‘TIS THE SEASON FOR MATERIAL THINGS …

       Hubby and I just finished watching DANCES WITH WOLVES for probably the 20^th time since the movie was released 34 years ago. Has it really been that long? Even so, DANCES WITH WOLVES remains important to history and to Native American life of the past. Any young people who do not know much about our Native Americans would do well to watch DANCES WITH WOLVES. 

 

        The reason I mention this is because something different from the magnificent scenery and history in the movie struck me while viewing it this time. In one scene the Sioux tribe involved decides to move camp, and in just minutes they take down their tepees and load them onto horses and travois, gather their remuda of horses and leave. What impressed me is how fast our Native Americans could pick up and move everything. And that is because they did not need anything more than their buffalo skin houses and the poles they cut to raise them … nothing more than the clothes on their backs (and most of those were also made of animal skins) … nothing more than pemmican (smoked or dried and pounded meat) … berries that grew wild … and their bedrolls, utensils and weapons … again, all of it made from animals, trees and plants.

 

      How simple was such a life. Everything they needed came from Mother Earth and Her gifts of plants and animals … everything they wore, cleansed themselves with, heated and cooked with, ate, and used for weapons. Just think of the tremendous work it is for us today to pick up move to a new home. It takes days, sometimes weeks to go through all our material belongings, throw out useless junk, give some of it away, pack what’s left, hire movers to help us haul it to a new home, unpack and put away our possessions, then consider how much it all cost us. Once it is all in place, we sit down and wearily look at all our “things” and decide if a certain picture or a piece of furniture belongs in a different spot. We need to call the electric company, the heating company, the phone company, change our address with the post office, call the credit card banks and take care of a hundred other things involved with letting these places know we have moved to a new address.

 

        Do we really need so much “stuff?” Why are we so obsessed with having lots of “things,” let alone thinking they must be the best brands or prettiest designs or the most expensive “whatevers?” Even the first settlers who headed west tried to bring all kinds of possessions along, like big pieces of furniture that had to be dumped along the way because such things made the wagons too heavy to be pulled through the mountains. 

 

        Today Christmas comes with rushing and shopping and spending money, all to give gifts that often turn out to be of no real significance to those who receive them. Some of those gifts are returned, and what is kept becomes just another “possession” for he or she who receives the gift. I do not mean to sound like the Grinch here at all. I just worry that all the planning and spending at Christmas time has become such a big business and such a perceived necessity that we lose track of the true meaning of Christmas. 

 

        Yes, wise men visited the baby Jesus and brought gifts, as the future Savior’s parents rightly deserved to survive and take care of their child. These were precious gifts that had meaning at that time. But somehow man interpreted that gift-giving as meaning we had to do the same for others at Christmas. It is a beautiful idea, but that first gift-giving did not mean that generations later people had to go into worrisome debt to give gifts to each other. And when we do give gifts, we should remember that we do so as a way of honoring the birth of Jesus, not because little Johnny wants a new toy, or teenage Cindy wants a pair of cool jeans just to impress her friends.

 

        The purpose of this blog is simply to remind others that most people are already bogged down with so many possessions that sometimes we build a new storage closet, buy a new chest of drawers, or install an outdoor shed to put it all in. And once we do that, how often do use that gift? How often do we secretly return a gift for something we need more? How important is it to have a house full of “stuff?”

 

        I am just as guilty of having a house full of “things” as my neighbors, but in watching those Sioux in DANCES WITH WOLVES gather their necessities and ride off so quickly, thought how nice it would be if it were that easy today. I have not moved, and I don’t even plan on it, but at times when hubby and I talked about getting a new house, the thought of what it would take to move out of the house we already live in made me decide to stay right where we are. Ugh! Going through the house and all the closets and drawers and the garage and our shed would be a tremendous project that I do not have the strength or energy for. 

