Category: everyday musings

Randomly Thinking: Aliens, smart dogs, and leg hair

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, Randomly Thinking17 Comments

Welcome to a post of my random thoughts. Enter at your own risk.

Every night when I let our dog out one last time, I lock both the outside and inside door. Honestly, I’m not afraid of humans breaking in. In the back of my mind, I keep thinking that locking the door will keep the bear from getting in. I know. It’s ridiculous. Bears don’t even have opposable thumbs. It is even more ridiculous because no one in the neighborhood has seen the bear this year. Plus, bears are not known for breaking into homes. There is always a first time, though.

***

Every other day I walk past the fridge, open it, and take out the maple syrup bottle and take a swig, like it’s whiskey. I’m not addicted. I can stop anytime I want to.

***

I think I’ve mentioned here before that our older cat, Pixel, likes to jump up on our bathroom sink and wait for me to turn it on so she can get a drink. She’s been doing this for a couple of years now, shortly after we adopted her. The other night, though, she’d had her drink when I brought our dog, Zooma, from outside and we went up to get ready for bed. Zooma walked into the bathroom and looked at the faucet and then me, like she was expecting something. I told her I hadn’t brought any food up and then it hit me. She didn’t want food.

“Is your water dish empty? No. That can’t be it. You can’t be that smart.”

Well, apparently my dog is Lassie because I went downstairs and her bowl (which she shares with the cats) is bone dry.

“What’s that Zooma? There’s no water in your bowl?”

Not only did I fill it to the brim but we decided we are buying another bowl so our animals have plenty of water when are too distracted by life to properly care for them.

***

Interesting that the US government is claiming there will be information presented to Congress in a month about UFOs. This comes in the midst of people pouring over the Southern border, gas shortages, a senile president (in office after the bi-polar psychopath president), government officials trying to separate us by race, violence in the Middle East, people screaming at each other about who is and isn’t vaccinated, a pandemic (was it really, though?I don’t even know anymore), weird information coming out about who did and didn’t really die from SARS2 (yes, there was a SARS1), Republicans and Democrats always pointing fingers at each other and playing the victim (seriously, I’m about to file as an independent), and our government funneling money to a terrorist nation.

Distraction anyone? Because otherwise, why announce that a report is coming out in a month? And why suddenly, after years of saying there are no such things as UFOs, the government says there are? And why are all the photos and videos always fuzzy, even though we have millions of people with high definition lenses and cameras who have yet to have photographed these same UFOs so we can see them without the grain?

Lockdowns are being lifted, masks are being taken off, people aren’t dying in droves from a virus so our politicians (of both parties) need another way to control us and that control always comes via fear. Enter the aliens.

Slight of hand is a tricky thing.

So is gaslighting.

***

I finally started watching Jonathan Creek on the BritBox app through Amazon. I’ll let you know what I think of it in a future edition of Sunday Bookends. I didn’t write Sunday bookends last week because I forgot and then when I remembered, I realized nothing exciting had happened that I could write about. I was even still reading the same books from the previous week.

***

In my last Randomly Thinking post I joked that I was worried that our neighbor’s had installed some taller trees between our properties because of something my crazy family had done. It turns out that the husband ordered the trees thinking they were a lot smaller and when he got home from work he was shocked at their size. His wife said he told her, “I’m going to have to cut those down in a couple of years! They’ll be huge.” It totally sounded like something me or my husband would do – order the wrong size trees. By the way, our neighbors are absolutely awesome and we really do try to reign in our crazy so we don’t fighten them.

***

 Quote from my son last night after he started coughing: “Dude, I just accidentally inhaled my leg hair.” That’s something I never thought I’d hear.

***

Those are a few of my random thoughts for the week. What are some of yours? Let me know in the comments.

Fiction Friday: The Farmers Sons (Harvesting Hope) Chapter 8

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, fiction, Fiction Friday8 Comments

Here we are at Chapter 8 of The Farmers’ Sons, which will be called Harvesting Hope when it publishes. I may be making the chapters a little bit shorter here on the blog so they aren’t time consuming and some who have missed chapters can catch up.

If you don’t know, I share these chapters as a work in progress, so there will most likely be typos and plot holes, etc. If you notice them, please feel free to share with me in private or in the comments. Also feel free to share with me your thoughts on the story so far, on the characters, and on where you think the story should go next.

To read Molly’s story from the first book of this series, download a copy on Amazon or read it through Kindle Unlimited. To read the other parts of this story click HERE or find a link at the top of the page.

Chapter 8

Jason watched the truck disappear down the road for a moment before turning back to the tire. He worked a bolt loose, saying a quick prayer for Liz. Quick prayers were all the prayers he allowed time for these days. Any longer and his thoughts spiraled out of control. A cool breeze brushed his face as he worked, the temperature lower after the storms moved through.

The crunch of tires on gravel brought his head up. There was little chance he didn’t know whoever was driving by. Everyone knew everyone in this county. When he recognized the old blue pick-up pulling up behind Molly’s truck, his heart sank.

Tom Lambert, his dark brown hair speckled with gray, leaned an arm on the wall of Molly’s truck bed. “Hey, Jason. Need any help?”

Jason rolled the flat tire off to one side. “Actually, I’m almost done. Appreciate the offer, though.”

He kept his head down, afraid to look at Ellie’s father for more than a few moments, afraid to see the anger that might be in his eyes, anger reserved for Jason.

Tom laughed and shook his head, tapping the side of the truck. “I know this old truck reminds Molly of Ned, but she really needs a new one. I’m amazed she’s been able to keep it running this long.”

Jason nodded with a smile, rolling the spare tire in place. “Yeah, we’ve tried talking her into scrapping it, but she’s not interested.”

Jason was trying to match the lightness he heard in Tom’ tone but he couldn’t help wondering how Ellie’s dad actually felt about him. How much did he know about the reason for their break-up?

“Here, let me get that.” Tom kneeled down and reached for the bolt that had slipped from Jason’s hand and hit the dirt.

Jason nodded his appreciation, taking the bolt and fitting it back onto its spot.

Tom sat there a few seconds, squatting next to the truck before he spoke. “Listen, Jason, I don’t know what happened between you and Ellie, but I just want you to know that Rena and I still consider you a part of our family. If you ever need to talk, we’re both here for you.”

Jason wondered if Ellie’s parents would feel the same affection for him if they knew why Ellie had broke things off.

He cleared his throat and tightened the last bolt, standing at the same moment Tom stood. Looking into the eyes of the father of the woman he’d hurt, he didn’t see anger there. He saw kindness and compassion and he hated it. He should see disgust in this man’s eyes, disgust over how Jason had lied to Ellie for so long, how he had failed the moral code he’d set for himself.

 Despite the tension he felt, or maybe because of it, Jason couldn’t stop a soft laugh from escaping as he pulled his eyes from Tom’ and wiped his hand on a rag. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. I’m not sure how comfortable I would feel talking to my ex-girlfriend’s parents about my past mistakes, but the offer still means a lot.”

Jason heard good-natured sincerity in Tom’ laugh. “I understand, but really, Jason.” He placed his hand firmly on Jason’s shoulder. “We love you. I can’t imagine anything you could have done that would be bad enough for us to ever not love you.”

His words were like a knife to Jason’s heart. “You sure about that?” he wanted to ask. He wanted to tell his man about his past, about that night with Lauren, about his guilt, about keeping it from Ellie. He wanted Tom Lambert to hate him as much as he hated himself.

