I write southern historical fiction, local history, and I've written a devotional book. The two novels I'm writing are set in Virginia and the Carolinas in the 1760s. My weekly blog started out to follow my journey as a writer and a reader, but in 2025 it has been greatly expanded to include current events and politics in the United States as I see our democracy under attack from within. The political science major in me cannot sit idly by and remain silent.
Author: janetsm
In November 2025, I published Traveling Through History: A Collection of Historical Short Stories. In the fall of 2025, I published a devotional book: I Need The Light! 26 Weekly Devotionals to Help You Through Winter AND I Need The Light! Companion Journal and Diary. I write North Carolina local history and Southern American colonial historical fiction. I enjoy doing extensive research as well as the writing that research supports. My stories and novels-in-progress are about the common people. I'm the author of Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus History, Books 1 and 2 and a vintage postcard book titled The Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
We all have days when every little thing seems to go wrong and one insignificant event leads to another insignificant event until things come to a head.
I had one of those afternoons yesterday.
It all started last week with a fraudulent charge on my credit card which necessitated the issuance of a new card. I had finally gotten comfortable with my old security code. Oh well.
Yesterday I received an email from the credit card company indicating that I needed to go to my account where I would find a letter regarding my fraudulent charge claim.
When I went into my account, it said I didn’t have any letters or notices, so I got my card in hand and prepared to call the credit card company.
But first, this might take more than a few minutes. I need some water. That’s when things took a turn.
I went to the kitchen for water. Decided a couple of ice cubes would be nice. In the process of getting two ice cubes out of the freezer compartment, I hit my “funny bone” on the door which made my hand release the ice cubes which hit my bare toes.
That wasn’t enough. I realized the washing machine had stopped, so I went to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer before calling the credit card company.
I got to the laundry room.
That’s when I stepped in water.
Janet
Prayers for our U.S. military personnel in harm’s way in the Middle East and prayers for the people of Ukraine. My problems yesterday afternoon were tiny.
The United States was officially neutral regarding World War I when, on July 30, 1916, German agents blew up the Black Tom railyard on land that is now part of Liberty State Park in New Jersey.
A blogger friend of mine, Francisco Cabrera, brought this event to my attention a couple of years ago. I had to admit that the Black Tom Explosion in New York City did not sound familiar to me. That was embarrassing!
In an effort to prevent the U.S. from sending munitions to England, spies and the men they recruited had packed two million pounds of explosives in train cars destined for the depot on Black Tom Island. Germany knew tons of munitions were shipped out of Black Tom Island to the Allies, and they apparently knew security there was lax.
Men sorting munitions shells at Black Tom Island railyard. Photo from the Library of Congress.
The 2:08 a.m. explosion and the second one a half hour later shattered thousands of windows in lower Manhattan and Jersey City, New Jersey. I found conflicting casualty reports while researching this post, but at least four people were killed, including an infant.
The Statue of Liberty was pock-marked by shrapnel. The damage to the statue made it necessary to close Lady Liberty’s torch to the public, and it is still closed today.
Property damages in New York and New Jersey were estimated at $20 million, which would be equal to $500 million today. Hundreds of rail cars were destroyed, included 87 filled with dynamite. Thirteen huge warehouses and six piers were destroyed as well as barges tied to the dock.
The explosion registered 5.5 on the Richter scale and was felt in Pennsylvania and Maryland.
As a result of the attack, Congress passed the Espionage Act and in 1917 passed the Sabotage Act. Both Acts gave the Bureau of Investigation oversight jurisdiction.
Although not the only act of sabotage by German upon the United States, the attack on Black Tom Island was instrumental in turning public opinion in the United States against Germany.
It was a different time. For instance, the Bureau of Investigation – the forerunner of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) only had 260 employees. The FBI website states, “The most successful and experienced anti-sabotage investigators turned out to be the detectives of the New York Police Department’s Bomb Squad. Even so, the German agents who blew up Black Tom were not identified at the time.”
On July 6, 1921, The New York Times reported that Michael Kristoff, a non-citizen and immigrant from Slovakia who served in the U.S. Army in World War I had been arrested and was suspected of taking part in the attack. He had been recruited by a German intelligence operative. Kristoff admitted that he had worked with German agents by carrying suitcases and claimed that two guards at the Black Tom railyard were German agents.
Law enforcement agencies initially dismissed the possibility that it was instigated by Germany. It took lawyers years to pursue the attack for their clients before it was proven before the Mixed Claims Commission at The Hague in 1939 that Germany was behind the attack.
Germany was ordered to pay $50 million in damages but, of course, the Hitler regime did not pay. The case was renegotiated in the early 1950s, but it would be 1979 before the last reparations were made to claimants.
Janet
All history is local, but no history is just local
I took a three- or four-week break from blogging in June. While I disappeared from the blogosphere, I learned some things. Here are 15 of them:
I learned that I can still get lost in reading a book when I’m not trying to blog five or six days a week. I hadn’t read a complete novel in months!
