I gave away my winter coat. It was a long wool coat with generous sleeves, easy to fit over a bulky sweater or blazer. It was a classic style: Notched collar, button front, buttoned bands at the sleeves. It was camel colored. The same color as my dog. Some would call this coat ageless – my mother had one in the 60s. Hers was mohair. Mine was wool.
Having left my job in the business world, I no longer wore my classic camel coat, opting instead for a pack-able down number that I can stuff into my purse when needed. I donated my old coat during the winter coat drive last fall.
I bought the camel coat in 1995 to match our new dog, Millie, a golden retriever mix who shed year-round. My favorite long wool red coat was a magnet for her fur. The camel coat collected her fur too, it just didn’t’ show.
The coat served me well, but I never really loved the color. Tan, in general, washes me out. I prefer a red coat, or purple, or navy, or black – anything other than tan.
Years passed, jobs changed, my husband retired from the military and we stopped moving. It was time for a closet purge. I stripped hangers of glittery formal wear saved for the next military ball. I unclipped my skirt and jacket suits, brushed the dust off the shoulders, catching a whiff of the cologne I used to wear to work at my office job – it seemed like a lifetime ago.
I worked my way to the coats. I pulled two leather jackets, bought for a song when we lived in South Korea, excess raincoats, bought when caught in the rain while traveling, and hip length ‘tween season jackets. The last coat to go into the donation bag was my classic camel coat. I held it up to my body and looked in the mirror. Even though my skin has grown fairer as I’ve aged and my formerly dark brown hair has lightened with streaks of grey, camel still isn’t my color. Into the bag it went.
There were no second thoughts as I pulled the yellow tie cinching the plastic bag closed just as my husband came in. Patting the bag I said, “These can go to the coat drive.”
End of story, right?
Purges are often hard for me. I spent 26 years as a military wife moving every 2-3 years. With each move I gave up neighbors, houses, gardens, and social groups. I lost my dentist, hairdresser, and church community replacing them with new people at the next location. But I had my stuff.
The items I collected were familiar to me in their new surroundings. They helped make my new house feel like home. I became a maximalist collecting anything I loved, saving cards, letters, and love notes, acquiring twenty-eight chairs (the guy from the moving company told me he counted them!) I saved curtains and area rugs – one never knew when they might work in the next house. And I saved coats – after all, we lived in a variety of climates.
Millie, the camel-colored dog, passed away many years ago. I no longer find her fur on my sofa or in my car. I hadn’t worn my classic camel coat in 15 years. It was time to pass it on.
No regrets, right?
Well, no immediate regrets anyway, until I attended a nephew’s wedding on a cold day in January. I watched two young women come into the church together. They were the spouses of two of my other nephews who were groomsmen.
I enjoy being around 20 somethings. It’s fun to notice the styles they wear and hear the language they use. That day both women where dressed in tea length floral dresses. Trendy, I thought. Over their pretty dresses they were both wearing coats. Classic camel coats.What? Wait a minute – is the classic camel coat popular with young women? Did I give away my coat 2 months too soon? I felt a twinge of regret.
The January wedding was the beginning of an informal study. I began seeing classic camel coats everywhere! I saw young women in airports, bookstores, at the grocery market, even at the gas station wearing classic camel coats. The styling didn’t differ much from coat to coat although the length varied from hip length to mid-calf (like mine). One thing was certain, the classic camel coat was trending.
A few weeks ago, when a frigid polar vortex hung over Kansas, I thought about my donated coat. I’m always hopeful that my donated coats are keeping someone warm, but this year was different. I hoped that my coat was snatched up by a young woman on a budget, delighted in finding such a stylish coat.
I’m over the regret. At least I think I am, until I counted five sightings in one hour at the Kansas City Airport this morning.
Do you own a classic camel coat? If so, did you know you’re trending?
Barbara J. Eikmeier is a quilter, writer, student of quilt history, and lover of small-town America. Raised on a dairy farm in California, she enjoys placing her characters in rural communities.
