Standing Into Danger

Friday, February 7, 2020

Pursuing a Lifelong Passion ~ My List of Books Read 2019

Reading is one of the greatest pleasures in my life,
and in 2019 I read thirty-five books, one more than last year.

I read a total of 11,495 pages.
Actually I read more than that, because some books
~ like The Mueller Report and Baudolino ~
were challenging, and I read parts of them over and over
until I understood all the content.
Thank goodness for Google!

So my goal for 2020 is to beat my record for 2019
by reading at least thirty-six books and 12,000 pages.

Eight of the books were by authors who belong to
the Insecure Writers Support Group (IWSG);
so, of course, I'm going for nine in 2020.

I will be forever grateful to my parents for encouraging me to read.
I literally can't remember a time I couldn't read, and that is because of them.

My Parents Reading

Sara MacDonald and Don MacBeath (with pipe)

Acadia University, Wolfville, Nova Scotia, Canada

Circa 1947

Here's my list of books read in 2019:

1. New York 2140 by Kim Stanley Robinson
619 pages Speculative fiction, Historical Fiction, Fantasy Fiction

2. Fear: Trump in the White House by Bob Woodward
362 pages Biography

3. Abaddon's Gate by James S. A. Corey
546 pages Science Fiction

4. The Muralist by B. A. Shapiro
337 pages Historical Fiction

5. Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari
638 pages Non-Fiction: History, Human Evolution

6.  Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
405 pages Gothic fiction, Mystery, Romance novel, Crime Fiction, Romantic Suspense

7. Descent by Tim Johnson
375 pages Mystery, Thriller, Psychological Fiction, Domestic Fiction

8. The Origin of Tolkien's Middle Earth for Dummies  by Greg Harvey
346 pages Nonfiction: Literary Criticism

9. Oil and Marble: A Novel of Leonardo and Michelangelo by Stephanie Storey
360 pages Thriller, Historical Fiction, Biographical Fiction

10. Music Boxes by Tonja Drecker
155 pages Middle Grade Fiction: Fantasy

11. Masquerade: Oddly Suited by L.G. Keltner et al.
196 pages Young Adult Fiction: Romance, Paranormal, Contemporary

12. The Mueller Report by the Justice Department
387 pages Nonfiction: Government Report

13. Big Red by Damien Larken
299 pages Science Fiction, Alternate history, Military Science Fiction

14. A Higher Loyalty by James Comey
304 pages Biography, Autobiography

15. Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
269 pages Suspense, Thriller, Crime Fiction, Psychological Fiction

16. House of Trump, House of Putin: The Untold Story
of Donald Trump and the Russian Mafia by Craig Unger
277 pages Nonfiction: Biography, True Crime

17. Overcoming Obstacles with Spunk by L. Diane Wolfe
167 pages Nonfiction: Self Help, Goal Setting, Leadership

18. Married to a Bedouin by Marguerite van Geldermalsen
292 pages Nonfiction: Biography, Autobiography

19. Kingdom of the Blind by Louise Penny
518 pages Mystery, Thriller

20. Some Very Messy Medieval Magic by C. Lee McKenzie
174 pages Middle Grade Fiction: Fantasy

21. Port-Royal Habitation: The Story of the French and Mi'kmaq
at Port-Royal 1604-1613 by W. P. Kerr
106 pages Nonfiction: History

22. A Not So New World by Pat Hatt
317 pages Science Fiction

23. Delivered by Pat Hatt
332 pages Mystery, Contemporary

24. Hippie by Paulo Coelho
279 pages Autobiographical novel, Biographical Fiction

25. The Complete Win at Spades by Joseph D. Andrews
174 pages Nonfiction: Game Strategy

26. Survival of the Fittest by Jacqui Murray
308 pages Historical Fiction

27. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer
288 pages Historical Fiction

28. The Ends of the World: Supervolcanoes, Lethal Oceans,
and the Search for Past Apocalypses by Peter Brannen
256 pages Nonfiction: Science (Geology, Earth History, Environmental)

