Tag Archives: World War II

Wedding countdown and more marriage-wrecking advice

Today's selected photo has nothing to do with today's post. I simply love randomness - and penguins.

Today’s selected photo has nothing to do with today’s post. I simply love randomness – and penguins.

Hear ye, hear ye: Nuptials in nine days. Natasha Jackson weds Kory Myrick on Sept. 7. Next week will be a whirlwind, and although I have a number of tasks leading up to the big day, my only duties on wedding day will be:

1 – Walk bride down aisle; give her away.
2 – Bring wedding gifts to our house after wedding. (Bride and groom will retrieve in a few days).
3 – Return tuxes/attire to Men’s Wearhouse.

Even I can handle that.

I made that list as a precursor to today’s installment of “How to Wreck a Marriage.”

Wrecking ball No. 7: Make a list and keep it going – a list of wrongs, offenses and those times your spouse was just having a bad day and you wanted her to be having a good day because, well, you can’t both have bad days at once.

The list accomplishes a number of purposes, of which two are primary:

1 – It shows that you’re keeping a list, so your spouse had better be aware, and just might not want another entry. You are a force to be reckoned with.

2 – It’s ammunition. You write the list with permanent marker and use a neon orange highlighter to showcase the worst offenses, and maybe add a sticky note strip for quick retrieval and reference.

And like any well-prepared battler, you keep the ammo close for future use. Some of the ammo represents the “nuclear option,” which is That One Thing (or things) that your spouse has no defense for, no redeeming explanation for and no comeback for. Even though your spouse has apologized, pleaded for forgiveness and relived that offense over and over again (good for you!), you keep that one handy if you need a nuke. That moment might come when you’re in a corner and instead of relenting and admitting and owning your part in the real or imagined disagreement at hand, you launch an ICBM, equipped with a war-head that splatters your spouse’s worst moments all over the place. Again.

Justifying your own actions or words by pointing out That One Thing or even a lesser offense – which is not as bad as yours, of course, so keep pointing that out – is an ideal way to use this wrecking ball.

And what makes this method extra fun is that both spouses can load up the missile war-heads with nukes.

“I remember that time that you …”

“Well if you hadn’t done that thing …”

“You mean that thing you told me was off the table because you forgave me?”

“Oh, but you weren’t really sorry, or you wouldn’t be acting like THIS!”

The list of wrongs and offenses is indeed a heavy wrecking ball, capable of smashing a marriage in no time at all. (The antithesis is grace, love and forgiveness). So, if you want to wreck your marriage, keep the list in a mental file, have a hard copy that you carry in your wallet or purse, and make sure to make digital back-ups. A bonus back-up and great addition for the wrecking ball is to share your list with friends, your parents and the in-laws.

Woo-hoo! Now you’ve got some power. By now you’ve got the hang of it and are seeing that those lists can wreck all kinds of relationships with siblings, daughters, sons, moms and dads.

You’ll show ‘em! Keep enough lists and, by golly, you’ll be all alone in no time, no longer bothered by the past sins and offenses of others.

Playlist

I’ve given you Southern Gospel, Classic Rock, contemporary Christian and whatever genre “Afternoon Delight” falls under. Recently I’ve fallen in love with the sound of the Big Band/World War II era, and this just might be my new all-time favorite tune, recorded by the great Crooner himself, Bing Crosby (1944).

“I’ll Be Seeing You.”

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NaNoWriMo Day #18: Cracking the 40,000 word mark

For those of you who are wondering if/when you’ll ever see a short blog post in Jackson’s Journal, this is for you.

National Novel Writing Month is almost two-thirds finished. I’m now just under 10,000 words from reaching the 50,000-word goal, which I expect to hit Thanksgiving night. Even then the story will be far from over. I think it will take 60,000 to complete the arc and the story “spine.” After 60,000, give or take a few hundred, I’ll take a breather and then embark on polishing the first draft. It might be mid- to late-January when that’s ready. I know many of you are anxious to read “Dixieland.”