Theo of Golden, by Allen Levi
I learned that it was time for me to take a step back and work to get my life under control.
I learned that depression is not an unusual occurrence in writers and other creative people, and I learned why I am the way I am.
Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash
I learned that depression can be addressed when you have a caring primary care physician who truly wants the best for you.
I learned that people are very forgiving when they know you have a problem.
I learned that I’m a happier person now that I don’t dwell on what Donald Trump is doing. I’m still keeping up, but I’m limiting how much TV news I watch.
I learned that there is a support group for former Trump supporters who leave MAGA. It’s a real thing. Who knew? If you are finally seeing Trump for what he is, you can find a support community at leavingmaga.org.
I was reminded that Trump doesn’t know the difference between socialism and communism.
Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
I was reminded to be thankful I don’t live in Texas. That state legislature is trying to out-do ours in North Carolina. Tell me again, Texas, where Jesus said the government should beat school children over the head with the Bible. I can’t find that verse.
I think we all learned that hydrogen peroxide kills ducks and can strip American Flag Blue paint off the bottom of a reflecting pool.
Photo by Sydnie Sellers on Unsplash
I think we all learned that it’s foolish, short-sighted, and illegal to give someone a $13 million government contract without going out for competitive bids. (As a former government employee, I already knew that, of course. That’s Public Administration 101 – in addition to being common sense. This is what you get when you put “a businessman” with no experience in government, no knowledge of government, and a total disregard for the rule of law in the White House.)
I learned that listening to music is better than watching TV late at night – and most anytime, for that matter.
I learned that a buck can be mean to a pregnant doe and prevent her from eating the corn you put in the backyard for them to eat so they’d stop eating the shrubbery. That buck doesn’t want any does to eat. I’ve named him Bucky Trump.
I learned that rabbits are brave little creatures who are not afraid to eat at the feet of deer. They obviously know that North Carolina is a “stand your ground” state.
Rabbit eating near a deer. (Sometimes they eat under a deer or at a deer’s feet, but I haven’t gotten a good photo. Taking photos through a window screen is a challenge!)
I learned that when four rabbits organize themselves, they can scare Bucky Trump away from the corn! (Members of Congress, take note!)
I learned a lot in June!
Last week I learned that when a fawn runs away from its mother, Mama Deer will look for her fawn 24/7 to the point of exhaustion. I’m happy to report that a couple of days later, they had reunited and came into our backyard again.
Reunited fawn under the watchful eyes of three does after it learned it’s not a good idea to run away from Mom!
Between the World Cup (¡Muchas felicitaciones, España!) and the wildlife, it has been an entertaining summer so far. It has been sprinkled with thunderstorms, power outages, fried computer speakers, and a fried modem.
There are also daily prayers for our U.S. military personnel in harm’s way in the Middle East and prayers for the people of Ukraine.
I’m old enough to remember very well July 20, 1969 – the day fifty-seven years ago that men walked on the moon for the first time. In fact, I was 16 years old and was keeping a journal. Our family was in southern Alabama visiting my brother and his young family.
Photo by Pedro Lastra on Unsplash
We were all excited to watch the television coverage of the event. Just by chance, last week I came across my 1969 journal. It was interesting and a bit comical to read a 16-year-old’s thoughts and reactions to various things. I was especially drawn to my entries from July of that year.
I was a real nerd when it came to following NASA and everything about the space program. It was an exciting time and stressful time. You will also notice that every week I took note of how many Americans were killed in the Vietnam War. Here’s a sampling from my journal:
Sunday, July 13, 1969
At 9:32 a.m., Wednesday, July 16, Apollo 11 will be launched from Cape Kennedy. My family will be on vacation in Alabama then, so Neil Armstrong will set foot on the moon at 1:17 a.m. Central Daylight Time. About 20 minutes later astronaut Aldrin will get out of “Eagle,” as the lunar module will be known. Astronaut Armstrong will be walking around on the moon for 2 hours and 40 minutes. It looks like I will be up until at least 4:00 a.m., Monday, July 21. After all, this is a once in a lifetime event. I imagine Queen Isabella would have stayed up all night when Christopher Columbus got to America, if she had had television to watch it on.
Something that puzzles me more than almost anything else is that some people are not interested at all in the space program.
4:00 p.m., Wednesday, July 16, 1969
What a day! Excitement is continually building up inside me! Blast-off of Apollo XI took place at 9:32 a.m. We watched the live TV coverage until about 11:30. NBC had live TV coverage until 1:10 p.m. About 12:30 it was “Go, for TLI!” (Go, for translunar injection!) Now the astronauts: Neil Armstrong, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, and Michael Collins are “coasting to the moon. Their speed dropped from more than 24,000 m.p.h. to 7,600 m.p.h. I can think of nothing to compare a spacecraft launch with.
