORY NUT LIKE MYSELF SO DON'T RUSH TO BUY IT. KEPT ME PREOCCUPIED FOR SEVERAL YEARS BUT AT LAST IT IS OFF MY TO-DO/ BUCKET LIST. SOMETHING I'VE FELT DRIVEN TO DO SINCE MY MOTHER TOOK ME TO SEE "FOREVER AMBER" IN 5TH GRADE (THOSE OF YOU WHO KNEW HER CAN APPRECIATE HER HUMOROUS INAPPROPRIATENESS). IF DESPITE MY WARNING YOU'RE INTERESTED YOU NEED NOT BY A KINDLE TO READ IT. JUST DOWNLOAD THE FREE APP FOR PCs, PHONES, ETC. FROM THEIR WEB PAGE. OH AND THE TITLE IS "BROWN, BEAUTIFUL AND BOLD" BY BRAT MAC ALL. In caps for those like myself who can't appreciate small print.

Unfortunately that leaves me with nothing but unpleasant tasks like tailoring some living room curtains, vacuuming, cleaning the wooden floors and, when I'm hungry enough ('bout once a day), cooking. Brought my lime tree inside for the winter. Actually my youngest grandson did. I was impressed with his strength. Any readers still with me will remember I planted the lime tree from one nicked seed. It is now about seven feet tall. Bloomed timidly last spring/ summer so it should bear fruit next summer. The tree has thorns as big as my thumb but no matter. I only learned it was truly a lime tree when I saw some for sale last year in a local nursery. Until then I wasn't sure I wasn't merely obsessively tending a piece of pollen that fell off a bird wing onto my seedling pot.

Young and the Sea

It’s that time of year again as Irene just reminded us. Have been a hurricane evacuee three times on land with two of those real horror stories but my worst experience with a hurricane came at sea. My parents gave me a cruise to Bermuda for college graduation. The ship left Savannah and everything started out sunny: swimming pool; food every hour; flying fish off the bow and then my favorite the little red dingy Savannah way outside the harbor marking the entry to our port. I was in my element. I loved my first voyage. When not in the pool if you’ve ever seen the movie Titanic you know what I did: stood on the bowsprit and enjoyed the crashing waves – long before Gwyneth was born. I marveled at the sea and sky.
A day later the clouds moved in; white caps whipped up and swells grew larger by the minute. When the weather didn’t improve they emptied the pool and finally told us what we already suspected: we’d run into a hurricane. Apparently, the Captain was the last to know. It was only a decade since WWII and I doubt our young German crew had ever been near a hurricane before. . I was fine as long as I stayed in the open air. If I went inside I felt queasy so I stayed outside and slept in a deck chair. Soon lifelines were strung on deck to hold onto and lots of green looking people joined me on the deck, some leaning over it with gusto. Joyously we made Bermuda and the island and its weather were perfect. Before the return trip began many questioned the Captain before boarding. Even so a passenger from Charleston was unconvinced, swore off cruising for life and took a flight home.
One day out and we met our old nemesis again, only this time it was worse. The troughs of water between the mountainous crests of waves were deeper. We rolled sideward so that you could only see water between the roof and the deck until it rolled the other way and you only saw sky. We pitched and dishes and glasses fell from the racks and broke when the props came out of the water. The whole ship shuddered as if it would shatter each time that happened. At meals the elegant dining was gone as we made do with sparse settings. No big deal since few showed up inside for meals where you had wine OR water OR tea OR a cocktail since there was only one glass per guest allowed. Very sobering!
We safely made it home a day late with many worried but welcoming friends and families with arms awaiting us.