 

        So, here I sit tonight, surrounded by all our pretty “things” but realizing none of it is all that important … realizing that somewhere along this trail of shopping and decorating and baking and buying even more “stuff” for that decorating and for that Christmas meal and for all those presents I feel I need to wrap and give away, I forgot what it is really all about. And that is the reason for this blog … just to remind everyone to give deep thought to the true meaning of Christmas. It is about family and sharing and thanking God for sending His Son to earth to bring us hope and forgiveness.

 

        MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU. May Christmas Day make you thankful for all those gifts, but also help you remember the true meaning of Christmas and the gift-giving that comes with it. If all you can afford is the gift of love and caring, that means just as much as a new “thing” that has only material value.

 

 

 

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

      Remember that song HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO by Bonnie Tyler?

       “Where have all the good men gone?” … “I need a hero. He’s gotta’ be strong and he’s gotta’ be fast and he’s gotta’ be fresh from the fight.”

      Watch the official lyric video on YouTube. It so perfectly fits a romance reader’s vision of a hero. The background is western scenery, and the shadowy figure of the man in the video reminds me of Jake. I love the lyrics and the great music that go with them. It seems whenever most women think of a hero, they end up envisioning the rough and tumble cowboy. That is what is depicted in the lyric video. Even in today’s times, we loved the modern cowboys in YELLOWSTONE, especially Rip and Kayce. Both were always so ready to protect and defend, yet so understanding and loving toward the women in their lives.

       Of course, when I think of my own heroes, I think of John Hawkins from TEXAS EMBRACE, Zeke Monroe from my SAVAGE DESTINY series, Colt Travis from THUNDER ON THE PLAINS, and so many more … 76 to be exact … and hero of heroes, Jake Harkner from my OUTLAW series.

       It seems like today we need heroes more than ever. I see heroism and masculinity watered down today in TV ads, books and movies, and especially in today’s sitcoms. Why is the man in so many sitcoms the goofy, blundering dunce and the wife (if they are even married) the smart, strong one in the relationship who is always rolling her eyes at the man’s ridiculous stupidity and weakness? Raymond’s wife is always calling him an idiot, and he behaves like one. That’s just one of many examples.

       Yes, I admire strong women, and few women today are as strong and brave as the pioneer women of the past. How they managed to handle the things they had to put up with and work as hard as they did while having babies alone on the prairie and making all their own and the family’s clothes and baking all their own bread and doing all the cooking and cleaning while raising a large family and scrubbing clothes on a washboard and carrying buckets of water and all the other endless chores required of them – I will never understand.

      Writing about such women is an endless challenge, because with today’s conveniences, it is difficult to imagine what their lives must have been like. At the same time, when I write strong women, I make them strong because they are living with very strong and brave men. My heroes needed women who could match their bravery and needs. Yes, sometimes women had to put the man in his place and had ways of handling the man so cleverly that he didn’t even realize he was being secretly manipulated … much like we women still do today. LOL! But the fact remains that a woman had to be strong and brave and feisty in my books to tame her determined, hard-living husband.

        The best part is, although my heroes are “take no sh—” men who walk right into danger without hesitation, they are good to their women. They are true heroes in so many ways. They love their wives and families and are willing to lay their lives on the line for them. They are men who fit my basic male character, which is a “bad man with a good heart.” Of course, my heroes aren’t always bad … just tough and willing to stand up for what they believe is right.

       I know all of you have your favorite Bittner heroes, and the majority of you still pick Zeke or Jake over all the others, but I hope you will comment on my Street Team page or comment on this blog as to who some of your other Bittner favorites are. The media and entertainment industry need to stop robbing today’s men of their masculinity. Are you like me and wish the men in today’s TV shows were more manly and heroic? I am so tired of the male character always being stupid and silly.

       Meantime, if you want to read about “real men,” keep reading historical romance. I always tell men today that if they really want to know what women want, they should read a romance! 