The ringtone of his cellphone startled him, but in a good way. He had never been more thankful for an interruption.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

“Hey, just got a call from Marcia. The fence is down in the upper pasture and Old Bart’s gotten out. He’s headed down the dirt road toward the Patrick’s house.”

“Okay. I’ll go wrangle him and get the fix back up.”

“Better call Brad to help you out. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to help.”

Brad. Yeah. Right.

“Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

He slid his finger over the end call button and slid the phone into his back pocket. “Hey, I’ve got to head out. Aunt Marcia says the bull is out of the fence. I need to head up and get him back in.”

“Old Bart?” Tom looked down the dirt road behind him. “Which way is he headed? I’ll follow you in my truck and we can wrangle him together.”

Jason tossed the lug wrench and jack into the back of the truck. “Thanks, but I can get him. Shouldn’t take long.”

Tom turned back toward his truck. “You’re going to need someone to help you to get that fence back in if you get him inside the fence and that’s a big if. Those old guys can be ornery.”

This encounter was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m used to him and —”

Tom was standing with his hand on his truck door now, grinning. “Afraid I’ll break a hip?

Jason laughed, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “No, sir, it’s just —”

“You think I’m old.” Tom was still smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m only two years older than your dad. Come on, boy, I’ll show you how real bull wrangling is done.”

He climbed inside the truck, signaling the discussion was over. Jason let out a deep breath and climbed behind the steering wheel of Molly’s truck. Apparently, this day full of awkward moments wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Old Bert was standing in the middle of the intersection of Drew and French Creek Road, chewing grass when Jason and Tom pulled their trucks off into the grass.

Jason exited his truck slowly, not interested in startling the 2,000 pound beast and sending him either barreling toward him or into the woods up an embankment to the left of the road. It would have been easier if he hadn’t wandered this far north and away from the main Tanner farm. As it was now, Jason would have to rope him and lead him back to the farm the old fashioned way, on foot. There was a gate to the upper field about a half a mile down the road.

He told Tom his plan and then reached for the rope he’d picked up at the farm on the way by.

Bert’s eyes were still on him when he closed the truck door with the rope in hand. Tom stepped off to one side, behind Jason. “Should I go behind him and try to move him toward you? He’s usually a pretty calm guy. He probably wouldn’t like me behind him and would step away.”

Jason shook his head. “Not sure really. He can be unpredictable at times. Better stay behind me and let me see if I can get this rope around him first.”

He was only a few steps away from Old Bert, lasso in hand, when the bull turned and ran for it, galloping up the road at a solid pace. Jason growled in frustration and followed him, again only a few steps away when Bert changed direction and darted into a wooded area to the right. Jason was close behind but not close enough to get the rope looped around him.

For such a heavy animal he sure did move swiftly. Jason had a hard time keeping up with him and almost tripped over a tree limb that had fallen and was halfway buried under old leaves.

“I’ll see if I can get ahead of him by going around that grove of trees and chase him back toward the road,” Tom called from behind him. “Distract him for me.”

Jason waved the lasso in Old Bert’s direction, hoping the bull would follow the motion of the rope instead of Tom. He did, starting toward Jason in a startled jog only when Tom crashed through the under brush behind him.

Jason swung the rope, but it slid down Old Bert’s massive side, missing his neck completely. This was nothing like the movies when cowboys rode horses, giving them the advantage of height over the bulls they were trying to corral.

Jason was surprised at Old Bert’s speed. He wasn’t referred to as Old Bert for nothing. He was reaching the end of his use as a stud bull and his legs should have been a little less flexible than they were now.

Tom leaned over slightly, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Well, that didn’t work.”

“It was a good idea, though,” Jason said, also breathing hard.

He looked up at Tom, at the sweat on his forehead and drenching his shirt. He’d better try to send him home. The man having a heart attack while trying to help Jason wrangle the Tanner’s bull wasn’t going to help Jason’s case with Ellie at all.

“Why don’t you head on home? I can chase him back down the road and through our fence.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t mind trying a couple more times.” He stood, stretched his shoulders back. “It’s personal now. I don’t like the idea of that old bull beating us.”

If only Tom Lambert wasn’t as stubborn as his daughter.

It took another 20 minutes but corralling Old Bert between them, stomping their feet and yelling if he tried to dart into the woods again, finally brought them to the gate at the end of the Tanner’s field. Old Bert darted through the gate when Jason opened it, toward the pond his grandfather had built years ago next to a weeping willow.

Jason laughed softly. “He’s probably trying to get away from our shouting.”

They walked inside the gate, several feet into the pasture, chasing Old Bert further in the field to be sure he headed back further down the property. Jason still had to get him to his corral and locked back in, but he’d do that after he picked up his truck.

“I can’t figure how he gets that gate open, but I know what my project is this week.”

Tom nodded. “Fixing that gate latch, I’d guess. Or maybe packing the freezer with some extra steaks and roasts.”

Jason laughed, stopping with his hands at his waist to catch his breath. “That sounds good but he’s an old bull. That would be some pretty tough meat.”

Tom turned and looked back over the field toward the road and an old stone fence running down a short length of the border of the Tanner’s property against the road. A warm breeze filtered over the two men and Jason wondered if more storms would be coming later in the evening.

Tom nodded toward the fence, his breathing still fast, but slowing down. “Is that still the original fence down there?”

“Yeah.”

“1800s? Early 1900s?”

“We think late 1800s. Probably built by my great-great grandfather to mark the end of our property.”

They started walking toward the fence. “It’s amazing isn’t it?” Tom shook his head as he walked. “How well they built things back then. They really took their time, made sure it would stand the test of time.”

Reaching the old stones, crumbling but still in place, they stopped walking and looked at the fence that reached the level of Jason’s chest.

“They did that with everything back then,” Tom continued. “Homes, barns, even relationships.”

Jason nodded, not sure where Ellie’s father was going with this conversation, but fairly certain that he didn’t want to know.

“Holding on in the tough times can make the foundation of a relationship stronger,” Tom said. “But only if there’s a third person in the middle to help two people hold on.”

Jason pulled his cap low on his head. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now, or ever. Not with the father of the woman he loved, but now hated him. He cleared his throat, shifted his weight from one leg to the other and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at the ground, kicked at the dirt with the tip of his boot.

“Thanks for the help with Bert, Tom. I should be getting back.”

Tom nodded. Jason was glad he didn’t push the conversation any further. Tom put a foot on the old wall and climbed up it, tapping the stones with his foot as he stepped, shaking his head, still obviously amazed at the workmanship. Jason followed him for a few steps, then stopped, an unexpected sound catching his attention. Thunder maybe?      

By the time he registered it was hoofs on the ground, not thunder, Old Bert was only a hundred feet away and gaining fast.

Old Bert wasn’t usually violent but the way he lowered his head and pawed his hooves made Jason think he might have turned over a new leaf. He and Tom had to get out of this pasture. And fast.

“Tom, climb faster.”

Tom tilted his head, raised a questioning eyebrow, his back to Bert. “What’s that?”

“I said —”

It was too late. Bert was already a few feet away. Jason took off for Tom, hoping to grab him and push him over the wall, but worried he couldn’t outrun a 2,000 pound bull.

His hands were on the back of Tom’s shirt, yanking him up the stonewall when Bert reached them. A sickening crack coincided with Tom’s body flying up and over the wall. He slammed into Jason and they both fell in a heap into the road on the other side of the fence.

