Embarrassing Moments: Slip 'n Splash

Now that summer is over, I thought back to the days when my son was quite young and I tried to make our summers fun. In the following he had fun--but not so much did I!

I have always joked that my idea of camping out was to stay at the Holiday Inn but, as a single parent of a rambunctious boy, I had to make adjustments in my attitude. Therefore I tried to make our “camping” experience as easy on me as possible yet fun for my son Jaime.

When Jaime was ten years old, one of our favorite weekend destinations was Garner State Park in the Texas Hill Country. However, our last trip to Garner did not quite fit the bill, especially for me.

We left early on a Saturday morning from our home in Crystal City, Texas, arriving before noon. We parked our Chevy Vega between enormous RVs and campers along the Frio River, literally all of us lined up on the river bank among large shady trees. We always tried to get there early enough to get a good, safe spot.

Paddle boating, hiking, miniature golf and swimming were Jaime’s favorite pastimes at the park. I skipped on the swimming but joined him in the other endeavors. At one end or bend of the river was a shallow area with stepping stones that led to a small island, a popular destination for the curious as well as sun worshippers. We enjoyed walking over the stones to the little island, exploring it often.

On this last trip to the park, we crossed as usual to the small island. I noticed that the stones seemed to be more slippery than usual. However, no one else, including Jaime, seemed to notice. Once on the other side, after walking across very carefully, we began exploring the island, finding it crowded with other tourists. Jaime wanted to go back and swim in the area in front of our car. Walking quickly ahead of me over the stones, he reached the other side and proceeded toward the car. Other people came and went across the stones, too.

As I stepped on the first stone, I found it to be exceptionally slippery. Losing my footing, I slipped and fell into the water. I was fully dressed in jeans, shirt, and canvas shoes. Terribly embarrassed I got up with as much dignity as possible. However, at a glance, I noticed that no one seemed to pay the least bit of attention to me, which let me hope that no one had seen me fall.

Taking another step, I slipped and fell again. As I picked myself up, I decided it might be easier to just wade across in the shallow water. But the stepping stones created a little waterfall and as I stepped into the rushing water, I lost my balance and fell yet again! Now I was beginning to panic. There didn’t seem to be any way I could take a step without falling. I momentarily thought about crawling across but that would be too undignified and ridiculous. If I had had my swimsuit on, I could have waded or even crawled into deeper water and swam across. But fully dressed I didn’t want to do that.

Finally, standing precipitously on the third stone, I decided that I was just going to have to walk across. Everyone else was doing it without any problems and some were even running across. So with great determination, I cautiously stepped toward the fourth stone, slipping and falling again. As I got up, I decided that maybe my shoes were to blame. Kicking them off, I picked them up and started to proceed barefoot. I took one step, slipped and fell. I was now in the middle of the stepping stones and there was no turning back.

With people rushing past me in both directions and others sitting along the bank, everyone seemed too busy to see me, so I continued on my way. With each step I slipped, fell into the water, and got up. And so it went interminably—step, slip, fall, splash—until finally I made it to the bank and clambered up it, soaking wet. No one gave the appearance of having seen me or of noticing anything different about me. Grateful for that much, I walked back to the car with as much grace and dignity as I could muster, got some dry clothes and went to a restroom to change.

Jaime had been waiting impatiently for me and was ready to swim. I watched him swim and go on the paddle boat but I was not about to partake of any water sports. We spent the night in the back of the Vega with the hatchback up—my concession to “camping out”. I was more than ready to go to a Holiday Inn!

The next morning as we walked along the bank in front of rows of RVs and campers and people milling about, I began to forget my slip-n-splash nightmare. Suddenly, behind me I heard a woman whisper, “Look! It’s that crazy woman!”

And that is why that was our last trip to Garner State Park!

Dorothy L. Sayers: The Golden Age of Mystery

Dorothy L. Sayers was, according to Wikipedia, "a renowned English crime writer, poet, playwright, essayist, translator and Christian humanist. She was also a student of classical and modern languages. She is best known for her mysteries, a series of novels and short stories set between World War I and World War II that feature English aristocrat and amateur sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey. However, Sayers herself considered her translation of Dante's Divina Commedia to be her best work. She is also known for her plays and essays."

This little essay, however, deals only with her mystery sleuth and some personal bits about her life. I haven't read a Sayers novel since 1998 but I have read most of her Lord Peter Wimsey dectective novels. I fell in love with Lord Peter in the British mystery series on Masterpiece Theater. After seeing the first episode, I started reading the books. Of the novels I have read, my favorites are The Five Red Herrings and Have His Carcase.

From my point of view, Lord Peter was aristocratic, rich and charming. And Wikipedia notes that he was also "well-educated and brave, as well as an accomplished musician, an exceptional athlete, and a notable lover." My goodness! Who wouldn't like the guy?? But Wikipedia also says that he had "serious flaws: the habit of over-engaging in what other characters regard as silly prattling, a nervous disorder (shell-shock) and a fear of responsibility. The latter two both originate from his service in World War I. The fear of responsibility turns out to be a serious obstacle to his maturation into full adulthood (a fact not lost on the character himself)."

