Tuesday, July 16, 2019

I sold my book: A DRAGONBIRD IN THE FERN !!!

I'm absolutely thrilled to announce…

Flux Books has bought my debut novel

obligatory Publisher's Marketplace announcement picture

A DRAGONBIRD IN THE FERN is a YA Fantasy with a sister relationship that transcends death, empowering female friendships, and a bloodthirsty ghost. Intrigued? You add it on Goodreads here!

Want to know more?

When an assassin kills Princess Jiara's older sister Scilla, her vengeful ghost is doomed to walk their city of glittering canals, tormenting loved ones until the killer is brought to justice. The mourning period hasn't even reached its end when Scilla's betrothed, the king of a country far away, requests that seventeen-year-old Jiara take her sister's place as his bride.

Marrying the man meant for her sister would make her feel bad enough, but with a learning disability and years of scholarly struggles, Jiara believes her chances of learning a new language are slim. She's terrified of life in a foreign land, where she'd be unable to communicate. Then Jiara discovers evidence that her sister's assassin came from the king's country. Marrying the king would allow Jiara to hunt the murderer and release her family from Scilla's spirit, whose thirst for blood mounts every day.

With magical bracelets on her forearms and a dagger strapped to her calf (neither of which she knows how to use), she makes her way to the lush, fern-covered country of her sister's assassin. But Jiara hasn't even reached her new home when the first attempt is made on her life. To save her family, Jiara must find Scilla's killer...before he murders her too.

I love this story, and I'm so excited to share it with the world!

Look for A DRAGONBIRD IN THE FERN in Fall 2020!

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Levi's...from Germany?

Did you know Levi Strauss—the inventor of Levi's jeans—was an immigrant from Germany?

I live about a half hour away from the house he grew up in. It has since been turned into a museum, and today, we took the kids to see it. So how did Levi Strauss go from being a poor kid in Germany to the founder of a wildly successful American clothing company?

He was born in 1829, one of seven children of a Jewish family in Buttenheim, in the Kingdom of Bavaria, in the German Confederation. The entire family lived in only two rooms of the house pictured below; only one room had heat.
The family lived on the ground floor.

Levi's name was originally Löb Strauss, and he left Germany for the US at age 18, due to the occupational and personal restrictions imposed on Jewish people in Bavaria at the time.
Before leaving the country, a notice was published in the local paper--in case anyone thought the family owed them money.

Within three years, he'd changed his name from Löb to Levi, worked to learn English and took on American citizenship. He and his family started a dry goods business, and Levi moved to the west coast to provide goods to people heading out for the California Gold Rush.

One of his customers was Jacob Davis. Davis figured out a new way to use rivets on pants, to make them sturdier, but he didn't have enough money for the patent or to get the business off the ground. He asked Levi to work with him. 
The patent!

By 1890, the famous 501s were being produced under that model number.
These jeans were made in 1890. They already had the stitching on the pocket, which was supposed to resemble an eagle in flight.
old advertisement: "patented riveted clothing"

Later, he left the running of his company to his nephews and worked as a philanthropist, among other things. He passed away in 1902.

Bonus pic
The first Levi's specifically for women weren't produced until 1918. But many farming women wore their husband's.

All pictures by me.

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Bamberg - Colorful, Dignified and Occasionally a Bit Crooked

One of my kids recently had some appointments in Bamberg, Germany, so I had the opportunity to wander around the town. I've been to Bamberg before, but it had been a while and I'd forgotten how fascinating Bamberg is.

We had some pretty dreary weather, but I'd still love to show you around!

There are colorful buildings...

Old Town Hall

See the 3D effects?

 Old, crooked buildings...

Very dignified buildings...

The Old Palace
Cathedral in the background

Bridges and narrow streets...
Caught a bird in flight on this shot!
Do you see the faces on this bridge?

There's so much more to see in Bamberg - hopefully, I'll get the chance to show you more sometime!

Bonus Pic

My dog being a VeryGoodBoyTM at an outdoor café.

All pictures by me

Thursday, December 27, 2018

How a Crucifix Caught a Thief

We bought a cool and (so far) deliciously creepy book about local legends for the family for Christmas.