Clicking Our Heels – Our Writing Kryptonites
/in Author Life, Clicking Our Heels, Writing and the Arts/by DebraClicking Our Heels – Our Writing Kryptonites
Everyone thinks of writers as being focused and driven to write a specific number of words a day. The truth is writers can be distracted. Here are some of the things that make it difficult for each of us to write.
Bethany Maines – Interesting conversations happening in my vicinity (even when I don’t know the people involved).
Mary Lee Ashford (1/2 of Sparkle Abbey) – Wow, just one. There are so many distractions! I’m generally pretty good at pushing aside the noise and focusing, but family worries make it impossible and any looming deadlines in other areas of my life make focusing difficult.
Debra Sennefelder – Connie, my Shih Tzu. She’s always looking for a play session.
Donnell Ann Bell – During 2022 and 23, I was traveling back and forth a great deal to take care of my mom. Kryptonite was an apt term when you’re afraid to start anything because you’re likely to be called away at any minute. (Mindset was a problem). Mom passed November 2023 and just as I was outlining where I left off in working title Manhunt, my social media account was hacked. I am on the verge of getting that resolved, I think, but it’s been a process. It’s hard to write when worry consumes you.
Anita Carter (1/2 of Sparkle Abbey) – I cannot write if someone is standing behind me, or watching me. That’s the worst!
Gay Yellen – What can throw me off is distressing news, or often, real life obligations, some of which are not only necessary, but also enriching.
Lynn McPherson/Sydney Leigh – Dog eyes. When my dog stares at me waiting to play, eat, or walk. Not that she ever lacks any of the above LOL.
Debra H. Goldstein – Almost anything. Unless I’m feeling motivated or under a time deadline, I’m not very disciplined.
Lois Winston – {{{Stress!!!}}}
T.K. Thorne – I fall down multiple rabbit holes trying stay up with email and the news. There is so much going on in the world, it’s difficult to focus.
Dru Ann Love – Coming up with an idea or plot.
Saralyn Richard – House guests!
Barbara J. Eikmeier – My dog bumping my arm for attention while I’m typing.
FOUND OBJECTS: FODDER FOR YOUR IMAGINATION
/in author promotion, Ideas, Mystery, Novels, Susan P. Baker, Suspense, Uncategorized/by Susan P. BakerFor over 35 years, I’ve been writing, attending conferences and workshops, and making appearances. Like other authors, I’ve often been asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” (Even this morning at a coffee!)
With my background as a probation officer, attorney, politician, and judge (plus having worked s**t jobs over the 9 ½ years it took me to get my B.S.), in addition to being a wife, mother, daughter, aunt, grandmother, and having traveled around the world and lived in several states and countries and being a voracious reader—reading even the backs of cereal boxes and graffiti in public restrooms, I have no shortage of ideas. However, I have an additional resource I’d like to share: Found Objects.
I own a former fruitcake tin in which I keep found objects (except money, which I spend) unless the item is too big to fit inside. When I stumble upon something, my imagination takes off as I scurry to my Found Objects’ Tin to enhance my collection.
Once in the stall of a casino ladies’ room, I spotted a money wrapper on top of the toilet paper container. As a ex-bank teller, I knew money wrappers should not be in the same location as toilet paper since they aren’t used for the same purpose. Why was the wrapper there? Who left it? Should I tell the casino manager? Was someone embezzling money and going to head off down the road like Janet Leigh in Psycho?
One time at a conference, I found a slip of paper on which someone had written “Joe Loves me” “Joe Loves me Not” “Joe Lo”
For years I’ve been wondering whether or not Joe loved her (or him). Was she/he at the same conference? Was Joe there? Is she/he married? Is Joe? Are they going to run away together? Maybe she’d been in Las Vegas and embezzled money and was questioning whether or not to flee with Joe? (Maybe she’d seen Psycho).
When my backyard was being prepared for landscaping, I found an earring. My house once belonged to a “mafia” family. Could there be a body below ground? Should I dig?