I’m going to say now I think it will be worth the wait. I’m really proud of this story, and I can’t wait to share it. Be patient.

UPDATE: I received the Journalism Award Friday night from the Exercise Tiger National Commemorative Foundation. I walked past 89-year-old David Troyer on the way to and from accepting the award. That was an indescribable honor, because HE is the living embodiment of heroism, sacrifice and bravery. Mr. Troyer is one of the few living survivors of Exercise Tiger, which was followed five weeks later by D-Day, where Mr. Troyer was in the first wave that landed on Omaha Beach. His introduction included this: “David Troyer fought in five different campaigns against Hitler’s army.”

And there he was. Living history, my friends. Not a commemorative stone or a name in a history book, but a living member of The Greatest Generation.

He deserved more than the many awards and the multiple standing ovations that he received on Friday. He deserves and has earned the admiration of every American. Here’s the story I wrote in April  that included a brief interview with this incredible man.

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NaNoWriMo Day #15: Half-way to the finish line

Reporting my National Novel Writing Month total at the halfway mark of this 30-day exercise of writing abandon: I’m at 37,901 words, ahead of the 25,000 word pace. Knock on wood that the dreaded writer’s block will continue to stay cooped up.

Dixieland could be even longer at this point except for my habit of writing dialogue without attribution, movement or other scene-building verbiage. I make up for that, I believe, with my ALL CAPS THINKING AS I WRITE, I NEED A REFERENCE HERE TO FORESHADOW A CHARACTER’S APPEARANCE IN THE NEXT SCENE.

That’s how I write when I’m on a roll. I know what I want to say, but I don’t want to get hung up on a detail that might derail that roll. I’m not sure how many ALL CAPS BURSTS OF INDECISION I will have come Nov. 30, but those SHOUTS are my cue to reach into my mental queue for something more meaningful.

Meanwhile, I’m offering another conversation between my main male protagonist, Alvie Ferguson, and little 11-year-old racist Ladd Miller. Remember, it’s during World War II, just before Alvie goes off to join a flight crew for bombing runs over Germany. His young bride, Edna Mae — the main character in Dixieland — eventually joins them.

There’s no attribution for some of the dialogue. Alvie speaks first, followed by Ladd …

“You boys savin’ the foil from your gum wrappers?”

“Ain’t got no gum, Mr. Alvie.”

“Well, let’s say you erase ‘ain’t’ from the dictionary in your head and I’ll give you a few sticks.”

“That’d be swell, but I don’t see how sayin’ ‘ain’t’ is so bad. Everybody knows what it means.”

“True. But your talkin’ could mean the difference between working the shipyard or bein’ one of the slick lawyers on Lawyers Row.” REMEMBER: EDNA MAE IS A STENOGRAPHER FOR ONE OF THE SLICK LAWYERS, AND HE’LL LET HER GO WHEN HE DISCOVERS THE FERGUSONS ALLOWED DIXIE AND LEWIS KING TO MOVE IN WITH THEM, AFTER ALVIE GETS HIS ORDERS TO DEPLOY.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you go to look for work, they might say, ‘This chap sounds like a shipyard scrub,’ and you’ll get your job there.”

“Well, I kinda like that idea. Them fellers are some tough crackers.”

“Oh, yeah, and nice, nice guys. Not saying anything about their character. But their education has ‘em working in the shipyard today, which is where they’ll be workin’ the day they retire. You wanna work that hard for that long?”

“But I ain’t – well, I don’t gots much up here.” Ladd pointed to his noggin. “I might just be shipyard material.”

“Well, Mr. Crosby says if you don’t work hard in school and get your lessons and graduate, you may grow up to be a mule. Or a pig.”

 Edna Mae spoke as she gently shut the screen door behind her. “Or a fish.”

ANOTHER REFERENCE TO MUSIC OF THE ERA. ‘SWINGIN’ ON A STAR’ WAS A BING CROSBY HIT, AND ITS MESSAGE WAS “STAY IN SCHOOL.” BE SURE TO INCLUDE OCCASIONAL REFERENCES TO THE RADIO SHOWS, MOVIES AND MUSIC, JUST ENOUGH TO KEEP THAT MID-40’S, WW2-ERA AURA.