Grimacing as pain shot through his back, Jason was at least glad they were out of the pasture to keep them from being hit again.

“Tom?”

Ellie’s dad was eerily silent, laying on his side in the ditch behind the fence. Jason’s heart pounded hard as he sat up quickly and half crawled, half dragged himself to Tom. Pain shot through his back, but he didn’t have time to focus on it.

Oh God, please don’t let me have gotten Ellie’s dad killed.

Fiction Friday: The Farmers’ Sons (Harvesting Hope) Chapter 7

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, fiction, Fiction Friday1 Comment

This week’s chapter is a pretty long one, so brace yourselves. It is also the week where I am announcing that this latest book should be out to read in full this summer, most likely the end of July. And because I like announcements, I am also announcing that the final title of the book will be Harvesting Hope but I will be calling it The Farmers’ Sons here on the blog.

This story may be a little more raw than some of my other stories, but I hope my regular readers know that even if I mention topics such as sex, drugs, suicide, or low self-esteem, I always try my best not to get too descriptive or graphic. I am not someone who will be writing erotica on here, in other words, but the subject matter is a little more gritty than your average clean/Christian fiction.

So, with all that said, here is Chapter 7 of the story and at the end there will be a sneak peek of Chapter 8. If you don’t know, I share these chapters as a work in progress, so there will most likely be typos and plot holes, etc. If you notice them, please feel free to share with me in private or in the comments. Also feel free to share with me your thoughts on the story so far, on the characters, and on where you think the story should go next.

To read Molly’s story from the first book of this series, download a copy on Amazon or read it through Kindle Unlimited. To read the other parts of this story click HERE or find a link at the top of the page.

****

Ellie winced, curling her legs up against the heating pad pressed against her stomach. A burning pain had started in her lower stomach an hour earlier and was curving around to her back. She’d finally given up and taken ibuprofen. It hadn’t kicked in yet.

Outside, the sun was glistening off the trees where the leaves had come out on the maple tree behind the building. She enjoyed the blooming trees and flowers on her walk home from work, despite the pain that had increased after lunch time.

Was it the stress of the last few weeks causing her pain to be worse? Maybe her condition was simply getting worse. Either way, she prayed for the pain to end soon. She had Bible study in a couple of hours. They were studying Proverbs 31, and she needed to be there, not only to lead the study, but to focus on something other than her deepening depression.

She drifted off into a fitful sleep for 20 minutes before a knock on the door woke her.

Trying to ignore it, she rolled on to her side, facing the back of the couch.

The knocking continued. Then a voice she didn’t want to hear sent an aggravated growl up from her throat.

 “El-bell! Are you in there? I have to pee! I held it all the way from Scranton.”

Ellie flung the blanket off her and glared at the door as she walked to it and unlocked it. What is she doing here?

Judi bounded in as soon as she opened the door.

“Oh, my gosh. Thank God.” Judi dragged a suitcase on wheels behind her and walked into the middle of the living room. “I think my bladder is going to burst. Where’s the bathroom?”

Ellie sighed and motioned toward the hallway beyond the kitchen. She shuffled back to the couch and flopped on her face, waiting for her sister to come out and explain why she wasn’t in New York City right now. A few minutes later, she heard her sister’s heels on the laminate floor.

“Whoa. Has the break-up hit you hard or what? You look awful.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing Judi would go away again. “Thanks, Judi.” She spoke into the couch cushion her face was pressed into. “If you must know, I’m having cramps.”

“Oh.”

Cupboard doors opened and banged closed. “Got any food? I’m starving. There is like nowhere to stop on the drive down here. Or in town, of course. This place still doesn’t have any good restaurants.”

Ellie tilted her head to one side, still laying on her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

Judi shoved a wheat thin in her mouth. “Wow. That’s rude. I haven’t seen you in over a year and all you want to know is what I’m doing here?”

Ellie sat up and hugged a pillow against her chest. Her sister had just arrived unannounced, but had the audacity to call her rude? Yeah, okay.

Judi should consider herself lucky that Ellie was too tired to yell.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding back the annoyance she felt. “It’s just that you don’t visit very often, so this is a bit of a surprise.”

Judi poured a glass of iced tea and then started opening the vegetable drawers. “Do you have any lemons? I like lemons with my tea.”

“Bottom drawer, in the back.”

“Where are the knives?”

“Second drawer from the stove.”

“Cutting board?”

“Cupboard next to the fridge.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

Ellie listened to the click of the knife against the cutting board, waiting for her sister to enlighten her with her reason for the unexpected visit. After a few moments Judi sat in the blue plush chair across from Ellie and crossed one bare leg over the other, the hem of her maroon shorts pulling up to her thigh. She took a long drink from the iced tea before speaking.

“I was worried about you, El.” Her foot bounced as she talked. “You sounded so sad on the phone so I took some time off work and come see if I could cheer you up.”

Ellie looked at her sister through narrowed eyes. “You’re still working?”

Judi scowled. “That’s not nice. Yes, I’m working. I’m still at that designer clothing store I told you about.” She placed her glass on the table next to the chair. “Oh! Which reminds me — I have some of the cutest outfits to show you. I get an employee discount. I thought we could try them on and go out to Mooneys or drive up over the state line and find somewhere to show them off.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t mean tonight because I can’t tonight. I have Bible study.”

Judi made a face. “Tell me you are not still leading Bible studies.”

“I am still leading Bible studies, yes.” Ellie tried to keep the aggravation out of her voice, but it wasn’t working. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried again. “I have a Bible study at 7. You’re welcome to come along.”

Judi scoffed. “No thanks. Sounds boring. A bunch of uptight women sipping tea, highlighting passages in their Bibles, and acting as if they are so perfect and special.”

“Judi, come on. That’s not how it is.” Ellie tossed the pillow aside and walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of blueberry tea. The cramps were still there but staring to fade to a dull ache. “These are nice women. Real women, talking about real issues. They aren’t fake.”

Judi stretched a leg out and propped her foot on the coffee table. “Real issues, huh? Like what dress to wear to church on Sunday? Or how ashamed they are for noticing how good looking the pastor is? Or maybe they talk about how disgusted they are with all the people who go out and live lives instead of sitting around reading some old book all day.”

A bird chirped from the branch of the cherry tree outside below the kitchen window and Ellie wished she could turn into that bird and fly away. She filled the kettle and sat it on the burner and turned it on. She turned toward Judi and leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding her arms across her chest.

“What happened to make you so angry at Christians, Judi? You never used to be like this.”

Judi sighed. “I’m not angry at Christians. It’s just —” She shrugged. “Some of the women that go to that church seem so stuck up. They act as if they are so perfect.”

The bird chirped again, and Ellie could almost feel herself in flight, gliding above the roofs of the buildings in town, over the courthouse and the library, to the edge of town where the train tracks cut a path between the business and residential districts. If Judi hadn’t been there, she would have closed her eyes, completing the mental journey out of town, across the farmland, down the path of the highway; transporting herself as far away from her current life as possible.

“Some do, yes, but not all. Most of those women are normal, everyday women who just want to learn more about God and how they can trust him during the good and bad times. It really isn’t fair for you to judge them.”

Judi turned in the chair and laid her arms across the back of it, propping her chin on her arm. “Is that what you talk about with these women? Your bad times? Like your bad times with Jason?”