What about the love letter where a man named Richard apologizes to Phyl for leaving her for a few days while he sorts out his problems. What are his problems? Who is Phyl? For that matter, who is Richard? Does she really occupy all his thoughts as he states in the letter? Or is he thinking about going surfing with his friends while she takes care of the puppy he brought her as a peace offering?
Who in my neighborhood played tennis and lost a tennis ball in my yard? Or was the ball evidence of something? What about the teaspoon I found half buried in the dirt? And a key that could be from a stolen jewelry box? Did the person who dropped the grocery list remember everything she needed to purchase in order to create the perfect meal for her new mother-in-law? Was the skeleton earring part of a costume someone was wearing to a Halloween Ball? Was the inmate letter dropped by the intended recipient, or was it supposed to be trash?
My sister-in-law recently found a drone in her front yard. If I’d found it, I would have wondered, “Why is a drone in my yard?” “Was the drone hovering over my house?” “Is someone stalking me?” She posted about it on Next Door and returned it to the claimant. I’m not sure I would have…though it wouldn’t have fit in my Found Objects Tin.
What creative ways do you use to find ideas?
Susan P. Baker is the author of fourteen books and three in the works. She fends off ideas every day.
Getting a Life
/in Uncategorized/by DebraYesterday I just crashed. I slept late. I couldn’t get myself moving on anything I had to do, not this blog post or a manuscript report that’s due, not my usual stint on the WIP, not any of the several business emails I needed to take care of, not trying to clear some of the clutter and mess that have collected in my house as I’ve battled illness and injury, taking care of a slew of freelance commitments, and preparing and teaching several workshops along the way. Usually I rise early, take a deep breath, gird my loins for the day’s battle with the endless to-do list, and kick into overdrive, but yesterday I couldn’t muster the energy or the will to do much of anything productive. This is not like me.
While driving recently with my husband past Kansas City’s Plaza, which is a premier pedestrian shopping mall/outdoor art gallery full of fountains, intricate and colorful Spanish tiles, ornate buildings, and beautiful sculptures, I reminisced sadly about the good times we used to have walking the Plaza and sitting on one of the many benches to watch the parade of people. I reminded my husband of the fun we had taking picnic lunches to some of Kansas City’s many great parks to enjoy after a refreshing walk. I waxed nostalgic over the weekend day trips we used to make to explore lovely small towns all around the Kansas City area—I’ve given many of their best features to my fictional town in my Skeet Bannion series of novels. The strange thing is that, though we don’t do any of those things any longer due to lack of time, we used to do them when I had an ultra-demanding, 60-70-hour per week university job. Now that I’m a full-time writer, however, I have no time to enjoy leisure activities with my husband or any of the other things I used to do to make a real life—cooking, fiberart, gardening, going to Shakespeare or concerts in the park, lunches with friends, etc.
How did this terrible imbalance in my life occur? Isn’t one of the joys of being a full-time writer supposed to be the flexibility of time that allows you to lead a fuller, richer life? How did I manage with that old job and all its hours and responsibilities to weave in time for recreation and fun, time with family and friends, time to feed the creative well inside me, yet now I can hardly find time to even wash dishes or do laundry, the minimal tasks required to keep us from sinking into total chaos?
If I were just writing my books, I would have time to enjoy some of these activities still, but I have to promote those books in an effort to constantly increase sales. Publishers are dumping, left and right, amazing writers who have received impressive reviews and award nominations because their sales are just not spectacular enough. So, I must work harder to try to get the word out about my books and persuade new people to try them. The writing and publishing (with its line edits, copy edits, and page proofs) when combined with the promotion and marketing (with its touring, social media, conferences, and events) are two full-time jobs. Since my writing career is still not earning enough to support me, I must take on freelance writing/editing/evaluating/judging/teaching contracts, yet another full-time job. It’s no wonder I’m so tired!
I’m hardly the only writer in this predicament. Writers who are far more successful and have been doing this for far longer than I have are facing the same dilemma. The Sisters in Crime listserv periodically rings with the cries of authors who have run out of steam trying to do all of this. Some are even seriously thinking of giving up writing, which they love, because they just don’t think they can do all of it any longer.