Lord Peter had a love interest in Harriet Vane who was featured in four novels. Some have criticized the character for being a stand-in for the author. I can't see the harm in that. The author herself must have been in love with her own creation of Lord Peter.

After having read the autobiography of Agatha Christie recently, I have become intrigued by the personal lives of these ladies who wrote such clever mysteries. Dorothy Sayers led a most unconventional life although today her life would not seem that way. She had affairs with men she fell in love with and even had a son out of wedlock. She placed him with relatives and tried to keep her relationship with him a secret. He called her Aunt Dorothy but knew, at least as he grew older, that she was his mother. She did eventually marry and had a successful marriage.

Although I have read most of the Lord Peter Wimsey novels, there are several books of short stories featuring him that I have not read and I look forward to reading those as well as the mysteries that don't include Lord Peter.

Hooked from the Start? Part Two: Daphne du Maurier

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." This is the first line of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, one of the most memorable of opening lines. I don't remember how old I was when I first read Rebecca--perhaps I read it in college or during my first year of teaching.

Rebecca is the most famous of du Maurier's books but the novel that stands out the most in my mind is The House on the Strand. According to Wikipedia it was considered as science fiction but to me, it was my first foray into time travel. The book mesmerized me.

And the first line: "The first thing I noticed was the clarity of the air, and then the sharp green colour of the land." No, the first line was not the reason I started reading the book. I read it because I loved du Maurier's books. But the time travel element hooked me and has been the greatest influence on a series of time travel novels of my own, which I'm writing now. I read the novel in the early 1970s and the aspect of time travel lived on in my sub-conscious. In subsequent time travel novels by other writers, the protagonist interacts with the people of the culture he/she is visiting. Not so in The House on the Strand. The male protagonist took a drug that transported him back in time to early 14th century England and he was an observer only except that as he followed one of the inhabitants of that time period, he traversed over 20th century terrain, not noticing where he was in reality. My time traveling protagonist will be an observer also but she won't be drugged. Her ability to go back to the past will come from something inherent inside her and from ancient relics that she touches.

Of all the novels I've read, The House on the Strand is the one that has influenced my way of thinking about time travel and how I want to write my own time travel novels.

Embarrassing Moments: Tumblin' Tumblewig

Here is another of my embarrassing moments from the files of Hopalong Ganny:

One March day I decided to walk the four or five blocks to the shopping center where I worked in Midwest City, Oklahoma. For some inexplicable reason I decided to wear a black wig that I hadn’t worn in a long time. Maybe I wanted to see if my co-workers would notice that I was wearing a wig.

It was a cloudy, windy day as I set out on my little trek. As I approached the first corner, I vaguely noticed a car pull up at a stop sign and wait for me to cross the street in front of it. The moment I stepped off the curb, a gust of wind blew my wig off and it went rolling down the street past the waiting car like a black “tumblin’ tumbleweed.” Embarrassed, and that’s putting it mildly, I ran after it.

Just as I got close to it, another gust of wind blew it out of reach. And so it went, with me running after my wig and the wind blowing it away each time that I made a grab for it. I became extremely frustrated and worried that I might not be able to retrieve it. But I was determined—I had to get that wig! Finally I made a desperation grab, and yes, managed to hold onto it. I tried to put it back on but immediately realized that the wind wasn’t going to let that happen.

I knew then that I would have to return home, wig in hand. I had never, not once, had a wig come loose or fall off until now. As I turned back I could imagine what a terrible sight I must seem with my own hair pulled back, tightly pinned to my scalp, with the wig tucked securely under my arm.

As I was going back up the street toward the corner where the “incident” had occurred, I noticed that the car that had stopped to let me pass was still parked at the stop sign. The passengers had all turned around, apparently to watch my progress, and were now convulsed in laughter!

I ducked my head down and ran home as fast as I could.

Margery Allingham: The Golden Age of Mystery

I am a list person. I list the books I read in the order in which I read them and write reviews of each book. I have been doing this for many, many years. I also make lists of my favorite books and my favorite authors. And those I don't put in any kind of order, especially when it comes to the Ladies of The Golden Age of Mystery.

Although their books adhere to a certain formula, their heroes or male protagonists are as different from each other as humanly possible. For example, Hercule Poirot (Agatha Christie), Roderick Alleyn (Ngaio Marsh) and Albert Campion (Margery Allingham) are three sleuths who not only solve crimes differently but are complete opposites in personality and appearance. Hercule is the little persnickety (in my opinion) egg-shaped genius. Roderick is tall, dark and handsome. And Albert is a quiet, mild-mannered man. I love all three who solve crimes in their own individual style.

This week I am concentrating on Margery Allingham and my favorite of her novels: The Gyrth Chalice Mystery, featuring, of course, Albert Campion. In fact when I read it in 2006, I also included it as number one in my list of best books read that year.