Ellie bristled at the mention of Jason. The anger she felt toward Judi for bringing him up startled her. It was sudden and visceral. She didn’t talk about Jason to anyone but Lucy. Judi didn’t even know why she and Jason had broken up. When she’d asked, Ellie had told her they’d grown apart, and she didn’t want to talk about it. For once, Judi had left it alone.

Ellie turned and set the tea bag in the honeybee mug Molly had given her last year for her birthday. “Have you been home to see Mom and Dad, yet?”

Judi laughed. “I see how it is. Not going to talk to your little sister about the big breakup. Well, fine. You don’t have to. We’ll get you out to some clubs, meet some good-looking men and you’ll forget all about that dirty cow farmer.”

Judi stepped around the island separating the living room and kitchen and hoisted herself up onto the countertop next to the breadbox. “I’ll pop over to the parental units tomorrow. See what’s going on at the old homestead.”

Ellie reached in the cupboard next to the stove and reached for the jar of honey. “Did you even tell them you were coming?”

“Nah. I knew they’d be glad to see me no matter what.” Judi reached into the breadbox and pulled out a piece of the homemade bread Ellie had brought back from her parents Sunday. She bit into it and groaned with pleasure. “Mom’s homemade bread. So good. Makes me almost sad I gave up gluten.” She shoved more of the bread into her mouth, talking with her mouth full. “This one little piece shouldn’t hurt.” She looked down at her hips and patted the left side. “I hope anyhow. I can’t afford to gain weight or I won’t fit into that cute skirt I brought with me.”

She jumped off the counter. “I’m going to go grab my bag. It’s cool if I stay here, right?”

“Yeah, I gue—”

“Cool. I need a shower and a nap. I drove straight through and I’m beat. Have fun at your Bible study.”

Ellie waited for the teakettle to whistle, tapping her foot against the floor, her jaw tight. First, she’d had to deal with Brad, and now she had to deal with Judi. Could this week get any worse? She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t speak it into existence, Ellie Lambert,” she whispered as the teakettle whistled. “You know it can.”

***

She’d stood in the locker room doorway, dirty blond curls spilling down her back like a luxurious spider web. She pressed one finely manicured hand flat against the door frame, the other curled around her slender hip.

There had been so many nights over the years, especially recently, when Jason closed his eyes and saw her in his mind’s eye, hating himself all over again.

Lauren Phillips.

Bright red lipstick highlighted full lips. Dark eyeliner and light blue eye shadow complimented her green eyes.

“Hey, Jason, you’re looking good.” Her gaze had traveled down the length of him and back up again, lingering on his bare chest. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, a soft purr vibrating in her throat. “Of course, you’re always looking good.”

He’d slid his shirt on, pulling it down with a quick jerk. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

She took a step forward, sliding a hand down a thigh length black mini skirt. “You think so?” She straightened her shoulders, pushing her chest forward, the red fabric of her shirt stretching tight against her slim figure.

“This is a new outfit.”

He nodded, cleared his throat. “Looks great.”

Returning to packing his gear in his locker, he tried to give off the vibe that he wasn’t interested in whatever Lauren was offering. And she was offering a lot. Not so much in words but loud-and-clear in body language.

She was attractive, yes, but Lauren also had a reputation around campus, and it wasn’t a good one.

Her fingertips trailed up his arm as he slammed the locker door closed, swirling a pattern up his shoulder and along the back of his neck. “We’re having a party tonight down at Phi Beta Kappa. I need an escort.” She played with the hair on the back of his head. “Interested?”

He shook his head, wishing her touch didn’t feel so good. “Nah. I’ve got a workout session scheduled.”

Her lips were close to his ear. “The party will be going late. Stop by and join us.” She leaned even closer, her breath hot against his skin. “When you’re done.”

Everything about Lauren was the opposite of Ellie. Ellie’s sweetness was genuine. Lauren’s sweetness was an act, a way to get into the heads of men she’d set her sights on to conquer. At least that’s how he saw her looking back.

No matter how many ways Jason tried to vilify Lauren Phillips, though, he couldn’t. He was the one who had decided to accept her offer to go to those parties, to let her lull him into what he’d hoped would be a pleasure filled distraction from the distorting thoughts that had settled on him at college.

The first kiss, outside his dorm when she’d walked back with him from the gym, had been intense. It had sparked a physical desire in him he’d almost caved in to but had resisted, using the excuse he had a class to get to. It wasn’t a lie, but he knew he was copping out. Any other guy on campus would have accepted her advances and launched a counter-attack of their own.

When Lauren kissed him hard one night after a party at her apartment, his will crumbled around him. Her arms wound around him like a serpent. As she pulled him toward an open bedroom door in her apartment, her hands up under his shirt, he knew he was crossing a boundary he’d set for himself years ago. He hadn’t even cared anymore. He needed something, anything, to drown out the pain of Ellie’s rejection, the doubts about his faith clouding his mind.

For those brief moments he’d forgotten who he was, and it felt amazing.

At first.

The guilt set in like a heavy chain around his neck within moments after he’d stumbled through her bedroom door, carrying his shirt and jeans.

The alcohol had blurred his senses. It had all been so rushed. She was dressing before he’d even had time to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

“That was fun.” Her tone was casual as she buttoned her blouse. “We should do it again sometime.”

He’d woke up a few hours later in his dorm room, unable to remember how he got there. Alex stood over him, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“Hey, Jase. You okay?”

Jason had moved in with Alex at the beginning of the second semester of his sophomore year to remove himself from the peer pressure of living with a bunch of football players in a frat house downtown. Alex, who he’d met his freshman year during an English Lit class, hadn’t offered him the break from temptation he’d been hoping for.

Instead, Alex had talked him into visiting bars, meeting women – meeting Lauren. Part of him could have blamed Alex like he tried to blame Lauren, but none of it had been either of their fault. He’d made his own decisions, and now he had to live with them.

Alex’s reaction to his state of mortification was less than supportive. At least at first.

“You got with Lauren Phillips?” He raised his arms to celebrate. “That girl is hot. She wouldn’t even give me the time of day. What have you got that I don’t?” Alex slapped the back of his hand against Jason’s right bicep. “Oh, yeah…muscles.”

Jason vomited in an empty container from the Chinese restaurant.

Alex made a face. “You’re throwing up after sleeping with a hot woman? Is it the alcohol or do you need to tell me something else? Like maybe you don’t like women? Maybe you like —”

“Alex!” Jason wiped his hand across his mouth, looking for a paper towel to clean himself off. “I like women. I am definitely attracted to women. That’s not it. If it was, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“What situation? Wait. Didn’t you use —”

“I just mean the whole Lauren situation. Come on, Alex. Don’t make this worse than it is.” Jason sat back, pressing his hands to his face. “I’m not the guy who just jumps in bed with a woman I don’t even know. You know that.”

“You mean like me?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just mean that I wanted to have a connection with the woman I – with whoever I first — I mean…”

“Oh.”

Alex shrugged, scooting himself back onto the top of the dresser, his legs hanging down. Jason could tell he didn’t want to talk about his friend’s bedroom experiences, or lack thereof.

“Okay, listen, you made a mistake. That’s all. It’s not the end of the world. Just cut Lauren loose and take some time to think about things. About what you really want. This is college. This where we screw up and learn our lessons, right?”

