Springtime for Hitler and Germany

I Just finished reading Footprints on the Horizon by Stephanie Grace Whitson. It was ok. It was on my research list because her period setting is similar to my own novel (WWII, Post-War Nebraska) and I wanted to read some other works to get a feel for how they approached it.

It was published by Bethany House. If that doesn't immediately speak to you, change the name to Zondervan. I have no problems with books including faith and religion, it's not for everyone but, as a Christian, I don't mind. I even believe there are authors who manage to weave it in and apply their character's faith without it being heavy handed, as in the case of Liz Curtis Higgs. This was not one such example. I was kind of miffed when the one Catholic character was (praise the Lord!) saved at the end of the book and converted to Baptist. Apparently, this character became quite fiery and was intent on starting up a revival. Sigh. I have no beef with the Baptist church but a smidge of denominational diversity was not going to hurt anyone.

Those complaints aside this story did raise an interesting point for me. Footprints on the Horizon is set in Crawford, Nebraska, a small town just outside of the Fort Robinson military reservation. Toward the end of WWII, Fort Robinson served as a prisoner of war camp. With the shortage of men, many ranches and farms used prisoner of war labor and it was controversial. Footprints on the Horizon deals with, among other things, the community of Crawford's initial hate and distrust of the German prisoners and eventually coming to befriend them as human beings and not Nazis. It's not a new concept. We all learned in school about the radical freak out about Germans (and Japanese) during the war. Street names were changed to sound less German. Families of German descent were considered suspicious and their shops and stores were boycotted. Anyone having anything to do with Germany was considered to be a potential Nazi. And obviously, every one who fought on Hitler's side was in love with the master race and readily killed Jews. I would hope that, by this time, everyone recognizes and accepts the untruth of those assumptions. Many German soldiers were impressionable young men who believed they were fighting for the good of their homeland. Many soldiers and civilians had no idea about the atrocities going on in the labor camps. Many who were faced with the injustice of neighbors being taken away stood up to defend them. Many were just trying to protect their families. Not every German was a Nazi. Not every Nazi was a barbarous killer. This is not to say that atrocities and injustices weren't done and this is not to excuse those who were "just following orders" and took no moral stand, Nuremburg addressed that. The point I want to make is when we look at German now we don't assume they're a Nazi. We don't shun our Shrader and Zimmermann neighbors because their families hailed from Germany.

So, why do we assume all Middle Easterners are Muslim extremists? Why do we assume all Muslims are attempting to destroy the United States, Christianity, and apple pie? Why, ten years out from the 9/11 attacks, do we still assume that every Muslim American harbors a secret hatred of their country? Well, I don't assume that. Maybe you don't either. There are people that do. There are people who think that burqas should be outlawed because people could be hiding bombs and shit under them. There are people who think that we need to outlaw Sharia law now because otherwise one day we'll all have to answer to it. And there are people who are idiots for all these reasons. Sorry, that wasn't said in Christian love. There are people whom God did not grant much intelligence and whose hearts are the size of the Grinch's pre-Cindy-Lou-Who.

I'm tired of hearing about whether or not a religion is "peaceful". Except perhaps Satanism, which I'm not sure if that's technically defined as a religion or not, I'm pretty sure peace is widely accepted as being a "good idea" by most faiths and creeds. And I have yet to learn of a religion in which violence was not widely implemented as the means of establishing that peace. Christians, we have no room to talk about being a "peaceful" religion. The crusades always come to mind, of course, and you might say, "But that was the Catholics, and everyone knows they're just as bad." And to you I say, "Iconoclasm, witch hunts, Anabaptists, Westboro Baptist Church." So, let's all just check our baggage at the door, shall we? Can we all just get on with our lives following Wheaton's law?

P.S. Why is apple pie so American anyway?

Tour: The Niche

Welcome to The Niche. The new writing room. To make myself come up here and work I decided to gather around me all the things that inspire me. 

The desk is an antique. It belonged to my great-great-grandmother and matches a dresser in our bedroom. It's quite beat up and does not have the width for a normal office chair but I love it. Buddy Holly keeps threatening to replace it with a proper computer desk and I won't let him. I will chain myself to this desk if I have to.

The oriental rug I got from Church. 

My Japanese calligraphy set and dishes.
There's a second dish off to the left.  

My Chinese tea cup.
This was bought from the tea house at the Summer Palace in Beijing.

I have no idea how to justify these trinkets. They were given to me and I love them.
The dog is carved from wood, my grandmother made it for my dollhouse,
styled after our family's golden retriever.

My Anastasia music box.

My parents gave us this frame.

I've never changed the original paper advertisement out of it.

My Japanese prints. A friend from Kobe gave them to me.

Fountains Abbey, Ripon, England - my favorite spot in the world.

My motto.

I set up two cork-boards to pin ideas too. But they were pretty bland, so I made them pretty.

The postcard is from the Opera Populaire,
better known as the opera belonging to one Phantom.

 Snur collected X-Men cards when we were kids. I don't know where they are now but, before they disappeared, I pilfered two cards. One is Domino and, of course, my idol, Shadowcat. 

All that's missing is a couch. And then the writing...of course.

