I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), Miracle of the
Concrete Jesus & Other Stories, and several Kindle ebooks.
My mommy went to the Read Local event at the Salem Museum a week ago where she and a bunch of other people were selling their books. (You might remember that I have helped Mommy promote her books before, but she didn't take me with her to help. Which was fine with me because being outside scares me. But that's another story.) Here is what her table looked like:
Anyhow, she came home with a book just for me! It is a book about a rescue kitty. See— it's called Cat's Tale of a Rescued Kitty! A cat named TC Eichelman wrote it.
I was a rescue kitty myself. Mommy rescued me in 2015, and you can read about it in this blog-post: "Refugee Kitty." She also also rescued a bunch of other cats besides me—Olivia (Chloe and Jim-Bob's mama) in 2009 ("A Cat Tale"), Tanner ("Latest Addition") in 2013, and Alfreda ("November SOTK") last fall—and a lot of others, too. Since so many of us in the household are rescue kitties, stories about rescue cats interest me.
I liked it that the cat on the cover is a tuxedo cat just like me. I think tuxedo cats are the best! In his book, TC told about he was thrown out of a car window and how he was rescued. He went on to have a good life (just like I did!). I like books where kitties have happy endings.
Like me, TC doesn't like to go outside and he likes boxes. Like me, he also has some toys he likes to play with. However, he doesn't live with any other cats the way I do, so he didn't have another cat raise him like Tanner did me. Like me, I don't think he remembers where he came from (Tanner once tried to tell me about where I came from in this blog-post: "Arlo's Origin." Tanner could probably have wrote that as a book, but he is kind of lazy and prefers to hi-jack Mommy's blog instead.)
Anyhow, I really enjoyed reading TC's story, but I hadn't quite finished when Tanner and Chloe decided they wanted to read it. So they took it with them, and I will have to sneak it back when they aren't looking.
If you have a kitty who wants something to read, you might get him this book. TC's mommy and daddy want to make people aware that rescuing cats is a good idea, and this book might help.
And, if you are interested, you can see pictures from the Read Local event at Mommy's friend's Blue Country Magic blog.
I've always liked a good ghost story—especially if it's a true one. Last year, I self-published a novel, Them That Go, which had several ghost stories in it, including a true one: the Greenbrier ghost.
In one scene, a high school student relates the story of the Greenbrier ghost to her English class. If you're not familiar with the story, there are several versions of it online, and even a couple of videos. Here's one that summarizes the story:
In a chapter of Them That Go, the English class has been studying Hamlet, in which the ghost of Hamlet's father tells Hamlet about how he was murdered. The teacher asks if the students have heard any ghost stories, and—on pages 99-100— this is what Lizzie says her aunt told her:
“Well, Aunt Sarah said back in the 1890s a woman
named Zona married a good-looking stranger who come to town. He worked as a
blacksmith, so he was real strong. But he was real mean, too, and Zona’s mama
didn’t much like him. One winter day, the blacksmith sent a boy to his house
for some reason or other, and the boy found Zona dead at the foot of the steps.
The boy run back and told everybody, and the doctor was fetched to see about
Zona. But the blacksmith got there before the doctor and was carrying on
something awful about his wife being dead. He’d even took her and put her to
bed and had her all cleaned up and dressed, even though other womenfolk are
supposed to do that for a woman, not the husband.”
Several girls nodded. Likely they had witnessed
some home burials. A lot of folks in the county can’t afford a funeral home and
have to make do the old way.
“Anyhow, the doctor didn’t get to examine her real
good, what with the blacksmith carrying on and crying and hanging onto her.
When somebody rode out to fetch Zona’s mama, she said that no doubt that devil
had done killed her daughter hisself.”
Nobody was saying a word while Lizzie told this.
It wasn’t like some of the boys to be so quiet.
“Well,” Lizzie continued, “next day, they carried Zona
in her coffin out to her parents’ farm to get buried. The blacksmith stuck
pretty tight to that coffin even during the wake. He put a pillow on one side
of her head and a rolled up sheet on the other, which struck her family as odd,
but he said it seemed like to him it made Zona more comfortable, so they didn’t
mess with what he was doing. He tied a scarf around her neck, too, and said it
was her favorite so she ought to be buried with it.
“Right before they closed up the coffin, Zona’s
mama slipped that sheet out of the coffin. After Zona was buried and folks had
left, Zona’s mama washed the sheet but couldn’t get a stain out of it no matter
how hard she tried. She took it as a sign that Zona didn’t die no natural
death.
“Meanwhile, she started to pray that her daughter
would come to her and tell what happened. She prayed and prayed every night for
nigh onto a month until Zona’s ghost appeared and said her husband had got mad
and killed her. He beat her some and choked her and broke her neck.
“Zona’s mama went to a lawyer who listened to what
she said and got the doctor and some deputies to look into what had gone on.
They dug up Zona and examined her real good this time.” Lizzie paused to take a
breath. This was the longest I—and likely everyone else—had ever heard her
talk.
“What did they find out?” Susan Collins asked.