 

THE IMPORTANCE OF KNOWING OUR HISTORY

         A few days ago my husband and I re-watched the movie Pearl Harbor (the one with Ben Affleck – I’m sure there are probably older movies with the same theme). Very realistic as far as the history and how the characters behaved, the 40’s clothing, makeup, hair styles, big band music, dances, etc. I know this because I was born 5 months before the war in Europe ended. The war with Japan ended 4 months after that. Of course, being a new baby, I have no memories of actual people and events at that time, but I spent the first twenty years or so of my life hearing people talk about the “big war.” I knew people who were in it, and there was all kinds of literature and numerous movies about it. Also, my father worked in an ammunition/bomb factory in LaPorte Indiana during the war.

     I heard many, many real-life stories about life during WWII, as well as what it was like to work in that bomb factory. It was not just one big building. It was several different buildings, each one for a different kind of ammo or bomb. That was because if one of the buildings blew up, they would not lose the ability to keep manufacturing ammo in the others. The workers wore protective clothing and kept their hair covered because hair carries electricity. Both men and women were not allowed to comb or brush their hair inside the buildings. There were also numerous underground bunkers where bombs were stored, all designed so that enemy airplanes could not detect them from above. 

        We lived in government housing, an area called Kingsford Heights. My mother and I visited the same area about 25 years ago, and we found the house we’d lived in. It made me cry. I’m not sure why because as I said, I have no real memories of living there. I think the tears were for the many lives sacrificed during the war, and I’m sure the many marriages that did not survive the changes in man and wife when a soldier came home from that war, whether injured or not. War changes people, and back then soldiers did not get the kind of leaves they get today. Some were “over there” fighting the war for 2-4 years straight. Man and wife were practically strangers when those men got home, and even the wife had changed. Women had to get jobs during the war, mostly to help the government and our men by helping build war equipment. I’m sure you have heard of “Rosie the Riveter.” Women worked on assembly lines helping build ships, tanks, airplanes, Jeeps, trucks any number of necessary equipment. From those jobs women found a new independence, and they discovered it felt good to earn their own money.

       When mom and I visited Kingsford Heights, it was very spooky, and for me it was a reminder that this could happen again, only today things would be much worse. The spookiness came from seeing all the houses still there but lived in by regular citizens. Many of the buildings where the ammo was built were still there, a haunting reminder of that “big war.” The bunkers are still there, mounds of earth with no purpose. The open land is farmed now. We saw the now-empty government schoolhouse, and I could picture the children playing and laughing, too innocent to realize what danger the country faced.

       My most haunting experience was an abandoned train sitting on a track that led to the buildings. It was obviously on its way to pick up more ammo to be delivered to various storage shelters throughout the country. But there it sat, rusting. It was as though the engineer got word that the war had ended, then stopped the train and got off and never went back. It was very, very spooky. I couldn’t understand why the government just left that train sitting there.

       War changed the world, and it changed America’s most common way of life. I have heard enough real stories about the war, seen enough real pictures of bombed-out cities, wounded civilians, terrified children, starving POW’s, and pictures from Hitler’s concentration camps to feel and understand the horrors of that time. I have a set of books by a war correspondent that is filled with pictures showing scenes from the war from beginning to end. Pictures don’t lie. In one of them, a mother being evacuated from a European city is looking out the train window and holding her child. The look on her face just grabs you, as though leaving her home and friends was like death, and if it happened to you or me, wouldn’t we feel the same way? If my husband was off to war and I had to pick up and leave everything familiar, possibly all of it to be destroyed, I would be devastated. It would be even worse if I had small children to look after and protect.

        I also have two scrap books of letters my mother kept from her best friend in high school, who was an Army nurse during the war and who served in England, France, Italy, North Africa and Germany. She had even nursed soldiers who’d survived the Normandy landing. There is no better proof of what war was like than letters from someone who was really there and experienced all of it, including using her helmet as a bowl to wash her underwear. I also have some of the rationing stamp books the government gave out. People were allowed to buy certain amounts monthly of things like gasoline and certain foods. For a while women could not get nylons because nylon was needed to make parachutes.     

