I was recently excited to do a television interview on a local talk show about my newest book, Our Mothers and Daughters. Here it is for you.Someone snapped the below screen shot, but click the link to see the show.
Started your Christmas shopping? A good book is a terrific present for your friends to curl up with on chilly winter nights. My newest book, Our Mothers and Daughters, can be ordered through any local bookstore or online at Amazon.Your book-loving friends will thank you.
In this book, you’ll learn more about Opal Pratt’s mother. You’ll also meet the little girl too savvy to get into the predator’s car, the mother struggling between her teenage daughter and invalid mother, the pre-teen who discovers that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, the mother who meets the adult version of the baby she put up for adoption, and many more. There is sadness and laughter, failure and success, and loss and discovery – everything that is life
Once upon a time, I worked for a company in Little Rock where there was a clerical aide we’ll call Mickie. Probably in her mid-to-late-40s, she was completely uneducated — couldn’t read or write but was committed to her job and possessed a good heart and her own special wisdom. A few times we had big snow days that closed schools and day care, and I had to take young Alex to work with me. Mickie would take him with her to deliver mail throughout the building, make copies and other tasks. She helped keep him busy all day.I learned a valuable lesson from Mickie which I have carried with me for all these years. There were times when a hubub was stirring, but Mickie declined to be caught up in it. She’d say, “That be THEY problem.” Right. Not all crazy-making needs to drag us into the proverbial mud puddle. It’s important to assess the situation and, when appropriate, determine “That be THEY problem.”
Come into my arms, dear man, And hide from the bruising intrusions of the worl No longer alone and vulnerable like a naked bulb Casting scant light in some dreary hall Come into my warmth and claim the sanctuary Of my breasts.
Accept the faith that hides not far behind My eyes. Yield to the strength of my slim hands. Increase my light with yours. Trace your plans and hopes with gentle hands Across the whiteness of my belly, But leave a trail we’ll find again In the dark nights of our fears. Give me your tears as easily as your smiles. Then rest with me matching breath for breath ‘Til the world can no longer hold nor harm us. Come into my arms, dear man, And let me love you.
Daddy said boys only want one thing. Mama said dress real pretty Gramaw said keep your knees together My girlfriend said everyone’s doing it The boy said you would if you love me. The doctor said wisdom always comes too late
Join me for a peek into the first part of a recent book signing. Two friends did me the favor of presenting excerpt readings from two stories in my newest book, Our Mothers and Daughters. They were just terrific. All of my books are available on Amazon and can be ordered from your favorite bookstore.
Friends joined me to present my newest book, Our Mothers and Daughters, at a July book signing. Linda (left) read an excerpt from the touching Angels With Only One Wing, a story about two lonely people, a little girl and an elderly, immigrant woman, who form a strong bond. Dan did a reading from The Pinch, which looks at a poor Irish family during the Memphis 1878 Yellow Fever epidemic. They did a terrific job, and the event was fun and successful.
This excerpt is from my new book, Our Mothers and Daughters. The story is The Pinch, set in the immigrant section of Memphis during the 1878 Yellow Fever epidemic. The book is available on Amazon.
“Fee was everyone’s best friend. She was adored, and Kate was never jealous because she knew, more than anyone, just how special her sister was. Of all the redheaded children in the family, Fiona’s coppery hair shone the brightest. Her ruddy cheeks were like summer apples. She ran and skipped instead of walking. She moved so lightly that she nearly took flight, but her blue eyes were deep, and had the look of an old soul. The air around her seemed to shimmer. She laughed and giggled, and was Ma’s little helper, particularly with the new babies. Though he loved all his children, Fee was the light in Michael James’ eyes. She was the air that filled his lungs. A sprite who gave him hope. Fiona ran to him when he came home from his job. They played games, and she danced and twirled in circles when he sang. When the other babies died, it was Fiona who sat in Da’s lap, and kissed his tears. Mary Elizabeth and Michael were certain that she was an angel, and a great blessing to their family. They quite nearly worshipped the celestial being who lived in their tenement apartment.”