29. Give Me the World by Leila Hadley
454 pages Travel Literature

30. Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood by Oliver Sacks
392 pages Biography, Autobiography, Memoir

31. In Other Words by Jhumpa Lahiri
196 pages Biography, Autobiography, Travel

32.  TheSilent Patient by Alex Michaelides
313 pages Thriller, Mystery, Psychological Fiction, Suspense, Psychological Thriller

33. The Forgotten Room by Lincoln Child
290 pages Science Fiction, Thriller, Suspense, Historical Fantasy

34.  Baudolino by Umberto Eco
521 pages Speculative fiction, Historical Fiction, Fantasy Fiction

35. Introduction to Geology: Physical and Historical
by William Lee Stokes and Sheldon Judson
243/530 pages (physical section) Nonfiction: Science (Geology)

Note: IWSG Authors are highlighted in yellow.

Enjoying a Favorite Pastime

Aurora, Colorado, USA

January 9, 2019

Till next time ~

Fundy Blue

Donnie and I

On the Margaret's Justice Ferry
Between Westport and Freeport
Grand Passage, Bay of Fundy
Nova Scotia, Canada

July 31, 2018

A Personal Note:
If things go according to plans, I won't be publishing a post next Friday.
I'll be in the middle of buying a new computer and getting it set up.
Wish me luck!!!

Wednesday, February 5, 2020

IWSG: Wednesday, February 5, 2020 ~ Writing Inspirations

It's the first Wednesday of the month,
the day that members of the
Insecure Writer's Support Group
share their writing struggles
and writing successes
and offer their encouragement
and support to fellow writers.

To visit the IWSG website, click here.

To become a member of the IWSG, click here.

Our wonderful co-hosts who are volunteering today,
along with IWSG Founder Alex Cavanaugh are Lee Lowrey, Jennifer Hawes,
Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Catharina Constantine, and Tyrean Martinson.

I hope you have a chance to visit today's hosts and thank them for co-hosting.
I'm sure they would appreciate a visit and an encouraging comment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every month the IWSG announces a question that members can answer
with advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story in their IWSG posts.

Or, the question can inspire members
if they aren't sure what to write about on IWSG Day.

Remember the question is optional.
This month's featured question is:

Has a single photo or work of art ever inspired a story? What was it and did you finish it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy February, Everyone!
I hope that your writing is going well this year.
I feel great about what I have accomplished so far.

With regard to this month's question,
a single photo or work of art has never inspired a story for me;
although, as a second and third grade teacher, I sometimes used
a photo or other objects as prompts for writing with my students.
I never considered the little demonstration pieces I wrote
as my real writing, even if I felt inspired.

However, landscapes often inspire me when I'm writing,
and I will use photos to help ground my story in a particular place and time.
Several years ago I wrote a short story "The Immigrants"
which was inspired by the Fundy Shore near Beautiful Cove on Long Island.

The Fundy Shore

Beautiful Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada

August 2, 2016

Writers is an encompassing term, and writers write
in many genres which extend beyond fictional stories.
Yes, I write fictional short stories and have a novel in the works,
but I generally write nonfiction and have done so throughout my life.

A major nonfiction genre for me is blogging.
To date I have published 574 posts.
I might have published one post without a photograph.
Photographs have definitely inspired me to write certain posts.

This photo of a little blond pooch inspired my post The Art Lover.
Terry and I had spent a long day traipsing around Florence
and were trudging through the crowded Piazzale degli Uffizi
looking for a sidewalk cafe where we could rest our weary feet
and enjoy cool Aperol Spritzes in the shade.

The sight of this delightful little art lover collapsed
the busy, overwhelming kaleidoscope that is Florence
into something my tired mind could embrace,
and I will remember this moment long after grander ones are forgotten.

Entranced by Obama!

Piazzale degli Uffizi, Florence, Italy

September 16, 2018

I had the honor of being chosen for this year's IWSG anthology.
The inspiration for my short story "Dare Double Dare"
was my great grandmother's home which was built in 1785.
I drew on memories and photos for my short story,
but I thought I'd share a work of art illustrating her home:
a rug she, Sara Cossaboom, hooked nearly a century ago.