As a country, we are moving more and more to a freelance or independent contractor environment, where we don’t have paid vacation and sick days and where we can find ourselves working all the time—or feeling as if we ought to be. How do we make a go of this kind of career and still have any kind of life outside of work?
I’m the first to admit I don’t have the answers to that question. I will be spending my next few days trying to find some, however. How we spend our time is our actual life, even if we think we’re just doing it until we bring in enough money or reach a certain level of success. I intend to find a way to bring those elements of a real, lived life back into mine. Can I do it without shortchanging the efforts I need to put into my writing and promotion of my work to create a successful career? I’ll have to find a way.
How do you manage that career-personal life balance that can be so difficult to get right?
A Name and a Promise —T.K. Thorne
/in T.K. Thorne, Uncategorized/by TK ThorneRob Langford is probably not a name you are familiar with. He was a quiet, thoughtful man who wanted to make things better. When the FBI chose him to serve as Special Agent in Charge of the Birmingham, Alabama office, he came with an open mind.
And that changed everything.
Langford realized there was edgy and sometimes dangerous tension between the African American community and law enforcement. Rather than just accepting this as status quo, he wanted to open communications between them and invited several leaders from the Black community to come “talk.”
It wasn’t easy to garner enough trust for anyone even to show up at the FBI office. Finally, he found a man who acted as a mediator and made it happen. Still, it didn’t go well. One Black minister blurted out, “Why didn’t the FBI investigate the bombing of the church? The FBI never did do anything.”
The minister was referring to the 1963 bombing of a Black church in Birmingham, where four young girls were killed. It had been thirty years since the tragedy, but the scars were far from healed. As a newcomer to the city, Langford did not know how to answer the question, but he made a promise.
“I will look into it.”
He could have chosen to say, “That’s been thirty years ago; we aren’t going back there.” But he didn’t.
Reopening the case was a far harder task than bringing distrusting people in to talk. Investigators spent 18 months just going through the old files. Suspects and witnesses were aging and some had already died. None wanted to talk.
But they pressed on. Because of Rob Langford, that cold case was reopened. Because of him and the team of investigators and prosecutors who worked on the case, the remaining two Ku Klux Klansmen —who had planted that bomb on a Sunday morning while young girls got ready for services—were indicted and tried, found guilty, and spent the rest of their lives in prison.
It didn’t bring those girls back, but it gave closure to their families and to the community and to the world.
The deaths of Annie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, and Carol Denise McNair, along with the severe injuries of Sarah Collins and the bravery of the children who marched for their freedom and rights in Birmingham that same year, pushed Congress into passing the 1964 Civil Rights Act that made segregation in public places illegal in America.
Thank you, Rob Langford, for what you did. It was a moment when you could have turned aside, but you didn’t.
Rest in Peace, my friend.
George ‘Rob’ Robert Langford
May 7, 1939 – February 21, 2024
Personal Note:
I was privileged to call Rob a friend and to write about his story and the story of the team that investigated and prosecuted this infamous case over a period of almost forty years in my book, Last Chance for Justice.
T.K. Thorne writes about what moves her, following a flight path of curiosity, reflection, and imagination. Check out her (fiction and nonfiction) books at TKThorne.com
In Praise of Critique Partners
/in Author Life, Cozy Mysteries/by Lois WinstonI pondered the situation for two full days and two sleepless nights of tossing and turning. The solution refused to come to me. I finally texted my critique partner: You have time to brainstorm?
A few minutes later, we were on the phone. I told her my idea, which she thought was fantastic, and the problem I was having executing that idea. She began to offer some suggestions.
That’s what a great critique partner will do. Her suggestions stimulated my brain cells, and we began to bounce ideas back and forth.
“What about….?”
“Yes, but then….”
“Well, what if…?”
“Okay, I can work with that, but then….”
“Hmm…I see where you’re going. So….”
