Cheers!

“Do you want me to knit you something, Valerie? Something cheerleadery.”

“Ahh, Mom, please don’t knit me anything. Seriously. I mean it. It’s completely unnecessary.”

“So, that would be a no?”

“Yes. No. Please, I am begging you not to knit me anything.”

It was a moot point, really. If my mom started knitting me something now, whatever it was she had conjured up that was indicative of a Downers Grove High School Trojan cheerleader would most certainly not be finished until at least after Easter. Maybe Christmas of next year.  She was still working on a crocheted afghan for my brother, who I suspected would have long since graduated from college by the time that task was completed.

“Well, okay,” she said. “If that’s what you want.” Did I hear relief in her voice?

“Besides, I don’t even want to be a cheerleader.”

“What are you saying? Of course you do. I’ve got a permanent headache from listening to you and Katherine practicing your cheers. Why would you put in all that hard work and—”

“I never wanted it, Mom. It was Kit’s idea. And I thought she did really good.”

“Well, Valerie.”

I waited a minute. Then, “Well what?”

“She did well, not good.”

I sighed. “Okay, well. I just went along to tryouts with her because she was a little nervous to do it alone. But I never in a million years thought they would pick me and not . . .”

“Not her? You got a place on the squad and she didn’t?”

“Mom, you can’t say anything to her. Promise me you won’t. It’s crazy that they didn’t pick her. I’m a million pounds heavier and—”

“You most certainly are not heavier. You are just well-rounded, that’s all. She’s too skinny. And frankly, she’s not what I would call a dancer, whereas you are a natural—”

“I’m going to turn it down, but please promise me you won’t say anything to her.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, is this how it’s going to be with you two? When you’re up for congresswoman or a judgeship or chief of surgery, are you going to back down so you don’t hurt her feelings?”

I was flattered that my mother saw me figuratively reaching such lofty heights. My own ambitions, however, stretched even higher, literally: I wanted to be an air hostess for Pan Am. “Promise me, Mom.”

My mother put her arm around my shoulders. “You are a kind girl, Valerie Caldwell. And a loyal friend. Maybe by next year your pal can fatten herself up a bit and get over her klutzy dance moves. But I promise, I won’t say a word.”

I wasn’t sure, however, that I could trust her.

Labor Day Circa 1971

“Do you have any homework, Valerie?” My mom handed me a bowl of Hamburger Helper. It was Friday night, and we were having a family dinner.

“Yes,” I said. “This looks delicious, Mom.”

“How’s school?” My dad used wooden tongs to fill his salad bowl with iceberg lettuce. “Meet any new kids?”

“Yes,” I said, eager to share my recent acquaintance with my family. “There’s a girl called Kit—”

“Kit? Like a kitty cat?” my thirteen-year-old brother interrupted, making a cat-purring sound.

“She’s really nice,” I continued, ignoring him. “Her real name is Katherine. And she’s been to New York, and her mother has a mink coat.”

“Well,” my dad said, shaking his head a little and laughing, “if her mother has a mink coat . . .”

“Right,” I agreed with his logic. “And Kit has had horseback-riding lessons, and she can do a pirouette when she skates—”

“She sounds very nice,” my mom said.

“We want to work on our essays together. Can I invite her over?”

“I don’t see why not. What’s the subject?” My mom peered at me over her glass of water.

“The importance of Labor Day,” I said, with great importance. “What do you guys think it is?”

“A tribute to the American workers,” my Dad replied.

“A day to barbecue,” my brother said. “And no school.”

I stirred my Hamburger Helper. “Kit says it’s important because it’s the last day we can wear white.”

My mother looked at me with astonishment. “Valerie, I like the sound of your new friend. I can already tell she’s going to be one of my favorites.”

Instant Gratification

Following, we list some things we can’t live without. There are many more, of course, but these come to mind instantly, much like the way they perform.

Patty:

Online dictionary. For someone who has been called a wordsmith more than once, I have been pitifully lazy about looking up new-to-me words. But with my phone’s Merriam-Webster app and my Kindle’s built-in dictionary, I have learned the meanings of hundreds of words in recent years. Remembering them is something for which there is no app (and, thanks to my handy-dandy online dictionaries, almost no need).