Jason had definitely learned a lesson from the experience, but he wished he hadn’t had to.

He’d almost lost his football scholarship that year after showing up late to too many practices and showing up more than once with a hangover. He avoided Lauren after their encounter, ignoring her phone calls and telling her he had homework to do that one night she’d pounded on his dorm room door.

“I guess you got what you wanted,” she snapped, arms folded across her chest, standing in the doorway as he tried to close the door. She lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “Or maybe I just got what I wanted.”

It was the last time he’d seen her, other than across the campus from time to time when she was hanging off the arm of one of the other football players.

He had refocused himself for the remainder of that year and for the next year after that. All he wanted was his degree, so he could go home and make sure his family’s business survived. He’d also realized he wanted to go back to Ellie. Along with God she was an anchor for him, and when he’d let go of them both, it had spun his life out of control.

The front door slammed open, bringing Alex and a gust of wind into the room and jostling Jason from his memories.

This was present day Alex, Alex seven years later but in some ways the same ole’ Alex. But hopefully not exactly the same Alex, since he was dating Molly now.

The crash of thunder and rush of pounding rain roared into the living room, quieted only when Alex pushed the door closed, his clothes clinging to him. Sliding his cowboy hat off, he propped it on the hook next to the door, then paused and looked at Jason, sprawled on the couch on his back.

“All the lights are off and you’re listening to sad country music. This can’t be good.”

“It’s not sad music. It’s Chris Ledoux.”

“Who you only listen to when you’re sad.” A crack of thunder rattled the window and lightening lit the sky outside.

Alex winced as he pried his wet button-up shirt off and tossed it toward the laundry room. It landed in the hallway, and Jason hoped he would pick it up this time. “Thinking about Ellie?”

Jason tipped his head back against the arm of the couch, his long legs stretched across the faded grey cushions, one arm laying across his forehead, the other one hanging off the couch.

“Yeah. And Lauren.”

Alex reached up and flicked on the light switch.  “Ah, man, no. Not a good combination. You can’t sit here sitting in the dark reflecting on past mistakes. It’s not healthy.”

Jason burped and reached for the can of soda on the coffee table without sitting up. Alex kicked at an empty bag of potato chips on the floor. “Um… this isn’t healthy either. Where are your regular veggie sticks and protein shakes?”

Alex pulled his wet tank top off and walked behind the couch toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. “Listen, I’m going to go get dried off and changed. When I come back, you better tell me what’s up.”

“Will you have your shirt on when you come back? Because I don’t need to see that.”

Alex scoffed and slapped his hand against his bare chest. “Of course, you need to see this. Who doesn’t?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Yeah, well —”

“If you say Molly likes to look at that I will get off this couch and mess up your pretty boy face.”

Alex raised his hands in a surrender motion. “Okay. Okay. Calm down, big boy.”

A few moments later, dried off and wearing a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans, Alex smacked the bottom of Jason’s feet and told him to shove over and sit up. He sat a water bottle on the coffee table and cracked open a can of soda he’d grabbed out of the fridge on the way back to the living room. He took a long drink before sitting where Jason’s feet had been.

“Come on, man. What’s going on? Talk to your old friend Alex while you flush all that junk out of your system with this —” He squinted at the label on the water bottle. “Electrolyte enhanced mineral water. Whatever that is.”

Jason groaned and sat up, picking up the bottle. He leaned his elbows on his knees and sipped the water, staring at the turned off television. In its reflection, he saw a hollow version of himself, eyes heavy and empty.

Rain drops against the metal porch roof out back filled the silence. He rubbed his hand along his jawline, staring at the television until his haggard image blurred. The last three weeks had been full of training sessions for the fire company mixed in between building pens for the goats and planting corn and rye and his regular duties at the farm. His body was screaming a warning that he couldn’t keep this pace up much longer.

Alex cleared his throat, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees. “Listen, Jason, like I said that day Ellie overheard us, I’m sorry for any part I played in you meeting Lauren.”

Jason waved his hand dismissively. “No more apologies, Alex. Like I told you then, my choices got me here, not yours. It wasn’t your fault. I decided to go with you to those bars and parties and I chose to sleep with Lauren, even if alcohol did cloud my judgement.” He pushed his hands into his hair and shook his head again. “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me for not influencing you in a more positive way. I should be doing that now.”

Alex leaned back again and slid his hands behind his head, grinning. “So, you mean you should be my spiritual guide?”

“Well, maybe, yeah. Someone has to help you. You’re a mess.”

Alex playfully tossed a pillow at Jason’s head. “Thanks, jerk, but we’re talking about you. Not me. So, what are you going to do about Ellie? Molly says you and Ellie talked a few Sundays ago.”

 “Talked.” A derisive laugh escaped Jason’s lips. “More like yelled until I was hoarse, and she was bawling.”

Alex tossed the empty soda can toward the recycling bin in the kitchen. It bounced off the edge and rolled across the kitchen floor. “Yeah. Didn’t sound like it went very well.”

Jason swallowed hard, remembering the way Molly had looked at him. It had been almost as bad as the way Ellie looked at him.

“She said she needed time but I’m pretty sure she meant she needed to never see me again.”

Alex shook his head and leaned against his hand, propping his elbow on the arm of the couch. “It doesn’t seem fair. I mean, it’s not like you slept with Lauren when you two were dating. You were broke up.”

“That’s not the point in her mind.” Jason stretched his legs out in front of him, propped his feet up on the coffee table. “The point is, I never told her about it. She feels like I broke her trust.” He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “And she’s right. I did.”

Alex tipped his head back against the couch, looked up at the ceiling. “The thing is, though, you’re a guy and guys can’t always push their needs aside like women can.”

Jason tilted his face toward Alex, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” He folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t say.”

“Listen, it’s admirable that you and Ellie waited for this special time between each other. It really is, but is it realistic? Like I said, guys have needs. She gets that, right?”

Jason narrowed his eyes, tipped his head to look at Alex, trying to stay calm. “Yes, Alex. Guys do have needs and you’re dating my sister. Anything you need to share with me right now?”

Alex laughed, rolled his tongue inside his cheek, propping his ankle over the opposite knee as he folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Let’s not get off topic here —”

“I’m on topic.” Jason watched Alex intently. “Tell me more about how the guy who is dating my sister has needs that need to be met. I’m listening.”

Red spread quickly across Alex’s cheeks and ears. “Listen, I respect Molly.” He cleared his throat and picked at a string on the bottom of his jeans, back to Jason. The smile had faded.

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. And?”

Alex held his hand up, palm out. “Hey, remember what I told you after you found out about me and Molly? About things being private between a man and women, even if that woman is your sister? That applies here too.”

Jason wasn’t looking away. Alex cleared his throat again. “But — since I like my face being in one piece, I will tell you that your sister is worth waiting for.” He paused for emphasis, his gaze meeting Jason’s. “In every way. Okay? Now, let’s move this conversation back to your situation with Ellie.”

Jason’s eyes stayed narrowed. “Just because we men have needs, Alex, as you put it, doesn’t mean we have to have those needs met all the time or at the wrong time. There’s something called self-control and I should have had more self-control with Lauren. I’d committed to staying sexually pure for my future wife. It may sound old-fashioned to you, but it was how I felt and how I still feel.”

The teasing disappeared from Alex’s tone. “I get it, Jase. I do. Okay? You’re right. It sounds old-fashioned to me, but it also sounds nice. It just doesn’t seem fair to me you’re losing everything you had with Ellie over a woman like Lauren Phillips.”

