The Writing Lane by Writer Janice Lane Palko

Transferrable Skills

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Thu, 23 May 2013 13:47:00 +0000

I am a new mom. Before you call the Weekly World News, I have not given birth in my 50s. But if you read this column last month, you may remember that my family recently adopted a puppy named Mickey. You may also remember that this is the first pet I have ever had, and while I am definitely not one of those “dog people” who equate children with animals and sport bumper stickers like “My Chihuahua is smarter than your honor student,” nevertheless, I’m finding as I take care of Mickey, I’m having flashbacks to those days when my babies were small. I’m finding the skills I learned as a mom often apply to raising my puppy.

Mickey employing the charm offensive

To begin with, God knew what he was doing when he made babies and puppies irresistibly cute. One of the first milestones babies achieve is the ability to smile—good thing. It’s hard to be annoyed at 2:30 a.m. after being summoned from peaceful slumber by a wail when your baby greets you with a toothless, ear –to-ear smile. Every parent has precious memories of their toddler jumping wildly while holding onto the crib rails as you walk into the room to get them.

Although it is spring, you would not have known it by the weather we had the first few weeks we had Mickey. The first few nights we had him, he decided he needed to go outside at 4 a.m. Let me tell you, it was a good thing he was so cute and his tail was wagging like a manic metronome while we stood in the dark in the front yard with sleet pelting us as he shivered and sat on my feet as I encouraged him to get on with his business.

I remember reading baby manuals when I was expecting my twins and many of them stated that as mom gets to know her baby, she will instinctively learn what the baby needs. The first few days of motherhood, I had my doubts, but as the days went on, I did learn that when my baby snuffled and moved his head around, he was getting hungry. Likewise, I’m getting to learn Mickey’s language. When he looks up at me with adoring eyes and makes a slight whimper, I know he wants to come and sleep next to me while I sit on the couch. And I’ve noticed that when he licks his lips, he wants to eat.

After the daily care-giving requirements were met for my twins like feeding, bathing and diapering, I would spread a blanket on the floor, and I would get down there on it with them and play. I’d tickle their bellies and give them toys. I find I’m doing the same thing with Mickey. I have such fun getting on the floor with him (although at this stage of my life I don’t get up from it as fast) rubbing his belly and tossing his ball.

One of the joys of motherhood is seeing your children grow and learn. I would sit and watch my babies struggle to pull themselves up in the playpen, encourage them as they lost a grip and fell and then clap excitedly when they finally stood. Last week, Mickey learned how to climb the stairs to our second floor. I clapped and petted his head and told him he was a big boy, even though now I will have to rescue him for a while because he hasn’t yet mastered how to come back down. As I did with my infants, I find myself talking to him and singing him songs (Yes, Oh Mickey, you’re so fine is our favorite).

But there is a more important thing that having Mickey has reminded me of. Before we got him, my husband and I were pretty much free agents, other than the limited responsibilities we had with our grown children and family, we didn’t have to be responsible for anyone but ourselves. While living an unfettered lifestyle sounds attractive, it’s not really a life of any significance.

I watched the installation of Pope Francis with Mickey at my side, and many commentators remarked on Cardinal Bergoglio’s taking the name of St. Francis, stating that Francis is the most beloved saint of all time even among those who are not Catholic. Why? Because St. Francis’s life illustrates the great paradoxes of life. In the prayer attributed to him , we learn, that it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, dying that we are born into eternal life and that in giving that we receive.

Having children, and now Mickey, has reminded me that a life of meaning is lived in service of other beings. Humans were not designed to indulge ourselves (see the list of hedonistic Hollywood train wreck lives as an example). To be happy and fulfilled, we need to help others. Some of the most trying days I have had in my life have come as a mom, but they were also the days of most importance in my life. Mickey is not my child, but he is my responsibility. St. Francis, who knew the secret to a happy life, is also the patron saint of animals. Is that a coincidence? I think not. One of the joys of raising a furry baby has been of being reminded that selflessly giving of yourself to another is the key to a happy life.

This article originally appeared in the May issue of Northern Connection Magazine.

I'm Guest Posting at Indie House Today

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 13:46:00 +0000

Hi Readers,

Click on the link to access the blog I wrote about something that outraged me--when another author uses another's book or characters to create a new story. I'd love to hear your opinion.

Hope you are loving the spring weather!

Janice

Book Review: The Rose Ring by Anne M. Faye

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 13:44:00 +0000

The Rose Ring was a delightful, easy read--just what I was looking for during a particularly stressful time in my life. I read it in one evening. The characters are likeable and believable, and you probably know someone like just like them. The two divergent story lines came together at the end to teach a powerful lesson--that sometimes you may not learn from YOUR past, but from SOMEONE ELSE'S past.

If you are in the mood for a heartwarming, charming love story, you can't go wrong with The Rose Ring.

Noises Off

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 18:00:00 +0000

Do you like quiet? When I was a kid I thought quiet was a curse. You had to be quiet in school and church and even when playing in the evening in my grandma’s backyard because Hazel, they elderly next door neighbor lady, went to bed at 7 p.m.--even in the summer.

I grew up in the 70s when loud music reigned supreme. Why even the groups told you to pump up the volume. Who can forget Lynrd Skynrd’s encouragement to “Turn it up!” in Sweet Home Alabama? Or Elton John’s lyrics in Bennie and the Jets: You’re going to hear electric music, solid walls of sound? And truly the music played back then sometimes felt like a brick wall pounding your body. Does anybody remember the Bone-Phone? It was a sock-like device you draped around your neck that played music that only you could hear because it sent sound waves through your bones. I never had one, but my first rock concert was to see Seals & Crofts at the Civic Arena. My date got us front-row seats directly in front of the speakers that seemed 20-feet high. It was so loud, you could feel the sound waves thumping in your chest, and my ears rang for days afterward.

Back then noise was cool; quiet wasn’t. Today, I feel differently, especially after the past few weeks that I’ve had.

My family room ceiling developed a leak after that first big snowfall we had last December. We decided we would try to patch it and opt for a new roof in the spring. We went away for a week in the beginning of March, and when we returned, the leak had gotten worse. Apparently, it had been leaking behind the wall. Long story short, the wall and ceiling had to be gutted and the restoration services company that did the work brought in three heavy-duty fans and a humidifier to dry up the water damage. The fans had to run continuously from Tuesday afternoon until Friday. I felt as if we’d moved into an airplane hangar. The sound made it unbearable to sit in the family room, and I couldn’t hear the phone in the kitchen. I had to snag the portable and run into the living room to talk to anyone. We holed up in my bedroom for three nights watching TV, but you could still hear the hum of the fans.

Yes, silence is golden.

