Since Bill Henry is going to play a part in the next Owen Family novel, I've come up with some character notes about him that I put into the new novel-writing/project management software I'm going to use for this book. Bill had a card with a picture in the old file, but no notes. I have no idea who the person in the photo is, but I suspect it's from an advertisement. I mostly used bits and pieces of description of Bill from The Man from Shenandoah, in which he was a minor character, to create this character profile.
Hard-working cowman from West Texas, has light brown hair that curls over his shirt collar, and blue eyes. His face is tanned brown, but it's still unseamed. Powerfully built, wears a moustache that droops over the sides of his mouth.
About two years older than Carl, so he was born in 1843. Although he's young, he was the trail boss that trained the Owen men in cattle handling and successfully brought the herd to C.T.
His cousin, Bob Henry, was killed by Frank Tilden when the hands were going after the kidnapped girls in The Man from Shenandoah.
From her home in the forest, writer Marsha Ward offers up an eclectic collage of musings on life, insights into the writing process, sample scenes and snippets from her work, book spotlights, and author interviews. Now including "The Characters in Marsha's Head."
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Testing Software for Novelists
I've been testing a software called yWriter5 by Spacejock Software for a couple of days now. I'm starting to get the hang of it.
Today I learned how to make the first chapter not a Chapter but Information, and put in the brainstorming notes from my session with Connie Wolfe while we crossed the country a few weeks back. 470 words. Do they count for writing?
I also added two characters and a couple of locations. I've set time goals, but don't know how to access a report or chart showing them. I'll work some more with it, and find the things I need. I believe I set two weeks for outlining, and I'm counting the learning curve in there.
Today I learned how to make the first chapter not a Chapter but Information, and put in the brainstorming notes from my session with Connie Wolfe while we crossed the country a few weeks back. 470 words. Do they count for writing?
I also added two characters and a couple of locations. I've set time goals, but don't know how to access a report or chart showing them. I'll work some more with it, and find the things I need. I believe I set two weeks for outlining, and I'm counting the learning curve in there.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A visit with Marie Owen
* It wasn't raining today, but after Church, I got a knock on my door. I get up from my nap to go answer it. I open the door. A young woman in dusty 19th Century frontier-style dress stands on my doorstep.
ME: Hello. What can I do for you? (I do a double take.) Oh my gosh! You're Marie, aren't you?
MARIE: Hello, Mom. May I call you that? Rulon told me that's what he called you.
ME: Rulon? He and the boys got back okay?
MARIE: Yes. They...
ME (cutting in): Come in, come in. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?
MARIE (shakes her skirts and brushes off her bodice before she enters the house): Thank you. I reckon I could stand a drink of water.
ME: Sit down. Make yourself at home. (I go get a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and give it to Marie.)
(MARIE looks at the bottle, turning it over in her hands.)
ME: Give a twist, and the top comes off.
(MARIE turns the bottle on it's side and twists it.)
ME (stifling laughter): I'm sorry, I mean twist that blue thing on the top. It's a lid that twists off and on again.
MARIE (mastering the task): There it goes. (Takes a drink.) That tastes grand. How did you keep it cold in that white box?
ME: That's called a refrigerator. It's kind of a machine that works like a spring house. (I sit down.) Tell me about the boys. How much did they say about our visit? It sounds like they remembered that they came.
MARIE: Rulon remembered the most. He recounted how they rode under the rainbow and ended up in your time. Carl and Clay were a bit hazy on details, but their tales were fantastical and I wasn't sure if they were telling the truth or making fun of me. When I saw a rainbow today, I decided to see if I could come visit. It took a bit of doing, but I finally figured out how to walk under the bow.
ME: And here you are!
MARIE: Yes, here I am. (Her voice is shaking a bit.)
ME: Was it unpleasant?
MARIE: No, not particularly so. Everything just happened so fast, I feel a bit weak. I've been walking for at least an hour to get here.
ME: Well, you just take your rest. I'll get you a bite to eat. (I decide cereal is the fastest thing, and prepare a bowl of Special-K and milk, which I give her, along with a spoon. Wastrel that I am, I give her a paper bowl and plastic spoon.)
MARIE: Thank you, Mom. It is all right to call you that?
ME: Certainly!
MARIE (dipping her spoon tentatively into the cold cereal): I've never seen the like of this food, Mom.