Another Zodiac's Gone Around

The new year came quietly enough. Sparkling grape juice (because it's so delicious and only major Holidays can validate the buying of it in bulk quantities), Dick Clark, and Tim Tam slams made up the advent of my 2012.

What's that? What's a Tim Tam slam? Well, let me tell you. Tim Tam's are a cookie, native to Australia and New Zealand, that can be found in the U.S. from October through March, under the branding of Pepperidge Farm. They're a sort of porous, crisp inside coated in chocolate. They are good in and of themselves but slamming them makes them divine.
Tim Tam Slam:

• Take 1 Tim Tam cookie & 1 mug warm drink (coffee, hot cocoa, cappuccino, etc.) 
• Warm because you do not want to scald your mouth, duly warned.
• Carefully nibble off opposing ends of Tim Tam, so that inside is visible
• Use Tim Tam as straw to draw liquid drink, until Tim Tam begins to disintegrate
• Eat Tim Tam before it falls apart in your fingers
• Achieve Nirvana

Gosh, I'd like to say that my new year resolution is to be the kind of girl I think I am in my head. A girl who makes fantastic salads from fresh exotic fruits and vegetables and likes them more than whip cream and scones. A girl who wears pretty, flowing dresses all the time and is comfortable in them. A girl with hair that curls naturally, who wakes in the morning refreshed and pleasant. A girl that keeps a pristine but welcoming home. Gee, that'd be a great resolution and boy, would I louse it up. I'd love to be that girl. I'd love to dress like the girls at A Beautiful Mess and bake like Joy every day of 2012. But I can't and I won't. I'll be inspired by them and maybe, on the weekend, I'll try my hand at a new recipe or wake up a little early to put on make up for once. But in reality, day to day? I love scones and shortbread and hot chocolate and pumpkin anything, more than I care about being a size 6. I'm a girl who loves white eyelet dresses and bright patterned tights but is most comfortable in jeans and boots and a big, slouchy sweater. My hair is straight and that's all there is to it and I'm a grumpy-gills in the morning. My house was mostly clean for new year, which I considered a personal victory, but there's no less than three pairs of kicked-off shoes in my range of vision, just this moment. So, that's not what I'll be endeavoring toward in 2012 because being honest with one's self is just as important as a resolution.

I actually surprised myself by making a resolution this year. On the last Monday of December, after having driven from my parents house to home (a fourteen hour trek), with very little sleep, I had the brilliant notion that I wanted to finish my novel in the new year. Maybe not have it published, not yet at least, but get it out, done -  a good, mostly draft. I began writing this novel in college and it's been slow going at best ever since. But I feel encouraged this time around. I have a game plan and a reward system. As an incentive, I'm converting our "office", which has been a storage room for important paper items and my desktop since we moved, into a writing room, tentatively known as the niche. (We have a thing for naming rooms things other than what they are or elaborating on the name. We have a Geek Room for all things DND, New Orleans Saints, Knitting, Bookish, and Firefly. We also have a Lilac room, so called because the walls are purple. Eventually it will be repainted but it will probably still be called the Lilac room. It's the spare bedroom, maybe in a nod to Narnia I should call it Spare Oom.) This makeover is being done on the cheap but will include another of my resolutions, file all our important papers and shred the rest. Old cork boards, prettied up with quotes, inspirations, and story ideas, newly framed pictures, and an overall Oriental theme, because I got a rug for free from church with a dragon on it. And sage green is totally my color, my vibe color, my heartbeat at rest, deep thinking, sunshiny afternoon with tea, a blanket and a good book color, my book color. (Deep red is Buddy Holly's color. Together we make brown, which we have a lot of in our decorating). I will also keep tea in this room and I may need an electric tea kettle. I'm hoping to find a chaise or big, comfy, reading chair for the corner. Someplace I can go sit aside and think or where Buddy Holly can do his thing while I'm getting my write on. This room will be inspiring and cozy, it will make me think of mountains and pounding waves, but also homemade cookies and a well-worn couch. This room will have scope for the imagination.

Once the room is finished, I will create a timeline for completion of the book. The year mapped out with important landmarks, completion of a certain number of chapters or plot points, matched with rewards, perhaps themed rewards. All of this will be tacked up on the wall in plain view. Then, of course, I'll have to sit down and actually start working on the damn thing. And, this Summer, a research trip. Fortunately (or not so fortunately), the book is set a few states away and will only require a long weekend. Next time I write a book, I'll have to set it in Norway or Ireland...or DisneyWorld. "But Dahling, (the girl I am in my head talks this way) we have to go. It's for my novel."

What intimidates me most, even with all my careful preparations, is that I'm not miserable. How can I write when I'm not in travail? I am willing to make sacrifices for my writing but I don't want to suffer for it. Is it entirely necessary to starve oneself or fall into the depths of despair? It seems so. It seems all the greats were tortured, suicidal, or held at the mercy of the critics - wracked with doubt, drugs or delusions. But then, I'm not out to be great, am I? I don't want to be Hemingway, Shakespeare, or Austen. I don't need to be a classic. I just want to write. This story is there, inside, and it wants to be written. And when I've finished that one, there will be another. Maybe none of them will see a bookshelf but, if I have anything to do with it (which I do), they'll see the light of day.

Kindred Seasons

It's October. When did that happen?

Saturday. That's when.