UPCOMING CONTEST—WE NEED YOUR INPUT

I am taking the advice from one of my young friends who suggested that I include in my blog some tidbits of what is coming up in the third book in my series on The Adventures of the Half Dozen.  In my new manuscript, with the working title GREENER PASTURES?.  Sam has five ewes that will become new mothers when their lambs are born at the end of year, according to the story’s timeline.  These Mamas-to-be are following in the footsteps of both their mother and grandmother, as each is expecting four lambs.

That means Sam needs twenty names for the babies.  When Doc Turner examines Sam’s ewes, he discovers one of the expected lambs is smaller than the others.  Mai Li quickly names the small lamb.  She wants to call him Itsy Bitsy. 

But Sam is following Si’s method of knowing when the lambs were born.  The names of each new group of arrivals start with the same next letter of the alphabet.  The pregnant ewes were Sam’s first lambing and their names all start with “A.”  This is Sam’s second lambing, so all the names will begin with the letter “B.”  Mai Li suggests if they shorten the name to Bitsy, it will agree with Sam’s plan.

However, that means Sam still needs nineteen more names. 

Not only will the winners of the contest each name a new lamb (starting with the letter “B”), but their own name will also be listed in the front of the new book on the Acknowledgements page.   

This is how it’s going to work. 

Starting the first Wednesday of April, I will have a question in my blog under the Bookshelf section.  Each question will be from something in my first Sam book, All Because of Chickens.  Each question will be a multiple answer question.  To be sure your answer gets to me safely, please send it directly to me at glmiller456@gmail.com.  As Subject, put Week (each week’s question will be numbered) Contest Answer.  The earliest correct answer, determined by the email date, will be the winner for that week.  Winners will be notified both by return email and listed on my blog.

If you do not yet have a copy of All Because of Chickens, you can purchase either an e-book or a printed copy on-line from: MuseItUp Bookstore, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or several other on-line book stores.  You can get printed copies locally from Red House Books in Dothan, AL, Rosie’s Book Shoppe in DuBois, PA, or Brockway Drugs in Brockway, PA.  Or you can order a printed copy from me at the above email address.   

I hope you are as excited about this contest as we are.  Sam and Mai Li are really looking forward to the names you choose for their next lambing!

THE LOST COAL

It snowed again most of the day yesterday.  Probably because of the high wind that accompanied it, yesterday’s worth didn’t consist of that much accumulation, maybe an inch or two.  Except for one or two snowfalls with those beautiful, fluffy humongous flakes, most of this winter’s white downfalls have consisted of very small flakes, reminiscent of either the old Ivory flakes laundry soap or its counterpart, Ivory snow.  Even so, beautiful in its own way. 

Two days before that, the sun was warm enough to put a big dent in the white ground covering leaving large, bare patches in the yard.  The next day was interesting.  I’d look out my kitchen window, and the sun was shining brightly.  The next time I looked, it was snowing—hard.  Then the sun would shine, then more snow.  This kept up most of the day, with the sun having the last say-so before night fell.

I kept wondering what was so different about these snows from those of my childhood.  Finally, I remembered—there was no soot blanketing the pure white.  In the nearly forty years we were in Florida, the basic heating evolution changed from coal to gas or electricity, or even those outside burners using wood and sometimes, yes, even coal.

This used to be “coal country.”  We had lots of strip jobs around.  Almost everywhere you would look, a month or two later, the ground, trees, and beauty would be stripped away so the dozers could reach the coal that was lying just underneath.  For many, many years the mining companies were not required to backfill or landscape any of these destructive trenches which scarred the mountainous terrain, which was a shame.  Now, with stricter overseeing, the land is being restored to a better condition.

There was, and still is, also deep-mining is some areas.  The last few years, when we’d come north for the summer to escape the southern humidity, I used to be kept awake at night by the sound of coal trucks coming and going to the pits just over the next mountain.

The heating change from coal has not only left whiter snow, it has almost removed the need for the traditional “Spring Housecleaning.”  It was the coal dust on the walls and the curtains, and that permeated the rest of the house that needed to be washed away, more than the need for an annual cleaning spree.

But along with the heating change, there are a lot of lost memories our children will never know, for they haven’t and probably won’t experienced them. 

For instance, my father would bank the furnace at night, putting enough coal on to supply a bit of warmth throughout the night, but mostly just to keep the coals in the furnace hot enough to become active in the morning.  The house cooled down overnight and no one wanted to put their nose out from under the covers until we heard dad shaking the ashes down, stoking up the coals, and shoveling on more of that hard, black fuel.  Then we’d race each other to the registers to soak up the heat coming through.

The ashes were a blessing, too.  They were used on the roads to give cars traction where there were icy spots (instead of today’s salt or other chemicals) or in the ruts to help us get out of snow-stuck places (instead of cat litter).  They were also used in the gardens to supply nutrients for the summer crop.

