My Mother’s Slippers

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My Mother’s Slippers by Debra H. Goldstein (This is a reprint that I like to run every November – but even after ten years, I still haven’t gone through all the slippers)

At this time of year, I think about my mother. She was a driving force in my life until her unexpected death in 2014. There are still times when I want to pick up the phone and share good news with her or ask for her advice, but I can’t. What I can do is keep a part of her with me – her slippers.

Not the pair she wore, but one of twenty or thirty pairs of the identical slippers that she hoarded. My mother was an atypical hoarder. Everything in her house was always perfectly in place and her kitchen floor was so clean that one could eat off of it. Newspapers and magazines were thrown out once read; finished books, except for ones I wrote, were loaned to friends, or donated; and clothes were stylish but took up no more than a closet.

Her hoarding fetish involved shoes. She loved them. Because she had a hard to fit foot (super narrow and only a six or six and one-half), if she found a pair of shoes to fit, she bought them — in every color. If she found something she loved was going to be discontinued, she stocked up on them. The thing about my mother was that she wore all of those shoes. Each one matched an outfit or a mood and while she kept them carefully boxed on shelves in her closet, she believed in wearing and enjoying them.

After she died, my sister and I relished the memory of her cute outfits and her shoes. I was only saddened by the fact that while we had the same shoe size, our feet were just different enough that the last that fit her didn’t work for me. What did work were her slippers. She had found a pair of step-in flower-patterned slippers that she loved because they were narrow enough to stay on and soft enough not to rub her foot. She wore that particular brand for years and when she discovered they were being discontinued, she bought up every pair she could find. When she passed away, there were twenty plus pairs that had never been worn. I tried one on and they were perfect. Although I didn’t take them all, I brought several pairs home with me. Seven years later, morning or night, I think of my mother as I step into a pair of her slippers. The wonderful thing is that I know she will still be with me for years to come because of the ones I have yet to begin using.

Do you have anything passed down from a parent that reminds you of them regularly or that you have that may give someone continuing memories of you?

Differences in People and Writing Styles

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Differences in People and Writing Styles by Debra H. Goldstein

Recently, I flew to Denver for a very special reason: to meet my newest grandson. Because of my March back surgeries, I couldn’t be there within twenty-four hours of his birth. Instead, I had to settle for a few days shy of him being two months old. It was a treat for several reasons. He’s a very easy and seemingly happy child. He eats, sleeps, cuddles, smiles, and loves bathtime. What more could his parents ask?

Well, they wouldn’t mind getting a little more sleep themselves – not because of him but because of his twenty-month-old sister who has decided that rather than sleeping to seven or seven-thirty, wake up time is somewhere between four-thirty and five. She also isn’t too thrilled with naptime which makes for a grumpy over-tired child by dinner time. Did I mention that she is, and has always been, a finicky eater? Or, that she has always had a mind of her own. For example, she refused to roll over well beyond when she should have been doing that; however, she proved at the same time she could sit up perfectly (which proved she had core control and was simply refusing to roll). If she wasn’t so cute, she’d be a frustrating child.

What’s my point? These two are siblings. They were born from the same parents into an identical environment and yet, they are so different. Writers are much the same. They all start out wanting to write, but their works are like night and day. Even if they write in the same genre, whether mystery or literary, their books and stories are unique. Some writers may try to copy the style of other authors they admire, but the reality is that the end product always differs.

Aren’t you glad? What would it be like if people and authors were all cut from the same cookie-cutter?

June is Here – And I’m Excited!

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June is Here – And I’m Excited! by Debra H Goldstein

In the musical, Carousel, the character, Nettie Fowler sings the song, “June is Bustin’ Out All Over,” while preparing for a clambake. The lyrics address the excitement that the month of June, in contrast to March, April, and May, offers in terms of summer, nature, and love.

On a personal note, which I don’t normally address except in my monthly newsletter, post two back surgeries, March, April, and May, for me were like the song: storms, simply passing by, and then tentative promises. June, though, is offering me new opportunities.

In terms of writing, there are new short stories being published – including “You Can’t Kill the Cat” in Love Comes First, Then Comes Murder; new experiences (finally seeing the grandson who just celebrated his first month of life); continued physical therapy (but the walker and cane are gone); a return to social circulation (lunch, dinner,and whatever); and, finally, once again, embracing my love of writing.

It’s nice to be back. Can’t wait to announce some of the wonderful things that are going to happen in June. Stay tuned!

If you want to get a head start knowing what’s going on, sign up for my newsletter via my website (https://www.DebraHGoldstein.com). If you like, while you are on the website, you can even get a free copy of the cookbook that Kensington created for the Sarah Blair series: Simple Recipes for the Sometimes Sleuth.

Thanks to the Fire Department!

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Thanks to the Fire Department! by Debra H. Goldstein

The Irondale Fire Department – four strong and a truck – just left my street. The four firefighters previously had been in my home. They weren’t there because of a fire. Rather, as a community service, they’d responded to my request for help with an upstairs beeping alarm.

As many of you know, I’m recovering well from back surgery, but I’m not quite at the point that I can scramble up ladders to change the batteries in smoke or carbon monoxide detectors. A friend had tried to help me determine which of the two was the beeper, but she not only couldn’t ascertain the culprit, but she wasn’t able to figure out how to open either of them. Not being able to maneuver the steps, I was no help to her.

At that moment, while the chirping continued, I remembered reading that the fire department would help in a situation like the one I found myself in. I called the non-emergency number and explained my situation. Once they learned I had the batteries necessary for replacement, they asked if right now was a good time for them to come out to help me.

Yes!

They arrived. While two went upstairs to determine the problematic alarm, one carried in a small ladder, and one kept me company downstairs. They quickly resolved the chirp, then waived off my thanks for their help. To them, it was all in a day’s work. To me, it was lifesaving or should I say sanity saving after two days of chirping.

When they pulled away, two neighbors, fearing I had fallen, texted to see if I was okay. I replied that I was more than okay. My problem was solved, and I was feeling grateful.

I have the same feeling when I interact with other writers. Whether we brainstorm, listen to each other’s tales of woe about our writing, or lament about something that has broken in our home that has distracted us from writing, we come through for each other. For that I am grateful.

Have you had a situation where a community service, like that provided by the fire department, or a personal connection with another author, has made you feel grateful?

Beginning of the Year and I’m Already Tired

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Beginning of the Year and I’m Already Tired by Debra H. Goldstein

It’s the beginning of 2024, and I’m already tired. How can that be? Aren’t we all supposed to feel invigorated and energetic when the calendar turns over? Theoretically, the old year is fading away and it’s a time of new beginnings, resolutions, and self-promises. But I’m tired.

Or, is it that I’m questioning what 2024 will bring? There’s a saying attributed to John Lennon, among others, that “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” With some book proposals out, short stories accepted but not yet published, I’m at a loss for my next project. One part of me wants to write something new, another to revise and update a book I wrote during NaNoWriMo years ago (it had good ideas, but wasn’t ready for prime time), and a third to simply sit back and see what happens. Unfortunately, the last option won’t produce anything for a future pipeline.

But does that matter?

My instinct as a Type-A goal-oriented person is to say “Yes, it matters!” Then, I think how nice it would be to simply glide on a cloud and let things happen. Can I do it? Although I’d love to, I’m honest. The answer is “No.” Stay tuned and together we’ll see what transpires in 2024. Maybe I’m not as tired as I thought. Are you?