ME: It's the modern version of cooked mush. Somebody learned to roll wheat and oats flat and crisp them up. (I shrug my shoulders.) I think this cereal is mostly rice, but I'm not sure.
(MARIE takes a bite, investigating the cereal. She crunches up the food.) It's strange, but nice. (She holds up her spoon.) There's no weight at all to this white spoon. What's it made of?
ME: Plastic. It's a new material, something like the celluloid that's made into collars in your time, but plastic is different. Many things in our time are made with plastic of one kind or another.
(MARIE finished her bowl of cereal and hands it back to me. She watches in wonder as I throw it away. Then she fixes her gaze on me.) I understand you're thinking about writing my story into a book.
ME (taken aback): Um, I discussed it a bit with a friend of mine. I haven't entirely decided yet.
MARIE: I hope you will. I'm ready to get on with my life.
ME: You are?
MARIE: Yes. I'm in danger of becoming a spinster. Please help me.
ME: Well, sure. I guess I can do that. If I decide to write your story, will you help me with the details?
MARIE: The details?
ME: Yes. Jessie Bingham helped me out on my last book.
MARIE: Jessie? You know Jessie? Of course you know Jessie. You made her up, too. Is she still back in Shenandoah County?
ME: I believe she's on her way to Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory.
MARIE: Where's that?
ME: South of here, I mean south of where you live. It's northeast of here.
MARIE: Just exactly where is "here?"
ME: The State of Arizona. It was created from the western half of New Mexico Territory, in case you don't know.
MARIE: I didn't know that. What's Jessie up to?
ME: She and her family had to leave the Valley. Things got pretty messy after the Unpleasantness ended.
MARIE: But she's all right?
ME (smiling): Yes, I would say so. She's going to marry. . . . Oh! Maybe I shouldn't tell you. I should let that news come from the parties involved.
MARIE (making a pouty face): Don't be mean, Mom. Tell me?
ME: I'm afraid I can't. I'll try to work it into your book.
MARIE (sighs): You're not teasing, are you?
ME: No. I think I owe your ma some comfort.
MARIE: That's a strange thing to say. What comfort will Jessie's news bring Ma? (Her face changes as an idea comes upon her.) Ma carries a burden of grief from losing so many of her sons. Is James yet alive? Is he fixin' to marry Jessie? (She jumps up and pulls me to my feet, then grasps my forearms and bounces up and down.) Oh! That must be the thing! They were sweethearts before we left. It pained him to leave her behind. Tell me it's so!
ME (weakly trying to resist her pressure): I shouldn't say.
MARIE: Oh, please! Is James happy at last? Is he marryin' Jessie?
ME: He's happy. It's a hard-won happiness, but he's happy.
MARIE: But is he marryin' Jessie? Will she be my sister?
ME: You're hard to resist, my dear. She will be your sister.
MARIE: I knew it! I just knew James would find her again. Tell me all about it!
ME (shaking my head): I can't say more. All will be revealed in time. (I look out the window.) It's getting late. Do you intend to go back home now?
MARIE (sighs): I reckon I'd better do that, or Ma will worry. You will write my story, won't you? I promise not to tell Ma about James and Jessie if you do.
ME: I think I can't pass up that promise. I'll start on it tomorrow.
MARIE (kissing me on the cheek): Thank you. Thank you Mom. I hope to see you again.
ME (with a lump in my throat): Yes, I hope you will do that. (I watch as she goes through my open door, down the steps, and into a mist that envelopes her. When the breeze clears it away, she has vanished.)
*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own place and era. To order my novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, and Trail of Storms, visit my website at marshaward.com.
ME: Hello. What can I do for you? (I do a double take.) Oh my gosh! You're Marie, aren't you?
MARIE: Hello, Mom. May I call you that? Rulon told me that's what he called you.
ME: Rulon? He and the boys got back okay?
MARIE: Yes. They...
ME (cutting in): Come in, come in. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?
MARIE (shakes her skirts and brushes off her bodice before she enters the house): Thank you. I reckon I could stand a drink of water.
ME: Sit down. Make yourself at home. (I go get a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and give it to Marie.)
(MARIE looks at the bottle, turning it over in her hands.)
ME: Give a twist, and the top comes off.