Alvie gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Eww! Yuck!” the little imp Ladd retorted. Edna Mae ignored the boy’s reaction and swept a lock of her husband’s white hair off his forehead.

“Alvie, I declare you will have your own little army of boys to do all of your bidding. Maybe you should own a shipyard. You’ll have reliable, loyal hands.”

“Reliable?” He pointed toward Ladd.

“Have you conducted all your business with Mr. Ferguson here?” she asked the boy.

Ladd crossed his arms, cocked his head and cleared his throat.

 “My daddy says he heard you got a colored livin’ with you. In the same house.”

 “I am not aware of any reason why my living arrangements are any of your business, young man.”

Ladd looked away and kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Well, if’n that’s true, I just know you got more sense than to let them coloreds use your indoor commode, the same one y’all use.” He shook his head and turned to face the other direction, never making eye contact. “That’s just plain nasty.”

Alvie waved the boy away. “You run along, Ladd. We treat people like people, no matter who they are or where they’re from.”

Ladd Miller walked away. “Everybody’s gots their place is all.”

Alvie wrapped an arm around his bride’s delicate waist and shot back. “And from the sound of it, your place should be in school.”

Let me hear (read) what you think. C’mon, now. Just a brief comment will make my day.

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NaNoWriMo Day #8: Letters to and from lovers

Today’s report on my National Novel Writing Month project, Dixieland, which is now at 19,511 words. My protagonist couple Alvie and Edna Mae Ferguson are separated by Alvie’s World War II deployment with the Army Air Corp. He will become a POW. But I didn’t settle until today on how to depict his war experience. Tell me what you think.

Up until the first letter he writes from Stalag Luft I after being taken prisoner of war, his entire war experience is told in the letters he writes to Edna Mae. I thought it would be different, a unique approach, to tell more of their backstory — courtship, early life, etc. — in those letters. The setting for Alvie will shift to the German POW camp for the last two months of his time there, but until then the reader won’t “see” through Alvie’s eyes — only through his letters to his young bride.

This approach also presents a challenge for me to write Edna Mae’s letters to Alvie. After all, I’m not a 26-year-old woman who pines for her husband. (Talk about writing outside the lines here).

The excerpt I’m providing below is Alvie’s first letter from the POW camp, and it includes a glimpse into my creative process. As I write, I make notes to myself (see italics). The notes remind me that I’m foreshadowing, adding to earlier (so far unwritten) references, and making sure to bring some things to resolution, where the reader will say, “Aha! I remember that from back in Chapter Whatever when Alvie mentioned he was bringing his nephew a souvenir.”

As always: unedited. Tell me what you think.

______

My dearest Edna Mae,

You probably know by now that I’m a guest of the German army and we are very well cared for. I couldn’t eat better if I was made of cornbread. (THIS IS A SURE TIP-OFF THAT HE IS NOT EATING WELL. Earlier in the story, I’ll have Alvie make a reference to a meal that one of Edna Mae’s sisters made. Her sis will say, “Well, Alvie Ferguson, I’ll swannie. I believe you must be made of cornbread.” To which Alvie will whisper to Edna Mae, “If I was made of cornbread, I’d just soak this stuff up. Wouldn’t have to taste it then.” I’LL HAVE HIM MAKE ANOTHER “if I was made of cornbread” statement in reference to uncooked or spoiled food.)

I feel your prayers and I know it won’t be long before we’re staring at the same moon together, not continents apart. Tell my Billy that I’ve got him a souvenir. (IT’S THE SHRAPNEL lodged in his arm). Tell your folks hi. I’ve never loved you more. Your Alvie.”