Standing and walking across the floor to look out the window, Alex let out a long breath. Raindrops speckled the windowpane. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He turned to face Jason again, leaning back against the door and crossing one leg over the other. “That girl was trouble. I saw her making out with Jake Murray at a party a couple days later. I think she made her way through the entire football team that year. Probably that semester even.”

Jason rubbed his eyes, a stinging ache growing behind them. His chest tightened, and he shook his head. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of shame-filled memories.

A pounding on the door gave him the chance to quickly pass his hand over his eyes and swallow his emotion. Alex stepped away from the door, turned, and opened it, letting in the sound of the pouring rain.

Molly stood on the porch, breathless. Rain matted her hair to her forehead and face, drenching her clothes. “My truck has a flat up the road and I think Liz is in labor.”

Jason grabbed his hat and jacket. “We’ll take my truck, come on.”

By the time he pulled his truck behind Molly’s, sitting along ditch about a mile from their grandmother’s house, the rain had stopped. Liz was pacing alongside the road, rubbing her protruding belly.   She had pulled her long dark brown hair into a tight ponytail and her face was pale.

Alex jumped out first, helping Molly out next. “Should you be walking around like that?”

Liz shrugged and tossed her hands up. “It’s either this or sit in there and hyperventilate.”

Jason glanced in the back of the truck. “The spare is here at least. Your water broke yet?”

Liz rubbed her arms and continued pacing. “If you mean all that water that is supposed to come out before the baby does then no. It’s just cramping right now. Intense cramping. Every ten minutes or so.”

Jason retrieved the jack and spare tire from the truck bed. “If your water hasn’t broken, we’ve got time to change the tire.”

Liz made a face. “When did you become a doctor?”

Kneeling next to the flat tire, Jason grinned. “I’ve watched about a few hundred cows give birth in my lifetime and not much happens until the water breaks.” He stood, pushed his foot down on the jack handle. “I’m sure it’s the same with humans.”

Liz scowled, folding her arms across her chest. “Jason Tanner, did you just compare me to a cow?”

He winked under the brim of his John Deere cap. “If the shoe fits, sweet cheeks.”

Liz kicked mud at him and growled. “If I wasn’t about to give birth, I’d kick your bu —”

“You’re not about to give birth.” Jason loosened a bolt on the tire. “You’re probably just having false labor.”

Liz swung to face Molly. “It’s fine if I bludgeon your brother with the tire iron, right?”

“Not unless you don’t want to get to the hospital,” Molly laughed.

Jason reached into his pocket and tossed the keys at Alex. “Take my truck. I’ll drive Molly’s.”

Liz winced and held on to the side of the truck, breathing slowly. The color in her face had drained again, and she bent over slightly.

“Get going,” Jason said, jerking his head toward his truck. “I’ve helped plenty of cows bring babies into the world, but I have no interest in doing it with a human.”

Molly took Liz’s hand and slid her arm around her waist. “Lean against me and breathe like we learned in class.”

Liz nodded, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. Jason looked up to see her look at Molly with glistening eyes. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered.

Alex laughed softly as he opened the passenger side door. “A bit late for that.”

He winced as Molly’s fist hit his upper arm. “What? It is.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head. “Better watch it, Alex. Molly doesn’t get angry, she gets even.”

Molly turned her scowl from Alex to Jason, then back to Alex before smiling at Liz and rubbing her back. “Ignore them. Focus on the fact that soon you’ll be holding your baby in your arms.”

Alex placed a hand under Liz’s elbow and helped her into the truck.  

Liz’s shoulders noticeably relaxed as she leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Stay calm. Have a baby. Beat up Alex and Jason. I can do this.”

Alex laughed and patted her shoulder. “At least you have your priorities straight.”

Chapter 8 Sneek Peak

Chapter 8

Jason watched the truck disappear down the road for a moment before turning back to the tire. He worked a bolt loose, saying a quick prayer for Liz. Quick prayers were all the prayers he allowed time for these days. Any longer and his thoughts spiraled out of control.

The crunch of tires on gravel brought his head up. There was little chance he didn’t know whoever was driving by. Everyone knew everyone in this county. When he recognized the old blue pick-up pulling up behind Molly’s truck, his heart sank.

Tom Lambert, his dark brown hair speckled with gray, leaned an arm on the wall of the truck bed.

Book Review: In Sheeps Clothing by Pegg Thomas

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn books and reading, everyday musings1 Comment

Book and author: In Sheeps Clothing by Pegg Thomas

Publisher: Spinner of Yarns Publishing

Genre: Christian Fiction

Description:

Yarrow Fenn, the talented spinster sister, was passed over when her intended walked out on her years before. She’s content with her life – for the most part – until Peter Maltby arrives in town. A journeyman fuller, Peter comes to Milford, Connecticut, not to woo the young women, but to rise to the rank of master fuller and return to Boston for some unfinished business. When their lives intersect over an orphan lamb, sparks are kindled. But their budding romance will have to survive revealed secrets when someone else shows up in Milford.

My Review:

This read was a delightful, short, and sweet journey into the past. I am not someone who usually reads historical fiction but the cover and title caught my eye and I gave it a chance. The story flowed easily and the writing was very good. The book is very short and I could have done with a little more about both characters, but that’s only because I really enjoyed learning about them both. I will definitely be looking up more books by Pegg.

Book Review: Avoiding Marriage by Karin Beery

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn books and reading, everyday musings1 Comment

Avoiding Marriage by Karin Beery

Publisher:  EABooks Publishing 

Description:

Two years ago, Jessica Miller made a mess of her already confusing life. Now, she’s back in Boyne Heights, and she’s determined to fix her reputation. She can’t seem to avoid the past that haunts her, but that’s the joy of small-town life—word spreads and people remember. Intent on her mission, however, she faces her past head-on, taking a job with her ex-boyfriend while avoiding her grandmother’s attempts to find her a new one.

My Review:

I was provided a complimentary copy of this book, which I appreciated because I might not have picked it up on my own. It was the first time I’d read anything by this author so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I don’t usually read a ton of light romances or novellas but apparently, I am missing out because I really enjoyed this one. In fact, I enjoyed the characters so much that my only complaint is that the book wasn’t long enough. I know there are other books with these characters, however, so I am looking forward to reading more about them in the future.

Part of me felt, at first, that the premise was a little unrealistic – the idea of a young woman going to work for her ex-boyfriend who is now married, but then I thought about all the people around me who are doing similar things. I mean I even know of an actor whose ex-wife produces movies with him. What this book reminded me was that people move on, heal, and grow in many different ways so even if I wouldn’t be comfortable with that, there are plenty of people who are and have been.

The main character’s (Jessica’s) life was very relatable to me. To some, it may have seemed she had more on her than “real” people would, in regards to her family’s situation, but in my world, families are messy. There are divorces and hurt feelings and addictions and recovering addicts, etc. I like that Karin isn’t afraid to face those issues head-on. In the midst of all of Jessica’s struggles is the chance for love and that brings lighter and sweeter moments to the story.

This is a quick read for an avid reader, which is nice because then you can move on to Ashley’s story (which occurs before this one) in Practically Married or other books by Karin.

I received a copy of Practically Married from the author. This in no way affects my review. All opinions are my own.