My Great Grandmother's House

by Sara Cossaboom

Smith's Cove Old Temperance Hall Museum

Summer 2015

We ten authors featured in the IWSG anthology The Third Ghost have a blog.
Today, IWSG Day, the spotlight is on Roland Clarke and his short story "Feathered Fire."
We'd love to have you visit!
https://iwsganthologies.blogspot.com

Courtesy of Dancing Lemur Press/Freedom Fox Press

Happy writing in February!

Friday, January 31, 2020

Lac Seul Sojourn: Turning on a Dime

Life can turn on a dime.
Mine did on Saturday, June 10, 1961.

On Friday I was a typical kid, stuck in school,
staring out the windows at Lake Attawapiskat,
and longing for vacation just a few weeks away.
I was looking forward to canoeing, swimming,
picnicking, and exploring the surrounding bush.
Winter had fled, and summer in Lansdowne house beckoned.

Canoeing on Lake Attawapiskat

Roy and I (Louise)

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Spring 1961

Photo by Don MacBeath

My life took an abrupt turn on that Saturday
when my father was summoned to the Hudson Bay store for a radio call.
The Department of Lands and Forests had evicted us,
giving us forty-eight hours to vacate the forestry house.
A fire with a fifty-mile front was burning through the boreal forest,
and the department needed the house to coordinate its firefighting response.

Forest Fire

Location and Date Unknown

Pixabay

The eviction threw our lives into chaos.
Dad could return to the brown cabin on the Father's Island and bunk with Uno,
but there was nowhere for Mom, we five kids, and our dachshund Gretchen to go.
My parents packed our belongings in a frenzy on Sunday
while they tried to come up with a plan for the immediate future.

Then, on Monday morning, the nurse Mike O'Flaherty,
who had just accompanied his wife Anne
to Sioux Lookout for the birth of their second child,
wired my father to say he had found us a place to stay.

By early Monday afternoon Mom, we five, and Gretchen were on a bush plane
racing to catch the night train from Nakina to Sioux Lookout.
It was my mother's thirty-sixth birthday.

Picnicking by Ice-Covered Lake Attawapiskat

My mother Sara MacBeath (shortly before her 36th birthday)

with my sister Barbie (on her left)

Near Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Spring 1961

Photo by Don MacBeath

Somehow, on that crazy, hectic Monday, June 12, 1961,
we caught the train to Sioux after our hasty flight from Lansdowne.
That train ride was the most consequential of my life.
An old coot of a conductor molested me
at the front of a passenger car full of sleeping people.

I was frozen. I couldn't make a sound while it happened,
and my little sister Barbie, sleeping next to me on the train seat, never stirred.

Unidentified Rail Vehicles

Canadian National Railway, 1971

A Roger Puta photograph posted by Marty Bernard

Wikimedia

I didn't say a word to anyone for almost two years.
I was so ashamed, so mortified, so embarrassed, so disgusted,
so afraid that I had done something wrong,
so confused, and so shocked that I hadn't screamed
at the top of my lungs and exposed that molesting bastard.

After I told my mother nearly two years later,
I didn't speak of it again for over a decade,
and I have rarely spoken of it in the decades since.

The sandwich man knew.
He passed through our passenger car too late
to stop the conductor from assaulting me,
but he watched over me for the rest of the night.

He said nothing either. He needed his job selling sandwiches,
and the conductor had a lot more power than he did.

Sioux Lookout Train Station

Photo by Bobbybonex

September 27, 2012

Wikimedia

We arrived in Sioux Lookout early in the morning,
but things didn't go as we had expected.
A taxi driver, Mr. Caswell, met us at the station instead of Mike.
He broke the news that he was taking us to catch a flight to Lac Seul
where Mike had found a place for us to stay.