I hope that someday I can witness a launch. There is such thrust that the ground trembles for miles. I would probably faint if I were really there.
At 4:00 this afternoon on the radio I heard that President Nixon has proclaimed Monday, July 21 as a National Holiday. Many nations of the world have already planned to do that. David Brinkley of NBC News reported that all countries of the world that have TVs, except maybe Russia and several others, will pick up the live TV transmission from the lunar surface Monday morning.
When Armstrong and Aldrin get out of the lunar module (“Eagle”) they will set up a TV camera, which will be on them all the time they’re on the moon. The three networks are going to have continuous coverage from noon Sunday until 6:00 p.m. Monday, Eastern Time. I don’t want to miss a thing!
6:00 p.m., July 16, 1969
25 million Americans saw the launch on TV. The space craft, rocket and all was 36 stories tall.
11:55 p.m., July 16, 1969
On the “Late News” we saw recorded TV pictures of Earth taken earlier this evening from Apollo XI. We got the pictures at 11:10.
11:50 p.m., Thursday, July 17, 1969
Bill Morrison of Harrisburg got our TV this afternoon to work on while we’re in Alabama. Marie and I went to Uncle Gene and Aunt Louise’s house tonight to watch the live TV transmission from Apollo XI, 150,000 miles from the earth, toward the moon. Pictures of Earth and inside the Apollo of the astronauts, their food cabinet, star chart, and instrument panels. We are getting up at 4:00 a.m. to drive to Andalusia, Alabama, so maybe I better use common sense and go to bed.
Announced today that in the week ending last Saturday, July 12, that 148 Americans were killed in Vietnam.
Friday, July 18, 1969
We saw about 15 minutes of an unscheduled TV transmission from Apollo XI. It was of “Buzz” Aldrin checking out things in the lunar module, and also of Mike Collins. Armstrong took the pictures.
Saturday, July 19, 1969
Apollo XI started orbiting the Moon today. Tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow afternoon Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin will land on the Moon – for the first time in history! – in the lunar module (LEM) which is called “Eagle.” The command module is called “Columbia.” I am so excited! I can’t wait for tomorrow!!
About 3:15 p.m., Sunday, July 20, 1969
Man is 4 minutes and 30 seconds from landing on the Moon for the first time! The descent engines were fired on “the Eagle” at T-12:00 (That’s T minus 12 minutes zero seconds.
“We’re on the Moon.” Armstrong and Aldrin had to drive “Eagle” manually a little; there were 2-foot boulders on the landing site. They got it over the rocks perfectly. They landed at 4:17:40 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time. It was announced about 5:00 Central Time that the Moon walk will start at 9:00 Eastern Time tonight, instead of about 2:00 a.m. tomorrow.
7:50 p.m., Central Time, July 20, 1969
It is estimated that 500,000,000 people in the world are watching Apollo XI coverage on TV today!
8:45 p.m. Central Time, July 20, 1969
Newsman (NBC) David Brinkley just said that we have finally found a place where Americans can go where there will be no pickets holding signs saying “Get out of Vietnam” or “Yankee, Go Home!”
My three-year-old nephew is really interested in Apollo XI. He is full of questions that I can’t answer.
9:55 p.m. Central Time, July 20, 1969
Neil Armstrong is on the “porch” of “Eagle” and will soon start down the ladder.
We saw on Live TV man’s first step on the Moon. Armstrong’s first words: “One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.” It’s really fantastic. The official time was 9:56 p.m. Central Daylight Time, when Neil Armstrong first set foot on the Moon.
About 10:15 “Buzz” Aldrin is on the ground now. He first said, “Beautiful! Beautiful! Magnificent desolation!”
One just said there is a tendency to go backwards, for the ground is soft.
10:25 They just unveiled the plaque and one read it to us. They’ve put up the U.S. flag. We are getting incredible TV pictures from the Moon. About 10:50 C. Time we heard and saw President Nixon talking to them and they talked back. This is truly unbelievable. Before talking to President Nixon they were running and hopping to see what the best way of movement was.
9:20 a.m. Central Time, Monday, July 21, 1969
We watched TV coverage of the first manned moon landing until 12:30 a.m.. It was about 12:10 when Aldrin and Armstrong had to get back into “Eagle.” It was so unbelievable! This morning on TV we are watching the moon walk again.
Lift-off from the Moon is at 12:51 p.m. today, Central Daylight Time.
Tuesday, noon, July 22, 1969
Yesterday watched some Apollo coverage and napped some.
Wednesday, July 23, 1969
Went to the NASA Testing Center near Bay St. Louis. Did not wait for the 10:00 tour.
Went to Michoud Assembly Facility of NASA at New Orleans. Just rode by it. Was a big building.
