The Bandana Winnebago

My ancestors originated from Germany and entered the United States through Pennsylvania in 1849/1850.  They stayed in Pennsylvania for a few years before they traveled to the Midwest and settled in Winneshiek County near Fort Atkinson, IA in 1854.  The historical fort had once been a U.S. Army frontier post from 1840-1849 to keep the peace between the Winnebago (now known as the Ho-Chuck) and various feuding Native American tribes.  My great-great-grandfather established the family farm in May of 1854, now a century farm, which has been handed down through several generations.

My father loved history and I learned the art of storytelling from him.  Most of the information I have of our ancestors came from my dad.  He enjoyed telling us about the good old days of farming and stories about the ancestors.  One story stands out the most in my mind...

My father’s great-uncle, Ben, used to tell him about groups of Native Americans, the Winnebago, who traveled through the area on the way to their camp near the St. Anthony of Padua Chapel, also known as the World’s Smallest Church.  The chapel is located beside the Turkey River, which would have made it an ideal location to camp.  Ben was born in 1874, so it must have been shortly before the turn of the century when the Winnebago migrated to the river during the warmer seasons.  There was one Winnebago man who stood out among the others because he always wore a bandana over his face.  One day, curiosity got the best of my ancestor, and he finally asked why the man always wore the bandana.  The man replied, “Brother-in-law shot off nose.”  Then he vowed he would return the favor, “Someday, I shoot off brother-in-law’s nose!” 

This was one of my favorite stories that my dad used to tell me.  I often wonder what happened between the two men to cause such a bloody outcome.  Most importantly, did the Bandana Winnebago ever get his revenge?  I guess we’ll never know!

So God Made A Farmer

And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker." So God made a farmer.

God said, "I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board." So God made a farmer.

"I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife's done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon -- and mean it." So God made a farmer.

God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, 'Maybe next year.' I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, pain'n from 'tractor back,' put in another seventy-two hours." So God made a farmer.

God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor's place. So God made a farmer.

God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark. It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week's work with a five-mile drive to church.

"Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life 'doing what dad does.'" So God made a farmer.                                                                                                                     --Paul Harvey

To the man who taught me the art of storytelling and the importance of history.  I will continue to tell the stories you told me.  Rest in peace, Dad!  We love you and we miss you!  

To the Stars

Thought provoking music. "Saturn" by Sleeping At Last

I was reading the second chapter of The Princess Diarist on the snowy morning of Dec. 23, 2016, while I waited in the car in a machinery lot for my husband.  In the book, Carrie Fisher was discussing hairstyle options for her iconic role as Princess Leia.  I had been looking forward to reading the book ever since I had heard about it over a year ago.  What fangirl wouldn't enjoy reading Carrie's journals she wrote while filming A New Hope?  I was jolted out of reading when my husband came back to the car and we started a slow track in the snow to town.  As we progressed, the snow flakes became bigger and the travel more hazardous.  I remember thinking, "I really don't want to die on my birthday!"  We finally made it to town, where we stopped for lunch and Christmas shopping.  My husband assured me that if we took our time, the snow would end and the roads would be better on the way home.  Sure enough, by the time we left the restaurant the weather had improved.  When we finished shopping, the snow had completely stopped and the roads were clear.  When we got home, I checked my Facebook news feed for birthday posts, when I discovered a post about Carrie Fisher suffering a massive heart attack on a plane earlier that day.  I remember thinking, "But, it's my birthday..."

I know these days people can be very sensitive about the attention celebrities receive when they pass away, stating statistics of how many public and armed services figures died in the past year.  I am exceedingly grateful for our real life heroes but--to be honest--they are complete strangers to me.  They have unfamiliar faces.  I don't know a thing about them.  I will ask this question...how many of them were a part of one of your first memories?  Anyone?  Maybe if they were a neighbor or a close relative.  Sure, I have foggy memories of being in the crib because that was before toddler beds.  But my first clear memory was going to A New Hope at the drive-in theater with my family.  My older brother and oldest sister sat in the front with my dad.  My mom sat in the back with my older sister and myself.  Sadly, the only part of the movie I remember was a scene of Luke and Leia talking.  I cannot pick the scene out today, as our memories change over time with the dialog and the background fading away.  (I remember Chewie's son Lumpy from the holiday special walking across a big structure similar to Titan's kingdom in The Little Mermaid.  It turned out to be a railing on a primitive tree hut with a painted background!  My, have my memories become distorted with time!)  Part of the reason I don't remember much of Episode IV was because I fell asleep across the backseat.  No stones, please.  I was preschool age and it was way past my bedtime. I slept fairly sound until my sister sat on my head!  That is a topic of discussion that continues to this day and we still laugh about it.

I thought Carrie was going to make it.  I truly did.  Maybe she had found peace by going public with her long ago affair with her co-star?  They had such phenomenal chemistry that many of us fans were not surprised when we found out.  I actually wasn't feeling that chemistry in the last movie and I wondered why.  Now I know.  I was shocked to hear of Carrie's mother passed the following day.  Not the fact that her mother possibly died of a broken heart, but the irony that Princess Leia's mom died of the same thing.  It's like George Lucas had a little bit of the Force himself when he wrote it.