“Hadn’t thought of that. Maybe….”
The conversation went back and forth for about twenty minutes. My brain filled with possibilities, and eventually, the perfect solution began to take shape.
That’s the wonderful thing about a great critique partner. Instead of telling you how she’d fix the problem, she looks at the problem through your eyes and coaxes you into seeing the situation from a different perspective. She doesn’t force her writing style on you but forces you to look outside the box and embrace other possibilities.
In the end, because of that brainstorming session, I stopped trying to shove that square peg into the round hole. Instead, with her help, I discovered the perfect square hole for my peg.
I owe you one, Donnell!
~*~
USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.
A Trip to the Hudson Valley? Yes Please!
/in Author Life/by Sydney Leigh/ Lynn McPhersonBy Sydney Leigh
The spring is a fabulous time of year. The sun shines brighter, making for longer, warmer days. The outdoors becomes more accessible and I always have an urge to explore. But where to go?
My top choice would be a small town in the Hudson Valley. Known for its wonderful restaurants and walkable streets, it tops my list. Fletcher Lake, the fictional town in Peril in Pink, took inspiration from a number of places within the region. Hudson, NY is one of them. Here are the top three reasons I can’t wait to visit:
If you were to choose one place to explore in the coming days, where would you choose to go?
Sydney Leigh spent several years running a seasonal business, working in the summer so she could spend cold months in cool places. Now she writes mysteries and thinks about murder. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and served on the board of Crime Writers of Canada from 2018-2021. Peril in Pink, the first book in the Hudson Valley B&B Mystery Series comes out in March 2024 with Crooked Lane Books.
What’s Next by Dru Ann Love
/in Uncategorized/by Dru Ann LoveWhat is next? People who have read our story asks, what are you writing next? My co-collaborator writes short stories and I’ve read one of them and he is quite good. As for me, I tried to think of something to write, but my mind is blank.
I will stick to reading books, unless an opportunity for me to collaborate with someone to write a short story happens again.
Other than that, I’m preparing for my first reader/fan convention that will happen at the end of April.
For writers, do you find it hard to come up with story ideas?
The Classic Camel Coat
/in Author Life, Barbara J Eikmeier/by Barbara EikmeierI gave away my winter coat. It was a long wool coat with generous sleeves, easy to fit over a bulky sweater or blazer. It was a classic style: Notched collar, button front, buttoned bands at the sleeves. It was camel colored. The same color as my dog. Some would call this coat ageless – my mother had one in the 60s. Hers was mohair. Mine was wool.
Having left my job in the business world, I no longer wore my classic camel coat, opting instead for a pack-able down number that I can stuff into my purse when needed. I donated my old coat during the winter coat drive last fall.
I bought the camel coat in 1995 to match our new dog, Millie, a golden retriever mix who shed year-round. My favorite long wool red coat was a magnet for her fur. The camel coat collected her fur too, it just didn’t’ show.
The coat served me well, but I never really loved the color. Tan, in general, washes me out. I prefer a red coat, or purple, or navy, or black – anything other than tan.
Years passed, jobs changed, my husband retired from the military and we stopped moving. It was time for a closet purge. I stripped hangers of glittery formal wear saved for the next military ball. I unclipped my skirt and jacket suits, brushed the dust off the shoulders, catching a whiff of the cologne I used to wear to work at my office job – it seemed like a lifetime ago.
I worked my way to the coats. I pulled two leather jackets, bought for a song when we lived in South Korea, excess raincoats, bought when caught in the rain while traveling, and hip length ‘tween season jackets. The last coat to go into the donation bag was my classic camel coat. I held it up to my body and looked in the mirror. Even though my skin has grown fairer as I’ve aged and my formerly dark brown hair has lightened with streaks of grey, camel still isn’t my color. Into the bag it went.
There were no second thoughts as I pulled the yellow tie cinching the plastic bag closed just as my husband came in. Patting the bag I said, “These can go to the coat drive.”
End of story, right?
