The More Things Change, The More They Remain The Same

I don't remember the first time I heard the saying, "The more things change, the more they remain the same," but I've found it to be true several times in my life.

Take last Sunday morning, for example.

My sister Kathleen and I were returning from a mini-writing retreat on Fripp Island, South Carolina, where we were guests of my generous and gracious writing friend, Berta Rosenberg. During our three-day visit, we had a wonderful time: catching up, sharing family stories, writing, talking about writing, doing a writing exercise, walking on the beach, eating new foods, and relaxing.

After saying goodbye to Berta, as we drove from Fripp and headed toward Beaufort, Kathleen and I discussed the possibility of finding a church so we could attend Sunday Mass. Being in an unfamiliar town, we didn't know where that might be.

But I had a plan. I had visited the cathedral in Savannah a few years ago, so I thought we could stop in Savannah on our way home and hope to catch a service there.

First, I was on a mission to find South Carolina tee-shirts for my grandkids. Berta told us we might find some at the Walgreen's in Beaufort, so that was our first stop. No luck. A cashier told us we might find some tee-shirts at a sporting goods store across the street. After making a wrong turn out of Walgreen's, I made a U-turn and followed a line of cars which veered off to the left into a parking lot. (I later found out the sporting goods store was on the right.)

Can you guess where the cars were headed? Into the parking lot of St. Peter's Catholic Church on Lady Island Drive in Beaufort. My sister and I read the church's sign, looked at each other, and decided divine providence had a hand in my making a wrong turn. "It was meant to be," we said in unison, and headed inside the lovely church, where Mass was to begin in seven minutes.

Even more surprising was that the Mass was a Latin high Mass, complete with incense, three priests celebrating, and several altar servers. Sitting in the pew I flashed back to my high school days wearing a chapel veil for Mass, which was celebrated in Latin until Junior year when the Church switched to English.

After leaving Beaufort we headed home, with a side trip in Savannah for lunch. We stopped at a casual restaurant on Bay Street and had a spinach salad and a mouth-watering 77 Monte Carlo sandwich, which was topped with powdered sugar. It was like eating French toast with ham and turkey inside.

From there, we walked off lunch until we found the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist on Harris Street. A police officer stood at the front door informing visitors know Mass was in session. We were welcome to come inside but not for a tour until Mass was complete. Kathleen and I ventured inside and found a pew in the back of the magnificent cathedral. My ears perked up when I heard the priest conducting the Mass in Latin. Families attended, with moms and young girls wearing chapel veils.

So, within the span of a few hours, we had attended not one but two Latin Masses, where women wore chapel veils.

The more things change . . .

We Flipped Over Fripp on our June Vacation Trip

Last month, Berta Rosenberg, one of my generous and kind-hearted writer friends, e-mailed and invited my family to spend a week in one of her beach houses on Fripp Island, South Carolina. 

Berta and her husband Mark, of Rosenberg Properties, own several houses on Fripp, including Sandcastle, the five-bedroom, two-story we stayed in.

My hubby doesn't like to venture much farther than St. Peters or 90 miles away to our place in Osage County, Missouri, so he wasn't up for the trip.

But my teenaged grandkids were thrilled, and they asked to invite their other grandmother (from their dad's side) to accompany us.

Our original plan was to fly, but after checking out the airfare prices to Savannah, we decided to drive. Thanks goodness for GPS!

Fripp Island is a golf resort and scenic wildlife sanctuary. Located in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, Fripp Island is not far from Hilton Head, about mid-way between Savannah and Charleston.

I'm not gonna lie: the drive from Missouri was long, with lots of road construction, traffic,  and some rain.  On the drive to South Carolina, we spent the night in Tennessee.

As soon as we arrived on Fripp, the first thing the kids did was go to the back deck and look at the ocean. Big surprise! We were treated to a bird's eye view of deer wandering through the yard.

Because of Fripp's wildlife sanctuary status, deer (and turtles and alligators) are protected. You can look, but don't touch--and don't you dare feed them. Umm, who would want to feed an alligator, anyway?

Our time on the beach was lots of fun and much too short.

Our vacation was filled with sun and sand and sea shells--and we saw a shark and endured a storm. When we ventured off Fripp to the pier on Hunting Island, a woman who had been fishing that day told us she had mostly caught baby sharks like the one above.

 Tropical Storm Andrea made its presence known the night before we left. The wind blew furiously, the waves crashed against the shore. I made sure the flashlights I brought along were not far away, in case the electricity went out. It didn't.

The morning of our departure, I righted the overturned deck chairs and picked up branches and debris from the front yard. Back on the beach that morning, parasailors braved the winds, which had died down a bit, but were still strong enough to blow the sails.

As I told my grandkids, surviving a tropical storm made our vacation even more memorable.

The only low point of the trip was the long drive back, especially the traffic, construction, and accidents in and around Atlanta, and right under the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. After I drove home for 12 hours, my granddaughter took over in Kentucky until we arrived in Missouri.