EDNA MAE’S LETTER to Alvie after learning he’s alive:

Sweet, handsome Alvie, my Superman,

I’m writing this without even knowing where I shall send it, but if I don’t write these words now I’ll quite likely come unhinged. You’re alive! My darling, I weep and shout in both sadness and joy. The WAAC sisters teach us and insist that we keep our chins up and not show a sign of sadness or weakness, but I just can’t do it right now. So I might not send this. I do not desire to bring you low; just thinking of any of my words souring your handsome countenance is unbearable, but you can always see right through the platitudes. You know my heart, and that is why this separation is so powerfully unbearable.

My love, you have the most resourceful ways of taking care of yourself and bringing your thoughts to happy, gay times. I know how you care for and love your chums, and how they so look up to you and rely on your strength. Yet I cannot wait another second for you to let yourself be weak in my arms, and let me take care of you.

I simply cannot pretend with you. I truly know there was much more you wanted and needed to tell me. I am sure I have the motor mechanics in my brain well enough to build an engine, yet I now must learn how to build the fuselage and the wings. Yes, my love, if it takes me the rest of my years, if you are not here, I will build that airplane myself and come and get you.  And if you return before I put in the last rivet, then you can fly our little airplane and show me something – anything away from the memory of these last months – where we can soar past this time.

You know I’m just silly. Do not fret over thinking that I am assembling a little airplane.

But if I could, my love, if I could …

It will soon be one year since your deployment. Perhaps our separation will end quite soon. I pray for you, my love. I still keep one side of the bed unslept and ready for you. And now that I lock that door, I cannot wait to lock us inside our nest. Oh, how I miss you, my Alvie.

I will stay strong. There is so much to tell you about my adventure to Kentucky and the tales of working at that little newspaper. I feel that I have become a woman in the truest sense of the word. Perhaps someday you and I will move away from here and start our own little newspaper. That would be grand!

I must sip some hot tea and say my prayers before I retire. Your caress, your strong shoulders, your mischievous grin and the boyish pranks that you play are always, forever on my mind. And in my heart.

Your bride, Edna Mae

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Dixieland: NaNoWriMo cast of characters

Brief background: “Dixieland” takes place during 1944-45 in Natchez, Miss., and the fictional central Kentucky town of Silverdale. Seems odd, I suppose, that a male writer would have a female protagonist, but almost every story/unfinished novel I write has strong female characters: protagonist AND antagonist. With “Dixieland,” it’s World War II, so we know a great many women were the ones keeping the home fires burning, so to speak.

With only four days remaining until National Novel Writing Month – when we embark on a 30-day quest to write 50,000 words – here is the cast of characters for “Dixieland.”  They all live in my head; some will come to life in the story. It’s possible that others are just part of back stories that won’t be told but are integral to me understanding my characters.