Sagen aus Franken: Von Geistern, Gold und wilden Rittern
Written by Susanne Rebscher, illustrated by Sibylle Vogel

The book contains tales from the region of Germany we live in: Franconia. The stories are not more than three pages long, so they're good to read with kids (as long as they're not easily frightened!)

Last night, huddled under cozy blankets, we read the legend of how a crucifix caught a thief.

In the Neumünster church in Würzburg, there was a crucifix, arms and feet nailed to cross as we know it. Someone donated an expensive gold chain to the church, and the necklace had been placed around Jesus's neck.

One day in the middle ages, a thief entered the church. Jesus looked down on him on the thief, but that didn't stop him from his greed. He stole the gold chain from around Jesus's neck.

Jesus's arms ripped free of the cross to hold the thief in an iron grip. The thief cried and whined and prayed, but the Jesus figure wouldn't let him go. Finally, the thief screamed for help. Some people nearby ran into the church, grabbed the thief and hauled him to prison.

But Jesus's arms never moved back to the cross. 

Don't believe it? I didn't either, so I did a little digging in the internet...and found that you can see it in the Neumünster church in Würzburg today.

Schmerzensmannkreuz, image by Rufus46 via WikimediaCommons
If you can read German, and especially if you're familiar with Franconia, I highly recommend this book!

photo credit information
Page URL
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Attribution: Rufus46 [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], from Wikimedia Commons

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Mackinac Island

I've known since we returned from vacation in September that I wanted to share some pictures. I decided between being busy and the dreary fall weather to come, showing them in October would be a good idea, a way to bring up my mood.

Ha! We've had the most beautiful October I think I've ever seen. Sunny, warm, with bright red and yellow trees. We've been lucky, especially since we're getting a new roof (that's a whole other story, and actually a reason to need a pick-me-up, come to think about it).

So…onto our trip! One of the places we went on vacation was Mackinac Island, Michigan. Usually we've visited the island on day trips, but this time we stayed overnight.
View from Mackinac Island, with lighthouse and ferries.

Mackinac Island is located in Lake Huron between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas, and the only ways to get there are by ferry or a small plane. We love taking the ferry: the water, the wind, the sun.

Evening view from the island to the Mackinac Bridge, which connects Michigan's Upper & Lower Peninsulas

Mackinac (pronounced mack-i-naw) originally stems from the Ojibwe word meaning big turtle (Mitchimakinak). The French changed the pronunciation and spelling, then the British shortened it until the name Mackinac was kept. If you're interested in more information on the etymology of the name or more about the island's history, Wikipedia has details.

Mackinac Island was a summer vacation spot in the 19th century and has a number of beautiful, historical houses. The island itself is listed as a National Historic Landmark. A fort was established there by the British during the Revolutionary War – you can still visit it today. Even our hotel's origin was fascinating: the retirement spot for Odawa/French Magdelaine La Framboise, prominent business woman and fur trader in the early 1800s.

The Harbor View Inn, our hotel
One of the most unique things about the island is that motorized vehicles were prohibited in 1898 – and outside of a few very rare exceptions, it's still valid today. In fact, the island's home to the US's only state highway without motorized vehicles: M-185. About 80% of the island is preserved as the Mackinac Island State Park. So how do people get around the island? By bike or horse-drawn carriage.

This is what a "garbarge truck" looks like on the island.

Besides the lack of motor vehicles, the people who live on the island have some pretty unique hurdles in daily life. While there is one full-time doctor and a small grocery store, anything but the basics means a longer trip. Need to see the dentist? Have to go to the mainland. Need to buy supplies? Get on a boat or airplane.

One of the most interesting things I learned was about how the approximately 500 year-round residents feel about the winter. I'd expected it to be scary and isolating. But once the ice bridge forms between the island and the mainland (they mark the safe path with old Christmas trees!), the islanders have a few weeks of freedom. They can get on snowmobiles and go across to the mainland anytime they want. They consider winter and the ice bridge freedom.

We biked around the island on M-185. This is about ten steps off the road.

Want to see more of the island? Look up the 1980 movie Somewhere in Time. It was filmed there, although they brought cars to the island so you will see some. And no, we unfortunately didn't stay at the pricey, Victorian-style Grand Hotel pictured in the movie trailer.