(MARIE turns the bottle on it's side and twists it.)
ME (stifling laughter): I'm sorry, I mean twist that blue thing on the top. It's a lid that twists off and on again.
MARIE (mastering the task): There it goes. (Takes a drink.) That tastes grand. How did you keep it cold in that white box?
ME: That's called a refrigerator. It's kind of a machine that works like a spring house. (I sit down.) Tell me about the boys. How much did they say about our visit? It sounds like they remembered that they came.
MARIE: Rulon remembered the most. He recounted how they rode under the rainbow and ended up in your time. Carl and Clay were a bit hazy on details, but their tales were fantastical and I wasn't sure if they were telling the truth or making fun of me. When I saw a rainbow today, I decided to see if I could come visit. It took a bit of doing, but I finally figured out how to walk under the bow.
ME: And here you are!
MARIE: Yes, here I am. (Her voice is shaking a bit.)
ME: Was it unpleasant?
MARIE: No, not particularly so. Everything just happened so fast, I feel a bit weak. I've been walking for at least an hour to get here.
ME: Well, you just take your rest. I'll get you a bite to eat. (I decide cereal is the fastest thing, and prepare a bowl of Special-K and milk, which I give her, along with a spoon. Wastrel that I am, I give her a paper bowl and plastic spoon.)
MARIE: Thank you, Mom. It is all right to call you that?
ME: Certainly!
MARIE (dipping her spoon tentatively into the cold cereal): I've never seen the like of this food, Mom.
ME: It's the modern version of cooked mush. Somebody learned to roll wheat and oats flat and crisp them up. (I shrug my shoulders.) I think this cereal is mostly rice, but I'm not sure.
(MARIE takes a bite, investigating the cereal. She crunches up the food.) It's strange, but nice. (She holds up her spoon.) There's no weight at all to this white spoon. What's it made of?
ME: Plastic. It's a new material, something like the celluloid that's made into collars in your time, but plastic is different. Many things in our time are made with plastic of one kind or another.
(MARIE finished her bowl of cereal and hands it back to me. She watches in wonder as I throw it away. Then she fixes her gaze on me.) I understand you're thinking about writing my story into a book.
ME (taken aback): Um, I discussed it a bit with a friend of mine. I haven't entirely decided yet.
MARIE: I hope you will. I'm ready to get on with my life.
ME: You are?
MARIE: Yes. I'm in danger of becoming a spinster. Please help me.
ME: Well, sure. I guess I can do that. If I decide to write your story, will you help me with the details?
MARIE: The details?
ME: Yes. Jessie Bingham helped me out on my last book.
MARIE: Jessie? You know Jessie? Of course you know Jessie. You made her up, too. Is she still back in Shenandoah County?
ME: I believe she's on her way to Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory.
MARIE: Where's that?
ME: South of here, I mean south of where you live. It's northeast of here.
MARIE: Just exactly where is "here?"
ME: The State of Arizona. It was created from the western half of New Mexico Territory, in case you don't know.
MARIE: I didn't know that. What's Jessie up to?
ME: She and her family had to leave the Valley. Things got pretty messy after the Unpleasantness ended.
MARIE: But she's all right?
ME (smiling): Yes, I would say so. She's going to marry. . . . Oh! Maybe I shouldn't tell you. I should let that news come from the parties involved.
MARIE (making a pouty face): Don't be mean, Mom. Tell me?
ME: I'm afraid I can't. I'll try to work it into your book.
MARIE (sighs): You're not teasing, are you?
ME: No. I think I owe your ma some comfort.
MARIE: That's a strange thing to say. What comfort will Jessie's news bring Ma? (Her face changes as an idea comes upon her.) Ma carries a burden of grief from losing so many of her sons. Is James yet alive? Is he fixin' to marry Jessie? (She jumps up and pulls me to my feet, then grasps my forearms and bounces up and down.) Oh! That must be the thing! They were sweethearts before we left. It pained him to leave her behind. Tell me it's so!
ME (weakly trying to resist her pressure): I shouldn't say.
MARIE: Oh, please! Is James happy at last? Is he marryin' Jessie?
ME: He's happy. It's a hard-won happiness, but he's happy.
MARIE: But is he marryin' Jessie? Will she be my sister?
ME: You're hard to resist, my dear. She will be your sister.
