Tag: travel

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What Did You Bring

This month, I’m writing posts from prompts in the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, shared with me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa. Today’s post inspires us to write about what we bring – in our purses, on a trip, to a party, in our suitcases, in our book bags or in our cars.

I’m reminded of our adventure book club that met at Barnstormer’s Restaurant in Williamson, Georgia the. month I couldn’t attend. You read that right. I’m reminded of a memory I don’t actually have. We’d recently finished reading a book entitled The Last Flight, where two women change identities to fly off to new lives but then one plane crashes. This inspired us to meet at our local small airport’s restaurant and actually bring a bag of only the five things we would take if we ever left and were limited in our departure possessions. They had to fit in a tote bag or small personal bag you’d carry when flying. We excluded cell phones, chargers, wallets with money/photos, and medications.

Only thing is, that’s when my father was in Hospice in his final hours and I was out of town – so I heard all about what happened at that book club meeting but was not able to attend. Today, this question for the prompt is timely. What would I bring?

5 Things I’d Bring

I’d bring the tiny obsidian dog

to remind me you knew my heart

I’d bring the silver pearl cross

to remind me you knew my faith

I’d bring the pumpkin bread recipe

to remind me you value tradition

I’d bring the bracelet with the cardinal

to remind me you know transcendending love

of motherhood

I’d bring the memories

to carry you in my heart forever

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How’s the Weather?

This month, I’m writing posts from prompts in the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, shared with me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa. Today’s prompt opens with a quote: “All of the sadness in the city came suddenly with the first cold rains of winter.” – A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway.

Goldberg invites us to write about weather – so I chose a shape poem for today’s writing, using a memory from Route 66, where I was so frightened by the sky I was practically trembling in the back seat. To see the shape, phone must be turned sideways…..(a real twister)…..

In Tulsa, Oklahoma

I’ve lived through hurricanes I’ve walked the eye in one

that came right over me ~ sunshine in the middle ~

but the wickedest weather I’ve seen was in

Oklahoma traveling Route 66 the sky

was yellow gray like a constipated

face only with the fear of the

stomach so ominous

it erased all

memory of

sunshine

Actual footage of the day I was scared
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Favorite Cafes

This month, I’m writing posts from prompts in the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, shared with me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa. Today’s prompt asks to tell about a favorite cafe, diner, luncheonette, or coffee shop. One comes to mind before all others: The Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas on Route 66.

This little retro cafe is not what you’d expect. There’s a lady in there who makes the pies, and she’s the aunt of the young mom who was our server, who told us all kinds of stories about growing up right there and how she’s climbed the windmills before. She took the time to tell us about life in Texas and how she’s from a long line of Texans right there in that town.

I was listening, watching intently, savoring every sense of this place (especially the pie, the pie, the coconut cream pie) and thinking, even as I faced going back to school as an educator, that life right there is some sort of splendid destiny. How many people get to serve their aunt’s delicious pie in a cafe and meet people from all over the world, traveling to see a slice of America? It sounds like it should be the next Hallmark Christmas movie, really, this young single mother swept off her feet by a lost Texan who moved to Chicago to be some kind of an architect and got swallowed up by the CEO and business types but is called back to his home state to design new rodeo grounds and has a flat tire so he stops by for a piece of pie……or something like that.

That’s a place I need to return. I wish they shipped those pies and I could have a slice for supper. Best. Pie. Ever. And….did I mention that I don’t even particularly like coconut? Never have.

But that pie!!!!!

Chime in with your favorite cafe. I’d love to visit all the good ones and know just what to order.

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Open Write Day 2 of 3 July 2025

Today for the second day of the July Open Write, Jennifer Jowett of Michigan and Deborah Wiles of Georgia are our hosts. They inspire us to write I Once Knew poems, using a process they describe at this link. Hop over and read some of the poems that will be eclectic and unexpected. This is one such random poem process that is, what I believe, makes poetry shine and sparkle.

To Be Continued

I once knew Miss Sue

who taught me

how to swim in

her backyard pool

now filled in

with earth and flowers

I once stayed at

The Blue Swallow Motel

with the Swiss dot bedspread

and Moon Pies on the pillows

and t-shirts advertising

refrigerated air conditioning

as I drove Route 66

I swam in the Illinois

cornfield sunset

I swooned over the

coconut cream pie

at the Midpoint Cafe

in Adrian, Texas

I sweltered in the

Palo Duro Canyon

Texas heat

where even the road runners

know to sit in the shade

of the picnic tables

I sweethearted a

photo finish kiss

with my husband at

Cadillac Ranch

I swapped my beaded

quartz bracelet for one

made of turquoise and

mother of pearl

in Albuquerque

at the store with

the red war paint door

because it reminded me of

my mother

I swore to return to

finish the route

to be continued…..

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July Gift Basket for the Bad Ass Book Club

This month, I’m sharing some of Dad’s conversations in his final days, and in one of them that you can hear at the bottom of this post, he revealed a surprising thought about how we feel about folks from time to time. His revelation reminded me of a poem that I wrote recently for a small group of women in one of my writing circles.

