Showing posts with label life and times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life and times. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

What we will remember

April 1, 2020


Growing up, I listened to my grandparent's stories of living through the Great Depression. My mother was born in 1937, as things began to ease. She has no first-hand memories of how difficult those times really were, but she grew up poor. Life for her was a gradual improvement until, as a widow, she married her second husband and money was no longer an issue.  

My maternal great-grandparents were both born in 1889. I look back and am astonished to have personally known people born in that century. Historically, they lived through the Spanish Flu (1918-1920), and the time of polio. A short mile from my house is a graveyard that gives silent testimony to the impact of a scarlet fever outbreak in this small community. A distant relative of mine on my father's side is buried there beside his wife and five of his children. Those five children all died within days of each other from scarlet fever. He and his wife lived to have five more, all girls. They were contemporaries of my great-grandparents although I never knew them. 

In my life and times, we have vaccines against measles, polio, diphtheria, and a host of other diseases. Up until now, HIV/AIDS has been the plague of my generation, a plague we know how to prevent but seem unable to eradicate. We've had significant scares with the Ebola, Zika, and West Nile viruses, but we got through. Modern medical researchers continue to study these and work to develop cures. 

Listening to my elders speak of living through those times was more than a history lesson. It spoke to the lasting impact it had on the lives of the people of those times. They were times of uncertainty and fear and great loss. The Great Depression and the Spanish Flu defined the lives of my great-grandparents and grandparents. In many ways, my grandparents never moved far from those days. My grandmother panicked when one of us got sick, as all children do. My grandfather bought land to farm and keep his family fed. He worked a factory job by day and then came home to tend his garden. He also kept honeybees, a lucrative sideline. They bequeathed more than land and money to me. Their gift was love and a shining example of how to truly live well. 

I look at the next two generations in my family. These days we are living now, today, will be days that define their lives. One of what I call gen4, myself being gen3, is pregnant. The gen5-ers are going to school via the Internet. COVID-19 will be what we remember, what my young cousin will tell her baby about, what the youngsters across the creek being homeschooled via the Internet will have in common with their peers. 

When I'm once again able to join with my gen3 cousins at the table, what we did in our self-isolation and social distancing time will be our discussion. I'm sure we'll note how people paid little or no attention to how serious the COVID-19 virus is. Perhaps we'll speculate on the bare shelves in the grocery stores and wonder how much worse it was for our grandparents. We have constant news and the Internet to keep us informed (on both the true and the false). They had a weekly newspaper and word of mouth. 

In my own little world, I sense a shift inside. I won't remember my time under a governmental stay at home order as a hardship. My employer's reaction to it is something I'll never forget. I've talked a lot about retirement and so I'm looking at these days as a test run. And I'm liking how I feel quite a bit. Being home is a good thing. Now all I need is for the stock market to rebound so I can lock in a few numbers. My own silver lining. 

Time will roll on. Please be smart and protect yourself so you can be a part of it. It'll be more fun to tell your grandchildren about self-isolation and social distancing than to have them tell their peers their grandparents died young, in the pandemic of 2020. 

KC Kendricks
www.kckendricks.com
www.twitter.com/kckendricks







Saturday, September 8, 2018

The Picnic Table

September 8, 2018

One of the last projects my father completed before he died was to build a picnic table. I'm not really sure why he decided he wanted one, but he did. So in the summer of 1982, he made a trip to Sears for a new tool whether he needed it or not to build the table. Every project required something new with the Craftsman imprint on it. Dad built the table and made it his spot to read the evening paper until cold weather drove him inside. Looking back and considering the seriousness of his illness, I think he simply wanted to enjoy being outside. 

Almost ten years after my father died, my mother remarried and sold the house I grew up in. She didn't want the picnic table at her new house, and so I grabbed a couple of the cousins and absconded with it one Saturday afternoon. After the fire ring was put together, the table got moved to its permanent location. It's a quiet, shady spot to sit and think. I like to take my laptop to the table and do story planning for the next little while. 

Well, I used to do that. These days, caring for the spousal unit, my mother, and stepfather eats up writing time. Life is full of seasons. This is the time to be there for them. 