The registers were not only good for us to sit on when we came in from playing in the snow, or on those cold mornings, but there was usually one out-of-the way register that held a three-pound coffee tin of water to hydrate the dry winter heat.  Another way my mother used to rejuvenate the house was to open both the front and back doors and let the wind blow through for a few minutes. It was quite chilly as she did it, but boy, did the house smell fresh afterwards!

The year after Jerry and I were married, we moved out to a farm—not to farm, but for the room and the cheaper rent.  One of the factors for the move was that the house was supplied with gas heat from a capped well on the property.  We lived there about three years before dynamite set off at a nearby strip mine cracked the casing of the well and our supply of gas was lost.

The landlord did the only thing left to do and converted the huge furnace in the basement back to burning coal. 

That meant that I became the fireman since the furnace was located in the basement in a section reached only through an outside door.  And since that door was around a corner from the back porch where the winds piled snow waist-high, Jerry was not able to navigate the walk on his crutches.  My puny night-time banking skills were not equal to my father’s, and inevitably the furnace went out—usually about two in the morning.

I get very grumpy when wakened from a sleep.  Early morning icy cold in the house, having to push my way through the wet, cold snow outside, and fighting the huge furnace (the farmhouse had five bedrooms and a bath upstairs and four sizeable rooms and a bath on the first floor, so it needed a LARGE furnace to heat the house) to get lit…and stay lit…didn’t help my disposition!

Needless to say, we moved into town the following summer.

Coal had another advantage, besides heating our homes.  It provided us the pleasure of watching our coal gardens bloom.  “Coal” gardens, sometimes referred to as “depression flower” gardens, or “salt crystal” gardens, are a fascinating thing to behold.  If you put “coal” gardens into the search program of your computer (I use Google) you should get a row of coal garden pictures.  If you click the “more gardens” underneath the pictures, a whole page of pictures comes up.  There was also a heading labeled “depression.”  The very first picture was the most beautiful coal garden I have ever seen, full of beautiful pastel “flowers”.

Even with puzzles, board games, and cards, my mother sometimes had a hard time in the winter keeping us entertained.  I remember her helping us make these gardens.  If you want to try your hand at it, I have copied her recipe for you.  As with a regular garden, proper watering is key to its growth.

Wash a hunk of coal and put it in the center of a dish (it is best if the dish has a low spot, a lip, or sides),  stir the mixture until the salt is dissolved, slowly and carefully pour over the coal, then put drops of food coloring over the mixture.  Set aside and watch.  In a few days crystals will start to grow on the coal.

The mixture:  6 Tbs. common salt, 6 Tbs. bluing, 6 Tbs. water, 1 Tbs. ammonia.

Suggestions:  Coal can sometimes be purchased at a landscaping store, bluing is found in the laundry section of a grocery store, and ammonia can be found in the cleaning section.  ALWAYS add the ammonia to the water, NEVER add water to ammonia.  Ammonia is foul smelling and the water activates the odor if added to the ammonia.

More suggestions.  To vary the landscape, you might want to glue tiny branches to the coal.  If you do, make sure the glue is dry before adding the mixture.  If bare spots occur, add more ammonia water.  Be careful of splashes.  Growth will occur wherever the mixture goes.  Make sure the coal stays damp by putting a little water in the dish when it dries out.

Have fun with your gardens, and let me know how they turn out.

A PENNY EARNED

Again, I want to apologize for missing the last two weeks on my blog.  There are just some times that life gets in the way of good intentions and plans.  Lately this has been happening quite a lot, not only in my blogging.

We are currently putting our home here in Pennsylvania on the market, with intentions of going back south of the Mason-Dixon line.  Hopefully, this move will be made prior to the original time we set when we returned to our roots.  Meaning we hope to get a buyer quickly.  The call of family and grandchildren is a very powerful thing!

This means that things have to be done—mostly getting the hundred boxes, or so, that we moved up here with us gone through and seriously divided between keep, donate, and discard.  When we moved here, it was a pack-and-bring with high hopes of getting rid of a lot of the items by donating or marketing them.  And, yes, by disposing of them too.  But as with a lot of good plans and intentions, a lot of this gave way to actuality.  I have made a good start, with the help of our friends, and am determined to make a sizeable dent in this matter before the week is out.

However, this is not the topic for today’s blog.

Part of the reason for this blog is for you to get to know me better, as well as to compare living styles in my day to living styles now.  So today I thought I would share with you a little about the jobs I have had.  Not all of them have been wage earning, but they were instrumental in developing and shaping my future.  Each of them required faithfulness to the position as well as to the patronage.  After all, these are two qualities that make both a good employee and good business sense.

So I guess you could say the first “position” I held was at the age of thirteen as a Sunday school teacher in the Primary department of my church.  I probably would not have been selected for this occupation except for the fact that my mother was the superintendent of this area of church service.  I quickly learned that I had to be prepared weekly for the task that I held, and that I owed my best to not only my mother, but to the children I taught, and to my church.