My Stafford Challenge group meets the first Monday of each month by Zoom to chat and write together, and we’re a group of women who enjoy reading as much as writing. I’ve been writing a form each month called Gift Basket writing, where I choose three things I’d give a person in a gift basket for that month. This one is dedicated especially to my Stafford Writing Group sisters – Barb Edler of Iowa, Glenda Funk of Idaho, and Denise Krebs of California. At the time I wrote this, I’d recently stumbled across a book club I’d love to join, even for the name alone, and there is actually a summer camp in Maine for its readers – this is a real thing. My dream summer is going to this book club’s summer camp, and I’ve added it to the bucket list.

Bad Bitch Book Club

if I were giving you

a gift basket

I’d make it a

Bad Bitch gift basket

to welcome the storms

of the world~

you’d receive

a t-shirt that says

BAD BITCH BOOK CLUB

complete with

a membership to

the Bad Bitch Book Club

(yes ~ it’s a real thing

with its own dot com)

and a mirror

so you’ll always

see the

baddest of the kick-ass bad

right in the palm of your hand~

knowing your Bad Bitch sisters

have your back!

It’s okay to have a BB attitude sometimes……even my preacher Dad in his final days confessed that there are times we are all a little bit badass. You can listen here:

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Engelheim Vineyards

Like John Muir, I often feel the mountains calling…..and I must go.

I was reminded of a story Dad told about his grandfather who once lived in Gainesville, Georgia, a mountainous area of our home state. Somewhere along the way, a rock marking his homestead was moved from that place in Gainesville by a family member to Dad’s house on St. Simons Island, Georgia, and one day this month, my brother and I will be retrieving it to go to our cousin Kathy Gilmer’s house. Kathy is compiling a book of family stories and will be the next keeper of the rock. I’ve often wondered where my inner mountain calling came from, and now I know how the mountain spirit got in my soul. Over the years, people have asked me how I could move away from the beach. Let me tell you something: densely-populated tourist-thronged beaches ripe with heat and humidity hold no sway over the tranquility of mountains in the early morning when the mist is rising and a veil of silence hangs low before sunrise. The clean air, the cool temperatures, the majestic views, and the vineyards are just as pure as the ocean, without the need for flood insurance.

So I did what any good daughter channeling her inner mountain gypsy would do right after Dad died and there was a space of resetting between the final days, the death, the funeral, and the business of closing down shop.

I rented an Airbnb in Ellijay and took my soul Schnauzer, Fitz, on a dog-friendly vineyard-hopping tour. Our first stop was Engelheim (translation: angel home) Vineyards, where Fitz’s German roots inspired me to order the Riesling, and every last sip was divine.

We must keep our sense of adventure alive…..whether with wine or with travel excursions or with ice cream, as we discussed in some of Dad’s final days of his life. The nurse in the hospital had offered him only vanilla or chocolate, and my brother, sister in law and I were discussing this with Dad. You can listen here:

Engelheim Vineyards

a glass of Riesling with Fitz

perfect afternoon

My vineyard hopping buddy Fitz with a glass of Riesling at Engelheim Vineyards in Ellijay, Georgia – cheers to the German breed and the German wine!
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My Great Aunt Claudine and Her Sawed-Off Toe

Throughout the month of July, I’m using Dad’s stories I recorded in the final weeks of his life to share poems about things that were on his mind. I’m dedicating some of the days in July to capturing what he shared with us that was on his heart in these days – and I’m using the actual words from recorded audio, preserving the wording the way he spun it.

Today, I share his fragmented story of his aunt Claudine, one of his paternal grandmother Lena Mae’s nine children, who lost a toe making lye soap in the back yard of her Waycross, Georgia childhood home. There were three girls and six boys, all told, and my grandfather and his brother Virgil were making lye soap in a big pot in the back yard one day. They were cutting the wood to kindle the fire under the big iron pot where they made the soap, and somehow Claudine’s toe got involved. I’ve heard the story two ways: she lost it and she almost lost it. Depends on who tells the story. In Dad’s version, it was just “cut real bad.” When I called Dad’s cousin Kathy, she assured me that part of the big toe was missing because she’d seen Claudine’s foot. She also said it flew into the chicken yard and nobody ever found it.

As I listened to Dad tell his stories, the repetition of common words and phrases led me to choose the Pantoum form, since that is a form that uses repetition. He also had a notebook he kept at his bedside for writing, and it was heartbreaking to see the plummeting handwriting and broken thoughts, like jagged pieces of thick glass on the page. I’m glad that I captured so much audio during these final days so that I can revisit his voice and put the stories into words. A good friend at work, Janette Bradley, inspired me to do this, and I cannot thank her enough for her foresight.

