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Life is a Train Wreck

I hit a train broadside on the way to an Amway meeting. I saw the train, I hit the brakes, but it was too late. I remember the sound of the whistle, the feeling of flying through the air, and then nothing. And then I was conscious. Before the ambulance arrived a black lady crawled into the back seat, leaned over the seat and talked to me and prayed for me. I don’t know where she came from, but she stayed right with me until I was in the ambulance. I never found out who she was. I have sometimes wondered if she was an angel. The list of injuries included broken arm, broken ankle, broken ribs, cuts and bruises and a bruised kidney. After I was sewn and splinted up and in my hospital room I had the usual stream of visitors: family, neighbors and curiosity seekers. One visitor was the woman who’d recruited me into the “Amway family.” When I told her I was not going to sell their products anymore she left and I never saw her again. Today I do not remember her name. Anothe...

Girl's Empowerment Day

Yesterday I participated in a Girl’s Day of Empowerment at Franklinton High School. I and three other ladies manned the Franklin County Arts Council booth to answer ninth grade ladies’ questions about our careers in the arts. It was the first I’d heard about Girls Empowerment programs but a quick Google search reveals schools and civic organizations are sponsoring these celebrations of womanhood all over the country. At first thought it seems a little sexists. Why just girls? It is a little sad to think that the females of our species have such over-all low self-esteem that we need a day to remind us we can be powerful and successful in whatever we wish to be. But if it helps girls feel they CAN, then it’s a good idea. My two books, Pale as the Moon and An Independent Spirit , have strong female leading characters with “I CAN” personalities. Gray Squirrel, a fictional character in Pale as the Moon , had a quiet spirit, but was able to rescue a small group of English colonists thr...

Inspired by Wild Horses

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The inspiration of my children’s books, Pale as the Moon and An Independent Spirit , are the wild horses of North Carolina’s Outer Banks. There are five main locations where the horses live: Corolla, Ocracoke, Cedar Island, Carrot Island, and Shackleford Banks. The wild horses I am most familiar with are the ones managed by the Corolla Wild Horse Fund. The horses have been designated North Carolina’s Official State Horse. North Carolinians cherish the horses for the part they have played in our heritage. When you think about it, had it not been for horses we would not have gotten very far in exploring and settling the New World. The horse helped us in our work, farming, transporting goods, in war and peace. And it all started with the tough, small, Spanish horses first introduced to the continent by European explorers. It is a tribute to their toughness that descendents of those first horses still roam freely in parts of the North Carolina Outer Banks. But development and so...

Hope Springs Eternal

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Springtime seems more and more a symbol of hope each year that I survive another winter. It’s not like I am living in the pioneer days where surviving winter really was a life or death experience, literally keeping the wolves at bay or having to find food in the middle of a blizzard. I read those stories when I was a child and loved how those strong and determined people of our early American history overcame all the obstacles nature put in their way. No, I live like a princess compared to those stories. But, as I grow older the winters seem colder and dreary wet days make me depressed. So, I am a big fan of spring! The first warm days of March I make a beeline for the home supply stores, Lowes is my favorite, to buy plants. Yes, I know its too early and I’ll probably have to cover them up when another cold spell tried to keep a hold on winter. But, there is where the hope comes in because I know spring is right around the corner. In April I start thinking of what annu...

Flying South for the Winter

They set out on a winter’s day, heading south. They’d had enough of winter with its cold winds, snow and ice. That was no way for a bird to live. Maxine fussed around packing her suitcase while mallard looked over the map one more time. South covered a lot of territory and he had to be sure he was leading the flock to good feeding grounds. He’d heard the Carolinas were nice in the winter. And all he had to do was follow the coastline. The marshes at the point of Cape Hatteras and further south on Core Banks were game refuges and his flock could bask in the warm sun while they fed on tiny shrimp and grains of beach grasses. He could hardly wait to start. “Did you hear the weatherman? There is a nor’easter blowing on the Carolinas,” Maxine shouted from the bedroom. “Drat. We will have to wait till that moves off shore to start, then,” Mallard called back to her. “No way, Mallard Q. Duck. I am ready to go, and go we shall. Just lead us around it. We can skirt the edge and go on down to th...

Crime of Passion

I saw her standing there with vacant eyes; blood all over her white organza dress. Taylor lay at her feet in more blood. I backed away slowly, the way they say you should move away from a rattlesnake about to strike. I prayed the privet hedge shielded me from being noticed by Virginia O’Donald, but I don’t believe she’d have seen me if I’d been standing right in front of her face. She was totally out of it, in another world. I saw and heard the whole thing. Taylor and Virginia were engaged to be married. The wedding date was set for mid June, just a few weeks away. Everyone knew Taylor was a womanizer and had only asked Virginia to marry him because of her money. Everyone knew except Virginia, and really she knew deep in her heart all these things were true. But she was head over heels in love with the heel, and like they say, “Love is blind.” If only tonight Virginia had been blind. Virginia was walking in the garden to get away from the crowd for a moment. I had done the same and was...

Monty

Donna Campbell Smith Monty He was the epitome of the word mutt. A medium sized dog covered with beige, curly hair. He had a long tail that wagged incessantly. He took up at our next-door neighbor’s house and they generously “gave” him to me. Mama let me keep him, but he had to stay outdoors. I don’t remember how old I was, but I was in school and I think old enough to have read Lassie Come Home. I was in love with this dog. For some inconceivable reason I named him Monty. He was just like the dogs I’d read about in books. Monty followed me everywhere I went whether I was on foot or my bicycle. But the thing that clenched our relationship and told me this dog truly did love me was this: Monty was always sitting at the corner of our block waiting for me to come home from school. Now, that is love. That is also when I began to know that animals had a gift humans did not have. He knew the time and didn’t even have a clock. Monty was my introduction to responsibility. I had to feed him myse...