MARIE: I knew it! I just knew James would find her again. Tell me all about it!
ME (shaking my head): I can't say more. All will be revealed in time. (I look out the window.) It's getting late. Do you intend to go back home now?
MARIE (sighs): I reckon I'd better do that, or Ma will worry. You will write my story, won't you? I promise not to tell Ma about James and Jessie if you do.
ME: I think I can't pass up that promise. I'll start on it tomorrow.
MARIE (kissing me on the cheek): Thank you. Thank you Mom. I hope to see you again.
ME (with a lump in my throat): Yes, I hope you will do that. (I watch as she goes through my open door, down the steps, and into a mist that envelopes her. When the breeze clears it away, she has vanished.)
*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own place and era. To order my novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, and Trail of Storms, visit my website at marshaward.com.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
New Review: Trail of Storms
When I got home from my Grand Adventure, I started getting caught up with my mail. I noticed that the current issue of Roundup Magazine, published by Western Writers of America, contains a new review of my latest novel, Trail of Storms. Whoopee!
The uncredited author of the review (yes, I asked her if she wrote it) is award-winning author C.K. Crigger, whose long- and short-form fiction crosses genres from fantasy to time-travel to mystery to Western. Since the review appeared in a print magazine, I have posted it on the Review page of my website. Click here or on the link to the right to see it in its entirety.
Here's a part of her review that particularly tickles me:
Nice! Thanks, C.K.!
The uncredited author of the review (yes, I asked her if she wrote it) is award-winning author C.K. Crigger, whose long- and short-form fiction crosses genres from fantasy to time-travel to mystery to Western. Since the review appeared in a print magazine, I have posted it on the Review page of my website. Click here or on the link to the right to see it in its entirety.
Here's a part of her review that particularly tickles me:
"Ward has written another of her gritty, fact-filled family sagas. Peopled with folks harboring complex emotions and striving always to do right within the confines of their values, her characters' lives tend to get real messy. How they solve their many problems is always an education in story-telling, and Ward excels in doing that."
Nice! Thanks, C.K.!
Friday, August 21, 2009
My Grand Adventure - Part 2
After the funeral for my friend Connie's father, we left Weeping Water late in the day, and arrived in Omaha about an hour later at the Winter Quarters Visitors Center in the north of the city. We took a tour hosted by a cute and informative sister missionary, and the rest of the staff was equally helpful. They directed us to lodging options in Council Bluffs, Iowa, as well as telling us how to get to the Kanesville Tabernacle reconstruction.
After our tour, we said good-bye and crossed Mormon Bridge over the Missouri River. After eating and sleeping, we went to the Kanesville Tabernacle site the next morning. All the information we gathered will be useful to me down the road for another novel. We learned how the modern reconstruction dealt with shrinkage of green cottonwood logs: the columns that hold up the roof are on jacks, and lower the roof as the logs lose inches, so there isn't any annoying gap between the top of the walls and the roof. :-)
The original Tabernacle only lasted a matter of months. When it was built in the dead of winter, no one knew it had been constructed on top of a spring of water.
The next leg of our trip took us west, through the Nebraska cities and countryside on Interstate 80. Besides gas and comfort stops, we briefly visited the Ft. Kearny site, then branched off onto NE Highway 26 so we could see Chimney Rock and Scott's Bluff. We ran out of day in the tiny Garden County seat of Oshkosh, NE, the "Goose Hunting Capital of Nebraska." Population 887.
A little dismayed that we had bypassed larger towns with chain motels for a small town with only two small auto courts, we asked at the gas station which we should pick. The clerk in the mini-mart said the Shady Rest was the best, but added that he worked there. I exited with anxiety roiling in my gut. We'd already stayed in one really bad small motel, and I worried that we were going to repeat the experience. The Shady Rest Motel? What a cliched name!
When Connie and I conferred, she, too, had picked up information that the Shady Rest Motel was the better of the two in town. We decided to check it out first, then get something to eat.
WOW!
We were surprised and gratified at the room. Well, rooms. Kind of a mini-suite. The amenities included two queen beds in separate bedrooms, with a darling John Deere tractor motif unifying the suite, a mini-fridge, a coffee maker for those who want it, soap AND shampoo, FREE Internet access, and a CLEAN bathroom. There even may have been a second TV in the second bedroom.