Purges are often hard for me. I spent 26 years as a military wife moving every 2-3 years. With each move I gave up neighbors, houses, gardens, and social groups. I lost my dentist, hairdresser, and church community replacing them with new people at the next location. But I had my stuff.
The items I collected were familiar to me in their new surroundings. They helped make my new house feel like home. I became a maximalist collecting anything I loved, saving cards, letters, and love notes, acquiring twenty-eight chairs (the guy from the moving company told me he counted them!) I saved curtains and area rugs – one never knew when they might work in the next house. And I saved coats – after all, we lived in a variety of climates.
Millie, the camel-colored dog, passed away many years ago. I no longer find her fur on my sofa or in my car. I hadn’t worn my classic camel coat in 15 years. It was time to pass it on.
No regrets, right?
Well, no immediate regrets anyway, until I attended a nephew’s wedding on a cold day in January. I watched two young women come into the church together. They were the spouses of two of my other nephews who were groomsmen.
I enjoy being around 20 somethings. It’s fun to notice the styles they wear and hear the language they use. That day both women where dressed in tea length floral dresses. Trendy, I thought. Over their pretty dresses they were both wearing coats. Classic camel coats.What? Wait a minute – is the classic camel coat popular with young women? Did I give away my coat 2 months too soon? I felt a twinge of regret.
The January wedding was the beginning of an informal study. I began seeing classic camel coats everywhere! I saw young women in airports, bookstores, at the grocery market, even at the gas station wearing classic camel coats. The styling didn’t differ much from coat to coat although the length varied from hip length to mid-calf (like mine). One thing was certain, the classic camel coat was trending.
A few weeks ago, when a frigid polar vortex hung over Kansas, I thought about my donated coat. I’m always hopeful that my donated coats are keeping someone warm, but this year was different. I hoped that my coat was snatched up by a young woman on a budget, delighted in finding such a stylish coat.
I’m over the regret. At least I think I am, until I counted five sightings in one hour at the Kansas City Airport this morning.
Do you own a classic camel coat? If so, did you know you’re trending?
Barbara J. Eikmeier is a quilter, writer, student of quilt history, and lover of small-town America. Raised on a dairy farm in California, she enjoys placing her characters in rural communities.
Magic Carpet Ride by Saralyn Richard
/in Book Clubs, Brandywine Valley, Detective Parrott Mystery Series, Mystery, New Release, Saralyn Richard, Suspense/by Saralyn RichardPhoto by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash
At a recent interview, I was asked whether I’ve always been attracted to mysteries, even as a child. That’s not the first time I’ve answered the question, but the more experience I have as a mystery writer, the more I’ve seen the power of mysteries, and I want to share my thinking.
I’m an eclectic reader and teacher of literature. I like to read all genres and nonfiction, plays, poems—you name it. But mysteries draw me in more than any other genre, and I think that’s because in no other type of book are the reader and writer so closely connected.
The intellectual puzzle of a mystery novel is a carefully planned path laid out by the author and followed by the reader. The steps, the clues, the evidence, the red herrings—all are set forth in a grand treasure hunt, and the reader is invited to join in. In accepting the invitation, a reader becomes complicit with the scheme. He enters the story as an ally or a sidekick of the sleuth, and he solves the mystery along with the character.
In order to enjoy the mystery fully, the reader must pay attention, not only to the intellectual puzzle, but also to the emotional puzzle. How do the characters relate to one another? What motivates one or more of them to commit a crime? How will the truth be discovered, and how will justice be administered?
The mystery is less about the actual killing of a person and more about the process of decision-making and problem-solving that will restore order to the world of the book. Yes, bad things happen in life, but clever people can overcome these bad things and find stability again. And if characters in books can achieve successful outcomes, people in real life can, also.
When I’ve read a good mystery, I feel I’ve connected with the author’s heart and soul. I know she’s an upright person who believes in doing the right thing. She’s taken me along with her on the journey, and, even if she’s dazzled and bewildered me, even when she’s twisted my thinking into knots and tossed me around the landscape of the novel, she’s held my hand throughout, and she’s taken pleasure in the fact that I’m still with her at the end.