The day after the fans left, we got a new car, and we’ve been looking around a while for a puppy. We found a sweetheart of a pup and made arrangements to meet the breeder in the Walmart parking lot in Uniontown. I thought it would be a nifty idea to take the new car. We found the breeder, got our puppy (who is adorable) and had a bit of trouble with the key fob and the car’s alarm system. When my husband opened the car door, the alarm wouldn’t shut off no matter how many times we pushed the disarm button. Finally after pushing buttons, manually unlocking doors, it shut off. It did that several times, but the kicker was after we finally got the alarm to cease, we put the key in the ignition to head for home, but when he started the engine, the alarms came on and stayed on. And every time we started the car, the horn blared.

Here we were 90 minutes from home, with a new puppy, new car, cell phones dying with what sounded likethe Tijuana Brass was under our hood. Eventually, the brass band morphed into a sound that could only be described as one of Canada geese being strangled. Mercifully, AAA sent a fellow named Bubba, who should have been named Prince Charming because he fiddled with the locks a bit and silenced it so we could drive home.

Gratuitous Puppy Photo of Mickey

The puppy, which we named Mickey, is a blue roan cockachon. His mother was a blue roan cocker spaniel and his father a bichon frise. He looks like a four-pound pile of ashes and is a big cuddler. If you have read my column before, you know that I have very little experience with dogs. With ears still ringing, we settled in for our first night with Mickey, who we put in a crate and set by the bedside. After a bit of whining, he fell asleep, but he awoke at 2:30. If I didn’t know that we had a puppy in the crate, I would have thought we’d brought home some exotic creature from the Amazon because the noise that emanated from his crate certainly didn’t sound canine. My dog-loving friends tell me things will get better on the sleeping scene.

Now, that spring is here, thoughts are turning to vacation. A few people have asked me what our plans are for this summer? With roof repairs and a new puppy, I’m not certain, but I wonder if Travelocity has any package deals to a silent monastery.

This originally appeared in the April issue of Northern Connection magazine.

Roll With the Changes

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 11:11:00 +0000

The only sense that is common in the long run, is the sense of change—

and we all instinctively avoid it. -- E. B. White

Do you like change? Every month I edit articles for this magazine and many of those articles deal with change—changing your appearance, your attitude, your living space, your health or your financial status. It seems that everyone is interested in changing something about their lives. If you look at the other magazines on the newsstands, you will find that most of their headlines deal with changing something as well.

Change is very appealing—on paper. When it comes to actually doing something different or making a major adjustment in your circumstances, that can be a bit less palatable.

I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t take to change very readily. There have been episodes when, like the commercial says “life came at me fast,” sometimes too fast, catching me off guard and throwing me for a loop. When I went to first grade, I didn’t adjust well to this transition and fretted obsessively that I would miss my bus after school. I was so upset one morning while getting ready for school, that when I went to the closet to get my shoes, I barfed in my Buster Browns. Years later when I was working, there was a reduction in the workforce, and I was bumped from my position into another department. My new co-workers were so different from my former colleagues, that I feared I would never feel at home with them.

There is a whole area of psychology devoted to the study of change and how it affects people. In 1967, Thomas Holmes and Richard Rahe developed the Social Readjustment Rating Scale, which assessed numerical values to life changes—good and bad events. The death of a spouse rated a 100 while Christmas rated a 12.

My reaction in first grade and later when I was moved to a different job were normal responses to those normal life-changing events, but after perusing the Social Readjustment Rating Scale, I think it may need a change as well.

Life comes at you even faster now than it did in 1967. We have introduced many more changes and many more stress- producing circumstances over the decades. Most of them have not come from happenstance but from a shift in our collective attitude and technology. For instance, back in 1967, we didn’t obsess about food. People just cooked food and ate it. Every day it seems a new study is released telling us which foods to eat. One day coffee is bad, the next it’s good. Bread used to be the staff of life, now it’s the scourge of carb watchers. There are so many different diets from low-fat to caveman style, that it’s no wonder people are tied up in knots not knowing how to eat properly.

Technological changes are also a source of consternation. Technology changes so rapidly now, it’s almost hard to keep up with it. Do you realize that the first iPad was only released on April 3, 2010? Now, we are up to the fourth generation of the iPad, and you can bet before long a newer version will be on the shelves. It seems you just learn how to work a device and it’s time to get a new one and get acquainted with its new features. We recently purchased a new car. I love all the new bells and whistles on it, but it used to be you merely inserted a key into the ignition, shifted into gear, released the emergency brake and away you went. The new car came with an inch-thick manual that explained how everything worked, and I’m still trying to figure out all of the icons on the dashboard.

I’m not some Luddite. I love technology; it has made my life much simpler and more convenient in so many ways. Paradoxically, at the same time, it has also made life more complicated. I have so many computer passwords, I’m afraid that some day my brain will crash, and I won’t remember any of them and my life will collapse in ruins around me. Therefore, I have a small notebook where I maintain all of my passwords. When I worked for Westinghouse back in the mid-1980s, IBM personal computers were purchased for all of the staff. Most of us were very excited to receive them, but there were several secretaries who chose to retire rather than attempt to learn how to use a computer. I often wonder how they are faring with this onslaught of innovation if they are still alive.

I eventually adjusted to first grade, and those new co-workers I acquired when I was bumped into that new department, eventually became my friends. With age comes wisdom, and I’ve learned along the way that although most change feels as uncomfortable as a pair of wet socks, you eventually get used to it. And it might even be better than what was prior. I recognize that although I’m more comfortable with the status quo, I’ve come to agree with the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus who said “Nothing endures but change.” Therefore, I’ve decided to adopt a more welcoming attitude and to try to roll with the changes—but, of course, if I find that being so adaptable is too stressful, that will be subject to change.

This article originally appeared in the March 2013 issue of Northern Connection magazine.

Viva la Difference

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 16:26:00 +0000

During the Christmas holidays, my husband, 25 and 20-year-old sons and I went to see Les Misérable at the movie theater. It was the only movie that all four of us had not seen so that’s why we chose it. While I enjoyed it, I could tell after 10 minutes, that my male counterparts were less than enthralled. My hubby nodded off every here and there while my 20-year-old began to surreptitiously text, and I noticed a scowl periodically creeping crossing the 25-year-old’s face.

As the credits rolled by, I asked for their critiques. The hubby said it was a good story, but had way too much singing. The 25 year-old, who has a master’s degree in Political Science, said he wished they’d delved more into the history of the time instead of all that “fluff,” and the 20-year-old said he knew why they named it “miserable.” Although he did relate how during an architecture class last year he learned how the Parisians redid the lay out of the streets of Paris after this time so that barricades could not be constructed by rebels. Clearly, they are not uneducated bores, but boys.

In contrast, the females I know who saw it gave it reviews that ranged from great to glorious. While some may think what I’m going to say next sexist, I believe that generally, there is a difference between boys and girls—what they like, how they think and how they behave. And after watching the movie, I began to wonder if it was my boys’nature that predisposed them to rate the move as so-so.