The only drawback was that, ahem, because we are not tiny women, and the bathroom was small, we had to contort ourselves a bit to enter or exit it around the door.
I cannot say loudly enough that if you ever find yourself in Oshkosh, Nebraska, you won't go wrong if you stay at the Shady Rest Motel.
To be continued . . .
After our tour, we said good-bye and crossed Mormon Bridge over the Missouri River. After eating and sleeping, we went to the Kanesville Tabernacle site the next morning. All the information we gathered will be useful to me down the road for another novel. We learned how the modern reconstruction dealt with shrinkage of green cottonwood logs: the columns that hold up the roof are on jacks, and lower the roof as the logs lose inches, so there isn't any annoying gap between the top of the walls and the roof. :-)
The original Tabernacle only lasted a matter of months. When it was built in the dead of winter, no one knew it had been constructed on top of a spring of water.
The next leg of our trip took us west, through the Nebraska cities and countryside on Interstate 80. Besides gas and comfort stops, we briefly visited the Ft. Kearny site, then branched off onto NE Highway 26 so we could see Chimney Rock and Scott's Bluff. We ran out of day in the tiny Garden County seat of Oshkosh, NE, the "Goose Hunting Capital of Nebraska." Population 887.
A little dismayed that we had bypassed larger towns with chain motels for a small town with only two small auto courts, we asked at the gas station which we should pick. The clerk in the mini-mart said the Shady Rest was the best, but added that he worked there. I exited with anxiety roiling in my gut. We'd already stayed in one really bad small motel, and I worried that we were going to repeat the experience. The Shady Rest Motel? What a cliched name!
When Connie and I conferred, she, too, had picked up information that the Shady Rest Motel was the better of the two in town. We decided to check it out first, then get something to eat.
WOW!
We were surprised and gratified at the room. Well, rooms. Kind of a mini-suite. The amenities included two queen beds in separate bedrooms, with a darling John Deere tractor motif unifying the suite, a mini-fridge, a coffee maker for those who want it, soap AND shampoo, FREE Internet access, and a CLEAN bathroom. There even may have been a second TV in the second bedroom.
The only drawback was that, ahem, because we are not tiny women, and the bathroom was small, we had to contort ourselves a bit to enter or exit it around the door.
I cannot say loudly enough that if you ever find yourself in Oshkosh, Nebraska, you won't go wrong if you stay at the Shady Rest Motel.
To be continued . . .
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Character Notes: Clayton Owen
Clay Owen is next younger than Marie. On his character card, I used a photo of actor Bruce Penhall of televisions's "CHiPs" (1977-1983) . I don't see him around much anymore. He was the World Motorcycle Speedway champion of 1981-82, which predated his '82-'83 role as Officer Bruce Nelson, a cadet in the California Highway Patrol, playing in the lineup topped by Erik Estrada, Robert Pine, and Larry Wilcox. Since CHiPs featured motorcycle officers, I'm sure his motorcycling skill stood him in good stead.
Now you know how long ago I clipped this photo from TV Guide(R).
Anyway, getting back to Clayton Owen, here's when I typed on his character card:
CLAY OWEN
At fifteen, Clay is still too gangly to be handsome, but he has promising features and a mop of crisp blond hair. His eyes are grey. Clay kept the family in meat for a year after James was drafted, is responsible, but when he pops his cork, look out, he is apt to do something rash and unthinking. He plays as hard as he works. In a few years, he will be a major character in the continuing saga of the Owen family.
Well, we'll have to see what surprises Clay will bring to the family's adventures. What do YOU think he's going to do?
Now you know how long ago I clipped this photo from TV Guide(R).
Anyway, getting back to Clayton Owen, here's when I typed on his character card:
CLAY OWEN
At fifteen, Clay is still too gangly to be handsome, but he has promising features and a mop of crisp blond hair. His eyes are grey. Clay kept the family in meat for a year after James was drafted, is responsible, but when he pops his cork, look out, he is apt to do something rash and unthinking. He plays as hard as he works. In a few years, he will be a major character in the continuing saga of the Owen family.
Well, we'll have to see what surprises Clay will bring to the family's adventures. What do YOU think he's going to do?
My Grand Adventure
I've been absent here for a while, and that demands an explanation.