We had three great hours in the French Quarter in New Orleans, 11:00 until 2:00 P.M. today Enjoyed watching artists sitting on sidewalks painting portraits of people. Really saw a lot of talent. Beautiful “lace” balconies. Narrow, crowded streets. Saw some long-haired, wildly-dressed hippies. I would like to stay there for a week. We went to Preservation Hall – a place which at night has traditional Dixieland Jazz. I wanted to go back tonight. Crossed the Mississippi River twice. Big disappointment! Only ½ mile wide. Fancy bridges, but the river was really no big thing.
We got on the longest bridge in the world at 3:07. It was the 24-mile bridge over Lake Ponchartrain. Had to pay $1.00 toll. Got off the bridge at 3:30. Staying at “LaGrace” Western Motel in Hattiesburg tonight. Have a COLOR TV in the motel room! Bought July 25 edition of Life tonight. About Apollo XI.
11:10 A.M., Thursday, July 24, 1969
182 Americans were killed in the last week of fighting in Vietnam.
11:30 A.M. Coverage of the splashdown and recovery of Apollo XI is starting. Sure wish I could watch on TV. This is the only one this summer and we have to be on vacation. Apollo XI is now going more than 24,000 m.p.h. Before splashdown it will near 25,000 m.p.h.
When Apollo entered “blackout” it was going 24,630 m.p.h. There is no communication during “black-out.” We’re in Jones, Mississippi now, got off Interstate 59.
Apollo XI has been sighted by recovery ship, the USS Hornet. It streaked through the sky. The heat shield was something like 4,900 degrees F.
Splashdown! They’re in the water. We’re in Laural, Mississippi. Apollo XI is 9 miles from the Hornet. It is upside down. Will bob around like that until floatation collar is inflated and rights it. No radio contact, for antenna is under water… Two inflated bags on top of Apollo XI have turned it right-side up.
2:45 P.M. The Apollo XI crew are all fine!
Reading my 1969 journal brought back a lot of memories and reminded me how obsessed I was with writing down the exact time we were learning things about the Apollo XI mission.
Space travel today gets little publicity, so it must be difficult for the 16-year-olds today to imagine how exciting it was to watch the first landing on the moon. No one knew in advance how solid the moon’s surface would be. I remember we marveled at the little clouds of dust Armstrong and Aldrin’s boots kicked up as they more or less bounced as they took steps.
I always felt bad for Michael Collins. He had to just keep orbiting the moon while the other two astronauts got to land on it and run around on it.
Back in the day, there was what today would be called an urban legend that the moon was made of green cheese. People stopped saying that after July 20, 1969.
By the way, it was a big deal that our motel room in Hattiesburg, Mississippi had a color TV. We had a black-and-white TV at home, and so did our brother in Alabama.
After taking a three-week break from blogging, I’m happy to be back. In case you missed my blog last week, here’s the link: A Book I Read in June 2026. It tells you a bit of what was going on with me during my absence from the blogosphere most of the month of June.
I got to read three complete books in June after decreasing the number of blogs I was writing every week. It was a welcome change of pace for me!
The Calamity Club, by Kathryn Stockett
The Help, by Kathryn Stockett is one of my all-time favorite books, so I waited impatiently for her to write another novel. I thoroughly enjoyed The Calamity Club, her new release.
The Calamity Club, by Kathryn Stockett
Stockett seamlessly wove together the lives of five women who — how can I put this nicely? — had diverse backgrounds and life experiences. What they had in common was a shared need to survive in Mississippi in 1933 when the country was in the grips of The Great Depression.
I was pulling for Meg at the Lafayette County Orphan Asylum from the beginning. And you can’t help but pull for Birdie as she swallows her pride and travels to visit her sister, Frances, because Frances has married well and will surely give her some money so Birdie and their mother can survive a little longer in the Mississippi Delta.
It turns out that things aren’t what they seem in Frances’ life and Frances and her mother-in-law, Mrs. Startt, have some hard lessons to learn. They are both under the false impression that their lives are not falling apart and surely there will always be enough money for them to live in the manner in which they are accustomed.
Charlie comes along with her colorful and sad past. She comes with lots of baggage but a willingness to work with the others to try to save them all from being penniless. The plan she cooks up will make you laugh out loud even though it is inevitable.
Meg is wise beyond her years and has an endearing sense of humor and a way with words. Birdie seems to be the only one of the adults who has any common sense.
I had really looked forward to this book, and it did not disappoint. Although it is a large book at more than 1,000 pages in large print (650 pages in regular print), when I got to the end I only wanted more.
Having an historical novel in which to dive and get lost in was exactly what I needed last month.
I hope Stockett is already working on her third novel!
Theo of Golden, by Allen Levi
While I was on the waitlist at the public library for Theo of Golden, I read a number of reviews of the novel. People seem to really like the book or really not like it, so I was eager to read it for myself.