I am fortunate in that when I had my twins I gave birth to both a son and daughter and, for more than two decades, have been able to observe the difference between boys and girls. Like Jane Goodall living among the chimps, I’ve lived in my own gender study lab for 25 years. I know it’s not politically correct to say that boys and girls are different. Remember, all the trouble Larry Summers, President Obama’s former economic advisor, got into at Harvard? He was fired from his post as president for observing that males have a greater aptitude for studying the sciences and math as evidenced by the far fewer women entering those fields. When the evidence is staring you in the face, you can’t ignore it.

The first great difference between boys and girls that I noticed occurred when my twins mere tots at the playground. My daughter was having trouble getting on the merry-go-round. The older little girls playing there stopped the merry-go-round, helped her up on to it and took care to keep her safe as it spun. My son who was attempting to climb the ladder on the slide was very slowly placing his feet on the rungs—too slowly for the boys behind him I guess, because they pushed him aside and went ahead leaving him lying in the dust.

I’ve often noticed that girls are more “pack oriented,” while with boys it’s an “every-man-for-himself” type of world. Any mom who has ever heard a teenage daughter rant about the group of “mean girls” at school knows what I’m talking about. Boys are more solitary; they don’t need a posse to accompany them to the bathroom.

As they were growing up, we always had “girl toys” and “boy toys” for them to play with and let them play with whatever they wanted. No matter. My daughter always tried to put the Transformers in her dollhouse while my son would take her Barbies and bend them in half to pretend they were guns.

When they celebrated their 12^th birthdays, I had separate parties for them. I bought the girls a bunch of nail polishes and decals to play with. I thought that would occupy them for 15 minutes. They painted nails for an hour and a half—the fumes were so bad, we had to open the windows in March before everyone passed out. I took the boys to see Star Wars. When they came back to the house for cake, every time I turned my back, a wrestling match broke out. It would have been better had I rented an Octagon and staged a cage match.

Style has been another area of contrast. My daughter placed style over comfort when selecting clothes, while her twin and younger brother always dressed for comfort. In fact, at one time her little brother refused to wear anything that had snaps, zippers, buttons, or was made from denim (too scratchy) or “sneezy” stuff (fleece—he claimed it caused his allergies to flare and made him sneeze). So exasperated, I once exclaimed, what am I going to dress you in for school? Scrubs?

In observing that boys and girls are different, I’m not implying that one gender is superior. In fact, I like that they are so different in their proclivities and characteristics and think it’s unfortunate that so many equate sexually equality with sameness. When my kids were scouting out colleges, all we heard about from Admissions Officers was “diversity,” how they had students from all over the country, the world, every religious denomination and sexual orientation you could imagine. While society prizes diversity elsewhere, why can’t we let boys be boys and girls be girls? Let’s embrace diversity there too. As they would say in Les Mis, Viva la Difference!

This originally appeared in the February issue of Northern Connection magazine. Click here to read the online edition of the magazine.

FEEL THE HEAT - DAY 2

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 11:46:00 +0000

Hi Readers!

Yesterday we touched on true love and Valentine’s Day when we were discussing St. Anne’s Day. In the book, Anne suffers a big disappointment in the love department, which got me to thinking about those times when we aren’t “lucky in love.”

Without giving too much away, here is an excerpt from the book where an embarrassed Anne is forced to tell Gerry, the man she is beginning to fall for, that she has not gotten engaged after she’d bragged to him that she would soon be getting married:

“Oops, you OK?” Gerry said as he grabbed her to prevent her from falling. His fingers were strong and firm on her shoulders.

“Oh sorry, Gerry.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I didn’t see you.”

“Delirious with love, no doubt.”

“I couldn’t find my keys.”

“I thought maybe you were blinded by the sparkle of your engagement ring.” He took her purse.

“Watch, your cut.”

“I’ve got a bandage on it. It’ll be OK.” He grabbed her left hand. “Let’s have a look.”

She cast her eyes toward the tin ceiling and tapped her toe impatiently. “Hard to be dazzled by something that’s not there,” she said sarcastically.

“He asks you to get married and doesn’t buy you a ring? Oh what a romantic! Have him call me. I’ll give this rookie some pointers on how to woo a woman.”

“No need to. I’m not engaged, Gerry.” She tried to pull her hand away, but Gerry, looking stunned, held it tightly.

“He didn’t ask you to get married?”

“He did and he didn’t.”

Whether you have been lucky in love or not, you will be a winner when you read St. Anne’s Day. I hope you enjoy it and will follow my blog, sign up for my newsletter. Don’t forget to register to win the Starbucks gift card.

Also, I'm offering a free download of my Christmas romance A Shepherd's Song for those signing up for my newsletter. When I receive your subscription, I will send you the code.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep warm and keep on reading!

Welcome to THE FEEL THE HEAT Beach Book Blast

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Fri, 11 Jan 2013 19:25:00 +0000

Welcome to my Site!

I hope you are enjoying the Feel the Heat Beach Book Blast. We figured many of you would have received e-readers as gifts during the holidays and thought it would be great to offer you some fantastic stories to download.

I’m featuring my romantic comedy, St. Anne’s Day. The book has received great reviews and deals with the age-old of concept of true love. Anne, the main character, and Peg, the elderly spitfire whom she is caring for, have the following conversation about true love:

“Your day will come, Anne. Just wait. You’ll see. You’ll find your true love.”

“True love? I think that went out of style years ago.”

“Oh, no. It never goes out of style.”

Anne wished she could be as sure as Peg, but she’d seen and experienced too much to believe in fairy tales anymore.

“You believe in true love, don’t you, Honey?”

She thought of her parents and how they seemed made for each other. “I guess I believe it can happen for some people. But today? I don’t know. Times have changed. It seems rather old-fashioned.”

Anne would like to believe in true love. What do you think? Do you believe in true love? I welcome your comments.

Don’t forget to register to the right for a chance to win a $10 Starbucks gift card. St. Anne’s Day would make a great read for celebrating Valentine’s Day. It is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords. There are links to the right that take you directly to those sites.

As a token of my appreciation for stopping by, I'm offering a free version from Smashwords of my Christmas romance A Shepherd's Song for those who sign up for my e-mails. I don't bombard you with mail, so don't hesitate to sign up. I'll send you the coupon code when I receive notice of your subscription.

Thanks for stopping by and feel free to invite your friends to the site too.

Keep warm and keep on reading!

Erasing Lessons from the School of Hard Knocks

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 15:49:00 +0000

A year ago at this time, a rapist was terrorizing the North Hills area. In case you may have forgotten, last January two Ross Township women were accosted outside of their apartment complexes after returning from walking their dogs. They were forced inside their homes and assaulted. One of the women was raped while her four-month-old baby was in another room and her fiancé was bound. Arthur Henderson of the North Side was arrested later that month and charged with a laundry list of crimes in addition to the rapes.

I often drive down McKnight Road, and throughout the past year, whenever I passed by their apartment complexes, I would think of them and wonder what their lives were like now? How are they coping? How do you put something that traumatic behind you?