GARAGE STALES

Just received an E-mail from my niece with the subject line: Cleaning out Mom's garage. Nearly needed the late Anne Sanford's (UGA football stadium bears her family's name)Victorian fainting couch but alas it is inside said garage. I thought my niece a brave soul to undertake such. While a columnist in Savannah its staggering contents were one of my favorite subjects which turned the place into a minor Savannah icon. Since I once lived in the house attached to it for about five years she wanted to know if I wished to reserve anything in it. Wow!
I once wrote 500 words in my column about a peach gown originally owned by an aunt but used by everyone in the family, actually the females only... as far as I know, for four decades. It served as the gown for Jeanette in my role in Christopher Frye's The Lady Is Not for Burning; with a hoop my cousin was a southern belle at a UGA fraternity's Old South Ball; and my E-mailing niece wore it in her lead role in Bell, Book and Candle and with a boa the newspaper photographed her in it at the final gala before the razing of the original Hotel DeSoto. That gown hangs among racks of similar vintage clothes including my own wedding gown and veil. My first computer, an Apple given me by my oldest son in the mid-80s; varied paintings I've never finished; a huge life-sized portrait of Ben Hogan which my late PGA brother left in my care because he couldn't chose which of his sons should inherit it (must be a genetic flaw because neither can I); the Sanford couch already mentioned bought from neighbor Anne's estate sale; and endless other such are all in there.
In the end I asked niece to save the Ben Hogan, an unfinished portrait of herself I started and the Apple's Owner's manual (good basic 'How to' for computers). Sent a PS for her to pass on my crabbing net in there to someone in the family as I want be needing it here.

BULL SHARKS and BIG BLUE HERONS

Some left over scraps from the wedding- I was preoccupied that the groom’s family follow the prescription of my mother-in-law who as a Missouri Protestant minister’s wife put together many a wedding in her day. She said the groom’s mother should wear beige (meaning drab and colorless so as not to steal the bride & Co. thunder) and his family should sit still and be quiet. We were doing fine until a nephew and wife decided to seat themselves just as it was time for the father-of-the-bride to begin their entrance. My son, seated on the row with them leaned over and quietly said hello to his cousin whom he had not seen in decades. Nephew demanded, “Who are you?” When son identified himself they stood, shook hands and had old home week causing and amused stir! I apologized to the bride afterwards but she assured me she didn’t even notice. I also was apparently so busy recovering from that so I missed the groom fixated on the Bull shark swimming behind the ceremony as it took place. Apparently there was also a Big Blue heron not frightened from his fishing by the predator. Possibly they’re two pretty good symbols for a young couple starting a new life together (and the rest of humans as well) but let’s not dwell on that.
I finished writing a non-fiction piece of 40,000 words if any non-fiction publishers out there are reading this. It goes like this: one of the most condemned and vilified women of history, presents one of its greatest mysteries. Inspired fiction writers treat her kinder than writers of her earliest alleged non-fiction with the latter’s many self-evident errors. These blunders occurred because factual records like the State Papers of Thurloe and Clarendon, various government Calendars, Letters between rulers and/or administrators, Memoirs, and even Hotten’s Lists were not made public until usually centuries later. Her slanderers, not knowing or caring that reliable contemporaries were recording events which along with advances in science would one day prove their accusations impossible, are “hoisted on their own petard.” Search for her historic truth continues. One need only use a computer’s search engine to find the scandalous details recorded of her. She has been a popular subject and herein is a review of some reportedly non-fiction facts about her. She has inspired more defenders than accusers in the last two centuries and each defender examined the evidence and usually established only one or two new truths regarding her. Now time has established enough accumulated valid evidence at least to sketch her real character.
Heavy work.

HOME AGAIN

Returned Sunday from Skidaway Island off the Georgia coast to chilly weather. Barely 60 degrees F but we expect a warm-up by the weekend. No, this is not going to be another one of my weather reports. Pulled some winter clothes out which I efficiently put away before heading southeast for my grandson’s May 14th wedding.
My son, his wife and I took a rental home at the Landings on Skidaway for the occasion and it was nice to be back in my home area. Sat on the patio at night and listened to the swamp sounds coming from our lagoon. A resident Blue Heron successfully fished ten feet away. Anhinga dived for their dinner and then spread their huge wings to dry in the sun. The rehearsal dinner was at Bonna Bella Mariner, a Savannah landmark and as mariner oriented as the name implies. Had a somewhat formal version of a Frogmore Stew/Dump/Low Country Boil (different names given the same dish depending on which part of the Carolina-Georgia coast it’s held), chicken and accompanying fare. Saw people I had not seen in thirty years and another even before that from the west coast. Took my older sisters and another to lunch in the kitchen at Savannah’s “World famous” (are they sure?) Johnny Harris’. Shared memories with family, friends and enemies equally. Toured my late mother’s old home with its wealth of photographs and art and gave tours of it to all as well. The wedding took place there outdoors facing the east and the Vernon Estuary after a full day of steady rain that stopped an hour before the ceremony. My mandatory grandmother heels sank a bit on every step as one of favorite grandson’s friends from his cradle days escorted me to my seat. The reception followed at a Golf Club on the nearby Landings where I darted between the Peacocke’s family table, my birth family’s table and the bride’s family while watching the dancing expertly coordinated by an emcee imported from Atlanta and designed to entertain onlookers. Fun, exhausting but the change was good for me.