Theo of Golden, by Allen Levi
The story is intriguing, and I certainly didn’t want to put it down. The premise of the book is very clever and refreshing.
Theo was born in Portugal, lived all over the world, and in this novel has landed somewhere south of Atlanta, Georgia. That’s about all we know about Theo. He only has the one name, and we don’t know what he does for a living or how he made his money – of which he seems to have more than plenty.
Theo is a likeable old man. He makes a point to make friends with people in Golden. He patronizes a coffeeshop his first day in town and is enamored with the 92 hand-drawn portraits on the wall. This interest in the portraits is something that is carried throughout the book and they are the catalyst for his meeting many people in Golden and learning their stories.
His discovery of the portraits is the inciting event for the novel, and may I say was a clever and “novel” idea on the part of the author. I’ll not tell you about the artist or what happens to the portraits, but it is a delightful story of human kindness and unlikely individuals discovering that they have talents and can excel.
The ending will surprise you.
What a satisfying month of reading I had in June!
What have you been reading? Have you read any of the books I read in June? What did you think about them?
In last week’s blog post, I revealed that I needed to take three weeks off from blogging because I was trying to cope with depression. If you missed it, here’s the link: I’m back!.
When I wrote my June 9, 2026 blog, I had started reading the book I’m telling you about today. This book explained a lot about me. It was an eye-opener.
The Van Gogh Blues: The Creative Person’s Path through Depression, by Eric Maisel, PhD
The Van Gogh Blues: The Creative Person’s Path through Depression, by Eric Maisel, Ph.D.
I started reading this book the last week in May, and it has been a game-changer for me. It was recommended by Rhonda Douglas of Resilient Writers in one of her online classes. Thank you, Rhonda!
I never considered myself to be depressed except for Seasonal Affective Disorder in the fall and winter, but – whether I am otherwise depressed or not – I learned something important about myself in the early chapters of this book.
Dr. Maisel explains how the depression that a creative person often experiences is different from other people’s depression and how it must be addressed differently.
I was reading along and taking some notes, and then I got to page 57. It was then that I had an epiphany. The words on pages 57 and 58 described me. I was so excited to learn this that I couldn’t wait to tell my sister.
She read those two pages and said, “This is you!” That led us to have an honest conversation about why we are so different in many ways.
I learned that, as a creative person, I need to find meaning in everything I do. That’s why I cannot just goof off. (Be careful how you read/interpret the next sentence.) I cannot do nothing. In other words, sitting down and doing nothing would drive me to distraction. If I don’t see the meaning in a task, it irritates and frustrates me to have to do it. While I’m doing that unwanted task, I’m thinking “I could be writing.”
I feel driven to fill all my waking time with an activity that has meaning for me. Otherwise, I am stressed out.
The beauty of what I got out of this book is that it’s all right that I’m made that way and it is all right that everyone else isn’t. I now know why I get frustrated and grumpy (and sometimes very angry) if I don’t see the meaning in what I’m doing. I now understand why my sister can be content to lie on the couch for hours and read a book or play a game on her tablet.
I now understand why it baffles my sister if I decide to clean out a bookcase at 10:00 at night, and she understands why I tend to do things like that. We finally, after living together off and on for more than seven decades, understand why we are so different in the way we spend our time. I can finally accept that it’s all right for her to lie on the couch and read or play games on her tablet, and she no longer has to feel guilty for not jumping up to help me clean out that bookcase.
Living with a writer, artist, or musician can’t be easy for a non-creative. I wonder how many divorces could have been avoided if more people had this information.
Creative people, in general, doubt themselves. Can I write that story? Can I paint that painting? Can I get up in front of people and sing? Can I go out on that stage and perform my part in this play? What if no one likes my story? What if no one buys my book? I’m only fooling myself if I think I can do this. I’m an idiot!
You must tell yourself that you’re better than you think you are. You have done the research. You have practiced. You know your lines. There is someone out there waiting to read your novel.
My explanation is simplified, but if you think you might be struggling with your creativeness or you live with a creative person – or you’re considering spending your life with one – it behooves both of you to read this book. It might just help you understand and accept each other for who you are.
My apologies to Dr. Maisel, in case I have misrepresented the book in any way; however, I will be grateful for the rest of my life for your enlightening me about why I am the way I am.
Reading this book gave me clarity, but my bubble burst a couple of weeks later when the realization of what my life has to be came back and hit me in the face full force. At least now I know why I find it so hard to find joy in picking up limbs and cutting sweetgum sprouts. I’ve also come to realize that I’m depressed in the summer, too, because there is no end to the yardwork and I’m getting too old for this. Besides… I’d rather be writing!.
Janet
“I was okay just a moment ago. I will learn how to be okay again.” ~ Nina LaCour
After taking a three-week hiatus from my blog, I am back today. I’ve given my blog a lot of thought and I’ve concluded that it is not healthy for me to write about politics. I thought I was filling a need – and perhaps I did. I felt like God was calling me to speak up about the corruption and injustices of the Trump Regime. I believe that was what I needed to do for a while.