The second job I set out to get was at the age of fifteen as a clerk in one of our local grocery stores.  There were originally three in our area when my family moved there; one at the top of the hill and two side-by-side at the bottom of the hill.  The one at the top of the hill closed first.  After a change in ownership of one of the two at the bottom of the hill, the other market closed.

The sole remaining market became a favorite spot for the kids attending the playground across the street who had a penny or two to spend.  It was also “the place” for those running grocery and milk errands for their mothers.  And it was sort of hang-out some of the older boys in the neighborhood, especially the corner that held the pin-ball machine.

Since I was officially under-aged for working, my suggestion I be hired was refused.  Even so, I felt that the owner had a problem in the pin-ball machine area.  On the wall he had a dirty, well-worn hand printed sign that said “Do not tilt” that was completely ignored.  I figured he needed a new sign, so I got some poster board, lettering stencils, and colored pencils and made him a nice sign to hang there. 

He was shocked when I gave it to him, and although he offered to pay me for it, I refused.  It wasn’t long after that he asked when I would be sixteen.  I told him in a couple of weeks.  He said to be sure to let him know and he would give me an application for a job.  I was quite surprised, but very happy.  So this was my first paying job.

My second job was as a swimming instruction at the local YMCA for the city swim program.  By that time I was married and our oldest child was about two years old.  And to be honest, I do not remember exactly how I came to know about the Y’s need or how I came to apply.  I think I had just finished taking a Life Saving course at the Y and one day when I was leaving, I overheard the manager talking about the need for an instructor for the summer swim program.  I told him I would be interested and he asked if I had any certification and experience.  I said no, but I wouldn’t mind getting certified.  That led to my taking a Red Cross Water Safety Instructor course (I already had my Red Cross training in first aid).  I taught that program for three years.

This job was followed by my working for the B.F. Goodrich company as a—are you ready for this?—golf ball winder!  We would wind the miles of elastic around the core rubber balls until they met the gauge and pressure required and then tie them off.  These would then be sent to Massachusetts to get their outer coating on.  I worked there until I was six or seven months pregnant with our second child, another boy.  When he was about nine months old, I returned there until he became sick, and then I quit.  I was asked to come back, which I did, until he had his second seizure, then I quit, period. 

My next job was that of an AVON lady.  It was quite interesting and lasted until the local B&O shops closed down.  I could not, with a clear conscience, go to those homes and ask them to buy cosmetics and perfume when they needed to put food on the table.  Also, the arthritis I had in my hip was making it difficult for me to walk my local route.  Besides, I became my own best customer—not of the make-up line, but of the cologne containers!

After I had hip replacement surgery, we moved to the Pensacola, Florida region so I could be out of the cold weather.  To support our family, which now consisted of three children, we purchased a hardware store and became merchants.  After two-and-a-half years of merchandising, we realized we were in trouble, and I got an outside job as a cashier at a grocery store.

We met some wonderful people at our store and by the time we closed the doors on a Subchapter S, one of our customers and a dear friend had gotten Jerry a job on the Navy base with a section of the Department of Navy (which eventually transferred to the Department of Defense) through the new handicapped program, while I became a sewer at Vanity Fair.

Before long, our friend got me into the Florida State handicapped unpaid work experience program and I was also placed at the Naval base.  I worked as secretary to the manager of the newly developed Handicapped Program for the Department of Navy.  At the end of my unpaid work experience term, I was picked up by DoN as a temporary worker trainee.  I transferred to another branch of DoN, also as a temporary employee but at a higher grade.  I soon transferred back to DoN personnel department when chosen as a permanent employee and continued working for the DoN thirteen more years.

I took an early retirement and set up my own business giving Federal Retirement Seminars attended by employees of several branches of the Federal Government in the Southeastern Region of the United States for the next twelve years, until I closed my business.

That is when I started writing in earnest, finally putting on paper some of the stories that had been playing in my mind for twenty years or more.  Both All Because of Chickens and A Girl Like You, came from that source.  My Lessons from the Sheepfold sprang from All Because of Chickens, as is my current work in progress, tentatively titled GREENER PASTURES.

Which job did I consider the most unusual?  Winding golf balls has got to be at the head of the list.  As I and the other fourteen winders on my shift making the specific balls we made (times three shifts making 45 winders) each making 5-600 balls a day for a total of 22,500 to 27,000 of these same balls a day six days a week (we had worked overtime for almost a year) and equaling between 135,000 and 162,000 a week, not to mention the winders of different gauged balls with different starting cores, I figured either golfing must be a tremendously popular sport or else there were an awful lot of lousy golfers out there who kept losing their balls.

Of all the jobs I’ve had, I find the most satisfying are being a wife, mother and grandmother.  I am looking forward to our move south so I can also add great-grandmother to the list.

What is the most unusual or favorite job you have ever had?