Sunday Dinner: Pot Roast and Brothers

Nothing says Sunday dinner like a good pot roast. And they are so easy to make. I usually buy a 2 to 3 pound rump roast and a package of McCormick's Savory Pot Roast seasoning for the slow cooker.

I chop up some carrots and potatoes and add it all to my slow cooker. This makes for a nice Sunday dinner that is almost ready when I get home from church.

But of course this is Sunday dinner and you can't stop there. Today we will also be having corn (my niece Elizabeth's favorite), green beans, mashed potatoes (my son Ryan prefers them to the potatoes in the roast), brown and serve rolls, and a chocolate cake (we're still celebrating my Dad's birthday since I was out of town last Sunday). My sister in law will be bringing macaroni and cheese, but I know sometimes by brother makes it.

Dennis, Connie, Randall, and Murph

My Mom wanted to insure that my brothers could cook. She didn't really believe that there should be girls' chores and boys' chores. We learned how to do it all. My brothers can cook, clean, and do laundry quite well, but especially Dennis since he has a wife and kids at home.

Dennis can cook anything, while Randall's culinary skills a little more basic, but the man can cook breakfast. I came home a few weeks ago to find that he had made pancakes and left me some. Sweet, right? Mama would be so proud. She used to beg us to "Please just act like you love each other."

My brother Dennis owns a car wash and he is alway nice and washes my car for my any time I come by. And he's been telling me for weeks I needed to come by. So I have a nice clean car thanks to Dennis.

And then there is my little brother, Murph. With 18 years between us, we haven't been that close. My son is two years to the day younger than Murph so they grew up together. Murph now manages a restaurant in New Orleans. He is training to become a sommelier. And he probably cooks better than any of us, but then he is a professional.

And the house was full today. My beau, my Dad, my brothers, and their families came. My nephew brought his friend. My grandson, Daniel was there even though his Mom was working. My son and his wife,  who just got back from Cancun last night. And Ashley (my pseudo daughter) and her husband too. There wasn't even enough left to make a to go plate. So today we had a grand total of 14.

We also celebrated my Dad's birthday again - chocolate cake and of course his customary present, golf balls. I gave him something else once trying to be different, but he really missed the golf balls. Why mess with something that's working?

Write Now: Learning to Write

When I was a child, I had this foolish idea that novelists simply sat down at their desk and the words just flowed. I knew there was some editing, but I thought it was just minor — grammar and punctuation. And it went this way for me even in high school. I wrote my stories for creative writing and made a few recommended minor changes.

I was totally unprepared for my college class in creative writing. My first urge was to not listen to the teacher, after all it was my story.  But I wanted a good grade and I sat down to write with the revisions she had recommended. What I found was that my story began to come alive. I finally understood what other authors meant about a character taking over. I had also once thought that to be a preposterous idea, but once you unleash your imagination — your characters do speak, they take on their own identity, and they often lead you down paths you never envisioned.

My novel in progress is still the same in the inner most core, but characters have been added. Characters have been killed off or removed. Their personalities have changed from what I originally envisioned. While the story still has the main plot line, it is so much richer than I ever imagined. And still being in the first draft stage, I know there are several more revisions and adaptations.

I write not to sell the story, but to tell the story. I've heard of authors who have first, second, and even third novels tucked away. I heard that Bryce Courtenay was actually using his novel, The Power of One as a doorstop at one time until his son's girlfriend read it and urged him to try to publish it. I'm not even sure if this is true, but it gives me hope.

Maybe the only people who will ever read my novel in progress will be family and friends. I hope not, but I'm also okay with that.

Widow's Walk: Endless Love

I am taking a class on professional writing this semester. A couple of weeks ago, I was the subject of class interviews. They could ask anything they wanted. I gave them the lead of I married a dying man.

The assignment afterwards was to write an feature article about the interview. And for me I had to do it in third person, which I found really difficult to do. Here is the piece I wrote for class.

Endless Love

By Connie Thompson Kuhn

            Connie Kuhn married a dying man. Her husband, Mike was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer two months prior to their May 10^th wedding in 2008.

            Mike had been a lifelong smoker. He had taken up the habit in his twenties when he met his first wife. Before he left the hospital, he asked Connie to destroy and remove all evidence of his smoking. Any time he came near smokers, he would comment about the stench wondering how his family and friends had put up with his habit. He clung to the possibility that the cancer was not a result of smoking, but possibly because of his exposure to helicopters he repaired that had been in Desert Storm. Smoking was the one big regret of his life.

            A pulmonary embolism put Mike in the hospital that April, just two weeks after his diagnosis. The emergency room doctor told the couple if they had waited for the ambulance, Mike would have died en route. Connie’s decision to drive him to the hospital saved his life. Later that week, the doctors performed surgery inserting a chest and heart tube to alleviate the fluid off of Mike’s lungs and heart. Complications ensued and the doctor gave Mike days to live. When Connie asked the doctor what they could do, he said pray.

            Mike’s parents had just returned to the United States from Africa, where they were working as missionaries. They requested prayers from all of their friends across the world. People were praying from every continent. Mike’s family, friends, and coworkers also joined in the vigil. The oncologist was amazed as Mike walked out of the hospital four days later.