My review of the book was short and I included a quote that I found somewhere, probably on the back cover blurb:

An Albert Campion mystery, published 1931. "A mystery at its British best. The Tower Room holds a priceless relic, a a chilling secret...and Campion face to face with Death!" A rousing tale, implausible but great fun.

I gave the book an A+ rating.

Wikipedia describes Campion this way: "Campion is thin, blond, wears glasses, and is often described as affable, inoffensive and bland, with a deceptively blank and unintelligent expression. He is, nonetheless, a man of authority and action, and considers himself to be a helpful and comforting "Uncle Albert" to friends and those in need." The actor Peter Davison portrayed him in the 1989/90 British TV series. I thought he personified the above description perfectly.

Supposedly, Allingham first created him as a parody to Dorothy Sayers' crime solver, Lord Peter Wimsey. Since I didn't know that while I was reading both authors' books, I never made the connection and considered the two crime solvers to be completely different.

I always enjoy an Allingham novel or short story featuring Campion and have tried to read them in the order in which they were written. After Allingham died, her husband finished her last manuscript.

I have read fifteen of her twenty novels featuring Campion and look forward to the last five. She also wrote many short stories featuring him also.

Summertime and the Eatin’ is Easy

A Tribute to Hotdogs and Hamburgers

Ah, it’s that time of the year when many people go on vacation—a time to explore new horizons, relax and not worry about preparing family meals. One of the easiest ways to enjoy food while traveling is sampling the street food of the region one is visiting, such as Spanish empanadas, Portuguese salgados, Puerto Rican bacalaítos, Mexican tacos, to name only a few. And if one is visiting the U.S.A., especially large cities such as New York and Chicago, there is the dependable hotdog.

A hotdog? How can a hotdog compare to the antojitos of other countries? As I pondered this question I reflected back on the hotdogs of my childhood. At home I usually spread mustard on my bun, added the boiled hotdog, and topped it off with relish, either sweet pickle relish or the mustardy hotdog relish, sometimes even sauerkraut or ketchup. At picnics we also had the choice of topping grilled hotdogs with chili, cheese and chopped onions. Yes, I concluded—hotdogs when prepared properly with lots of toppings can be quite tasty even, perhaps, as much as the street food of other countries.

When my son was small we spent our Sundays at the beach and when it was time to eat, we bought hotdogs from street vendors who walked along pushing hotdog carts. My son, who was never into eating as a child, always wanted his hotdog plain. How boring, I thought, but at least he was eating something. I, on the other hand, wanted my hotdogs with everything! And everything in this case consisted of the bun, mustard, the hotdog of course, chopped fresh onions, relish, grilled onions and a barbecue-like sauce. These were the best hotdogs that I have ever eaten!

Perhaps some might say that hamburgers are the definitive American street food but hamburgers aren’t usually purchased from street vendor carts--as far as I know. However, they are what most people think of as the most popular of American fast food. I am one of those people who must have pickles, onions, and mustard on my burgers. Or at least until I attended college one summer in Monterrey, México. There, when I ordered an hamburguesa at a downtown eatery, the pickles were replaced by pickled jalapeño peppers! And suddenly my taste buds came alive and began to crave those hamburguesas. But, of course, back in the U.S.A. I had to return to the traditional burger. But by some quirk of fate, many years later, I have discovered restaurants—at least in the Southwest—that offer jalapeño burgers! Many are served with grilled onions to create a burger taste treat that can’t be beaten.

So, wherever one travels this summer, whether in the U.S.A. or abroad, part of the fun is experimenting with the street or fast food of the region—not only is it fun but economical and easy on the family cook as well.

Oh, and those street vendor hotdogs that I loved so well? Those weren’t American hotdogs at all—we ate them at San Gerónimo Beach in San Juan, Puerto Rico!

(Originally published in Pensamientos on a bilingual webside, Está Aqui, the summer of 2001).

Hooked from the Start? Part One: Mary Stewart

“Hook your readers from the first sentence.” I don’t know how many times I have heard or read that bit of advice. And I have tried to follow it with my own stories although I’m not sure I always succeed.

But I started to think about some of my favorite books by favorite authors. Did their first sentences hook me from the beginning and was that the reason I read the books? So, I went back and researched some of those first sentences to see if there was any influence on why I read those books.

I will start with Mary Stewart’s My Brother Michael. I read this novel one weekend during my senior year in college. When a friend lent it to me, I thought it was going to be something tawdry and I wasn’t sure I wanted to read it. The first line read: “Nothing ever happens to me.” Now for a seasoned reader in the romance suspense genre, this would have rung warning bells because the reader would know that of course something was going to happen to the heroine. But at the time I wasn’t a seasoned reader in this genre.

As I continued reading the book, I was blown away. I had never read anything so beautifully written with so much suspense. I began to read all of Mary Stewart’s romantic suspense novels, looking forward to the publication of each one.

But the first sentence was not the reason I started reading the book although it is considered one of the best of first lines. A boring weekend at college did that but “the magic of Mary Stewart” captivated me and I wanted to read her other novels.

This series will continue next month with Daphne DuMaurier.