Mr. Caswell piled our luggage into the trunk of his taxi
and the five of us children into the back seat with Gretchen,
while our harried mother wired our father in Lansdowne House.
She told Dad there was no place for us in Sioux Lookout
and that Mike was taking us to stay in Lac Seul.

Then Mr. Caswell drove us all to a restaurant for a breakfast
before we left for the waterfront to meet Mike and our plane.

Lac Seul? Where in the hell is Lac Seul?
my father thought when he read the telegram at the Hudson Bay store.
That was the last thing my frantic father heard from us or about us in a week.

A Grumman Goose

I don't know what seaplane or "flying boat" we flew on, but it might have been a goose.

Flickr: Alan License

As our flying boat raced for takeoff on its belly,
my exhausted brain tried to bury the memory of my molester.
Had we not gotten the radioed eviction on Saturday,
had my life not turned on a dime,
life might have gone much differently for me.

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue

By the Brier Island Lighthouse
Brier Island, Nova Scotia, Canada
August 3, 2015
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Notes:

1. Forest Fires 1961:
We didn't know it at the time, but 1961 would be a record year for forest fires in northwestern
Ontario with 1,534,917 acres or 621,159 hectares burning. That record wasn't broken until 2011.
ottawa.ctvnews.ca

2. Mr. Caswell:
We got to know Mr. Caswell very well doing our time in Sioux Lookout. He was the town
taxi service.

3. Lac Seul:
Lac Seul is the second largest lake completely within the province of Ontario. Technically,
it is a reservoir of the English River, and it stretches about 150 miles (241 km) in a large crescent
from Ear Falls in the west to Sioux Lookout-Hudson in the east. A power generating station is
located at Ear Falls. Lac Seul has a surface area of 640 square miles (1658 sq. km). The lake is a
maze of islands, bays, rocky points, shoals, and narrow channels. The water is clear, but has a
distinctive tea color. It is famous for its sport fishing. sunsetcountry

4. The Pervert and the Sandwich Man:
I shared the story of my ordeal on the night train to Sioux Lookout in an earlier post:
The Pervert and the Sandwich Man.

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Location of Lansdowne House

Known Today as Neskantaga

Wikipedia

Location of Lansdowne House, Nakina, and Sioux Lookout

Northern Ontario, Canada

Wikipedia

Lansdowne House and Lake Attawapiskat

Sketch by M. Louise Barbour

Peninsula and Island

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario

Credit: Canada. Dept. of Indian Affairs and Northern Development
Library and Archives Canada: PA-094992

Lac Seul

Northern Canada

Google Maps Map Data 2018

To See a Photo of Lac Seul Click Here

Friday, January 24, 2020

The Power of Family Stories

Writing the Lansdowne Letters was a daunting, but ultimately healing, process for me.
The more time I spent with my family's letters and photos,
the more I felt my parent's love wrapped around me.
Despite the challenges and hardships of living in an isolated northern community,
my time in Lansdowne House was some of the happiest in my childhood.

Happy Days in Lansdowne House

Mom, Gretchen (dachshund), Roberta (clockwise), Donnie, Roy, Barbara, and Louise (me)

Shore of Attawapiskat Lake, Northern Ontario, Canada

June 4, 2018

When you are a small child, the life you experience is normal for you.

You may not realize that your life is different

when compared with the lives of your friends and neighbors.

I had no idea how different my life was.

Sixty plus years ago, before television became common,

before computers and cell phones, before the internet and social media,

children were more sheltered from events beyond their doors.

And in many families, children were shielded from problems

that affected their parents or their extended families.

Sheltered Days in Charlottetown

My Brother Roy, My Sister Donnie (on sled) and Me (Louise)

Edward Street, Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada

Likely Winter 1955-56

There is no question our parents sheltered us from their problems.

We heard the good, and the bad was hidden.

My childhood was filled with wonderful stories,

told by compelling storytellers on both sides of my family.

Family stories passed from generation to generation and were repeated over and over.

It didn't matter if we had heard them before.

Comfort, reassurance, and love filled us as familiar stories were retold.