       War is ugly and cruel. People lose homes and family members. The enemy rapes and pillages and flat-out murders innocent old people and women and children. Lives are turned upside-down and never right themselves again. Unbearable memories instill themselves in peoples’ hearts and minds – memories that never go away. And War is ridiculously unnecessary. Why do some men think they have to scoop up every country around them and build empires through murder and rape and destruction? I have great respect for all countries and their unique lifestyles and beliefs. I enjoy learning about other cultures, but I certainly don’t want us to attack other countries and try to claim them as our own. There is never a valid reason for starting a war.

       I feel so blessed to have been born right here in the U.S. I want my grandchildren and great-grandchildren to feel hope for the future, to dream the dream of success. I want them to look forward to the future, not dread it because they fear what lies ahead. I don’t want them to have to give up their fortunes and their lives to fight for freedom, and I hope they never take that freedom for granted.

       We must teach our children pride in our country, respect for our laws and for all religions, and a desire to do their part to protect what would be a tragic loss if we allow an invasion of America, whether from without or WITHIN. We must teach our young people patriotism, and one of the best ways to do that is to bring back solid teaching of AMERICAN HISTORY. Learn it yourselves. Teach it to your children. And insist that history is taught in our schools – ALL OF IT – not just recent history. Knowing our past helps us and our children understand the importance of protecting America’s unique democracy, the importance of strength and bravery and how those things help keep us out of war.

       Too often we hear kids say that history is boring. I think it’s quite the opposite! There are some truly interesting events in our past that are so exciting. All teachers need to do is make history fun and REAL. And it IS real! There is no shame in the mistakes that we made in the past. Every mistake became a learning experience, and learning the why’s and how’s, learning how different habits and ways of life and teachings were a hundred, two hundred years ago, only brings it all more alive. And in learning the truth, our young people can do a good job of taking America into a future of peace and freedom.

      Encourage your children and grandchildren to read books that involve real history, not just America’s history but world history, too. If they are not learning it in school, take them to the library and find books that teach it. Check with the librarians as to which books are the most entertaining for certain age groups. Take your children and grandchildren to historic settings designed for public visits, and let them talk to older people, especially veterans, about life in the past. Take them to antique shops, where they can see first-hand tools, clothing, farm equipment, pioneer kitchens and homes from the past. Some young people can see a telephone from the “old days” and not even know what it is. There are many ways to teach history without it being boring at all. Be excited about it yourself, and that excitement will be born in children’s hearts, too.

       I can’t count how many times in doing my research that I have said, “Oh, my gosh! I never knew that!” Do you or your children know why the strip of wood or steel across the entrance to the front door is called a threshold? Do you know why June became such a popular month to marry? Do you know where the term “It’s raining cats and dogs” comes from? Do you know why railroad tracks are the width that they are? It goes all the way back to ancient Rome, and it even affects the size of our rockets!

       To this day, certain facts, habits and sayings come from history, both recent and ancient. Get interested. Get educated. And bring it alive for your children.

Days of Innocence

       I’m no extreme environmentalist as far as sitting in the middle of a road and holding up a sign, or taking part in a riot. But I agree that mankind has done a terrible job of preserving the natural beauty, the pristine waters, the abundance of natural resources, the glorious landscapes and the clean, healthy air we once breathed. Our Native Americans saw it coming 200 years ago when the European immigrants began coming to America. They were astounded at the waste settlers left behind on their way west, and at the fact that buffalo hunters killed millions of the precious beasts just for their skin, leaving the everything else to rot for what would have been a treasure trove of survival needs to the Indians. Just think of it. One animal provided their clothing, shelter, weapons, tools, cooking and eating implements, medicine, sacred items for worship, jewelry … an endless supply of needs all from one animal. At the same time, everything our Native Americans used for survival came from nature and were things that would naturally return to the earth without causing contamination, things that would disintegrate rather than pile up in ugly trash to hurt our eyes and noses for years to come.