Smartphone GPS. Anyone who has gone as far as across the street with me knows this is my number one app. Better than any anti-anxiety med could, it enables me to travel locally, nationally, and no doubt globally with (relative) calm and confidence.

Smartphone, period. I still wasn’t taking the marvels of my laptop for granted, when voila! I could hold all the ways I could research, proofread, and promote our books in the palm of my hand.

Roz:

Uber. I live in a suburb of a big city. There is no public transport to speak of, and although we do have taxis, Uber is faster and cheaper—a real godsend for getting to the airport at four thirty in the morning.

Whatsapp.  My whole family lives in England, so free communication to learn what my sister is watching on TV, or to get advice from my brother-in-law on what paint is best, is both instant and invaluable.

Alexa. What time do the Astros play today? What’s the weather going to be tomorrow? And how tall was Napoleon? Alexa, or Siri, as the case may be, are two smart chicks.

What are your top must-haves, instant or otherwise?

Roz Proclaims: You Look Good, America!

Roz

My admiration of America began when I was a teenager living in my native England. It had to do with big houses, mammoth cars, fast food, and a population of really attractive people, most of whom looked like John or Jackie Kennedy. (Remember, I was a teenager, and slightly shallow, so my opinion was based on TV shows and Hollywood movies).

In school my favorite subject was history, beginning with the Roman invasion of Britain in AD 53. I guess with so much to get through, our curriculum never got around to America.

So when I moved here, at the age of 23, I knew practically nothing about the rich history of my new country. I had no idea what the Boston Tea Party was about. Or Prohibition. Or the Louisiana Purchase. I was clueless about Native American people. Or how tough and brave the early settlers traveling west must have been. And let’s not even talk about the Revolutionary War, which a British person probably should have known something about.

Now America is 243 years old, and I am in awe at how much has been accomplished in such a short time. Today I’m proud to be a citizen of this incredible country. After forty-plus years I still enjoy learning about her amazing past and being part of the ever-changing tapestry of these United States.

Happy Birthday, America!

Love and Marriage

Since it’s June, a popular month for couples in love to vow ’til death do they part, we’re taking a brief time-out from murder, mystery, and dead bodies to celebrate young love. And old love. And all love.

Patty and husband John celebrate their 53rd wedding anniversary this month.

Here, we offer one of our favorite passages about love.

  

AS YOU LIKE IT

by William Shakespeare

Act V, Scene II

No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved;

No sooner loved but they sighed;

No sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason;

No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy;

And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage . . .

Loving Our Personal Shopper

So, we take a look at our shopping list and see that we need to purchase the following items:

3 orange Chinese lanterns

6 mermaid stickers

1 pair of boots

Back in the olden days, this would involve driving to many different stores. But, in the wonderful technological age we now live in, it takes just a few clicks of the keyboard, and bingo! Orange lanterns follow us around for the next month or so every time we log on. Boots and mermaid tails appear every time we sign into our Gmail or visit Facebook. The number of options the Internet offers up is surpassed only by the number of hours it would take us to hunt them down ourselves.

Some people complain about being pursued this way, but we say bring it on. We love our personal shopper!

Plus, the savings are enormous because everyone knows you can’t physically go to Hobby Lobby and buy just mermaid stickers.

Meeting of the Minds, in Person

Since one of us lives in Wisconsin and the other in Texas, it’s not possible to meet on a regular basis; but we recently met for a long-overdue face-to-face visit. It was way too short, but our plan was to get a lot done on our work in progress, No. 7 in The Val & Kit Mystery Series, as yet untitled.  We started by posing for a couple of pictures.

Look busy, not clueless (directions from our photographers, Mike and Johnny).

Oh, you mean like this?

Somehow, our regular Skype session seemed more productive, where there is no chance of going out to restaurants, or stopping everything to catch the latest episode of This is Us. While we were together, we met a couple of times with Sarah, our editor, who wanted to know when she will be getting our next book—and could she have a Bloody Mary while she's waiting. (We assured her she has time for two or three.)

But despite the many interruptions, we got a lot of actual work done, together with a lot of laughs. As for all the fun we have . . . we still got it.

Mike, Patty, Roz, Sarah, Johnny