Writing Prompt!

Okay all you writers in Koochiching County! Whatever form your write, whether poetry, novel, essay, memoir, short story or more, write about a winter holiday. If you like Christmas, write about Christmas, if you like Kwanzaa, write about Kwanzaa, just put pen to paper, fingers to the keyboard and write! Happy Holidays to one and all! Diane

Thanks

                    Thanks


On the day of Thanks, food filled the planks

of tables round the town.

The birds were stuffed, the potatoes fluffed

and the home made bread was brown.

The plates were passed until at last

our bellies were quite full.

Then to our surprise, out came the pies

one last remaining jewel!

October Writing Idea

At the September 26th meeting the writing group again asked each person present to supply a word for writing a story. Below are the words given. We encourage you to write something using the words (of course, we expect you will need to add additional words, but want you to use as many of these words as you can.)

Cheese

Pumpkin pie

Forest roads

Yearly

Unbelievable

September

Languish

Cinnamon

Loon

Bring you creation with you to the October writer's group or post it here to share. Diane

Greetings All!
We had a great meeting on July 26th, though I wasn't there for most of it.

Just for fun, we thought we'd try a 'Word Bank' this month.  See if you can write a story using these words:
Imagination
ocean
Fire
corybantic
gemstone
mud puddle
future
albatros
bibliofile

Of course, you can use MORE than these words, but you have to include these.  Good luck!  Next meeting Wednesday, August 29th, 6:30pm at the library meeting room.  See you there!

Smart Marcia

Smart Marcia

           Mom was beautiful. She had thick, curly black hair, gorgeous blue eyes, long, thick black lashes, and a dazzling, electric smile. With a petite figure and shapely legs, Arlene wore her clothes with  grace. And she had dresses. Pretty dresses. All the fashion that Dayton’s Department store could offer in the 50’s. I preferred the ones that cinched in at the waist and were secured with a crisp bow in the back, but over the course of my 10-year childhood, I was accustomed to Mom switching up her trig attire with loose, flowing garments. They were lovely too. No matter what she wore, I was proud when she would go meet my teacher at conference time. I knew I had the prettiest mom of anyone in my classroom.

          My friend, Marcia, agreed with me. I would puff up with pride when she commented that my mother could be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Marcia’s house and our house had adjacent backyards. She would come over and swing on my swingset and tell me things I needed to know. I would listen to her. After all, she was two whole years older than I was and really, really smart. She knew things about the Phoenicians inventing the alphabet and how to draw a Venn diagram. She read books like The Hobbit and could use words like “stymied” correctly in a sentence. My mom had three smaller children to take care of and my dad was always working. So if I needed information, I would ask Marcia.

          One day, while swinging in the backyard, Mom came out to offer us some Twinkies for a snack. Marcia stared. Mom was wearing the loveliest pink floral dress and it flowed out lustrously on this breezy summer afternoon.

After she went back inside, Marcia exclaimed, “Your mom is going to have a baby!”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” I answered, dumbfounded.

Still, she persisted. “Yes, she is. She’s going to have it any day now. I can tell.” Marcia smiled knowingly.

I was dubious despite being unsure as to how or why babies came into being. I knew it had something to do with love and kissing and boys and girls but that’s where my knowledge ended. I was a product of the 50’s and most parents back then didn’t think children needed to know things like that.

Shaken by this news, I darted into the house after Marcia went home. I confronted my Mother and asked her pointblank, “Are you going to have a baby?”

          “Who TOLD you that?!?!” Mother indignantly exploded. Her eyebrows pushed together over squinted eyes and her flawless brow was furrowed in angry wrinkles.

          “Marcia.”
          “Well Marcia shouldn’t be talking about things like that to you.” And Mother harumphed out of the room without another word. I wasn’t too surprised. Mom was Norwegian and having information withheld was something I was used to by now.

But that settled it. Marcia didn’t know what she was talking about. Mom obviously was not having a baby. I now knew that Marcia didn’t know everything.

That night after supper, Mom was not feeling well and went to lie down. I brought her a glass of icewater. Did I make her sick with my impertinent questions?

Dad came home from work and checked on her. Then he announced hurriedly,

“I’m bringing your mother in to the doctor. You kids behave. Grandma’s coming over to stay with you.”

And they were gone. Oh no! Was Mom going to be all right?

          The next morning, Dad greeted us jovially with the news of a baby. A little brother. What fun! We now had a boy at each end of our family.

          But during all this baby excitement, I was in awe that Marcia had called it. She knew about the baby even before Mom. I couldn’t fathom how she could make such a prediction but she did, and she was correct. I was blown away by her acumen. The mystery remained unsolved until a certain health class I had in the fifth grade. Despite my subsequent enlightenment, I would always remember my friend as Smart Marcia.

From the journal of Ester Karstrom
Journal 10 August 1911

Dear friend,


      I am here at August and Edit's cabin

just outside of Sideby. As I am soon leaving

Finland, perhaps forever, we are enjoying

one last time together. It has been so much

fun to reminisce with family and friends.

Edit invited our other sisters, but only Vera

and I could come. My dear friend Hilma

Lamm is here with us. Hilma will be

traveling to America with me.


   Hilma and I will board the Norden on 24

August in Kristinestad. We will then board

the Polaris 26 August and sail to Hull,

England. Once in Hull we will have to find

the train station so we can go by rail to

Liverpool. Oh, I hope we can find some

Finnish speaking people. I fear language will

be our greatest difficulty. In Liverpool we

will board the Cedric of the White Star Line

for New York on 31 August. Then we must

submit to inspection by the Doctors at a

place called Ellis Island.


   Hilma's sister, Sigrid Mattson, went

through Ellis Island last year when she

emigrated to America.. She said the

Buttonhook men was the worst part of the

inspection. These men come along with a

clean buttonhook or a hat pin and lift your

eyelids to make sure you don't have eye

disease. She said it was very painful..


   We must remember to bring our letter

from Sigrid's husband Gustaffson. Without a

letter from a male relation promising to be

responsible for us, we as single women

would have to stay at Ellis Island until we

could convince a man to marry us. If no-

one married us we would then be returned

to Finland.


    From Ellis Island we will travel by a ferry

from New York to Boston and then on to

Sigrid's home in Fitchburg Massachusetts.

Hopefully we will soon find jobs in service.

Sigrid says there are always wealthy people

looking for help, and I hear they prefer

Scandinavian girls to the Irish. Ones.

I guess I should stop writing now and go

enjoy the Farewell feast that Vera and Edit

have prepared. Who knows if we ever will

break bread together again.


    With Love, your friend,


             Ester