The picnic table is part of the northern view from my sunroom office. Behind it is a what around here is called a stone fence. Yes, that wall of stone is as high as it looks. My grandparents were given copies of old deeds to this piece of property when they bought it, which they passed on to me, and the stone fence is listed as the property line going well back into the 1800s. Back then folks farmed this piece of land and the stones the plow dug up were laid along the property line, serving two purposes. Perhaps when I retire and become a lady of leisure, I'll re-stack the stones into a proper wall. Not the entire length of it but at least the section behind the picnic table. 

And when I need to take a break from such manual labor I can take a break in the shade sitting at the picnic table my father built. 

KC Kendricks
www.kckendricks.com
www.twitter.com/kckendricks
www.facebook.com/kckendricks



Thursday, November 8, 2012

Twenty-nine Years

November 8, 2012


Today is the twenty-ninth anniversary of my father’s passing. I never know how I’ll feel when the day dawns, and this sunny morning finds me worried about the future, the one he served to protect.

Admittedly, my father’s time spent on active duty didn’t put him in harm’s way too often. He chauffeured a general to the man’s appointments, or wherever else the man wanted to go. Of course, driving a general also meant protecting the general, or so I imagine. I also imagine it gave Dad an enlisted man’s unique perspective on the chain of command.

Dad was a soft-spoken man. He rarely raised his voice in anger. At family gatherings, my uncle, grandfather, and great-uncles would all “discuss” things, getting louder and louder as the “discussion” went along. When Dad would finally weigh in with his opinion, the other men ceased shouting and listened. I never gave it much thought growing up, but I realize now such was the measure of their respect for him.

We hear a lot these days about the “war on women.” My father would have never called a woman a bitch, cunt, slut, or a “ho.” Nor would my father have associated with men who did. He was a foreman where he worked and I know, from his own lips, he wouldn’t tolerate such dis-respectfulness. You showed that sort of attitude and you didn’t work on his job site with him.  Had I ever brought home a boyfriend who used those words…. Well, I certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with a male who used those words, then or now.  That level of insidious disrespect, the teaching of the next generation it’s okay to behave that way towards women, is the real and subversive war on women and it’s highly effective in that it eats away at self-perception and self-respect. It damages from the inside out. That’s it’s been given the stamp of approval at the highest level is frightening. Anyway, my father had an honest love for me.

I’ve got a lot to accomplish today and I will check off everything on my list. I scored my first job when I was sixteen and saved up money for the all-important first car. Dad was proud of me for being proactive about getting a car, but he was a lot less happy when I chose a FAST car…..  He was proud I managed a part-time job and kept my grades above the ninety percent mark. I think part of my current work ethic can be traced directly to his support, and his example.

While today is an anniversary to mark, not a day goes by I don’t think of him. Not in sadness - those times are few and far between - but with joy and laughter. Dad had the best sense of humor. He was quiet with it, as befitted his nature, but he could deliver a one-liner that could make you fall down laughing. Great timing. I was going through some old photos a few weeks ago and found one of him. I recognize it as being taken when my parents were getting new kitchen cabinets. I wonder what he’d say about having this picture on the Internet? 

No, I don't.  He'd laugh. 
  



KC 
website at: http://www.kckendricks.com
blog: http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kckendricks
mailing list at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/betweenthekeys
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1989106.K_C_Kendricks
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Monday, August 20, 2012

Driver Beware

August 20, 2012

I've noticed an increasing trend in my community, and it's not a good one. There seems to be a segment of the population that is deliberately trying to sucker other drivers into bad judgement calls that cause accidents. It happened again this morning, and what really got my attention was the same driver did it to me three short days ago.

Living out in the country as I do, it's a daily jaunt to the state highway. Last Friday, I stopped at the stop sign (of course) and checked both ways for traffic. This old, battered wreck of a white and rusted car was traveling westbound with the right-turn signal blinking. Being the non-trusting sort of driver, I waited for him to slow and turn before I pulled out onto the highway.

Only - he didn't slow and turn. He kept going. And he flipped me off as he drove past me - why I had no clue. Just for breathing, I supposed at the time. Or for having the nerve to drive a Charger, maybe? As soon as I pulled out behind him, the turn signal went off.