Georgia and Augusta Revisted

Spring, pre-Easter, brings unstable weather particularly in upstate Georgia. Severe thunderstorms rolling through as cold and warm fronts meet progressing to tornado watches and warnings. Sorta like early autumn brings hurricanes to our coast. Have lived through many harrowing experiences with hurricanes but I feel more comfortable, maybe familiar is a better word, with those threats than the uncertainty of a first tornado experience. No lengthy warning time with tornadoes. Monday night was severe weather that almost instantly brought ‘The Night the Lights went out in Georgia.’ We had no power until the next day, minor since six people lost their lives in the area. My battery operated emergency high powered light enabled me to check for any debris (from within the safety of my home) when a nearby transformer exploded and intermittently check for any visible Georgia Power crews. Nothing from either. Got bored with that but noticed an interesting fact in the high beam of my flashlight: my house is filthy everywhere. I don’t see it in the daylight or with my predominant fluorescent lighting so I was shocked. That discovery led me to go out after the storms passed and buy an electric, vacuum broom. My floors are all new within the last two years and I thought those easy, convenient swiffers were keeping them clean. Not so! Hmm… what is my problem that with a storm like that I focus on the cleanliness of my house? The best news is my seemingly forest has reappeared as vast and green as a barrier against a busy intersection. Georgia’s pleasant spring event, The Masters golf tournament began… delaying my usual, already-too-late-at-night Craig Ferguson show. Having spent ten plus years in Augusta I’ve never looked back, not even at Master’s time. Since it was watch The Masters or do something productive, I watched. Made me all nostalgic. The picture of the course may look like a staged production but it really is at least as beautiful as the cameras show. My friends the late Helen and Forest Boshears lived adjoining it and during Masters had a week long Open-House for friends. Their drop-in guests, Southern style, didn’t arrive empty handed so there were always wonderful dishes and liquid refreshments. Their comfortably convenient shelter was welcoming if the weather or tournament play got dreary. Good times! At the Boshears’ you met new people from all over the globe since Forest was in Aviation. Must share Forest’s experience when he, hard of hearing like most aviation pioneers, got a loud radio call at Daniel Airfield in Augusta that he manned, often alone. The call was, “Look outside.” When Forest opened the hangar door from his small office, he gasped at the plane that was inches from the hangar door complete with skid marks. The 747’s pilot had mistaken Daniel Field for the Augusta Airport. No damage or injury but the national media had a field day. Last time I attended a happy event in Augusta it was at the signature Green Jacket the closest establishment on Washington Road to Magnolia Lane. It had sadly gone out of business as its former self and was then a Special Events site.

Ahhh...

A welcome, early and beautiful Spring. I witnessed my first customer at my new personalized birdhouse, a lovely hand-made Christmas gift from family. Know naught about ornithology but it was a small bird with a large caudally curved beak. Actually feasted on the “whatever” food that came in it.
Am having my kitchen redone which means work-men in and out. It began with my son’s gift of painting my two story high foyer that I couldn’t reach. Then I had the 4' x 7' “oriental rug” I spent 19 years painting on duck hung in that space. Guy did a so-so hanging job so my oldest grandson re-hung it. It made the adjoining space look neglected so I painted it a new color of peach (chosen from the many colored “rug”) which everyone offended me by calling pink. So I painted the trim apricot which made it look less pink. Wanted molding which my grandson did a beautiful job on (naturally as he’s perfect). Then I painted the loft room over-viewing the “rug” the darker rose color from it. The paint store salesman warned me when I chose it that it was the hardest color of all to paint regardless of the quality of the manufacturer. He was right though understated. Impossible to paint would have been more accurate. Two and three coats later I hired a painter to do the adjoining alcove as I was exhausted. Now he is.
My grandson and I discussed re-doing the kitchen. His pending May wedding seems to have taken over his life, however, which is understandable. So hired the painter and associate to do the kitchen cabinets and walls in a deep blue (again selected from colors in the “rug”). I don’t care for hardware on my cabinets so they placed curved carvings on the inside lip which won’t show when I open one with flour on my hands. His comment: most people are afraid to use colors the way you do. Pictures to follow.