Tag Archive for: 1970s

Halcyon Days

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I write a mystery series set in 1974. In 1974, I was seven.
Don’t do the math. Please.
Readers frequently ask me how I get so much right.
There are several answers. The first is that I bought myself
more magazines from 1974 than anyone in 2016 should own. The second is that
MeTV is my forever friend. The third is more difficult. Even though I was
seven, I remember more than seems possible.
Especially in the summertime.
Much has been made of 70s’ style parenting of late—blogs making
fun of smoking, drinking, neglectful mothers. That I don’t remember.
I do remember being set loose to play in the neighborhood.
Nightly games of kick-the-can and hide-and-seek. Bomb pops that melted down my
arm. Bologna sandwiches and carrot sticks (not miniature carrots but actual
carrots cut into sticks) for lunch. Sunburn on my nose and shoulders. The
pass-throughs in backyards used as secret short-cuts from block to block. Packs
of kids on bikes—all without helmets. Zinc oxide on those sunburned noses. A
summer breeze floating sheer curtains as I curled up with Nancy Drew after a
day in the sun. Halcyon days.
I also remember gas lines, my parents complaining about a 55
miles per hour speed limit, and how jealous I was that my friend Elizabeth’s
parents bought a turquoise AMC Pacer. I remember School House Rock, getting up
with the farm report on Saturday mornings because I wanted to watch cartoons, “You’ve
Come a Long Way, Baby” (but not that far
– the woman is still called Baby), Archie Bunker, Sanford and Son (you mean
being a junk dealer is a real job?), and Kid Dy-No-Mite. I remember driving
across Kansas with the back of the station turned down so my sister and I could
nap (need I add we didn’t wear seat belts? Or, that when you’re seven, Kansas is
infinite). I remember bickering with my sister on those trips (Mom, she’s touching my side), my mother singing
show tunes when we’d passed the point of radio reception, and begging my father
to stop at a gas station pleeease.


I wouldn’t trade a single memory.

I hope your summer is filled with memories. You never know
how you’ll use them.
Julie Mulhern is a USA TODAY bestselling author and Kansas City native. She spends her time whipping up gourmet meals for her family, working out at the gym and finding new ways to keep her house spotlessly clean and she s got an active imagination. Truth is she s an expert at calling for take-out, she grumbles about walking the dog and the dust bunnies under the bed have grown into dust lions. 

Her latest mystery, Clouds in my Coffee, is available now. 

Summer’s coming. Are you ready?

/in /by

This weekend was swim team sign-ups–an annual exercise in chaos.

There are forms to fill out. There are team suits to try on. There are cookies and lemonade and countless kiddos zipping around as if they’ve never had sugar before.

Soon, swim practice will begin and initial excitement (yeah, pool!) will give way to Do I have to go?

In June, there will meets. Not my favorite. Think competitive parents, vodka and overheated concrete mixed with over-excited, over-tired kids…*sigh* There are no high-tech touch pads for country club swim. Nope. Instead, parents with stopwatches endure blazing heat and intermittent splashes.

I was not a swimmer (you’re welcome, Mom). I did play golf. Badly. Mom had to spend her Thursday mornings walking the back nine. So much better than swim team…

The summers of my childhood were filled with Tab and limes, peeling shoulders, playing kick-the-can until the evening news came on and my parents called me home. Idyllic, nostalgia inducing days. Days that inspired The Deep End.

As summer approaches I wish you lightning bugs and cicadas, Bomb pops and Bombay and tonic, at least a few days with low humidity and many days that will have you remembering them long after their gone.

 

Swimming into the lifeless body of her husband’s mistress tends to ruin a woman’s day, but becoming a murder suspect can ruin her whole life.

It’s summer 1974 and Ellison Russell’s life revolves around her daughter and her art. She’s long since stopped caring about her cheating husband, Henry, and the women with whom he entertains himself. That is, until she becomes a suspect in Madeline Harper’s death. The murder forces Ellison to confront her husband’s proclivities and his crimes—kinky sex, petty cruelties and blackmail.

As the body count approaches par on the seventh hole, Ellison knows she has to catch a killer. But with an interfering mother, an adoring father, a teenage daughter, and a cadre of well-meaning friends demanding her attention, can Ellison find the killer before he finds her?

Julie Mulhern is a Kansas City native who grew up on a steady diet of Agatha Christie. She spends her spare time whipping up gourmet meals for her family, working out at the gym and finding new ways to keep her house spotlessly clean–and she’s got an active imagination. Truth is–she’s an expert at calling for take-out, she grumbles about walking the dog and the dust bunnies under the bed have grown into dust lions. She is a 2014 Golden Heart® Finalist. The Deep End is her first mystery and is the winner of The Sheila Award.