       I came upon these thoughts when I found something I wrote probably a good forty years ago. As a writer, I was always jotting down things that came to me according to my various moods. I must have been having one of those days of melancholy, a day of realizing the fact that I will not live forever, or perhaps just suddenly full of appreciation for mother nature. We own some property on a small lake here in southwest Michigan, and apparently, I was walking around in the woods on a lovely day and wishing we could go back to the days when mankind was not so advanced that he began destroying our precious natural elements just to have all the conveniences we think we must have in today’s time. Heaven knows what more will be destroyed in future quests for modern conveniences we have been convinced are necessary to our well being, when, in fact, we are probably better off without them. 

 

Following is what I wrote:

 

       “It is quiet here, except for the rush of the wind through branches that are nearly bare now. Autumn has arrived. The sun is still warm on my skin, but the breeze is chilled, and I am warm and cold both at the same time. A crane swoops over the lake before me … the lake, which sparkles and glitters. All seems crisp and clean and innocent this morning. The air smells fresh. Insects that are hidden in the weeds sing. In the distance I hear the sound of an axe as my husband splits logs for our winter warmth.” (We heated with wood when we lived on the lake.) 

 

       “What will be left of this in years to come? It could all be gone. Untouched places may no longer exist. I smell the earth. I gaze at the bright blue sky, dotted with puffy autumn clouds. The birds chirp, but many of them are already making their way south. The leaves are brilliant colors of gold, red and orange mixed with green. This kind of beauty man, with all his technology, cannot create. But he can most certainly destroy it. Man is destroying it. What will be left for my grandchildren? My great-grandchildren?

 

       When I look at the ground and watch the ants, study the twigs, the moss, the shades of the earth, I see true beauty. This unattended woods with its variety of plant life, and its wild colors and fresh smells, is more beautiful than man’s most well-groomed gardens. It is more beautiful because it is real, untouched, natural. How many things are there left in this world like this? 

 

        When I look at all that is around me … when I see the green grass, the blue sky and gray/blue lake water … when I watch a squirrel scurry up a tree to store its winter food … when I hear the soft chirps of birds that I cannot quite find in the trees … when I hear crickets and the frogs and watch the silent insects going about their business with determination and organized preciseness, I realize that in spite of what happens to this world, Gods creations will go on as always … forever … in spite of man’s ignorant follies that seem destined to destroy it all. 

       Some day man, in his blind idiocy and quest to rule things only God can rule, will probably destroy himself, but the ants will go right on building. The birds will go right on singing. The water will rush and sparkle and eventually run pure again. The wind will sing through the trees no longer cut down for a hundred things man thinks he needs. The sun will warm the earth. The mushrooms will grow. The frogs will belch their awkward songs, and the mountains will still rise to the heavens. And what, after all, will man’s intelligence have done for him? 

 

       Mankind, it seems, would be better off to be ignorant and innocent, like the animals. The animals have more respect for their environment and for God’s beautiful earth than does man. How sad that we have not used our intelligence to preserve the joyous beauty God has given us for free, rather than using it to destroy the only things that can bring us true happiness.

 

       The words from a Bon Jovi song always make me think of this … I wish we could go back …

 

[Back, when we were beautiful, before the world got small, before we knew it all … Am I blessed, or am I cursed? ‘Cause the way we are ain’t the way we were … Back, when we were innocent, I wonder where it went, let’s go back and find it.]”

 

 

 

“STUFF” HAPPENS. GET OVER IT.

       I hope all of my readers are as upset as I am about the fact that very little, if any of America’s history is taught anymore in our public schools. I find that deeply disturbing. Young people today can tell you next to nothing about our past involving our Native Americans, the revolution, our founding fathers, the Mexican war, the Alamo, the Indian battles, the two World Wars and most of the more recent wars, names of important people from our past and the events, discoveries and inventions that made them famous. They don’t know dates and locations of those famous events, and worse, they don’t care. That is wrong, devastating and sad.