Another person I think about is the mother of the little boy who was killed by the painted dogs when he fell into their exhibit at The Pittsburgh Zoo. What was her Christmas like? How do you face a New Year without your little boy? When she closes her eyes at night, is she tormented by scenes of her son that no mother should ever have to envision?

My heart aches for all three of those women, but for all the sadness, fear, and pain I may feel, I know it doesn’t even approach the depth of their suffering. Other than saying a prayer for them, there isn’t much else anyone can do for them. That is until now.

Recently, I heard a report about how neuroscientists may have discovered how to erase painful memories. In this particular study performed at Stanford University on mice, the rodents were administered a shock every time they were exposed to the scent of jasmine. After conditioning the mice, each time they smelled jasmine, they exhibited signs of fear, waiting for the accompanying shock. Before falling asleep, the experimental group was administered a drug while smelling jasmine that blocks protein synthesis in the part of the brain that is believed to store painful memories. When the mice awoke and smelled the jasmine again, they exhibited much less fear.

This is not the only study trying to unlock how memories are established and retained. If you are like me, you probably are under the assumption that a memory is a fixed thing in your mind, kind of like a DVD recording, and never changes. However, scientists have learned that remembering something actually changes that event in your mind. As the author Jonah Lehrer said in a February 2012 Wired Magazine article, “New research is showing that every time we recall an event, the structure of that memory in the brain is altered in light of the present moment, warped by our current feelings and knowledge. That’s why pushing to remember a traumatic event so soon after it occurs doesn’t unburden us; it reinforces the fear and stress that are part of the recollection.” They call this process of restoring memories reconsolidation.

Like the other study, the one cited in Wired Magazine found that synthesizing a protein is involved in reconsolidating the memory. Eventually, researchers believe that soon they will have a pill capable of blocking that protein and erasing painful memories.

When I heard about this pill, I immediately thought if anyone would be deserving of this treatment it would be these women. But after thinking about it, I’m not so sure. This magic pill raises many issues. Among them educational ones. Some of the most important lessons of my life, I learned while attending the “school of hard knocks.”

Fortunately, I never suffered such traumas as assault or the horrific death of a child, but the things that I’ve gone through have taught me much and have made me a better person. At the time I was going through them, a pill to make things better would have sounded mighty attractive, but in hindsight, I wouldn’t trade those times. Countless stories have been written how people have come back from overwhelming challenges to be better than ever. The saying if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger is true, but unfortunately, there are some who can’t seem to put the past behind them.

I guess the efficacy of this drug would have to be determined by those who are suffering and by their doctors. My only concern is how often something starts out sounding good and then morphs into something else. For instance, plastic surgery was developed to correct the deformities suffered during war, but now we have Hollywood starts going under the knife for every little perceived imperfection sometimes with disastrous results. With the power to wipe out painful memories, we may also do away with one of the most wonderful things about being human—being able to arise from adversity and learn from life’s hard lessons.

This article appeared in the January 2013 issue of Northern Connection magazine.

Just a Thought--A Christmas Collage

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Sat, 22 Dec 2012 16:36:00 +0000

This year I will celebrate my 53rd Christmas, and I guess I have enough years under my belt to wax a little nostalgic on Christmases past. It has happened gradually, but Christmas has changed a lot over the decades.

When I was growing up in the 60s and 70s, the month of December was a magical time of preparation leading up to the big day on December 25. Each morning during Advent at St. Athanasius in West View, where I attended grade school, a different homeroom went to the office and sang over the scratchy loudspeaker, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Every time I hear that song now, (my favorite is B. E. Taylor’s version) I’m transported back to my desk, counting down the days until Christmas. In first grade, Sr. Lois putting up a manger and handed us slips of yellow paper. We were to write a good deed we had done each day on these slips of “straw” that were placed in the manger as the bedding on which baby Jesus would rest. The mothers of the children there took turns cooking our lunches in the cafeteria, and for Christmas they always served us a complete turkey dinner.

As I got older, my circle of friends and I began to exchange gifts. Hot ones were Love’s Baby Soft Cologne and Lipsmacker lip-gloss. One year I got a frankincense and myrrh candle—it smelled terrible. At my class party in 1972, we played records, and that was where I first heard John Lennon’s Happy Xmas (War is Over). Forty years later, I still love that song.

At home, the arrival of the Sears Christmas Wishbook catalog was one of the best days of the year. My brothers, sister and I would fight over who would get it first. I remember lying on my stomach for hours paging through it circling things I wanted—everything from Snoopy Sno-Cone Makers to cowgirl suits. My paternal grandmother, Grandma Aggie, worked at Sears and one year she got me one. It was robin’s egg blue and had white fringe on the skirt’s bottom and across the shirt’s yoke. Pearl snaps finished off the Western look. My mom used to the clean the house from top to bottom starting in the beginning of December as if Joseph and Mary themselves were expected coming to our house to give birth. And then, when the house was in order, we decorated. I often wonder at the people who put up their trees on Thanksgiving if their houses are clean? I can’t put up my decorations unless I’ve cleaned. Old habits die hard.

Usually, we spent Christmas Eve in Etna with my mom’s side of the family, and after Grandma Aggie was widowed, we used to bring her along too. I believe it was Hass Electric on Butler Street that turned their whole storefront in to a Christmas scene. It was mesmerizing. The spread at my grandma’s wasn’t fancy--chip and dip, pretzels, and cheese balls and crackers, but it was fun. I remember my grandpap letting my brother smoke his first cigar with him when he was about 16. It was a trial to try to sleep on Christmas Eve, and one year my mom found me lying under the coffee table around 2 a.m. just staring at the presents under the tree. I always got a baby doll or Barbies when I was young, and looking back I realize that I was big into crafts too. One year I made macramé purses, another I molded candles, still another I made homemade soaps, and then it was on to oil paints and calligraphy pens. It’s a wonder I’m not living in New Mexico selling beads.

It was always so hard to tear ourselves away from those toys and go to church. But I loved Christmas Mass because all the songs were Christmas carols, and I knew all the words. Most Christmas dinners were spent at my Uncle Paul’s house. They had seven kids so there were people and kids everywhere. They set up two tables for dinner—one in the dining room and a kid’s table in the big foyer. Even though it was a big deal to make it to the adult table, a lot more fun was had sitting at the kid’s table.

I don’t remember spending the days after Christmas at the mall returning gifts and shopping for bargains. We spent our holidays visiting friends and relatives, celebrating with them all the way to the New Year. Now, decades later, I have two trees, each with different themes and certain color schemes. I scour cookbooks to delight my company with delicious confections, and I have special Christmas plates and gold-toned cutlery.

Although everything looks a lot more stylish and is much more elaborate, I think over the decades, we’ve forgotten to make Christmas fun and how to really celebrate. Sometimes you can get caught up in all the wrappings and miss the real joy. Merry Christmas. I hope you wade through all the trappings and find it this year.

This originally appeared in the December 2012 issue of Northern Connection magazine.