            One night as the couple sat on the deck beneath the stars listening to the crickets’ symphony, Mike told Connie he didn’t know how much time he had left, but he wanted to spend it with her as his wife. They were married a month later in a simple ceremony in their living room. After saying their vows, the couple greeted guests as Mike sat in his favorite, worn Lazy Boy recliner and Connie by his side.

            Mike resumed chemotherapy a few days after the wedding. The treatments took a devastating toll on his body, sickening and weakening him so much that the oncologist ordered a new CT scan to see if the chemo was having any affect on the tumors. As the doctor viewed the scans, his puzzled frown turned to a smile. He showed the couple the screen – there were no evident signs of cancer – Mike was in remission. The oncologist encouraged Mike to make the most of this miracle, but also warned them that the cancer would one day return and would eventually take his life. “But not today,” Mike said shaking the doctors hand.

            Mike dedicated his life to glorifying God. He helped start a prayer ministry at Hope Point Community Church. He mentored a young man living in a group home that supported teenagers who had aged out of the foster care system. He studied his Bible. He took two theology classes at Brookwood University, a part of the Brookwood Church in Simpsonville, SC. And he never missed an opportunity to tell people about the miracle he received.

            Connie asked Mike about his bucket list wanting to know if there was something special he wanted to do or experience. Mike wanted to spend time with his family and friends. They visited his sisters. His son came often from West Virginia. His parents, who once again called Gastonia, North Carolina home stayed with the couple most weekdays so that Connie could continue her job as a graphic artist. Mike reconnected with friends from his past including the astronaut Scott Parazynski, who also spent part of his youth in Dakar, Senegal. In their youth, Mike and Scott shared a love of basketball and at one time had been considered the least likely to succeed due to their shenanigans.

            Mike spent most time with his wife. They did devotions together. Mike was born in Barberton, Ohio. He had lived in Tennessee and Florida, but South Carolina became his home. Often when Connie would return home from work, Mike wanted to get out of the house. Connie would give Mike tours of Spartanburg showing him the area and telling him stories about the city she had always called home.

            They spent time at Cleveland Park where Mike would enjoy a Big Mac and a strawberry shake as they watched the ducks in the small lake from their handicapped parking spot. They would also go to the Spartanburg Downtown Airport and watch the planes landing and taking off. Mike had his pilot’s license and loved to fly. He said that in the air, he had felt closest to God.

They would often ride through downtown and pass by Converse College. Connie told him how some students in the 70s would actually board their horses at the school’s stables. The girls would ride through the nearby woods and even the Beaumont Mill Village, where Connie lived. She had always hoped one day to go to college there.

Mike urged Connie to go back to school. Before taking some time off, Connie had been a business major. She didn’t enjoy the program, but she felt it would be the most beneficial course of study for her career. Mike encouraged her to take classes she was interested in – major in something you love. They researched the local area colleges together and decided on the Converse II program at Converse College. Connie enrolled in August of 2008.        

Mike died on March 8, 2009, just two months before their first anniversary. “Our prayers were always specific. We didn’t just want more time; we wanted quality time. God gave us that. After Mike passed, I was looking through my journal. On April 5, 2008, the day the oncologist gave Mike days to live, I begged God for more time. I even wrote just one more. And I realized he gave us one more Easter, birthday, vacation, fall (Mike’s favorite season), Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day,” said Connie.

            Death is the physical end of a life, but Mike’s legacy will continue to live through those he touched and influenced. Connie was with Mike as he lived the final chapter of his life. She likes to think of their time as the beginning of the second part of her life. Mike gave Connie his love, but he also gave her a future. In May of 2013, Connie will receive her Bachelor of Arts Degree in Creative and Professional Writing from Converse College. She is currently working on her first novel. 

Sunday Dinner

Will return next week.

Write Now: Advice from Bob Olmstead

On Wednesday I had the opportunity to hear Bob Olmstead read from his latest novel, The Coldest Night. If there is an audio book, Bob should definitely read it.

I read Coal Black Horse earlier this year and it is an amazing novel. I look forward to reading Far Bright Star as well.

After Mr. Olmstead read, he spoke about his writing process. He uses a laptop and there are about eighteen different places in his home where he writes. He gets bored and likes to move around.

He also said that in our busy world, people just don't take the time to do nothing. When was the last time you stopped? No television, radio, smartphone, twitter, facebook, etc.? I often find myself turning on the television, not necessarily to watch, but for the background noise. I grew up in a house with two brothers and a sister. And later I had two children of my own. Now that they are grown, the house is often quiet - something I used to wish for. And now what do I do with it? I add noise, which is something that I am going to stop.

He also encouraged us to pay attention. It is the small details that surround you that make some of the best descriptions. And he does borrow from real life. He met an usual character briefly while standing in line for ice cream. They didn't speak, but that persona was placed on a character in one of his novels.

Mr. Olmstead thinks in sentences, which include punctuation. I find this hilarious. I don't always do this, but I have done it especially when I'm trying to find the right descriptions.

As I came in to work this morning, I noticed the lovely sunrise and how the blues, pinks, and purples blended together against the cloud filled sky. He had read about a similar sunrise in The Coldest Night and that scene immediately replayed in my mind.

This weekend I plan on unplugging and taking some time to do nothing.