On one of the last nights of my mother's life,

while she still in the hospital and before she came home to die in palliative care,

my brother Roy took the midnight shift by her bed.

He had just flown in from Kuwait and had slept some on his flight.

Those of us who had been there for many, many hours

asked if he could stay overnight with Mom, so we could go home and get a little sleep.

Roy willingly agreed, even though he admitted that

he was nervous about spending long hours alone with Mom.

Her tenuous state and all the unknowns were unsettling.

When we returned early the next morning, I asked Roy how it went.

He said, "It was one of the best nights of my life.

I'm so glad that I got to be there with Mom."

Mom and Roy

Christmas Hug

Calgary, Alberta, Canada

2001

"What happened?" I asked, surprised and relieved.

"When Mom came to, she was shocked to see me, but so happy I was there.

She wanted to talk, and we shared all the old family stories.

We laughed and cried and had so much fun. It was the best time, Weese."

My mother made a brief and miraculous recovery.

"Resurrection," was her doctors' term.

Medical staff kept coming by all day to visit.

They couldn't believe that our mother was alive.

She was discharged and spent several exquisitely precious days with us.

I think that shared retelling of our family stories

helped propel my mother out of that hospital bed

to come home with us, even briefly.

Such is the power of family stories.

Holding It Together for a Last Family Photo

Bertie, Roy, Me, Barb, and Donnie

Mom with Daxie on her lap

Calgary, Alberta, Canada

May 19, 2002

Not all family stories are filled with fun and love.

Some are darker stories, whispered about through the years.

Often they are conversations among adults overheard by curious children like me,

children who grow up, ask questions, and pass these stories along.

My family has its share of dark stories handed down:

tragic fires, religious strife, betrayal, alcoholism, and jealousy,

families ripped apart and devastating illnesses, even a possible murder.

The whispered story that frightened me most as a child

was the story of the mental illness that plagued my father's family.

This illness had struck each generation beginning with my great grandfather Pratt.

Beyond that we couldn't trace, for he had arrived in Prince Edward Island

as a young and unknown orphan on a boat from Scotland.

It struck my father who grappled with manic depression throughout his life,

and I worried that this darkness would come to me.

"Don't worry, Weesie," Mom would assure me.

"You have all my good MacDonald blood to protect you."

My Mother and I

(Me ~ perpetually tied on, because I was a runner)

Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada

Summer 1951 or 1952

Despite my mother's comforting assurances, the same illness

with its wild emotional swings, depression, and suicidal thoughts passed to me.

I have struggled over whether or not I should address this in my memoir.

But a memoir is about truth, and my story wouldn't be truthful if I omitted this.

Throughout my life my feelings toward my father and his illness changed.

As a small child I learned to read his moods and know when to lay low.

As a teenager I was angry with him because of the impact of his illness on our family,

then frightened as I began to recognize his illness in me.

As an adult I struggled with my depression, anxiety, and suicidal urges on my own,

watching helplessly from afar as my father's mental and physical health spiraled down.

A decade after his death in 1984, I finally sought treatment.

It changed my life for the better and continues to do so.

I spent a lot of time thinking about how different things might have been,

if my father had had access to modern treatments like me.

When I retired, I decided to confront my past,

and I began to read my family letters and other documents.

I started a blog and began to post The Lansdowne Letters,

sharing family stories of our time in the North.

As I worked through my father's letters, I excavated my personal muskeg,

discovering things that I longed for and others unlooked for and unexpected.

I began to see my father's life and mine through the lens of maturity.

I began to understand the magnitude of my father's struggle

and, despite all his misfortunes, the depth of his love and sacrifices for his family.

I found my hero again.

Most importantly, I came to understand my younger self,

my Lac Seul self, to be kinder and gentler with her.

Such is the power of family stories.

Two Unforgettable Brothers

Fritz and John with Bertie and Barbie

(and likely Roy behind Fritz)

Lac Seul, Ontario, Canada

Summer 1961

My Father with a Furry Friend

St. Peter's Bay, Prince Edward Island, Canada

Circa 1930