Happy 12.12.12!

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 12 Dec 2012 15:08:00 +0000

Hi Readers:

Several years ago as part of my course requirements to acquire my degree in writing, I had to take a math course. I did fine in math in high school, but like many things, advanced math is something you must use or you lose it. Well, I'd lost it by that time, so telling a writer they have to do math strikes fear in the heart.

To satisfy the requirement, I took geometry, specifically sacred geometry, which turned out to be fascinating. Although I did have to do some calculating, this was more a history of math type of course and revealed how math actually does play a role in our lives.

One of the things I learned is that numbers had significance in literature and religion. Today, is 12.12.12. Twelve, biblically speaking, represents completeness or the whole enchilada. There were the 12 tribes of Israel and the 12 apostles, 12 days of Christmas, etc.

Keep your eyes open for the number 12 today. I'm keeping my eyes open for a dozen of doughnuts or roses! Or perhaps you might like to pick a dozen of books featured in the Holiday Ebook Extravaganza that concludes today. Drop on by the website and pick up your copy of my book A Shepherd's Song or one of the many others featured.

Also, I'm featured on the Happily Ever After blog today. Drop by and post a comment.

Holiday EBook Extravaganza for you Happeners!

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 13:53:00 +0000

Hi Readers:

I'm happy to be part of the Holiday Ebook Extravaganza. Last night I attended a lovely Christmas dinner hosted by my husband's cousin for all the women in the family. Someone suggested that everyone there take a turn and tell a tradition that they do in their family to celebrate Christmas.

One of the cousins said she buys a special ornament for the women in her family who do things to make Christmas special. Her mother-in-law, my husband's deceased aunt, started doing that for her when she joined the family, telling her that "Christmas doesn't just happen. Women make it happen." Other relatives there confirmed that it wasn't my husband's aunt who started this tradition with her daughter-in-law, but my aunt's mother, my husband's grandmother, who has been dead for more than 50 years. She used to put a silver dollar under the plate of those women who worked hard to prepare for Christmas. What a lovely tradition, and it's now being carried on into a third generation.

This time of year can be quite hectic for women who "make Christmas happen" for those they love. I wish I could give all you "Happeners" a special ornament or silver dollar for all that you do to make the season merry and bright, but I can't. But I can give you my thanks for making the world a much better and beautiful place in which to live and to offer you some advice: Sometimes while doing all that needs to be done for the holidays, it's easy to misplace your Christmas spirit. Please take some time for yourself this season. One way is to sit and read a great Christmas story. There are many featured in this extravaganza. My Christmas romance, A Shepherd's Song is guaranteed to help you reclaim the spirit. Enjoy

Tag--I'm It!

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 15:19:00 +0000

Thanks, Lily Silver, for tagging me for The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. Lily has a new book The Rock Star Next Door . It is a modern fairy tale, and who doesn't need a good fairy tale?

The Next Big Thing originated on the She Writes site, as far as we could work out, and is designed to raise awareness of our work, or work in progress. We do that by answering ten questions about it. We graciously thank the person who nominated us, and tag five other authors whose work could well be that NEXT BIG THING.

Lily's book was featured in the Thanks for Great Book Blog Hop & Fall Book Release event that just concluded. Click here to read more about it.

Now, it's my turn to answer the questions and tag five more writers. So far, I've struck out on tagging anyone. If you are interested, please contact me. It's really not hard and a great way to spread the word about your NEXT BIG THING.

My latest novel, A Shepherd's Song, also debuted during the Thanks for Great Book Blog Hop, but since we are talking about the NEXT BIG THING, I'm going to preview the next book that will come out.

What is the title of your next book?

The title of my next book, which will come out in late spring, is CAPE CURSED.

I just love the cover my designer created.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

For more than 20 years, my family has vacationed on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Some years ago, the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was moved inland--a major engineering feat--to save it from the encroaching Atlantic Ocean. I wondered what would happen if a Yankee girl's company came to the Outer Banks to move a beloved lighthouse? Thus CAPE CURSED was born.

What genre does your book fall under?

CAPE CURSED is a romantic suspense.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Bliss Sherman is the heroine and she is half Korean. No Asian/American actresses came to mind so I googled some. Sonia Couling best exemplifies the beautiful woman I see in my mind when I think of Bliss.

Parker Swain is the handsome descendant of the lighthouse keepers. He's blond, soft-spoken and a Southern gentleman. Tim McGraw would be a good one or Matthew MConaughey.

Nancy Klempner is Bliss's faithful assistant. She's an athletic, blonde, older woman. If we could frump up Nicollette Sheridan, she'd be perfect.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

When beautiful Bliss Sherman arrives at Cape Destiny to move the cape's beloved lighthouse, she faces an even greater challenge when she falls in love with the handsome, mysterious descendant of the lighthouse keepers, Parker Swain, who is vehemently opposed to her moving the lighthouse and who may be trying to kill her.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I'm a control freak. I like self-publishing.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

In all honesty, I' don't know. I've lost track.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I'd say it compares to the seaside moodiness of du Maurier's classic Rebecca.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

Strangely, one of the former secretaries where my husband's worked inspired me. She was very possessive of the company, even though she had no vested stake in the organization, other than being a regular employee. Nancy is Bliss's assistant and is devoted to the company much as my husband's co-worker was.

What else about your book might pique the reader interest?

The Outer Banks is a very romantic as well as treacherous place. It is called the Graveyard of the Atlantic. I wanted to capture the romance and danger of that stretch of coastline.

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to contact me if you'd like to be THE NEXT BIG THING.

Thankful for Great Books Blog Hop & EBook Releasea

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 26 Nov 2012 05:30:00 +0000

Hi Regular Readers and Newcomers!

Welcome to Day 2 of The Thanks for Great Books Blog Hop. I hope you are enjoying learning about all the other authors participating in the event. Here's some background on A Shepherd's Song.

I began to write it in 1996, and I had originally entitled it The Good Shepherd, but don't you know it, they made a movie called that while I was in the process of publishing it. Darn you, Brad Pitt for stealing my title!

I considered calling it The Bad Shepherd, but I was afraid people might think it was like Bad Santa.

I was inspired to write this book in response to the Tickle Me Elmo craze that swept the nation in 1996 when the toy debuted. My niece Leah was only a six-months-old baby then, and she received one for Hanukkah, which fell a number of weeks earlier than Christmas that year. As Tickle Me Elmo mania broke out in the country, many people urged my sister to sell Leah's Tickle Me Elmo for a ton of money. The toy retailed for $28.99, but people were selling them for up to $1,500 a toy. My sister didn't sell Leah's Elmo, but while people were assaulting each other trying to acquire the toy, I started to think about what kind of a person would "scalp" toys?