“Found out that her neck was indeed broke and her
windpipe was mashed and her neck was bruised up like somebody had got a’holt of
it, so they arrested the blacksmith, and he was tried for murder and sent to
prison. Turns out he’d been married twice before and his second wife had died
mysterious too.
“At least that’s the story my aunt told me,”
Lizzie said. “I thought it’s kind of like in Hamlet. A ghost appears and
tells about a murder.”
* * *
How did I happen to include this particular ghost story in Them That Go? In late summer 2015, when I was midway through Them That Go, I asked on FaceBook if anyone knew of an Appalachian ghost story in which a ghost gave information about his or her own death. A couple of people suggested the Greenbrier Ghost. One was best-selling Appalachian novelist, Sharyn McCrumb, who'd been researching and writing her new novel—a novel, that I was later to learn, based on the Greenbrier ghost.
At the Franklin County Library in spring 2016, when I heard her speak about her then-new novel, Prayers the Devil Answers, Sharyn gave a bit of a preview of her next book: The Unquiet Grave. When it comes out in September 2017, the cover will look like this:
Meanwhile, I just finished reading an advance reader copy that her publicist sent me.
I'll do an "official review" on this blog in August, but I can tell you now that I really enjoyed the book. Even though I was familiar the basics of the story, Sharyn McCrumb's novelization of what happened in Greenbrier County back in the 1890s was compelling. It kept me reading way past my bedtime two nights running.
I always enjoy a good ghost story, and The Unquiet Grave was indeed a good 'un.
For nearly two decades, I've been enjoying Senior Citizen Day at Kroger, when those of us over 55 get a 5% discount every Tuesday. However this senior perk ends next week. A lot of us seniors are angry about this.
I'm angry about something else Kroger does—or doesn't do: make the store where I shop handicapped accessible. Those of us with mobility problems have to use the handicapped buggies. To get to a buggy, I've often had to push aside one or two signs that block easy access. Yesterday, after I'd pushed the signs away, and gotten into a buggy, I remembered I had my camera. You can see that the other end of the buggy row is blocked by a box and a sign:
A lot of aisles were blocked, too. I wanted to go down this one to get some organic sweet potato chips, but there was no way—between the pole and the stacks of boxes—that I could do it.
I thought maybe I could get into the other end of the organic section. But when I tried to make the turn, there wasn't quite enough room.
Finally, by taking a long way around, I got to the other end of the organic aisle. Nope, that was also blocked.
Later, a sales associate did go down the aisle for me, but there weren't any organic sweet potato chips. Meanwhile, I headed for the produce section. Again, there were places where the handicapped buggy wouldn't fit. I couldn't quite make the turn here, and had to back up and take the long way. . . .
. . . only to find the section where I wanted to get mushrooms was blocked.
I went back several minutes later, but the aisle was still blocked. I asked the guy if I could get through, and he pushed the big black cart to the side so I could squeeze through and get the mushrooms. In another part of produce, I had to ask another employee who'd blocked the aisle if he'd hand me a cauliflower, which he did. There was no way I could maneuver the cart close enough to select one myself.
In the meat department, I couldn't get close enough to the case where the bacon was on special. I couldn't even get through what is normally a very wide aisle. Totally blocked! (Do you see any sales associates here? Neither do I.)
At that point, about a third of my journey through the store, I stopped taking pictures, I did encounter several more blocked aisles, though. And there were a few things I didn't buy because I couldn't get to them.
I wonder about all these blocked aisles. Would they be a problem if a fire broke out? Are they just blocked on Senior Citizen Day, or are they blocked at other times? Why is it necessary for so many boxes to be brought out at once? Do all the Kroger stores do this, or is it just the one where I shop?
Anyhow, for those of us who are old and gimpy, these obstacles don't make for a pleasant shopping experience.
I'm a big fan of Appalachian novels—both to read and to write. When I ran across a free Amazon download (free at least for Prime members; 99¢ for others), I figured I'd take a chance. I'm glad I did. I really enjoyed CC Tillery's Whistling Woman.
A plot description is on the back of the paperback version:
The back-cover description covers the basics but hardly does the book justice. It doesn't let the reader know that the book has such a rich texture. I was impressed by the details that make this book truly Appalachian—a sense of place (rural Kentucky setting), time (late 19th century), daily life, the sense of family, traditions, and superstitions.
Some of Whistling Woman echoes my self-published novel, Them That Go, but with a different setting and situation. I'm pretty sure that those who like my book will like this one, too. And there's some "going" in Whistling Woman, too.
While Whistling Woman reads like a novel, it's actually creative non-fiction by sisters Cyndi Tillery Hodges and Christy Tillery French, who use the name CC Tillery to write about the life of their great-aunt Bessie. You can read more about the authors and book here.
Whistling Woman is Book 1 in the "Appalachian Journey" series. The other three books follow later events in Bessie's life: Moonfixer,Beloved Woman, and Wise Woman. The e-books are a good bargain at 99¢ each, but they're also available in paperback.