He did the exact same thing this morning.

It's alarming to realize the same complete stranger, for no good reason, has twice now tried to lure me to make a stupid move. It's even more alarming to hear co-workers say they've had similar things happen. One has actually changed her route to work to avoid a four-way stop after a man in another car waved her through then quickly accelerated toward her when she moved forward. Luckily she was able to stop before a collision that would have legally appeared to be her fault.  

So what's going on here? Did someone put a sign on my car I can't see that reads, "Has insurance - okay to sue?"

Driver beware. There's a new threat on the road, and this one is truly malicious.

KC

Saturday, August 4, 2012

The Passing of an Era

August 4, 2012

Life is a mixed bag of events. You win some, you lose some, you cherish the good memories, and try to move on from the bad. I’ve been so very blessed in my life with good memories - so many, I’ve discovered, I don’t remember them all until reminded.

This morning, I was up and out of the house at six o’clock to meet my closest cousin to end an era in our lives. This man is more brother to me than cousin. We were raised side-by-side, our respective parents in my maternal linage being siblings, and then he and I only children. I met him on the road in front of our grandparents’ house and we shared coffee and memories.

We grew up in the modest brick house attached to an old log cabin, built by our grandfather. I lived there longer, but it hardly matters. In the late 1950’s we were all there - grandparents, parents, and two spoiled toddlers. The bond remains strong whereas all things brick and mortar are fleeting. While the brick house stood firm decades beyond the crumbling logs, Time will have her way. Her most wicked tools are not wind, water and fire, but the stubborn pride and fragility of humans in declining years.  

When our grandfather passed, the last of our first generation, all agreed my cousin should get the home place to ease the way of the fourth generations, and to place a trust for the fifth, which is growing. To build their future, our past must give way.

My cousin-brother and I reminisced for a while, and then Time demanded her due. By ten o’clock, the brick house was gone. In some small selfish way, I’m glad no future stranger will ever live there. It belonged to my grandparents, and they to it. The joy that lived in the house was Family, and I’m well content that it will always belong only to us.

As I write this, the smell of smoke lingers, but is already fading. What will never fade are the memories of life in that house, that haven a good man built for the family he cherished above all else. It was a hard decision, and my cousin-brother and I have shed tears over it, but never harsh words.

Would our grandparents be sad to see the house gone? I’m sure they would be. It was their home, where they raised their family into the third generation - my own. But now a new house will be built, almost where the old one stood. Another member of the fourth generation is about to marry and, hopefully, in due time, present us with new toddlers to play in the yard where my mother and uncle played, and where my cousin-brother and I picked dandelion blooms on bright spring days for a nickel.

And that will please the spirits of my grandparents.

KC Kendricks


Wednesday, June 27, 2012

In the blink of an eye

June 27, 2012

I've been writing. Scratch that. I've been absorbed by the writing. Better - and more accurate. I suddenly realized I've not blogged in almost a month.

The unfortuante thing is, I have nothing much to say this evening except I've been writing. Some stories flow out of me like water flows in the creek. Not so with the current WIP. The need to get the emotions "just right" is taking a lot of time.

That's not a complaint. I want it to be right. I need it to be right. But while I work, people in the blogosphere might think I died or something.

Nope. Still here and working.

Now I'm diving back in and going deep into the work-in-progress. Hopefully, a month won't go past until my next blog.

KC

Friday, April 27, 2012

X is for Making Your Mark




On Being a Published Writer
2012 A to Z Blogging
April 27, 2012
Day 24

Welcome to the 2012 A to Z Blogging Challenge. This year I’m focusing on things I’ve learned, observed and experienced in the nine years I’ve been published. If you’re a reader, I hope to offer an inside glimpse into the writer’s world. If you’re new to writing, I hope I can provide an insight or two. If you’re an established writer, maybe you’ll see similarities to your experience. Whatever path you walk, I welcome you to mine and hope you’ll enjoy the 2012 A to Z Blogging Challenge.

What do you want to accomplish as a writer? What mark, if any, do you want to leave on the publishing world? There are as many responses to the questions as writers. It doesn’t matter if no one else is privy to your reply. This question is just for you. For a lot of people, myself included, one easy answer won’t suffice, and I can only speak for me.