My dear friend Connie Wolfe has been caring for her father for the last four years. It has been difficult to watch her struggle with his descent into dementia and becoming the "parent" to her father. However, she persevered through it all, and after he suffered a stroke, it looked like he had to go into a care facility. That was a heart-breaking decision. Ultimately, because she had suffered a back injury and could not lift him, he was placed in one, but the standard of care was not up to snuff, and Connie brought him back home. She employed one of her sons to be his grandfather's nighttime caregiver so she could get some sleep, and prepared to carry on.
Papa died on Sunday, August 2.
On Monday, after learning of the event, I called to offer Connie anything I could do for her. She hesitated for a moment, then asked if I would accompany her back to Nebraska for the graveside service. She needed me because she was going to transport her father's body to lay it beside his wife. As she understood it, she would need to drive straight through, because the body could not be left unattended. I was to be her relief driver.
A side note here. Papa had often worried that the family would not be able to afford to get him back home to be buried. Connie told him, "Dad, don't worry about it. If I have to put you in the back of the car and drive you there myself, you'll be buried beside Mom."
That's exactly what transpired. After going over the transport options, the local funeral director said, "Don't you have a van?" Connie does, so he went outside and measured the interior and declared that the casket would fit. He got the necessary transport permit for her, and then she asked me to accompany her, since neither of her sons could go.
Of course I accepted immediately. I made a few arrangements, canceled some stuff, threw a few things into my suitcase, and drove off to Mesa for the funeral on Wednesday. After a day of rest and planning, we (which included Connie's brother and his wife in another vehicle) arrived at the mortuary early on Friday morning to pick up the casket. We also learned that we COULD stop along the way to sleep, as long as the van was locked. "Unattended" applied to transporting a casket in a pickup, but especially since the van's side and back windows were dark enough to obscure the contents, there was no problem.
We were on the road by 6:30 a.m., and drove to Oklahoma City before sleeping. The next day we headed up through Kansas, and arrived in Weeping Water, Nebraska, late that afternoon. We were met at the local mortuary, where we ascertained that Papa had made the journey without a problem.
After we handed off the mortal remains of her father, I sensed that Connie was relieved at the completion of the responsibility. We spent some time at her brother's home, then drove the 20 miles to another town to our motel.
We don't recommend the motel where we stayed.
At church on Sunday, Connie learned that the graveside service had morphed into a full funeral at the mortuary. Later, at her brother's house, she asked me to sing a duet with her of the same hymn that had been sung by a men's quartet at the Mesa funeral. We decided how we would sing a men's arrangement with two women's voices, using one mini-hymnbook and a full-sized one. Then we scrambled to find an accompanist, but had no chance to practice with her that day (we're talking about a congregation being spread out over many miles in Nebraska, not like the square mile LDS wards in the Mountain West). We arranged to meet her at the mortuary a few minutes before the viewing to go over the hymn.
At the mortuary, we discovered that the organ didn't work. The funeral director called his wife to bring their keyboard from home. I don't know how far away home was, but it took almost until the end of the viewing for it to arrive. Consequently, we didn't get a rehearsal with the accompanist.
The funeral--and the musical number--went well, and everyone followed the hearse a few blocks to the cemetery. It was a lovely place, tree-shaded and peaceful.
After spending time with her family, and loading a bicycle into the van for the return trip, Connie and I were on the road again, this time heading for Omaha and further adventures.
To be continued . . .
My dear friend Connie Wolfe has been caring for her father for the last four years. It has been difficult to watch her struggle with his descent into dementia and becoming the "parent" to her father. However, she persevered through it all, and after he suffered a stroke, it looked like he had to go into a care facility. That was a heart-breaking decision. Ultimately, because she had suffered a back injury and could not lift him, he was placed in one, but the standard of care was not up to snuff, and Connie brought him back home. She employed one of her sons to be his grandfather's nighttime caregiver so she could get some sleep, and prepared to carry on.
Papa died on Sunday, August 2.
On Monday, after learning of the event, I called to offer Connie anything I could do for her. She hesitated for a moment, then asked if I would accompany her back to Nebraska for the graveside service. She needed me because she was going to transport her father's body to lay it beside his wife. As she understood it, she would need to drive straight through, because the body could not be left unattended. I was to be her relief driver.