Girl Power started with Princess Leia.  She was my inspiration for Hope.  I wanted a strong female protagonist and I gave her these characteristics: a petite brunette with brown eyes and an inner strength that made her very powerful.  Thank you for paving the way, Carrie.  Godspeed.  I hope you've found peace.

Veronica

  

Jacob's Hope

#lightsonforjacob

With my main character of The Whisperer of Storms being clairvoyant, I did a great deal of research on psychic abilities.  In doing so, I learned a little more about their vital role in locating missing people.  My interview with a clairvoyant taught me how they use their sixth sense, which sometimes heightens their other senses, to find people.  One such instance was a plane crash.  Under hypnosis, "Rita" pointed to the crash site on a map, which was within 30 miles of the wreckage.  The smell stayed foremost in her mind...the scent of death.  She also talked about knowing the location of a missing boy who had drowned.  Shortly after, the police recovered the child's body from that very location along the river.  Rita once received a letter from a woman who read about her in the paper.  She had told Rita she shouldn't be doing those things.  I sat there in disbelief as she told me this, "But you do it to help people."

To help people...to give them hope.  That was the reason why I named my heroine Hope.  She found a few missing children in her story.  I always focused on those she could save. There were a few she couldn't.  I never wanted to go there.  The hardest part of writing was putting myself into the parents' shoes.  Feeling their fear, anger, despair.

We took a short family trip last week before school started.  We drove through St. Joseph on Thursday.  My husband reminded me that Jacob Wetterling had lived near there.  I watched a group of boys walking along the street, wondering if they felt safe now that so many years had passed.  Imagine my surprise when I got home on Saturday night to learn they recovered Jacob's body.  I was a few years older than Jacob when he disappeared.  After 27 years, he's finally home.  My thoughts and prayers go out to his family and friends.  May they eventually find the closure they need.

Veronica

From Scenic to Writing Prompts to My Favorite Characters.

Life has been hectic as of late.  I have a few more additions to my social media platform and  I am navigating my way around them.  I love many of the images and graphics on Pinterest.  I've created a writing prompts board with some awesome images.  I love scenic and mystical pins.  I've also joined Instagram.  I enjoy keeping up with some of my favorite shows and stars.  Ian Somerhalder posted a pic that could have come straight out of my novel:  The ring and his eye.  I feel like Damon Salvatore just got inside my head!  ;-)

Enjoy the summer.  Pick up The Whisperer of Storms if you're going to the beach!

Veronica     

No, Thanks! I'd Rather Itch!

I can't believe it's been over five months since I published my first novel.  I think about the timing and am very grateful to have published it when I did.  My husband and I have been through some trials and tribulations ranging from the health of our aging parents to piracy.  Timing was vital, so I'm glad I picked the right release date.  Otherwise, you may never have joined Hope St. Clair on her unexpected journey to find her destiny.

Do you ever take the time to read the medication guide that comes with your prescription?  I have to admit expository medical writing is not my cup of tea, but I cannot express how important it is.  Patients should be aware of the possible side effects of a new medication.  Be vigilant and let your doctor and pharmacist know if you're experiencing any possible side effects.  My husband's former colleague was suddenly having seizures.  He had tests and CT scans done over the period of a few months.  The doctors were stumped.  They finally found the culprit...a prescription drug!

I had a c-section when my youngest was born.  I'm sure many of you ladies understand when I say the spinal really made me itch!  They gave me an antihistamine through my IV to relieve it.  It made me so groggy that by the time it finally wore off, I refused to take any more.  I told the doctor, "No, thanks!  I'd rather itch!"

 I suggest the next time your doctor prescribes a medication, to do a little research of your own.  Read the medication guide and Google it.  There's even reviews/feedback for medication online.  I cannot express how vital research is to a writer.  It's the foundation to his/her career.  Always remember that knowledge is power.

Veronica

 

      

The Island of Broken Dreams

Disney Dreams was the name of the collection of paintings that Thomas Kinkade created based off of the Disney movies.  It's quite an impressive array of his talent.  You get the feeling of happily ever after.  Isn't that what's expected from a Disney movie?  You expect the couple to get their happily ever after.  For me, Disney has always given me a feeling of expectancy.  I always know the prince or the knight will always rescue the damsel, and they will ride off together into the sunset.  Those are our girlhood dreams, right?  But, what if the hero didn't make it?  What if the princess had to find a way to go on without him?  That's quite a way to shatter girlhood dreams, wouldn't you say? 

When I find myself feeling this way, I imagine myself climbing the ancient steps of a mountainous island.  It's a lengthy climb.  I can hear the waves crash against the rocks below.  I can feel the wind in my face.  I see the daylight reflecting off of the water.  I can hear the birds calling to each other.  When I reach the summit of the mountain, I see a lone, cloaked figure looking out across the ocean.  He slowly turns at my approach.  He pulls back the hood of his cloak revealing his white, wavy hair, with an equally white beard.  He looks at me with a look of torment.  Without breaking eye contact, I reach into my bag and pull out...a silver pen.  With a pleading countenance, I hold it out to him as his inner turmoil persists.

Who is the man and what's the significance of the pen? 

Veronica