I think it’s important for people to understand what motivates them to do something. I constantly examine the ‘whys’ of my actions, but I don't feel compelled to share all my answers. I don’t have to. My reasons are specific to my own path.

I’ve passed the half-century mark and I know that writing fame isn’t what I want. It’s been a fun ride to get to today, but somewhere along the line I realized that whatever mark I make on the publishing world (or not) isn’t anywhere near as important as the mark I make on myself. That’s the one that counts, and at the end of the day, the one I have to live with. I want it to be a good one.

KC Kendricks
website at: http://www.kckendricks.comblog: http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.comTwitter: http://www.twitter.com/kckendricksmailing list at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/betweenthekeysGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1989106.K_C_KendricksFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/people/Kc-Kendricks/1439574042MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/kckendricks

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Highway Nights is now available


September 4, 2011

**updated 5/17/2016 and April 1, 2021**

Just released! Highway Nights!

Highway Nights goes way back in my stack of idea folders and stems from one of my youthful adventures. I used to keep company with a fellow a few years my junior, and we liked to trip down the Interstate to a little place by the river for a late-night snack and a few rounds of pool. I was quite fond of that little out-of-the-way place with its welcoming proprietor and friendly bartender. (At least they were to me, but I always smiled and never gave them any grief.) So The Downshift Diner is a little nod to that time in my life.

Here's the blurb and excerpts from HIGHWAY NIGHTS, now available. Thanks for reading!

* * *
HIGHWAY NIGHTS
Contemporary gay romance

Garrett Webb has a five-point plan for starting his own business. To keep it on track, he takes a second job and settles into the evening delivery run between Owensville and Mt. Franklin. The solitude of being on the road clears his head and enables him to chart a better future for himself. When a foggy night sends him to the safety of The Downshift Diner and its owner, Oliver Sanderson, that future takes an unforeseen turn.

Oliver Sanderson enjoys a quiet life along the lonely stretch of highway that’s home to his diner. The road brings all manner of interesting souls to his door. When Garrett Webb steps out of the fog seeking shelter, his openness and honesty draw Oliver’s interest. He’s ready to take the next step but needs to be cautious. Trouble is coming to the diner, and Oliver wants Garrett clear of it.

Good intentions can’t hold out against their budding attraction. Garrett makes the diner a regular stop during his nightly run, and the men get better acquainted. But Garrett’s past isn’t done with him. In a single heart-stopping moment, Garrett is forced to a decision that risks Oliver’s life – one that could forever end their highway nights.


INTRO:

Oliver settled in the booth and stared across the table. “You gonna tell me why you’re really here?”

“I told you. Food and conversation.”

The young man didn’t bat an eye. Oliver had a good sense about men, and it said Garrett was interested in a lot more than talk. He saw no point in calling the fellow on it, not yet. It could be Garrett didn’t consciously realize what he wanted. Life handed you moments like that, and Oliver had had his fair share of them. But if the lad wanted talk, he’d be glad to get the ball rolling.

“All right, then. I’ll be nosey and start our chat. So why are you working two jobs? A young fellow like you should be out clubbing every night.”

“My five-point plan suffered a setback. I’m working to recoup some losses.”

“Boyfriend?”

Garrett sighed. “Not any longer.”

And, no doubt, the ex-boyfriend was the reason the five-point plan had been derailed. It usually was. Oliver could say he’d been there and done that, too, but he’d wait to see if Garrett asked first. He didn’t, so Oliver tried another topic.

“Nice jeans.”

“Thanks. I got a great deal on them. Twenty bucks at a yard sale.”

Yard sale? No wonder Garrett dressed like a prince. Oliver could, too, if he had the patience to treasure hunt, because that’s what a yard sale really was.

“Good looking, hard working and frugal. You don’t find that combination every day.”
Garrett sipped his cola, his blue gaze fastened on Oliver’s. “That’s me. Do you like the back pockets of my pants?”

“Ah, a flaw. Vanity.” Oliver leaned back, unable to refrain from grinning at Garrett. “I noticed. I’ll say it since your ego appears to need it.” He leaned forward and kept his voice down. “Nice ass.”