If you're looking for a place to go and have the chance, I highly recommend Mackinac Island, especially if you can manage it outside of school vacations.

All pictures by me or my family

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Reading The Past

On the very last day of my vacation, my aunt dropped by to give me two books she’d found in my grandfather’s house after he passed away.

That grandfather’s line of my ancestors came from Germany and apparently lived in a German-speaking community once they reached America where it was important they continue to learn the language.

One book was published in 1872, the other in 1909. The older book is in pretty bad condition, worn and torn. Both prove that scribbling in textbooks is not a modern behavior. Mary Rothermel traced the pictures in now-faded ink and wrote her name and age (8) in the margins of the older book. Hildegard Paulus signed her name over and over in the 1909 book—and dated it January 5, 1912. I'm not sure, but I don't believe either girl is related to me. It's likely that ma family got the books second hand.

The 1872 book is alled Neue Fibel oder Erstes Lesebuch für die deutschen katholischen Schulen. It is completely in German despite having been printed in the US.
Try to recognize individual letters in the script on the first page :)

By 1909, many of the students must have been stronger at speaking English than German. The 1909 version has two titles—one in English and one in German. It's called German-English Readers for Catholic Schools: Erstes Lesebuch and contains German words and phrases along with English translations.

Some highlights (especially for my German readers).
  • The 1909 book contains "Bemerkungen über die neue deutsche Rechtschriebung" (notes about the reformed German spelling rules).
  • The old font Fraktur.
  • The old handwriting style called Kurrent.

Reformed spelling rules

And sentences to learn reading and writing that illustrate it was a different time:
  • My brother saw the emperor.
  • The quince is yellow and ripe.
  • Good children obey willingly.
  • Clara has a white muff.
  • I bought you a fine horse.

I did a little research, and it turns out the publisher, Benziger Brothers, is still operating today. Founded in Switzerland in 1792, the first American printing house was opened in 1853. It is currently based in Cincinnati, Ohio.

all pictures by me

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

From The Sky

“You haven’t seen a tree until you’ve seen its shadow from the sky.”
  -Amelia Earhart

I think of my dad as kind of a vehicle genius. It doesn’t matter what it is—he can drive it, expertly. Cars are the simplest things. How about an 18-wheeler? No problem. A boat? All the time. A motorcycle, a snowmobile, a four-wheeler, a huge tractor…if it’s got a motor, he’s a master.

So there’s one special thing he drives that most people aren’t used to seeing in a "normal" person. Our family isn't rich by any means, but my dad owns his own airplane.

"Who wants to go for an airplane ride?"

It isn’t a huge jet (google pictures of John Travolta’s home if you want a jaw-dropping moment) but a teeny-tiny two-seater built in 1946. Yes, that’s 1946. He bought it used years ago. It’s so thin and lightweight, he pushes it out of the hangar by hand in about two seconds.

Tiny, old plane...tiny, old cockpit

I remember hanging around small airports as a kid, bored while while he talked to the airport geezers in their loose, greasy overalls or while he tinkered around on the plane. It felt like ages but was probably only 20 or 30 minutes of going through a checklist.

Waiting was boring but we grew up soaring through the air like it was a normal, everyday thing. Flying in a small plane feels nothing like traveling in a jet. It wasn’t until I was twenty that I flew with a commercial airline for the first time. I was so excited…and then so disappointed. I didn’t feel hardly anything. Turning and banking. Dips. Meh.

One advantage of a small plane is that you aren’t necessarily way above the clouds. You’re up high and can see everything, but you’re low enough that you can still see everything. The murky cloud a boat trails behind it on a still lake, the Christmas tree farm built in a circle with an irrigation system running around it like the hand on a clock, your family waving as you do a fly-by.

Lake Missaukee, Michigan

I was on vacation last week, so I got to ride with my dad in his plane again. And I have to admit it—I’ve gone really soft. We had some bad luck with the weather and it was a kind of windy day, so I FELT EVERY BUMP. In a plane that small, there’s nothing to hold on to but your own pantlegs.

Dad Humor - when your dad is a pilot
As a kid, I took it all for granted. It was a while before I realized what an unbelievably special thing my dad shared by flying with me.


All pictures by me or my family.