My Great Aunt Claudine

Claudine was bronze, raven-haired, blue-eyed

she worked at the movie theater

fourteen cents bought a ticket to the show

a few more for popcorn and Coke

she worked at the movie theater

had twin sisters ~ Jeanette and Geneva

a few more for popcorn and Coke

Geneva died young of an ear infection

had twin sisters ~ Jeanette and Geneva

her toe cropped up in a backyard cross-saw

Geneva died young of an ear infection

Jeanette lived on to raise a family

lost part of her big toe making backyard lye soap

fourteen cents bought a ticket to the show

stuck her foot on a stump under a cross-saw

Claudine was bronze, raven-haired, blue-eyed

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Raccontino Poems

My friend Margaret Simon of Louisiana is always inspiring me to try new forms. We write with several overlapping writing groups. Margaret hosts Poetry Friday and This Photo Wants to Be a Poem, organizes Spiritual Thursdays, blogs with Slice of Life, hosts and writes for EthicalELA during #VerseLove and the monthly Open Writes, and is a member of the Stafford Challenge. She has also published several books, and we presented a poetry writing workshop together in April at the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg. She recently posted that the Poetry Sisters had written Raccontino poems, which are couplets of any number where the even-numbered lines end on the same rhyme and the title is expressed in the last words of the odd-numbered lines. I raise a glass to my writing friend Margaret today. You can follow her on her blog Reflections on the Teche. 

Family Vacations

packing suitcases ~ memories to make
experiencing life before we leave

there is no better way to spend our time
than taking a trip ~ a welcome reprieve

from routine demands, a fortress built for
placing importance in what we believe

things we can only learn as we travel
(like setting aside our personal peeves)

savoring now, embracing family
holding presence as belonging we weave

interlocking fingers: togetherness
fastening futures ~ no regrets to grieve

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Storied Recipes

One of Dad’s favorite books was Pat Conroy’s cookbook. I think the reason he liked it so much was that as a teller of stories, Dad found a story about food with every recipe Pat Conroy shared. This was no ordinary cookbook – – it was food for the mind and food for the body. Food with history. Food with heritage. Food to delight the senses and the curiosity. Stories were the appetizer and carried conversation into the main meal.

I thought of our family a lot over the weekend – especially as I was at BJ Reece Cider Company in Ellijay, sampling the ciders and tasted one that was perfectly flavored with mulling spices. I said to my husband, “I like this one, but only for October and November – not June or July.” At first, he’d wondered what I meant. After tasting it, he licked his lips and said, “Ah, yes. I see what you mean.” This cider was called Apple Pie and was described as the perfect sipping cider for sweater weather. They weren’t kidding.

One sip of this cider brought memories of times we gathered at Dad’s sister’s house for Thanksgiving. Mom and Aunt Ann would make us Instant Russian Tea so the cousins could all sip on something while the adults had their own special drinks that made them laugh loudly. Back in the 1970s when Tang Breakfast Drink was all the rage, Mom and Aunt Ann would make a pot of this tea and send all the cousins down to the basement to play board games on the big table while the men gathered around the television for football and the women camped out in the kitchen catching up.

Here is the recipe from my Aunt Ann Downing for Instant Russian Tea.

2 c. Tang

2 c. sugar

1/2 c. instant tea

2 pkgs. lemon Kool-Aid, unsweetened

1 t. cinnamon

1 t. ground cloves

1 t. allspice

Mix and store in air-tight container, and use 2 heaping tsp. per cup, or to taste.

Instant Russian Tea

we celebrated kid-style

clinked cups with cousins

Now that both Mom and Dad are gone, only the memories remain. I’m thankful for those ~ they are what will carry us forward to sustain us. I smiled and closed my eyes for a moment, remembering just a week ago when the cousins all came for Dad’s Celebration of Life. We clinked wine glasses this time, and we are grateful that we are still clinking.

Our parents taught us well.

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June Open Write Day 2 of 3 with Tammi Belko

Tammi Belko of Ohio is our host today for the second day of the June Open Write, inspiring us to write poems about our normalcy. You can read her full prompt here.

Tammi explains the process:

1. Use the word “normal” or another word of your choice.
2. Brainstorm examples or characteristics of that word as they relate to your life or the world around you past or present.

3. Write a poem that defines your chosen word. Your poem may take any form.

Teaching Ideas:

  • Choose nuanced vocabulary words for students to incorporate into their poems.
  • Have students select nuanced words to describe a character from a novel studied in class and use the word in their poem.

Kim’s Normal Poem

the day normal changed

normal changed on Friday the 13th

the way things do

when Dad drew his last breath

my brother and I

had gone home

for showers and sleep

planning to return

shortly

but shortly came sooner

than we’d thought

and the Hospice nurse

called to tell us

we could come spend time

with him before

she called the funeral home

we walked in to find him

under a scripture-embroidered

bright yellow blanket

wearing his Georgia Bulldogs cap

as if he were taking a nap

right before the game

at perfect peace

with the world

as we exchanged

a knowing look:

it would only be normal

for our quirky dad to

wear his velvet-sleeved

doctoral robe

and ball cap straight

through the pearly gates

***

he brought tears

and laughter as folks

realized: this is so Felix!