Category Archives: Who I am

Happy Eleventy-first, Gramma!

A tribute to a lady who had much to do with my creativity…

Gramma, 2nd from left, 1908

c. 1920


Babcia, Gramma & Ma, 1932

Gramma & me



Filed under ancestors, Who I am

Why I Remember.


Days like Memorial Day and Armistice Day (Veterans Day) are bittersweet occasions for many currently serving, their families, surviving veterans, and even for remote descendants of those who served in wars long past.

While researching my novels, I learned that an estimated 200,000 Irish soldiers served in the British Army during the Great War. The survivors returned to their country only to be treated as pariahs – sometimes persecuted for their service by their peers who stayed home – and subsequently forgotten by all. During the Second World War (which neutral Ireland would officially recognize only as an “emergency”), 70,000 Irish chose to join the British Army to fight the Nazis – nearly twice as many as those who enlisted in the country’s home defense forces, which spent much of their time digging peat. About 7,000 of the latter decided to drop the broomsticks they were drilling with, and nearly 5,000 of them crossed the border and joined the British. When WW2 was over, the Irish government passed special legislation to punish defense force deserters – but it was selectively applied: only to those who had gone to serve with the Brits. Recently the Irish government decided to extend amnesty to the soldiers who left the safety of service at home to help defeat Hitler – a decision that is still hotly debated in some circles.

Our own doughboys received precious little recognition for what they did in the Great War, and many of the tramps and hobos of the interwar period were WW1 veterans, often physically and/or psychologically disabled. When a bonus was finally legislated in 1924 (overriding presidential veto), it was with certificates that weren’t redeemable for 20 years. Veterans who held protests were dealt with severely by the government. It wasn’t until 1936 that new legislation enabled the bonus certificates to be redeemed early, and exceptions were made to Civilian Conservation Corps employment rules, to benefit married and over-CCC-age veterans.

The Pan-Germanic belligerents who were instrumental in beginning both sets of World War hostilities (and their allies) also lost millions of soldiers, but their families and surviving veterans had to come to terms with not being able to publicly mourn their losses. Their peoples bore the burdens of rebuilding and reparations (Germany finally finished paying off the First World War in 2010), and they chose to concentrate on the benefits of their liberation from domination by absolutist and totalitarian regimes, as they restructured their cultures and economies.

American GIs who came back from the Second World War benefited from several employment, education and financial bonuses that have been extended (in evolving formats) to all US veterans since then; nevertheless, Korean War veterans suffered the ignominy of having to fight the first war that was run openly by politicians who objected to winning it. Some Vietnam War veterans also still feel the sting of the abuse that many of them received upon their homecoming from the next war that politicians refused to win.

Those of us who are non-combat veterans are the invisible veterans. I have a service-connected disability, although not as obvious or severe as what many others have lost, so I’ve been at the bottom of the Veterans Administration priority list since 1979. I will likely stay there until I’m buried in the nearest VA cemetery, where I plan to share my grave marker with my dual-service veteran father, whose cremains were buried at sea.

We all served. Some know us, and care, like those who quietly remember us today and on November 11 – or like the Native American tribes who honor veterans as warriors at their public pow wows, even though their ancestors often suffered at the hands of the US military. There’s no doubt that war brings out the worst in people, but all veterans can stand together and show how war can bring out the best in people, too.


Source of icons: Wikipedia. Not all participants are represented by unique flags.


Filed under Uncategorized, What I write about, When I write about, Who I am, Why I write

I Know Why The Penned Duck Quacks.

640px-HausenteI spent seven of my growing-up years in the company of a runt Pekin duck called Drusilla. Her nest was in a recycled doghouse, and she liked to cuddle up to the former occupant of said doghouse. What Beauregard the beagle thought of her friendship could be surmised by his air of long-suffering, and when he got bored with her company, he would escape through the duck-proof opening in the tool shed door, to the privacy of his lavish quarters within.

In her domain – the picket-fenced back yard of a bedroom community quarter-acre lot – Drusilla was fearless. Every morning, she boldly raised her voice to join the dawn chorus, uttering a six-syllable clarion cacophony to call the world to attention. Then she’d devote her day to expertly preening the grass of parasites, which she’d recycle into eggs that Beauregard would crack and lap up with gusto, and guano that kept the back lawn lush and green. Every year, after she molted, we had to clip her pinfeathers, to prevent her flying into danger that a runty duck wouldn’t live to regret. But when she was carried beyond the fence, she would squat where she was set down, and refuse to budge. She wouldn’t de-bug the flower borders, nor even venture across the front yard to paddle in the shallow ditch that drained the lawns of the houses on our street.

When our writing carries us through the gate in the fence, do we assume a low profile that protects our work from challenge by gatekeepers toting tablets of storytelling commandments that define acceptable limits to our art?

David_by_Michelangelo_in_The_Gallery_of_the_Accademia_di_Belle_ArtiWhat if Michelangelo had heeded critics who dissed his decision to work a 17-foot long block of badly weathered stone?

What if he’d bowed to experts and hacked up another mountain of marble into more manageable chunks?

1280px-PietaRomeMichelangelo had mastered the tools of his art, so he could proceed fearlessly with whatever size or shape of project he pleased, no matter where it took him.

We’re all funny ducks, here, quacking in the wilderness. But we’re talented artists, too. As long as we devote ourselves to mastering quality language that will keep our writing out of danger of chaos, we can bravely bring forth works for readers who will gladly carry our writing into the gardens of their own minds and hearts.

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Filed under How I write, Uncategorized, Who I am, Why I write