 

Through Kelsey Grammer, Pete Hegseth, Rob Lowe and other TV personalities, the channel called Fox Nation provides dramatic reenactments of some of America’s historical events, with full and accurate costuming to match the time period, and detailed information about the where, when and why of those events. It is all done in a very exciting and entertaining way that any young person would enjoy watching while at the same time, learning real history.

        

        These docudramas include the Boston Tea Party, George Washington’s crossing of the icy Delaware at Christmas time in order to surprise English troops during the Revolution, Civil War reenactments, various stories about the World Wars in which America was involved, as well as detailed stories about the early years of discoveries and wealth and well known builders of this nation as the industrial revolution exploded across the land through names like the Rockefellers, the Carnegies, the Vanderbilts, the Astors and Henry Ford. Yes, with wealth you usually also find corruption, but it is all part of the rich history of America, and it is people like those above who, through our unique freedom and democracy, made us the strongest, richest nation in the world. And there is nothing wrong with that. We must strive to keep that pride and strength at all costs, and learning our history is all part of that.

 

        Yes, this country made a lot of grievous mistakes as it grew, and yes, there was and still is greed and racism and all the wrong things that come with learning how to cope with the unusual freedoms with which we have been gifted. But just as a little child has to learn not to do things that will hurt them, and how wrong it is to lie, to steal, to hurt others, our nation has had to learn such things on a much bigger scale. But how can our future generations learn from history’s mistakes if they are not taught that history at all?

        You cannot ignore history. It is real, and it is both wonderful and sad, something to be proud of in so many ways, and something to be ashamed of in just as many ways. To teach that history and all its faults is not to offend or insult, but rather to show our young people how we got where we are and how and why all the wrong things happened and how we can learn from that and correct all the wrong.

 

        Through the new part-time job I work now, I have to watch short videos about diversity, equity and inclusion, three words we hear talked about through our schools, on the news, and now, often, through our jobs. It is through this nation’s history that a new generation has come up with this way of teaching how to correct our past mistakes and misconceptions about other races and cultures. That’s okay. But why not also teach our youth things from the past that led to this necessity? 

 

        Don’t forget that understanding our history and being truthful about past wrongs can we teach a new outlook on life and other cultures. We have to make our young people understand that there is nothing wrong with telling the truth, nothing wrong with learning the details of America’s history. So much of it, and so many of our founders and inventors and explorers can bring out our patriotism and pride, as well as a desire to make things even better, more fair, more equal and accepting.

        I hope you will encourage your children and grandchildren to learn the truth … not the political, slanted versions we hear on network news, but the real truth. Make it exciting for them. Whenever they can watch reenactments of famous events, discoveries, people, inventions, and the wild action that was the settling of America, let them watch and learn things like the gold rush, the land rush in Oklahoma, the era of stagecoaches and the Pony Express, the telegraph system, the growth of our great cities, the building of the transcontinental railroad, the Hoover Dam, the truth about how our Native Americans were treated, our most famous explorers and the more famous Native American leaders and wars. Let them watch and learn. Today we can stream just about anything we want to watch. It is easy now to go back and watch an old tv miniseries, like James Michener’s CENTENNIAL and ROOTS. If our children are not going to be properly taught history at school, then use entertaining tv shows/miniseries to teach them. Give them books to read. Some of the best books that truthfully and realistically show the history of the French & Indian Wars that led to the Revolutionary War are by Alan Eckert – THE FRONTIERSMEN, A SORROW IN OUR HEART: The Life of Tecumseh, WILDERNESS EMPIRE, THE CONQUERORS, THAT DARK AND BLOODY RIVER, GATEWAY TO EMPIRE and more. These stories are historically accurate and written in a very active, entertaining way, so much so that it is like reading a novel.