We made it home safely, with lots of memories of our trip to Fripp!

Thanks, Berta and Mark, for opening your home to us!

Review and Giveaway of Sweet Salt Air by Barbara Delinsky

After recently returning from a wonderful vacation on Fripp Island in South Carolina, in the beach home of my generous writer friend Berta, I've been in a beach frame of mind -- wearing flip flops and craving seafood and remembering the feel of sand beneath my feet and the sound and smell of the ocean.

Later this month I'll post about the amazing time my grandchildren and I spent at Sandcastle, the Rosenberg's large and lovely home on Fripp Island, right on the beach.

For now, in the spirit of passing on a bit of the sweet, salty air to my blog visitors, I've decided to post about an entertaining novel of a summer adventure that takes place on a remote island off the coast of Maine.

***

Sweet Salt Air by New York Times bestselling author Barbara Delinsky is a delightful book, filled with the sights and smells and tastes of the beach.

The story is about Charlotte and Nicole, best friends who spent their summers in Nicole's family home on an island off the coast of Maine. After Nicole's marriage, the women's lives spin off in separate directions.

Charlotte has become a successful freelance travel writer whose assignments and adventures across the globe leave her longing to set down roots. Nicole lives in Philadelphia and is married to Julian, a successful surgeon. Nicole has turned her passion for organic food and fresh fruit and produce from farmers' markets into a popular food blog.

Ten years after Nicole's wedding, the women get together and spend the summer in Nicole's family vacation home where they collaborate on a cookbook featuring island foods and recipes.

Working on the cookbook rekindles pleasant memories, but it also unearths secrets, insecurities, and betrayal. Charlotte is consumed by guilt over something that happened before she left the island. Nicole also has a secret involving her husband that could be a matter of life or death.

While collecting recipes for the cookbook, the women reconnect with and befriend some islanders, including bad boy Leo Cole, who fiercely protects access to his late mother's garden and guards a surprising secret.

The women also experience the joy of rediscovering the beauty and uniqueness of the island -- the special scents and herbs that grow there -- and the delicious foods prepared with islanders' loving touches. Just about every chapter is infused with some sort of food, herb, plant, flower, or beverage. There's coffee, lots of coffee.

What I like most about Sweet Salt Air are the characters, especially Charlotte and Leo. I also was swept away by the beach setting and the engaging twists and turns the story took.

The sensual details make the novel come alive. The mention of so much food is expected with a story about the writing of a cookbook, but at times I felt dizzy with sensory overload and got sidetracked from the story. And telling a good story is what Barbara Delinsky does best.

So, if you're hungry for a tasty summer read, add Sweet Salt Air to your list. It is a sweet and touching novel about friendship, betrayal, redemption, love, forgiveness -- and food.

***

In the spirit of sharing, I'm giving away my Advance Readers' Edition of Sweet Salt Air to one of my visitors.

For a chance to win, just leave a comment by June 20 about a trip you've taken to a beach or a favorite vacation -- or just stop by to say "Hi!"

I'll select one commenter's name at random and on June 21 I'll post the winner's name, along with instructions on how to contact me to collect your winning.  

Good luck!

Almost forgot: Although St. Martin's Press provided me a free copy of the ARE of Sweet Salt Air, I was not paid to give a favorable review.

Read Saint Louis Presents Missouri Author Daniel Woodrell

 

 

If you live in or around the metro St. Louis area, you might want to mark your calendars for a special event sponsored by Read Saint Louis on Thursday evening.

 



Read Saint Louis is a community-wide initiative developed by developed by the St. Louis area library systems to encourage St. Louisans to read and discuss great books.

On Thursday, October 11, Read Saint Louis will recognize Missouri native Daniel Woodrell for his distinguished literary achievement. Woodrell is the author of Winter's Bone, The Outlaw Album, Woe to Live On, and several other memorable books.

Woodrell's country noir novels feature unforgetable characters and are set largely in the Missouri Ozarks. The acclaimed author has been "compared to William Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy . . . (and) is widely considered one of the best and most distinctive fiction writers in America."

 

Woodrell is scheduled to appear Thursday, October 11, 7:00 p.m. at the St. Louis County Library Headquarters Auditorium, 1640 S. Lindbergh Blvd.St. Louis, MO 63131.

Thanks to critique group pal Berta Rosenberg for sending me an e-mailing about Woodrell's appearance. Baring any last-minute homework assignments or projects for the grandkiddos, I'm going to try and attend this special event.

 

 

Worth a Read: Writing on Walls, An Anthology of Short Stories

Regina Williams, editor and publisher of Mockingbird Lane Press, has just released "Writing on Walls, An Anthology of Short Stories."

I'm pleased and honored to have a short story in the anthology.

Congratulations to my writing and critique group friends who also have stories in the anthology: Louella Turner, Marcia Gaye, and Berta Rosenberg. And I can't forget Dusty Richards and Brenda Brinkley, other writing pals with stories in the collection. The front cover is pretty amazing too!