That's when Tom Shepherd came alive in my mind. The book is written from his perspective, that of a 22-year-old, disaffected young man who doesn't know the true meaning of Christmas. When I read the first few chapters in my creative writing class, everyone liked them, but the young guys in the group all agreed that Tom needed to think about sex more often to be more realistic! So I had to learn to think like a guy! Why I felt compelled to write from the perspective of a young guy, I'll never know, but I'm thinking maybe therapy is in order.

Tom is my Ebenezer Scrooge. I hope you will enjoy his journey as heals from his past and finally comes to know the joy of Christmas.

This book is also an allegory. Does anybody remember from your English Literature class what that is? Can you name any other allegories that you have read?

Don't forget to enter the raffle to the right and to check out the other authors participating in the blog hop.

Thanks for Great Books Blog Hop

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Sun, 25 Nov 2012 05:30:00 +0000

Hi Regular Readers and First Time Visitors,

Welcome. I'm glad you found your way to my site. I'm participating in the Beach Book Blast taking place on Nov. 25-26 Thanks for Great Books Blog Hop and Fall Ebook Release Event! Nine authors are showcasing our new books at the Beach Book Blast website and at our sister site at the RG2E. My new Christmas novel, A Shepherd's Song is featured. We've got something for everyone—from romantic suspense, to a sweet holiday romance, to a YA Dystopian and a few mysteries.

To make the event even more fun, we’ve added prizes (a larger one at the Beach Book Blast site and smaller ones at some of the authors’ sites) and a blog hop where readers can connect to their favorite authors and learn what great books, characters, or authors have inspired them.

More About A Shepherd's Song

Tom Shepherd is anything but a hero. A senior physics major at Three Rivers University in Pittsburgh, he just wants to make some easy cash for a trip during the coming spring break.On the last Sunday in November, he arrives at Holy Redeemer church in Perrysville to sell the Christmas season’s hottest toy, So Big Sammy, for three times its retail price to a buyer, but a snafu lands him in the middle of a bone marrow drive benefiting four-year-old Christo Davidson, who has leukemia. When everyone there—including the media covering the event—assumes that Tom has come to give the toy to the sick boy, Tom has no choice but to give it away.

Lauded by the media as a hero and bestowed with the nickname "The Good Shepherd," Tom finds himself an overnight celebrity. As a toy scalper and liar, he knows he’s unworthy of the honor, but when Gloria Davidson, a fellow student and Christo’s relative, seeks out Tom to thank him for being kind so kind to her little cousin, Tom, bewitched by her beauty, embellishes his character and lies to further impress Gloria. Tom asks Gloria out, beginning a relationship that will lead him to examine everything he believes.

On Christmas Eve, Tom finds himself facing choices that will affect not only himself but also Gloria and Christo. Tom must choose between sacrifice and honor, love and loneliness, life and death.

Enter the Raffle

I'm so thankful to all of you who have read St. Anne's Day and have already started to read A Shepherd's Song, I wanted to show my appreciation. Since this time of year can be stressful, particularly for women, with all the cleaning, cooking, baking, shopping, wrapping, etc., I wanted to help you to find a way to relax. I like to relax with a good book, and I also find the scents of the holiday season put me in a good mood. Therefore, I'm raffling a $15 gift certificate to Bath & Body Works. Maybe you will find time to sit by the Christmas tree with A Shepherd's Song, enjoying a twisted peppermint candle or maybe you will be able to read it in a warm vanilla sugar bubble bath. One can hope! Be sure to enter the raffle at the right.

Buy A Shepherd's Song

Amazon

Kindle

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Be Sure to Visit the Other Sites of those Participating

Click here to visit the Beach Book Blast website to enter the drawing for the $25 and $10 Olive Garden gift certificates, or click below to visit another Beach Blast author's blog.

Fabio Bueno @ http://www.fabiobueno.com
Debra Burroughs @ http://www.DebraBurroughsBooks.com
L.C. Giroux @ http://www.lcgiroux.com/thoughts
Stacy Green @ http://stacygreenauthor.com/
Stacey Joy Netzel @ http://staceyjoynetzel.blogspot.com/2012/11/thanks-for-great-books-blog-hopfall.html
PJ Sharon @ http://www.pjsharonyawriter.blogspot.com
Lily Silver @ http://romancinghistorylove.blogspot.com/

The Discipline of Gratitude

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Thu, 22 Nov 2012 15:31:00 +0000

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

I just read a great blog post for Thanksgiving by Jeff Goins. Click here to read it, but one of the points he makes that I liked best is that gratitude is a discipline. I'd never thought of it that way. That got me to thinking--which can be very dangerous.

Being grateful isn't inherent to humans. You will know this if you've every raised children. How many times as a parent have you repeated these words to your small child: "What do you say?" Then you wait for the "Thank you."

Gratitude was a discipline when you were a child, and it remains one as we grow older. To attain the higher things in life requires discipline. You don't remain fit without the discipline to eat properly and workout (I should know). You don't remain solvent without the fiscal discipline to resist buying every item that catches your eye. You don't remain employed without the discipline to work hard and meet deadlines. You don't achieve your writing dreams without the discipline to glue your bum to a chair and pound out words. The examples go on and on.

Clearly discipline leads to greater rewards. When we practice the discipline of gratitude, what is the reward? Besides making you and others feel better, it changes your perspective from one of lack to abundance. All the self-help books tell you that you have to think it before you can see it. Having an appreciative attitude is a creative mindset and opens the world to you. It's small pain in the beginning for large gain later.

This year I had the privilege to visit Plymouth, Massachusetts, when my daughter ran the Boston Marathon. Below are a few pictures.

When I first saw the replica of the Mayflower there, I couldn't believe how many people had been crammed in it and how treacherous it must have been to cross the vast ocean in that tiny ship. In early April, Plymouth looked very barren. I can't imagine how inhospitable this stretch of coastline must have seemed to those Pilgrims who landed there.

But instead of bemoaning their puny boat, rugged landscape, and how much work and uncertainty they faced in this new home--including death--they set aside time to be grateful to God that they had arrived safely, were free, and had survived well enough to harvest food for a feast.

Their humble discipline of gratitude has opened the world to us. May their discipline of gratitude be a shining example to us all and continue to open this great nation and it's people to even more blessings.

Now to get that 23 pound bird into the oven!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm up at TheWriteChris Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 21 Nov 2012 02:47:00 +0000

TheWriteChris blog is featuring St. Anne's Day today. Click here to read about my writing path.

Six Sentence Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 14:42:00 +0000

Hi Readers:

It's been busy around here. Last Saturday, I attended St. Teresa's craft show. St. T's is my home parish, and it was great to meet so many people who stopped by to learn about my novel St.Anne's Day and my soon-to-be released Christmas romance, A Shepherd's Song, which will be released on November 23--in time to get you into the holiday spirit. Keep monitoring this site for more information and be sure you are signed up for my newsletter so I can notify you of the events (think fun and prizes!) associated with the novel's release.