I wanted the world to know that all Americans don’t agree with Trump. I think I’ve accomplished that in some small way. I have connected in a meaningful way with individuals in Canada, Scotland, Ireland, England, Spain, Thailand, Australia, Egypt, Kenya, and Ghana, and Uganda in addition to the United States.
Those blog posts are out in the blogosphere indefinitely – until something replaces the internet as we know it today. People in 126 countries have read my blog in the last twelve months. That humbles me.
I ended my June 9, 2026 blog post, Post-World War II Ground Observer Corps, with the following words: “Note: This will be my last blog post for a while. There are just more pressing tasks – like sweetgum sprouts — that need my attention. One of the joys of country living. They multiply like rabbits and grow as fast as kudzu. I will sorely miss getting to work on my blog posts every day, but life changes as we grow older and energy is limited.”
The part about the sweetgum sprouts was true, but it was not the whole truth.
When I wrote that post, I had started reading a book that made me realize why I was struggling. (I plan to blog about that book next week.) I was coming to grips with the fact that I had a depression problem.
There. I’ve said it. My life is a bit of an open book. I’m told that readers like that in an author.
Photo Credit: k-mitch-hodge-IqSaG9zv2e0-unsplash
I’m feeling a little better now that I’m on some medication, but this is a new journey for me. It is a marathon, not a sprint.
I’m back now, but I will probably only post one blog most weeks. The habit of blogging four, five, or six times a week – mostly about politics — proved not to be sustainable or healthy for this fragile writer.
These three weeks of not blogging gave me time to read three good books. It gave me time to almost finish writing the first draft of my historical novel. It gave me time to look at the entirety of the historical novels I want to write. It gave me time to start pulling myself out of depression.
I’m spending less time devouring the news and more time listening to music. I’m working on the things that trigger my anger and sorting out the triggers I can control and the ones I cannot.
For instance, I can stop getting angry if someone cuts me off in traffic, but I cannot control Trump’s supporters. I can be frustrated with them and baffled by their beliefs and gullibility, but I cannot “fix” them. My political rants on my blog perhaps opened some MAGA eyes, but I doubt it.
I plan to get my blog back to its original purpose: my journey as a writer. That includes my journey as a reader for to be a good writer one must read – and read a lot. My journey includes the things that distract me. My journey as a writer of historical fiction includes blogging about history.
I don’t know how often I will blog. For the next while, I hope to blog once-a-week. I hope to replace quantity with quality.
Thank you for joining me for the ride. Just know that once in a while, the political science major in me might rear its ugly head. You’ve been warned! I hope I am a better version of myself in the coming months. I hope to bring you a better and less combative blog.
Next week I plan to blog about one of the books I read in June. See you then!
Janet
“I was okay just a moment ago. I will learn how to be okay again.” ~ Nina LaCour
Note: This will be my last blog post for a while. There are just more pressing tasks – like cutting down sweetgum sprouts — that need my attention. One of the joys of country living. They multiply like rabbits and grow as fast as kudzu.
I will sorely miss getting to work on my blog posts every day, but life changes as we grow older and energy is limited.
Today’s blog is about the Ground Observer Corps and what I learned about it when I was writing a local history column for Harrisburg Horizons newspaper.
The Ground Observer Corps was formed during World War II. One source I found indicated than more than 1.5 million civilians volunteered to man 14,000 observation posts in the coastal states of the United States. Another source reported 800,000 volunteers manned the eventual 16,000 observation posts.
There was a Ground Observer Corps post in the little town of Harrisburg, North Carolina, so I did some research about it in 2007 when I was writing a local history column for Harrisburg Horizons newspaper.
Keep in mind that radar detection of aircraft was low during the war, so human eyes on the skies was a way to try to keep our country safe from foreign bombers.
The program was ended by the Army Air Forces in 1944 but was formed again during the Korean War in the 1950s.
Public service announcements were used to recruit volunteers who were instructed to call their local Civil Defense office.
The Ground Observer Corps post in Harrisburg, NC was organized on July 14, 1955 through the Harrisburg Volunteer Fire Department. It was another civic service in which our local general practitioner, Dr. Nicholas “Nick” E. Lubchenko, played an important role.
Presentation of certificates of service to representatives of the Ground Observer Corps Station in Harrisburg, NC January 27, 1959. Pictured, left to right, are U.S. Air Force M/Sgt. M.L. Venable; Emmett C. Sapp, Jr.; J. David Blume; Lt. Col. James Brennan, Ground Observer Corps Coordinator for North Carolina; and P.V. “Pete” Smith.