A side note here. Papa had often worried that the family would not be able to afford to get him back home to be buried. Connie told him, "Dad, don't worry about it. If I have to put you in the back of the car and drive you there myself, you'll be buried beside Mom."
That's exactly what transpired. After going over the transport options, the local funeral director said, "Don't you have a van?" Connie does, so he went outside and measured the interior and declared that the casket would fit. He got the necessary transport permit for her, and then she asked me to accompany her, since neither of her sons could go.
Of course I accepted immediately. I made a few arrangements, canceled some stuff, threw a few things into my suitcase, and drove off to Mesa for the funeral on Wednesday. After a day of rest and planning, we (which included Connie's brother and his wife in another vehicle) arrived at the mortuary early on Friday morning to pick up the casket. We also learned that we COULD stop along the way to sleep, as long as the van was locked. "Unattended" applied to transporting a casket in a pickup, but especially since the van's side and back windows were dark enough to obscure the contents, there was no problem.
We were on the road by 6:30 a.m., and drove to Oklahoma City before sleeping. The next day we headed up through Kansas, and arrived in Weeping Water, Nebraska, late that afternoon. We were met at the local mortuary, where we ascertained that Papa had made the journey without a problem.
After we handed off the mortal remains of her father, I sensed that Connie was relieved at the completion of the responsibility. We spent some time at her brother's home, then drove the 20 miles to another town to our motel.
We don't recommend the motel where we stayed.
At church on Sunday, Connie learned that the graveside service had morphed into a full funeral at the mortuary. Later, at her brother's house, she asked me to sing a duet with her of the same hymn that had been sung by a men's quartet at the Mesa funeral. We decided how we would sing a men's arrangement with two women's voices, using one mini-hymnbook and a full-sized one. Then we scrambled to find an accompanist, but had no chance to practice with her that day (we're talking about a congregation being spread out over many miles in Nebraska, not like the square mile LDS wards in the Mountain West). We arranged to meet her at the mortuary a few minutes before the viewing to go over the hymn.
At the mortuary, we discovered that the organ didn't work. The funeral director called his wife to bring their keyboard from home. I don't know how far away home was, but it took almost until the end of the viewing for it to arrive. Consequently, we didn't get a rehearsal with the accompanist.
The funeral--and the musical number--went well, and everyone followed the hearse a few blocks to the cemetery. It was a lovely place, tree-shaded and peaceful.
After spending time with her family, and loading a bicycle into the van for the return trip, Connie and I were on the road again, this time heading for Omaha and further adventures.
To be continued . . .
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Character Notes: Marie Owen
Of the Owen family's two daughters, Marie is the older. She was born between James and Clayton, and is five years older than her sister, Julianna. She was first seen in The Man from Shenandoah, and appears in Jessie Bingham's memories in Trail of Storms.
I have two photos on Marie's card. They are both far too old for the real Marie. One is of a female newscaster whose name escapes me, and the other is of an actress whose name I never knew. Ha! I didn't need names for the photos. Their purpose was to provide a general physical description I could visualize and describe as needed.
Here is what I wrote on Marie's character card:
MARIE OWEN
Marie has thick dark hair and a beautiful smile. She loves a good mystery, and is good at ferreting out people's secrets. Her eyes range from hazel to dark brown, according to her temperament. She enjoys teasing her brothers. Marie is aware of becoming a woman, but has no anxiety to wed. She would love to have several beaus to play off against each other, but will take what comes with a good will. She loves adventure, and looks forward to the trip west with high excitement.
I'm looking forward to getting to know Marie better. Are you?
I have two photos on Marie's card. They are both far too old for the real Marie. One is of a female newscaster whose name escapes me, and the other is of an actress whose name I never knew. Ha! I didn't need names for the photos. Their purpose was to provide a general physical description I could visualize and describe as needed.
Here is what I wrote on Marie's character card:
MARIE OWEN
Marie has thick dark hair and a beautiful smile. She loves a good mystery, and is good at ferreting out people's secrets. Her eyes range from hazel to dark brown, according to her temperament. She enjoys teasing her brothers. Marie is aware of becoming a woman, but has no anxiety to wed. She would love to have several beaus to play off against each other, but will take what comes with a good will. She loves adventure, and looks forward to the trip west with high excitement.
I'm looking forward to getting to know Marie better. Are you?
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