I know these things because my favorite part of being a mystery author is doing those same things with my readers. The writer-reader connection is central to the mystery, and that’s what makes both reading and writing so much fun. Let’s hop on the magic carpet together and go for a ride.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Saralyn Richard writes award-winning humor- and romance-tinged mysteries that pull back the curtain on people in settings as diverse as elite country manor houses and disadvantaged urban high schools. Her works include the Detective Parrott mystery series, two standalone mysteries, a children’s book, and various short stories published in anthologies. She also edited the nonfiction book, Burn Survivors. An active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America, Saralyn teaches creative writing and literature. Her favorite thing about being an author is interacting with readers like you. If you would like to subscribe to Saralyn’s monthly newsletter and receive information, giveaways, opportunities, surveys, freebies, and more, sign up at https://saralynrichard.com.
My Word for the Year: Communicate
/in Paula Gail Benson/by Paula Bensonby Paula Gail Benson
Last month, I wrote about receiving the book One Word that Will Change Your Life, which advocates that you select a word to focus upon for the year instead of making resolutions. In the comments to that post, Saralyn Richards and Gay Yellen responded that “gratitude” and “kindness” were words that had significance for them. Debra H. Goldstein asked me, “have you found your one word and has it been sustainable?”
After a month’s delay, Debra, here’s my answer: “the word ‘communicate’ seemed to find me and keeps returning to my attention.”
From Google’s Oxford Languages Dictionary, the first definition of “communicate” is to “share or exchange information, news, or ideas.” The sentence illustrating this definition is “the prisoner was forbidden to communicate with his family.”
At my church, we are anticipating a visit from an Estonian pastor whose grandfather (also a pastor) spent years in a Soviet slave labor camp. I’ve read some of the book Grandfather Pastor Harri Haamer wrote about his prison experience, We Shall Live In Heaven. When he was housed with hardened criminals, one of them asked if he was a “smasher.” He did not know that meant “burglar.” He quickly learned that these inmates claimed fifty percent of any package received by someone in the cell. When a package came for Pastor Haamer, he demanded they give it to him, which earned him respect. Then, he proclaimed, “I’m sharing all the contents of my package to you.” Some protested, only fifty percent, but Pastor Haamer insisted they take all. The oldest criminal told him, “at least come and share with us.” That formed a bond between them.
Pastor Haamer also heard the odd terminology of calling one of the prisoners a “cow to be milked.” He learned this inmate was a spy for the prison officials, who withdrew him from time to time to “milk” him for information he heard in the cell.
The Google Oxford Languages Dictionary’s second definition of communicate is “to convey or transmit (an emotion or feeling) in a nonverbal way.” This reminded me that even when people speak different languages or have no language at all, they may be able to communicate through expressions or gestures. We humans sometimes receive our most delightful and useful nonverbal (at least not “spoken”) communications from our pets that purr in delight or bark in warning.
Communication also may falter if translation is missing. One of my former law clerks was blind. He loved science fiction and fantasy stories. I remember discussing the initial Star Wars (now known as Episode IV) with him and stopping myself after mentioning how I felt seeing one of the opening scenes as a space vessel seems to be traveling overhead. I apologized thinking I had intruded in an area he could not share, but he told me he knew exactly what I meant because a version for the blind had descriptions of the visual actions taking place.
What I have noticed in my own communications this year is that what may be clear in my mind is not always successfully conveyed by spoken or written word. Often, I’m in a rush and leave directions that indicate there are multiple steps, but don’t adequately spell out each one. I rely that someone else remembers as I do, which may or may not be the case.
Already, just by focusing on “communicate,” I’ve noticed areas where I can improve clarity. It’s a continuing process, but I do find myself stopping to ask, “did I make that understandable for the person who will be reading or hearing it?”
Debra, so far, the focus on “communicate” has been sustainable. I’ll keep you updated as the year progresses!