John David Blume, Sr. was the post supervisor. Plato “Pete” V. Smith was chief observer. Emmett C. Sapp, Jr. was assistant chief. Mr. Sapp’s extensive experience in an Aircraft Battalion in North Africa, Italy, and Germany during World War II made him well-qualified to assist in training the volunteers in Harrisburg.
Volunteers signed up for whatever hours they could be at the fire station. The post had to be manned 24-hours-a-day, seven days-a-week. This was quite an undertaking in a town of just 300 people!
The volunteers constructed an observation tower in 1957 to make observations easier and more efficient. Duke Power Company (now Duke Energy) donated utility poles to support the tower. Mr. Sapp remembered digging holes by hand for the poles to be anchored in. The tower was 15 to 20 feet tall (to the floor of the platform) and the platform was 20 feet square.
Mr. Sapp told me that almost everybody who lived in Harrisburg at the time – men and women – volunteered and played a part in the program. Although primarily concerned about an invasion by enemy aircraft, all plane sightings were reported. “We couldn’t take any chances,” Mr. Sapp said.
Radar detection of low-flying planes improved enough by the late 1950s that the Ground Observer Corps was no longer needed. It was deactivated on January 31, 1959.
If you’d like to read more about the Ground Observation Corps’ operations in Harrisburg, look for Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus History, Book 1 on Amazon and at Second Look Books in Harrisburg. The book is available in paperback and e-book.
Janet
All history is local, but no history is just local
Non-writers have no idea what those of us who try to write books have to put up with.
Not a week goes by that I don’t receive a phone call from someone with a very heavy accept (and I don’t mean Southern) claiming to represent a production company. Every call – and I have received hundreds of them – claim that a company wants to make a movie out of one of my books.
Sounds like an author’s dream phone call, right?
My first book!
There’s a catch. Every single one of them wants to make a movie out of my book, The Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
Does that still sound good?
Not exactly. In case you didn’t know, The Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, by Janet Morrison, is a book of vintage postcards.
Just imagine: A full-length feature film showing vintage postcards!
The latest scams
I was contacted several weeks ago by “Robbie who claimed to be representing the “Stimulating Book Club” in Washington, DC. Robbie said they were interested in reading Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus County History, Book 1 and even referenced several of the topics I wrote about in the book.
Keep in mind that this is a book of local history articles about Harrisburg, North Carolina, some 325 miles south of our nation’s capital.
Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus History, Book 1, by Janet Morrison
The whole thing sounded fishy to me, but I kept reading the email. “Fishy” turned into “You’ve got to be kidding!” when I got to the part that said I only had to pay them $200 to read my book!
Then, this week “Olivia Scarlett” with “The Vermont Book Club” contacted me. (I know Vermont is a small state, but really?)
Believe it or not, The Vermont Book Club wants to read … wait for it… Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus County History, Book 1. Just like “Robbie” of Washington, DC fame, “Olivia Scarlett” also referenced some details from my book – details anyone could lift from the book description on Amazon.
What were the odds?
Granted, I have touted my book of local history as perhaps being of interest to people outside of Cabarrus County, North Carolina; however, for book clubs 325 to 750 miles away to suddenly show an interest in it just a couple of weeks apart, using almost identical wording?
I was born at night, but I wasn’t born last night!
The icing on the cake came when Olivia Scarlett of The Vermont Book Club emailed me again on Friday with a “clarification” for purposes of “transparency”. She wanted to clarify that the $150 her book club charges an author is only a “logistics and promotional fee, which helps cover event organization, marketing, reader outreach, and related expenses. We understand if it’s not the right fit for everyone, but we wanted to be transparent about what the fee is used for.”
Funny… In her earlier email, Olivia Scarlett didn’t mention needing any money.
The gig is up, y’all.
When you contact me as one book club wanting $200, but then contact me as a different book club to clarify what you need the $150 for… you have committed a serious scamming error.
I belong to a book club. At our June meeting, I plan to propose that we have a fundraiser: Require authors to pay us $200 or we won’t read their book. I guess we’ll need to elect a treasurer and open a bank account. Things could get complicated.
Janet
Never take your right to read for granted.
You even have the right to read Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus County History, Book 1 – no matter where you live! After all, as I closed Saturday’s blog post about a D-Day veteran from Harrisburg, “All history is local, but no history is just local.”
Today’s blog post is in honor and memory of all those brave soldiers who stormed the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944 — 82 years ago today. I knew one of them – Mr. Ira Lee Taylor of Harrisburg, North Carolina, and was privileged to interview him in 2007 about his World War II experiences while I was writing a local history column for Harrisburg Horizons newspaper. He was 93 years old.
I offer the following essay that I wrote in memory of Mr. Taylor:
“Memories of World War II”
His 93-year-old blue eyes were clear as his mind was sharp, though his back was bent and he relied on a walker to navigate inside his home. When I called and asked if I could interview him about his memories of World War II, he agreed without hesitation.