         I hope you understand the importance of American History and its impact not just on the past and the present, but on this country’s future. Our youth can only make things better today and tomorrow, but for years to come if they learn and understand the past. Learning can be a tool used toward greater strength and a stronger tomorrow. 

 

 

January 2024: Remembering Maria

         It has been a while I posted a blog. Sorry about that, but I have been mulling over my next new story as well as being involved in all the hoopla of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve celebrations.

          I decided to dedicate this blog to my daughter-in-law, Maria Bittner, who passed away one year ago on New Year’s Eve day at the young age of 54. I will miss her forever. My blog this month is a repeat of the dedication I wrote for Maria that was read at her funeral. She had a huge funeral with a packed sanctuary and a lovely talk by my son about how much he loved her. The following is my personal memorial to Maria that the minister read at the funeral. Rest in Peace, Maria. I will miss you forever. Rosanne

          Throughout our lifetimes we all end up attending funerals. The cycle of life makes it impossible not to. But most of us expect the funeral to be for an old person, whether our own relative or someone else’s. 

 

Expected. We manage our way through those expected ones. Much as we love and will miss that person, we are relatively prepared for his or her death.

 

Then comes the unexpected, and it hits like a blow from a baseball bat. There is always the “why?” of it. Here I am 78 years old and Maria was only 54. Why her? I was blessed to live through my own sons turning into men, my grandsons turning into men, and now I have been ultra-blessed to be here for my great-grandson. I might get to see him grow into a young man, too, but that is up to God. The fact remains that Maria won’t get to see her grandson or her step-grandchildren become adults. She won’t get to enjoy their children. 

 

          I have decided on the “why?” of it. She was one of the most loving women I have known, and perhaps my son and my grandsons will remember her patience and her unselfish caring for them and their little ones. Perhaps her memory will help them be good fathers and grandfathers, and will help the women who knew her be better mothers and grandmothers. Perhaps Maria was sent into my son and grandsons’ lives simply to help them through the tough years of learning to live in a blended family and to leave a glow in their lives … the glow of warmth and love that will always be with them, not in the flesh, but in the spirit. 

 

If we believe that Jesus Christ is always among us, and that angels are always among us, then we have to believe that the spirits of certain special people are also among us. After all, death is only in the flesh. I can name a few of my own loved ones who have passed on who I am sure are always with me. Some people just plain can’t help leaving a “forever” memory that doesn’t fade with time. Maria is one of those. We were as different as the sun and the moon. Other than when I would go to a gathering of friends at her and Brock’s home, we never did anything together socially because I was the extrovert and Maria was the stay-at-home introvert. I could give you a long list of our personality differences, but that doesn’t matter. I just loved that woman, and she loved me. Although she was step-mom to my grandsons rather than mom, she loved them just like her own. She had total love, honor and respect for her husband’s family, and there was nothing fake about it. You could sense it, feel it. You knew it was real.

 

Brock told me Maria often said she didn’t really want to live long enough to have to go to our funerals. What a thing to say. And she did tell me once that she did not believe she would live to be an old woman. I don’t know why she felt that way, but she seemed to sense that was exactly how it would be. The morning of the day she died I took her some things she needed and felt bad that she wouldn’t be able to go to the belated family Christmas that was to take place later. As bad as she felt, she made me take the gifts she had for the baby, and for my husband before I left. She was thinking about them. I figured Brock would take her to the hospital and she would get better and next year we would have a normal Christmas.

       But when I walked out the door, something struck me, and I will never forget it. A little voice told me I might not see her again. I feel so guilty for leaving, but don’t we all think it’s not possible that a healthy 54-year-old woman would die just a few hours later? I told myself that, and I left, glad that Brock was going to take her to the hospital. We would all celebrate and eat the ham I had in the oven and then Brock would take some home for Maria.