  • Edna Mae Ferguson – born in 1918, she’s 25 when the story opens. Townsfolk think that Edna Mae taking in stray cats and unwanted kids is just her way of coping with her husband being a “guest” of Adolf Hitler in Stalag Luft 1.
  •  Alva “Alvie” Ferguson – Edna Mae’s husband, born in 1916, he’s an Air Force waist-gunner on a B-17G. He’s a tall (6-4), strong guy with a heart of gold; high school sports star. One of seven sons of Truman and Pearlie Jean Ferguson. The family was stricken with the Spanish Flu in 1918. (Yeah, it’s an important detail. Foreshadowing …)
  • Dixie King, Edna Mae’s best friend, childhood playmate and almost constant companion. Dixie (the title’s namesake?) is black. Her husband …
  • Louis King is the handiest handyman that ever lived. He’s also an alcoholic.
  • Ray Hester, pastor of Natchez First Baptist Church. He’s a Bible-thumping (King James Version, of course) fire-and-brimstone preacher, concerned with the purity of the saints, meaning absolute prohibition of the mingling of races.
  • George Elliott Ramsey, Edna Mae’s father, an austere Southern gentleman and chairman of the deacons at the Baptist church. Look deeper. Dig into his past.
  • Sandra Ramsey, Edna Mae’s mother. I still haven’t decided whether to hate her or feel sorry for her. You’ll see …
  • Bob Lane. I won’t tell you anything about him yet. Quick story. A few years back a friend confided that when he was in junior high, a kid named Bob Lane bullied and tormented him, starting with the first day my friend had to undress in the school locker room. He was telling me this 34 years after it happened. I vowed to my friend that every single novel I ever write will have a horribly despicable character named Bob Lane, and that sometimes Bob Lane will meet a tragic, even gruesome, end. My friend appreciated that very much.
  • Thomas Miller. He’s a school teacher. And he wears a pointy, white hood over his face at times. I don’t expect you’ll like Mr. Miller.
  • Doris Fessler. She’s a school teacher, a character suggested by Perche Creek Yacht Club Commodore Gene Baumann. (See? I promised that I’ll use any character that someone else suggests. The offer still stands).
  • Michael Dooley, local grocer.
  • Owen Nickerson, unable to go to war (not sure why; any suggestions?) He’s a courier/delivery driver.
  • Henry and Nelda Colter, Doris Fessler’s parents.
  • Steven Kennedy, editor/publisher of the Silverdale Sentinel. His pregnant wife is Maryanne.
  • Katherine, 10-year-old deaf girl crippled by polio. She teaches Edna Mae sign language.
  • Lance Wilson, 14-year-old “retarded” boy. (Note: folks in 1944 Natchez didn’t know the term “autistic.” I cannot avoid using this offensive “R” word; nor can I avoid the reference to “colored” people. But I will not use the “N” word). Lance is both autistic and obsessive compulsive. He’s one of my favorite characters ever.
  • Ramona, the first “unwed” black mother that Edna Mae takes in. Keep in mind that being an unwed mother had much more of a stigma among white families. The reason I’ve had such a difficult time finding historical references to unwed black mothers being sent to “maternity homes” or being abandoned is because black communities typically provided support for them. It was the image-conscious, pretentious white families that sent their daughters away to care for a sick aunt. (Lots of sick aunts back in the day, apparently).
  • Lorenzo Casey, pastor of the “black church.” He’s not seminary-educated – of course — but don’t judge just yet.
  • Gene Swanson, Postmaster in Silverdale and owner of the Silverdale Mercantile, a five-and-dime general store.
  • Alvie’s flight crew: Julian “Jules” Presser; Marty “Smarty” McMann; Charlie “Sweaty” Bond; Andrew “Whitey” Black; and Buddy “Dee Dee” (Daredevil) Eastman.

There you have it as the cast of characters stands so far. It’s not too late to suggest a sheriff of Adams County, a sibling or two for Edna Mae, Alvie’s favorite nephew (give me a name), and so on. Don’t be shy. Comment with the first fictional character that comes to your mind.

Go!

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Welcome to “Dixieland”

Here’s what I posted last night as my novel info for National Novel Writing Month, which launches in Columbia at midnight Nov. 1. There’s a large group meeting at Country Kitchen at 10 p.m. Halloween night, and when the clock strikes 12, we’ll start writing/typing and the 30 days of madness begins! Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to some of the characters that will breathe life into “Dixieland,” a spiritual/religious/historical fiction novel set in the Deep South, Natchez, Miss., 1944-45.

SYNOPSIS

Feeding stray cats and taking in a “retarded” boy and a blind girl crippled by polio made townspeople in Natchez, Miss., view Edna Mae Ferguson with pity, but when she shelters unwed black women, she becomes a pariah, not simply a young woman coping with her husband’s status as a POW in World War II Germany. When hidden details of an unspeakable act against her are revealed, Edna Mae flees for her life, leaving behind her beloved “strays.” The journey uncovers sinister family secrets and the birth of a faith that propels her courageous return to Natchez to seek redemption.

Excerpt

Here’s the Western Union telegram that Edna Mae received:

6 Jan. 1945
The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that your husband, Major Alva Ferguson, has been reported missing in action since 26 November over Germany. If further details or other information are received you will be promptly notified. Office of the Adjutant General.

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