St. Anne's Day is selling well and gathering great reviews. To my delight, I just discovered some great reviews of it on Goodreads. Here is a snippet to satisfy your St. Anne's Day Sunday craving. It is the scene after Peg's birthday when she is giving Anne one of the gifts she received that she doesn't like. In addition to not liking the present, Peg does not like the idea of Anne considering marriage to her old friend Dr. Craig Love because she thinks Anne is the girl for her son. Here is a scene of passive-aggressiveness if I've ever one seen one. Rather than stating her true feelings, Peg makes her point wrapped in concern for Anne. Enjoy!

Peg tossed it to her. “Put it in your hope chest. Save it for your honeymoon with Craig, dear. That is if you get to take one. You know those doctors are never home, and I understand they have a very high divorce rate. That’s something you should consider before you marry him.”

St. Anne's Day Picks Up Atypical Fans

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 05 Nov 2012 19:30:00 +0000

Hi Readers:

I had a great time at St. Teresa's Craft Show on Saturday. I sold quite a few books and enjoyed meeting so many of you. I also picked up a great pair of Christmas earrings.

My neighbor at the next table was an artist named JoAnn Diegelmann who works in a new medium (at least, it was new to me) called giclee. As I understand it, she takes digital photos then prints them out very lightly and then paints the images in acrylics. They were very lovely, and I can't wait to do an article on her and her work.

However, the best part of the day came from the woman from whom my husband and I rented an apartment when we were first married 30 years ago. She dropped by my table and told me that she already has St. Anne's Day, and plans to read it as soon as her husband is finished with it! She said he's loving it. I had to laugh; a 70ish man is not my target reading market, but she said he comes every day and reports on the book, saying things like "You'll never believe what Peg said," or "Oh wow, Gerry cut his hand."

I think that's hysterically funny, and I'm very flattered.

Northern Connection, the magazine I edit and where quite a bit of my writing appears has a new format making it much easier to read online. It is now easier to read my articles too. Here is a link to my article this month on moving kids and cars.

Hope you enjoy it!

http://northernconnectionmag.com/just-a-thought-parenting-a-moving-experience-by-janice-lane-palko/

The Kindness of Strangers & Beta Beauties

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 13:40:00 +0000

Hi and Happy Halloween!

For all of those on the East Coast, I hope you are safe and dry. In Pittsburgh, we have been very fortunate. Just rainy and gray, which is normal for this area-ha ha!

Here is a treat for you on this Halloween. I'm guest blogging on Zee Monodee's Author's Corner.

Here is the link to the site:

I Have Always Depended on the Kindness of Strangers

Welcome RG2E Readers!

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 18:12:00 +0000

Hi Faithful Readers and New Friends from RG2E,

For those who haven't figured it out yet, I'm guest posting (sounds like something Ed McMahon would do online) at RG2E.

Here is a link to the blog to save your fingers some clicking.

http://thereadersguidetoepublishing.wordpress.com/2012/10/22/rg2e-featured-author-janice-lane-palko-steals-people-from-her-life-for-her-characters/#comment-5098

For those who have dropped by after reading my post, a big WELCOME to you. Feel free to make yourself at home, leave a comment, sign up for my newsletter, but please don't open any closets--an avalanche of junk may cascade out!

I'm very happy to have you here.

Thanks,

Janice

Six Sentence Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Sun, 21 Oct 2012 14:43:00 +0000

Hi Readers:

I can't believe that we are nearing the end of October. I hope you are enjoying the fall. On this Sunday, I hope you will also enjoy this small sample from my novel St. Anne's Day, which can be purchased from Amazon, the Kindle store, Barnes & Noble Nook Store and Smashwords.

This is the scene when Gerry's current girlfriend, Claudia, returns from a business trip, and she brings Gerry's mother, Peg, a gift. As you may detect from the passage, Peg does not like Claudia.

Peg examined the box. “Honey,” she said, scowling at Claudia, “you shouldn’t waste your money on expensive wrapping paper. If you ever marry Gerry, you’ll have to learn to cut corners. He’s not an architect anymore, and even though he still likes to put on the dog, barkeepers aren’t millionaires you know.”

Claudia pulled her lips into a sour smile. “You were worth the extra expense.”

Enjoy!

YOLO Is the Only Way to Go

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Tue, 16 Oct 2012 14:50:00 +0000

This article originally appeared in the October issue of Northern Connection magazine.

I just celebrated my 30^th wedding anniversary, and to commemorate the occasion, my husband and I headed back to where we honeymooned three decades ago, Bermuda. One of the things we did on this trip, in addition to journeying back to the places we visited as newlyweds, was try to a new water sport—stand-up paddleboarding. If you aren’t familiar with paddleboarding, you probably will be soon. Our fun and lovely guides, Stephon and Shianne, told us that it had only come to Bermuda in the last few months and has already become quite popular. It’s starting to catch on in various places in the U.S as well. If you haven’t seen one, visualize a Venetian gondolier on a surfboard.

As I’ve written before, I’ve kayaked so I was eager to try this new water sport, but as with any new experience, I was a bit nervous when our guides picked our group up outside our cruise ship. Would I be able to do it? Would I fall off? Would I make a fool of myself?

We traveled to beautiful Ely’s Harbour in Bermuda’s West End, where Stephon told us that we’d be using Yolo Yaks. I was informed by a woman on the tour who worked at Penn State that Yolo is short for You Only Live Once. She was traveling singly and told me that rather than stay at home and feel sad that her kid’s had left for school, she had booked herself on the cruise. She had a Yolo attitude so I thought I’d ignore my jitters and just give it a go.

Stephon told us the boards were virtually unsinkable, and the best way to get upright on them was to first kneel on the board and then slowly stand up, situating your feet nearly two-thirds of the way back in slight foot grooves on it. You then take the paddle in hand, and off you go. As we started out on the calm turquoise harbor water, I noticed how tense I was on the board. I reminded myself to breath, relax, unlock my knees and look at the beauty surrounding us. Then the 11 of us in the group paddled out beyond the calm waters of the harbor, past the sheltering rocks where the ocean water was choppy. Paddling became more difficult as was remaining balanced on the board.

We made our way to a forest of mangroves, which are fresh-water plants that grow in salt water. Stephon told us to find a completely yellow leaf and a completely green one and then to chew each one. It seems the mangrove plant is a real team player. The yellow leaf tasted very salty as compared to the green on. That is because the yellow leaf filters out the salt so that the rest of the plant can survive in the salty water. While we were picking leaves, one of the members of the group lost his balance and plunged into the water. He had been so intent on finding a good leaf, he had forgotten about balancing. Relieved that I had not been the first to take the plunge, I wondered how he would ever get back up on the board. As I studied his method, he got up with little difficulty.

Next, we paddled to a cove that our guides informed us had once been the estate of mega-millionaire Robert Stigwood, who had, among his many ventures, managed the Bee Gees. We took a swim at the beach there and were told that in the Saturday Night Fever heyday, the Bee Gees used to perform on that shore to the delight of the boaters moored there.