 

We can all look back and think, “I should have done this, or that.” But God will have His way, and no matter what our decisions, His will always rules. So I tell myself not to feel guilty, because Maria Bittner died exactly like she wanted to die, a happy, happy woman who loved much and lived a giving, unselfish life, and without a jealous bone in her body. She loved sunsets, and once told Brock that enjoying a campfire and watching the sunset with him was like heaven.

 

She is there now, and she died before she had to bear the death of other loved ones. Some of us have the strength for that, and some of us don’t. Maria would rather watch over us from a better place, where she is perfectly happy to wait for us to come to her. I will be so glad to see her again, and until then, I will miss her as much as any other special loved one who has gone before me. She was not my daughter-in-law. She was my daughter.

 

 

What Next?

        Most writers have moments when they suffer from writer’s block. It is very frustrating, but equally frustrating is having so many stories to tell you don’t know which one to write first. 

 

        That’s my dilemma. Sometimes I feel like writing all the ideas on separate cards and then tossing them into the air. Whichever card falls closest to me is the story I will have to write next. I have had my moments of thinking about quitting completely, but that is usually not from writer’s block. It’s from discouraging sales or from hurtful comments from an editor who just doesn’t “get” my writing. One editor’s comments about BLAZE OF GLORY were so biting that I decided her real problem was that she hated men. Really. She didn’t “get” Jake at all, while 99% of my readers love the man to death. I just ignored her inability to understand men and the affects of a tortured childhood. So be it. I paid no attention. 

 

        Nothing truly discourages me other than time to write everything I would like to write. And sometimes I wonder if I should try to write a different genre. However, I can’t get away from my love for American history and the Old West and Native Americans. So, as I explained not long ago, I think my next book will be IF I LOVED YOU, an Indian/white historical romance, something people tell me is their favorite storyline from me.

 

         Meantime, I am re-reading THIS TIME FOREVER to see if it would work for an Amazon reissue. It was published back in 1989 by Warner Books (Popular Library). Wow, that was a long time ago. The story is based loosely on the true tale of a woman who traveled west with the Mormons but was not herself a Mormon. She became a well-known singer and my husband and I visited her mansion years ago in Wyoming. My character’s name is Lilly Brannigan, from Scotland. The hero is Charles (Chase) Mitchell. Time and circumstances bring them together and then apart, and Lilly vows that if she ever finds Chase again, this time it will be forever. I would be interested to know how many of you remember the book.

        I feel blessed that so many of my back issues have been reissued more than once and with new covers. That has kept me on the virtual “shelves” for years, with many of my very first books still selling, including Savage Destiny. I expect most of them will keep selling long after I am gone, which will benefit my children and grandchildren. That warms my heart, and is a way of being with all of you for as long as you keep reading my books.

 

        SHADOW TRAIL is doing well, and I can’t help wanting to write more about Evie and Brian, since I have never gone deeply into their marriage other than everyone knows what happened to Evie and how Brian handled it. He is such a kind, understanding, patient man – such a contrast to Jake in so many ways. But he has always understood Evie’s adoration of her father, even though Jake is so drastically different from Brian. I love that “We are nothing alike, but I respect you” relationship between Jake and Brian. I have never explored Brian deeply, other than when he had a heart-to-heart with Jake when Jake thought Miranda might die from breast cancer. And, of course, they had another talk when Evie was kidnapped by outlaws who so brutally abused her. It just seems like so much had to happened in all the Outlaw Hearts books that I never got the chance to explore that Jake and Brian relationship.

 

        I guess I am rambling a bit. Just letting you, my very important readers, know what writers go through, especially ones like me who get deeply involved in their characters. I make mine so real that it is important to be sure they remain true to their character/personality through the years that are covered in my series books. It’s not always easy, but I get inside the head of every single character, even many of the cowhands. I would even like to write more about some of them.

 

        If I could live another 30 years I would probably write 30 more books. I am up to 76, so 24 more would make 100, but that will never happen. Still, it’s a nice idea and something to aim for if God allows me the health to do so.

 

Blessings.

 

Rosanne