Looking back at April in photos

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings6 Comments

April was a strange month weather wise at times. Warm sun, rain, gloomy days, snow, then warm sun again. In other words, it was a typical April for our state. I thought I’d look back on the month in photos since, as usual, my life wasn’t super exciting and there isn’t much to write about it. There were some playground trips, running in the backyard, Easter, weird medieval helmets and blooming spring flowers. Who knows what May will bring that will be worthy of a photo or two.

My No News in May Challenge. Want to join me? Wait. Hear me out.

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings23 Comments

So I am sinking into a deep depression and have lost a lot of motivation off and on for the last year. You know why. Todays news is depressing, demoralizing, and creates insane amounts of division. Prop that on top of other life stressors and many of us have the making of a good ole’ fashioned mental breakdown.

Of course we are in control of how we allow the things we read and hear affect us but we are also responsible for what we allow in our ear and eye holes and I don’t know about you, but I’ve allowed too much in off and on (not consistently) for more than a year now.

I’m ready for a break during which I hope to accomplish some other goals in life including, reading my Bible more, praying more, finishing writing book two in my series, planting my garden, reading more, closing out my children’s school year, visiting some local parks, picking up drawing again, and searching for UFOs. The last one is a joke, but who knows. With all the free time I’ll have on my hands, I may just do that.

It isn’t that I like news sites or visit them because I’m really invested in what is happening in the world. It’s a way to distract myself, procrastinate, and, quite frankly, it is easy to become addicted to what I call panic or drama porn. Our thoughts are inexplicaply drawn to the negativity of life and where can we find the most negativity today but on a news site.

We can easily fall down rabbit holes, even without meaning to.

Anyhow, I digress. The point of this post is to try to hold myself accountable and to see if anyone else would like to join me in a news fast for the next month. This is not a total news fast. I am keeping myself at one hour a week which can be broken up however I like but for now I think I will allow about 8 minutes of news a day. This will include quick scans of one site and no more sinking into rabbit holes or checking Twitter (which I don’t even have an account on. What in the world am I doing? The place is a sink hole of depression and the worst society has to offer, in my opinion.) or any other social media accounts related to news.

You can keep yourself to more hours a week if you want, but I am curious to see if less news will make some of us who are susceptible to all the different messages overwhelming our brains feel less anxious. Join me if you like, cheer me on, or just ignore me. I’m okay either way but I hope by posting here I will feel guilty if I allow myself to be sucked into a media/news-induced hysteria. Let’s see how it goes. I’ll post some updates later in the month and in June. I’ll see if I utterly failed or at least had a little success.

Was Laura Ingalls Wilder racist?

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings15 Comments

As I have mentioned in my Sunday Bookends posts recently, Little Miss and I have been reading Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder before bed. I read the books as a child and I didn’t understand how horrible the references to Native Americans in the book sounded back then. It is also possible my Mom explained to me what I have been explaining to my daughter this week, which is that the fear the Ingalls had of the Native Americans was really a fear of the unknown. They were drawing their views of the Native Americans from stories they had heard and not personally experienced in some cases.

This past week, I made reading the book an educational experience in addition to being an entertaining one. I also explored the reason behind what some would call “racist language” in Wilder’s books by doing what so many of us do these days — I Googled it.

As an adult re-reading Little House on the Prairie, I was taken aback by what Wilder wrote about the Native Americans. I didn’t remember the negative descriptions from when I read it all those years ago. Part of me had considered abandoning the book, so I didn’t have to discuss such a difficult topic with a 6-year-old, or at least skipping those sections. It was hard to skip the sections, however, since so much of the book is about the Native Americans and the Ingalls’s encounters with them. I’m glad I didn’t abandon the book, because then I would have missed those moments where the fictional version of Wilder challenges the views her mother and others living on the prairie have of the Native Americans.

One reason the real Laura couldn’t have questioned the negative views of the Native Americans when her family lived on the prairie is because she was actually only 2 when they moved to Kansas and around 4 or 5 when they left. In the fictional children’s book, she portrays herself as around 8 or 9. She also writes that baby Carrie was alive, but in reality, Carrie had not even been born yet.

 Laura Mclemore points out on The Little House on the Prairie website that it is important to understand the history behind Wilder’s story when considering how she writes about the Osage. For one, Wilder’s mother held a fear of the Osage people because of a massacre that occurred in Minnesota, near where the Ingalls had lived before moving to Kansas, around 1862. That massacre occurred when the Sioux and Dakota tribes rose up against the settlers after many of the men left to fight in the Civil War.  Laura’s mother and their neighbors, the Scotts, remember that massacre when they expressed anger and fear toward the Osage people, even though they are a different tribe.

It’s also important to remember that Wilder wasn’t actually writing an autobiography when she wrote her children’s books. While there were some authentic life experiences, as well as actual people in the books, Wilder was actually writing historical fiction using her real family as the basis for the stories.

In 2018, Wilder’s name was stripped of a literary award named after her by the American Library Association because many believed her depictions of both Native Americans and African Americans were racist. The decision to remove her name bothered some people, including Amy S. Fatzinger from the magazine The Atlantic.

“The books indeed include several pejorative passages about Native people that reflect ‘dated cultural attitudes.’” Fatzinger wrote. “At times, they also work to dispel myths about American westward expansion; some scenes illustrate the complexity of race relations on the frontier and remind readers that countless families like the Ingallses were illegally occupying Native lands. As a result, Wilder’s approach can leave readers with conflicting messages about Native characters, requiring a more nuanced consideration of the texts themselves.”

While reading the book this week to Little Miss, I could see what Fatzinger means about scenes showing the complexity of race on the frontier. The various descriptions of Native Americans are definitely shocking by today’s standards and show how misguided the Ingalls family and other settlers were about the tribes living around them.

While Wilder relayed some of the more prejudiced comments she heard about Native Americans while growing up, she also did something other writers of the time didn’t do, Fatzinger wrote, and that was to point out that white settlers had illegally moved onto land occupied by the Osages. Charles Ingalls tells his family they are moving to “Indian Country” because politicians in Washington had sent word that the land would soon be free of Native Americans. Yes, just like today, politicians were adept at stirring up trouble and leaving people hurt in the wake of their ineptitude.

“Even readers who find such scenes troubling might assume that Wilder was simply repeating the attitudes of her time,” Fatzinger wrote in her article. “A closer look, though, reveals that she usually presents misconceptions about frontier life only to later challenge them; similarly, negative views of Native people are often juxtaposed with more favorable ones. In Little House on the Prairie, young Laura listens to various perspectives about Native people uttered by the adults around her and questions them. Laura asks her Ma, for example, why they’re traveling to Indian Territory if she doesn’t like Indians. It’s a question that highlights the absurdity of the events that follow, like when the Ingallses huddle in their house petrified of the Osage neighbors whose land they are attempting to appropriate.”

Through questions she asks her parents, Wilder also shows that her younger self had doubts about whether the Native Americans were “evil”, even though she had a very obvious fear of them and referred to them as “wild”, “smelly,” and “savage.” She writes that Ma was always leery and upset by the Native Americans, especially when they entered the home uninvited but Pa was much more laid back, saying more than once, “As long as we are peaceful toward them, they will be peaceful toward us.” Of course, he also had a prejudiced view of them because at one point he almost calls them devils, but Ma cuts him off so he doesn’t make the children afraid.