The tour company had a group of kayakers out in the harbor too, and they paddled over to the shore. Stephon asked if we would like to let the kayakers give our paddleboards a try for a while. It was fun to share the knowledge we had gained even though we were still novices and to watch the little kids take to the boards like they had been born with one.

We then paddled back to our launch point after spotting some turtles, a parrotfish and playing with a sea pudding, which Shianne said was akin to a sea urchin. After two hours out on the water, my arms were getting tired.

But as we rode the bus back through the tiny switchback streets lined with pastel-colored homes and palm trees, I thought how our paddleboarding adventure was a lot like life. Everything goes better when you are relaxed. Life is better lived in balance. You can’t stand up immediately you have to build a good foundation and work your way up. When the water gets choppy, dig that paddle in and keep on moving. Focus and don’t get distracted or you’ll get tossed. Don’t forget to look around at all the beauty. Share with others; it doubles your fun. And while you are at it, travel through life with the motto you only live once as your vehicle.

A Shepherd's Song is Moving Along

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 02:36:00 +0000

Below is the preliminary draft for the cover of my Christmas novel, A Shepherd's Song, which will be out in November. I will keep you posted when I have a specific date.

Here is the back cover info that goes with that lovely cover the designer created for me. I hope to have the book out in November to get everyone in the Christmas spirit by reading it.

Tom Shepherd is anything but a hero. A senior physics major at Three Rivers University in Pittsburgh, he just wants to make some easy cash. On the last Sunday in November, he arrives to sell the Christmas season’s hottest toy, So Big Sammy, for three times its retail price to a buyer, but a snafu lands him in the middle of a bone marrow drive benefitting four-year-old Christo Davidson, who has leukemia. When everyone there—including the media covering the event--assumes that Tom has come to give the toy to the sick boy, Tom has no choice but to give it away.

Lauded by the media as a hero and bestowed with the nickname The Good Shepherd, Tom finds himself an overnight celebrity. As a toy scalper and liar, he knows he’s unworthy of the honor, but when Gloria Davidson, a fellow student and Christo’s relative, seeks out Tom to thank him for being kind so kind to her little cousin, Tom, bewitched by her beauty, embellishes his character and lies to further impress Gloria.

Tom asks Gloria out, beginning a relationship that will lead him to examine everything he believes. On Christmas Eve, Tom finds himself facing choices that will affect not only himself but also Gloria and Christo. Tom must choose between sacrifice and honor, love and loneliness, life and death.

A Christmas romance with the charm of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol and the spirit of It’s a Wonderful Life, A Shepherd’s Song, with set your soul to singing.

Scene From an Italian Restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (Janice Lane Palko) — Mon, 08 Oct 2012 15:33:00 +0000

Buon Giourno!

Since it's Columbus Day, I thought I'd post a little scene from an Italian restaurant that occurs in Chapter 20 of St. Anne's Day for you to enjoy with your Chianti and lasagna. I'm not Italian, but I think I could eat my weight in pasta. I love Italian food and I love Italy. Oh, and I love my part Italian husband, children and son-in-law.

I was fortunate to travel there in 2007, and I would love to go back. Here are a few photos of Italy for you to channel your inner Sophia or Giovanni before reading the chapter.

Outside the Vatican after an overnight plane ride. Was looking for a miracle here to cure my jet lag.


Florence. I love this photo. I was skinnier and the setting reminds me of the Mona Lisa.

Venice--Can you tell I ran out of hair spray by the time we got there? Bad hair day.

Chapter 20

With his good hand, Gerry poured them wine and then raised his glass. “Here’s to the best nurse ever.”

Anne smiled, clinking her goblet to his. “Here’s to smelling salts.” When Gerry began to black out in the waiting room, Anne, quick on the draw, whipped out her smelling salts again and called for the E.R. nurse. She held them under his nose, and he quickly came to. Despite his protests, she and the nurse insisted that he ride back to the exam room in a wheel chair. While the attending physician gave Gerry five internal stitches and nine external ones, Anne kept his mind off the needle mending his flesh by engaging him in conversation. He held her hand tightly and kept his blue eyes fixed on her, wincing every so often. As he lay on the table looking up at her, Anne could see the specter of the boy Gerry had been.

Now as he sat across the table from her in the dimly lit restaurant, she no longer saw the frightened child, but the handsome, confident man, comfortable with charming women. Anne twirled pasta around her fork and watched him as he undid the top stud on his tuxedo shirt. To the other customers, they must look so odd, she thought, with him dressed in formal wear and her in scrubs. “So you met Dave at the historical society?”

“When I was restoring the bar.” He struggled to butter a roll.

“Let me help you,” Anne said, taking it from him. “You restored it?” She returned the buttered hard roll to him.

“Over the years, my grandfather, father, and mother had made changes to the place. Some not so good. Like the windows out front. In the early fifties they leaked, so my father had glass block installed. When I took over, business was not brisk to say the least. Mostly locals. To survive, we needed to attract a larger clientele, and to do that, the place needed to be remodeled. I’m a history minor and felt restoring the place to its original state would be the key to its success. I went to the historical society for guidance. That’s how I met him.”

“I never figured you for a history buff?”

“Don’t be so shocked.” He pointed to his head. “I’ll have you know there are brains behind this gorgeous face.”

He is gorgeous. And now that he’d taken off the bow tie and opened his shirt, he was even more so. He looked sexy like a groom loosening his clothing in preparation for a night of lovemaking with his bride. What am I doing thinking about Gerry and making love? Keep your mind on history, Anne. “But history is so cerebral and solitary,” she said, “and you’re so gregarious.”

“Well, when a chunk of your past is missing, you value the links to it.”

“Part of your past is missing?”

He swallowed and then said softly, “My father.”

“Oh,” Anne whispered, not sure what to say. Peg had often talked about her late husband, how she missed him so, but Anne couldn’t recall Gerry mentioning his father before. He stared at the candle flickering in the glass globe on the table.

“Sometimes, it’s so strange, Anne, but I’ll be standing at the bar pouring a beer or sitting at his desk in my office, and I get this feeling—it’s not a creepy feeling, but a good one—that he’s there with me.” He looked at her, sadness dimming the sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t know how I know it’s him. I barely remember my father. But I know he’s there. I never wanted to work in the bar, but since I’ve been forced to do it, I’m finding that I’m loving it. To know that I’m sitting where he sat, standing where he drew beers, doing the same things he did. Do you understand what I mean? Have you ever been haunted by a memory?”

Anne touched his hand. “Yes, I understand what it’s like to be haunted.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t bring you here to depress you. I’m as bad as the old lushes who used to hang out in the bar when I was growing up. They were always calling me over to tell me that I ‘Looked just like my old man. What a good egg he was.’ Then they’d buy me a Slim Jim. I know they were trying to make me feel better, but it made me feel worse to know they knew my father and I didn’t.”

When he stopped speaking, she realized she was still touching his hand. She felt awkward, and she quickly withdrew it and reached for her wine, taking a long sip.