Born after the war, I was embarrassed by my ignorance of its details. It seemed that every year in school we started by studying Plymouth Rock and by the end of the year scarcely managed to get to Appomattox.
With pen in hand, I knocked on Mr. Taylor’s door. The only question I had in mind to ask him was, “What did you do in the war?” That question was enough for Mr. Taylor. Over the next several visits, he recounted in amazing chronological order the places he was sent and the things he saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt that forever changed his life. There was a reverence in his voice. We were treading on hallowed ground.
World War II Veteran and Harrisburg Mail Carrier, Ira Lee Taylor
Training for the war was thrilling and boring for a young man from a piedmont North Carolina community of fewer than 300 people. Although he had gone off to “State College” (now, North Carolina State University at Raleigh) and earned a degree in forestry, there was a naiveté about this army draftee that followed him through the battlefields of France, Belgium, and Germany. As he regaled me with his memories of the war, I sensed that many other recruits were as “wet behind the ears” as was Mr. Taylor. They shared a heavy responsibility and had in common the mindset, “You do what you have to do.” No self-pity in that generation!
It took 11 harrowing days for Mr. Taylor’s ship to cross the Atlantic along with other troop and liberty ships. German torpedoes picked off liberty ships on the perimeter of the convoy of more than 100 ships that transported and accompanied the U.S. Army 4th Division to England. The rough ocean made some men so seasick that they said if they survived the war they were going to stay in Europe.
Mr. Taylor recalled the training he got in England for the invasion of Normandy. He just didn’t know that was what he and thousands of others were being prepared for or when their skills would be put to the test. They were ordered to waterproof the trucks in the motor pool by packing something like Play-Doh around the sparkplugs and rigging up elbow pipes to the tailpipes that could carry exhaust up higher than the roof of the trucks in case the trucks were in deep water.
It was a time of “loose lips sink ships” and even journalists understood the necessity for complete secrecy of military plans and troop movements. The soldiers didn’t know much of what was going on in the war, but it wasn’t their business to know. It was their business to train, be ready, look out for one another, and follow orders.
The night before the scheduled invasion, the men of the 4th Division were briefed. They were told that they would make the landing on Normandy and it was expected that 80 percent of them would be killed in the process. They got halfway across the English Channel when a huge storm forced them to return to Plymouth, England.
Twenty-four hours later, Mr. Taylor was on one of the 499 vessels that took part in the invasion. Utah Beach was the code name of the speck of sand on the coast of France where he began his trek across continental Europe. “The beach was filled with black smoke, dust, dirt, and the smell of gunpowder. Boy, it smelled awful!” he said.
Another thing he mentioned that is not learned by reading a history book or watching a movie is the terrible smell of the fatigues the soldiers had to wear for the invasion and for the next several days. The fatigues were impregnated with chemicals to protect the soldiers in case they were gassed.
As Mr. Taylor’s narrative progressed through the war, he spoke of the ground quivering from the concussion of exploding bombs, booby-trapped bodies of American soldiers, countless nearly-impenetrable hedgerows, the French Resistance, foxholes, rumbling tanks, waves of blooming red poppies on Flanders Field, being surrounded at Bastogne in Belgium, The Battle for Huertgen Forest where the pine and fir trees in that beautiful forest were shirred off into matchsticks, shoe mines that would blow your foot off, the snow and cold of the Battle of the Bulge, Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower walking up one day and talking to him like he was just another G.I., seeing the snow-capped Alps, and seeing lots of sights he had tried to forget.
Mr. Ira Lee Taylor of Harrisburg, North Carolina, with his framed military service medals
After a seven-day calm voyage back to the States during which the troops were treated to wonderful food and entertainment and sightings of whales and their waterspouts, the ship Mr. Taylor was on entered New York Harbor. Everyone rushed to one side of the ship to see the Statue of Liberty, but the ship started listing so badly that they were ordered to redistribute themselves on the deck.
Rewarded with a 30-day furlough, Mr. Taylor returned home to North Carolina where he got married and then boarded a bus bound for Camp Butner to be trained for the invasion of Japan. One of the men on the bus had a transistor radio over which came the announcement that Japan had surrendered and the war was over. That’s how close Mr. Taylor came to being shipped to Japan after what he had lived through in Europe.
The 4th Division suffered the third highest number of casualties of any United State military Division (22,600) in World War II. Mr. Taylor considered himself very fortunate to have come home alive. He delivered mail to my house for 32 years until he retired in 1980. It was only in 2007 that I learned that he had taken part in the largest military invasion in history.
If you want to read the whole story and other things I learned while writing the “Harrisburg, Did You Know?” local history column for Harrisburg Horizons newspaper, look for my books, Harrisburg, Did You Know? Cabarrus History, Book 1 and Book 2 on Amazon and at Second Look Books in Harrisburg, North Carolina.
Janet
All history is local, but no history is just local.
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