EXCERPT:

Oliver grinned and stopped in front of him.

“Happy to see me?”

Garrett glanced down. “As happy as you appear to be. Can a guy get a soda to go in this joint?”

Oliver shook his head. “I’ve better at the house. Let me tell Shirl and Billy not to call me unless it’s an emergency.” He disappeared into the kitchen, and sauntered back out in less than thirty seconds. Oliver motioned at the front entrance. “Let’s go.”

Garrett turned and held the door open for Oliver. “What constitutes an emergency?”

“Someone is bleeding, choking, or keels over all the way to the floor.” He placed his hand on the small of Garrett’s back and guided him around the corner of the building.

Garrett leaned closer to the warmth of Oliver’s body. “Not fire?”

“That’s what the firemen are for. Call ‘em. Besides, I like firemen. Don’t you?”

“Sure. Big, burly men turn me on.” Garrett stroked Oliver’s well-formed bicep. Oliver laughed softly and backed Garrett against the rear wall of the diner, out of sight from the clientele and staff.

“To each, their own.”

Garrett grasped Oliver’s hips and yanked him against him. He held him there and soaked up the heat from Oliver’s body. The corner of his mouth quirked in a small smile.

“So, am I going to have to beg you to kiss me again?”

Oliver ran his thumb over Garrett’s lower lip. He swallowed, the muscles in his throat moving. “Garrett. Be sure you want this. Don’t lead me on then tell me to stop.”

“I came for this, Oliver.”

Something dark and unsettled sparked in Oliver’s eyes. “Don’t get too attached to me, either, boy.”

“I’m horny. I want to fuck you, not marry you.”

Oliver leaned in, his breath warm on Garrett’s moist lips. In the back of his mind, Garrett registered surprise at Oliver’s reticence but he’d ponder it later. He shifted forward and touched his lips to Oliver’s.

Need burst through him, a siren song in his blood that built as Oliver’s tongue licked into his in a bold stroke. The larger man pressed his body to the sun-warmed bricks, pinning him, his pelvis grinding against Garrett’s in a mock taking. Garrett thrust his tongue into the heat of Oliver’s mouth. Back and forth they tested, well matched, as the world spun behind his closed eyes. Suddenly breathless, Garrett tore his lips from Oliver’s. Oliver rested his forehead to his, breathing hard.

“You should go home, Garrett.”

“I don’t think so. Why are you afraid of me?” He ran his fingers through Oliver’s short hair.

Oliver brushed a kiss to his lips. “I’m too old for someone in his twenties, Garrett.”

“I’m going to surprise you. I’m thirty-two.” He laughed as the man’s eyebrows shot up. “Told you I was older than I look.”

Oliver’s eyes darkened. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am, but I still feel like a dirty old pervert chasing chickens.” He levered off the wall, grabbed Garrett’s hand, and pulled him along the flagstone path to the bungalow-style house.

Garrett fell into step beside him and slipped their linked hands behind Oliver’s back. There was one sure way he knew to find out Oliver’s age—give him a little dig.

“You can’t be that old. What are you? Fifty?”

“Fifty! No, smart-ass, I’m forty-four. Happy to know that?” Oliver eased his hand free as they climbed the steps to the wide veranda. He pulled keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. “I should spank you for that.”

Garrett stepped into the foyer and patted his butt. “A spanking might be fun sometime, but not tonight...”

HIGHWAY NIGHTS

Available at:

 Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01F4F7GX4

 Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01F4F7GX4

 Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01F4F7GX4

 iTunes/Apple: itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1107349490

 Barnes and Noble/NOOK:  www.barnesandnoble.com/w/highway-nights-kc-kendricks/1109557517?ean=2940153170350

 Rakuten/KOBO: www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/highway-nights-1

 Universal link to additional booksellers: https://books2read.com/u/4NYRNm

 Highway Nights webpage: https://kckendricks.blogspot.com/p/highway-nights-by-kc-kendricks.html

 

KC Kendricks
My home on the web- Between the Keys: 
Visit my bookshelf at: 

My country life at Holly Tree Manor: hollytreemanor.blogspot.com