I believe Wilder wrote her books from the perspective of a child who had a fear of the unknown which included Native Americans, but also from the perspective of a woman born in 1867.

Credit: Little House on the Prairie blog/site

Her writing mainly focuses on what others thought of Native Americans and she relays their views through the eyes of a child trying to make sense of it all. She doesn’t leave those racist ideas to sit there alone, without explanation. She addresses them again as you progress through the book. When the neighbors say, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian,” Laura’s father disagrees, especially when Soldat Du Chene, a member of the Osage tribe talks the rest of the Osage people out of declaring war on the white settlers.

“No matter what Mr. Scott said,” Laura writes. “Pa did not believe the only good Indian was a dead Indian.”  

Keeping in mind the need to offer context to Laura’s story and instead of throwing the baby out with the bath water, I took Mclemore’s suggestion to use the books as a teachable moment. One night before bed, I told Little Miss who the Native Americans were and how they lived in our country before the white Europeans.

I wasn’t sure how she would respond to my story of how the white Europeans chased many Native Americans off their land. I hoped she wouldn’t demonize either side.

Little Miss, 6, is sharp, though, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised when she said, “I’m guessing the white people started the war.”

Ouch.

I hadn’t even mentioned war. I would imagine she heard about that in a cartoon or in lessons I’ve taught her brother about similar subjects.

I told her that sometimes the white settlers started the war because they wanted the land and sometimes Native Americans started the wars because they were upset that the white settlers had taken their land and hurt their people.

I also explained that what the white Europeans did was wrong and that some of them may have been our ancestors (especially on my dad’s side where we have traced our family back to very early settlers in Connecticut), but that doesn’t mean we are to blame for what happened.

We do, however, need to remember that dark part of our history so we don’t repeat it. We also need to recognize that the land we now live on was land once occupied by people who settled this land long before our ancestors did.

After I told her that the land we lived on now was probably where members of the Iroquois nation lived and that we would study them soon in our history, her curiosity was piqued.

“You have hooked me,” she announced. “Now I want to know more.”

Five minutes later she was asleep with my promise that we would soon learn more about Native Americans. The next day we watched a video by a Native American woman on YouTube about the Native Americans of the Northeast and those of the Midwest.

Little Miss enjoyed it but looked up after the woman talked about the women of the tribe cooking and cleaning and scraping the buffalo hides and said, “I’m guessing this is when the men thought women couldn’t do the same thing that men could do, right?”

She’s a little too smart for her own good at times.

I agree with Mclemore’s suggestion for parents who would like to teach their young children about life in the 1800s and that is to not ignore Wilder’s books.

“I suggest that rather than banning books or refusing to read them, we use them as a platform for examining the history of the United States,” she writes. “What better way to learn our history than by reading a classic like Little House on the Prairie and using it as a platform for discussion?”

Incidentally, I am taking this same approach with To Kill A Mockingbird which I am reading with my 14-year-old son for his English class.

I also agree with Fatzinger that we shouldn’t remove Wilder’s references to Native Americans from her writing, or in fact, remove any references to races that we disagree with. By doing this we are effectively removing any mention of the race at all, which closes the door to discussions about why stereotypical views of a race are wrong.

You can learn more about Laura Ingalls Wilder at http://www.littlehouseontheprairie.com and more about Fatzinger’s view of Wilder’s work on The Atlantic site.

Sunday Bookends: Awesome weather, little houses, sheep, and Brits out of place

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, Sunday Bookends7 Comments

What’s Been Occurring

The weather was cold here at the beginning of last week but warmed up in perfect timing for our 45-minute drive south to pick up my son’s new glasses. It was perfect timing because after finding a Weis store, which was my excitement for the week, sadly, we found an amazing playground for the kids to play on. For almost two hours my kids played with other kids and not one of them was wearing a mask. Only one parent was wearing a mask and it looked like a spring day from 2019. It was amazing and the best day I’ve had in a very long time.

The kids also had a blast. Our car was full of fresh fruit from Weis, the sun was shining, we had an awesome playground (with a zipline!) to play on, and my son could finally see again.

About the supermarket trip, listen, we live in the middle of nowhere without large supermarkets so this was exciting to me. This was more exciting than finding a Target or Trader Joe’s. Well, not more exciting than a Trader Joe’s. There are no Trader Joes anywhere near us – like even 100 miles near us.

So, don’t judge my sad little life.

The store is like a small version of Wegman’s if you have one of those or Whole Foods. Or if you are in the South, maybe it’s a small version of Food Lion. I don’t know. But they have fresh fruits and produce we can’t get near us.

What I’ve/We’ve Been Reading

I am reading the third book in the Longmire series, Kindness Goes Unpunished, by Craig Johnson right now while also enjoying a lighter book called In Sheep’s Clothing by Pegg Thomas. I’m also reading a few chapters of Anne of Green Gables a week in a hardcover copy I bought many, many years ago. I’m old enough now that I can write things like “many, many years ago” and still be referring to my own life. I’m not sure I’m very happy about that.

Little Miss and I are still reading Little House on the Prairie before bedtime and encountered some harsh language about Native Americans last week that I had to address. I will be posting a blog post about this development later in the week. I’ve already started writing it and asking the question, “Was Laura Ingalls Wilder a racist?”

I’m very sick of the “r” word being thrown around so easily because it takes away from people who actually are, so here is a little spoiler for the upcoming blog post: no, I don’t feel she was and I’m not the only one. I will expound on it more either tomorrow or Tuesday, depending on when I get time to sit down and write it.

The Boy and I are continuing to read To Kill A Mockingbird, a few chapters a week for me, two for him, but I’ve told him he needs to pick up the pace so we can finish it before our school year is over.

What I’m Watching

This past week I watched a movie called Main Street, starring Colin Firth and Orlando Bloom. I did not enjoy the movie for a variety of reasons but the biggest reason being that the movie featured two Brits speaking in Southern accents. I mean, come on. The director seriously couldn’t find any actors from the South to play the parts? Hmmm. Okay. It isn’t that Colin and Orlando couldn’t pull off their accents. They certainly could, but hearing anything but a charming British accent come out of Colin Firth was unnerving. Orlando was so natural in the role, I really didn’t mind hearing him speaking in an American accent. Plus, I’ve never been a huge Orlando Bloom fan. He’s okay, but he’s no Colin, in other words.

My other issue with the movie is that I simply didn’t understand the plot. It was boring beyond belief and none of the stories really resolved themselves in the end. It was fairly clean, however.

The last couple of weeks have been somewhat stressful here for a variety of reasons so I watched a lot of comfort TV the rest of the week, including The Andy Griffith Show and Lovejoy.

What I’m Listening To

I am listening to a few podcasts these days including one by Chip Ingraham and another called Unashamed by the men from Duck Dynasty.

I have been staying away from the political podcasts and politics or news in general, with only brief looks at news sites during the week. My nerves are shot. I can’t take it anymore.

I’ve also been listening to this song because it’s been stuck in my head. I like this The Voice UK contestant’s version because I’ve never heard the original. Steve McCrorie won in 2015 and he is back to his original career as a firefighter now, but I’d rather listen to him than most artists who are out on the radio today. He does release some independent music that you can find on Apple Music. He’s a Scottish lad so maybe that’s why I like him so much. I have a thing for Scottish men, probably because my family’s ancestory is Scottish.



So there was my week last week, how about you? What are you doing, watching, reading, and listening to? Let me know in the comments.