Dziadzi's Passing

Death comes to us all. To some it comes sooner and to some, later. Dziadzi, hubby's father, was lucky enough to live a long, long time. He died four days short of his 95th birthday. He did not "go gentle into that good night." He suffered for the last few years. Though his death was expected, it was still sad, especially for Babci, his wife of 71 years--hubby's mom.

Dziadzi means grandfather in Polish. Dziadzi came to this country when he was twenty. Three years later, he met his true love at a small party and married her four months later. They had two children. One of them being my hubby. Hubby's brother passed away several years ago so his parents have relied solely on hubby's help in their difficulties.

Since Babci and Dziadzi lived in Florida and everyone else in the family lives up north, Dziadzi's passing created a logistical nightmare. As soon as we received the news, hubby booked a flight, a hotel, and a rental car. He sent all the information to the rest of the family via email and called as many as he could.

We headed to Florida the next day, arriving late in the evening. The following day was spent scrambling around to make funeral arrangements. The rest of the family arrived in time for the wake. In addition to the family, many of the friends hubby's parents made while living in Florida came to talk about the good times. It's rather sad that it takes a death in the family for us to hold a reunion, but it was nice to see everyone nevertheless. We were so glad that everyone was able to be there for Babci. It truly lightened the sadness in her heart.

Babci held up well during the whole ordeal, probably because she had seen Dziadzi suffer so much for the past few years that his passing was a relief. She is smaller though, a shrunken version of the energetic woman who could dance every Polka at the Polish club where nobody could keep up with her.

The funeral was lovely, dignified, and comforting. The priest's homily was truly inspired. The hymns were old favorites and included a Polish Christmas carol.

The repast may have been a little crazy--we settled for the Golden Corral--but everyone had their choice of food. It just so happens that the Golden Corral was one of Dziadzi's favorite places as well as Babci's favorite, too. I can remember Dziadzi's joy at having the wide variety of desserts. He did not eat much of the meat and vegetables but he satisfied his sweet tooth.

Of course, Dziadzi with his heavy accent never called it the Golden Corral--he called it the Golden Coral. :^)

Most of the grandchildren left the day after the funeral, although Daughter #3 and her hunny spent an extra day during which we occupied Babci by taking her on a cruise on the Miss Daisy to check out the stilt houses in the Gulf and watch the dolphins cavort around the boat. The weather was glorious and the dolphins' antics brought Babci a smile.

Monday came and the real work began. Hubby and I took Babci to the Social Security office and the bank. We wrote out thank you cards. By Tuesday, we waded in papers searching for insurance policies and bank statements. While Babci never throws anything out, it wasn't in any discernible order.

We aren't finished with the paper tasks. It will take some time to settle everything properly. In the meantime, we will be searching for an assisted living facility close to our home. We intend to move Babci up north with the rest of the family. Florida is a great place to be if you hate winter, but it is too far when you are old and feeble.

Hubby and I left sunny Florida and flew home to snowy New Jersey, but the snow was light and fluffy, covering the branches and lending the landscape the look of an enchanting winter wonderland.

I'm glad to be home.

Toys from the Past

This is a very ancient photograph. It is actually a black and white image that my mother colored with special, transparent oil paints.

Yes, there was a time when there was less color in the world. No color television and no color photographs, but we did without.

That's me on the right. I don't look very happy, but I do remember loving that toy. I remember the name of it--Golden Arrow. I do not remember my brother's little firetruck--probably because he never allowed me to sit in it. :^)

Toys were a lot simpler back in those days. I had dolls, a doll house, and a tea set. My brother had trains and guns, but I played with those, too. He was a cowboy, I was a cowgirl. I made boiled potatoes on my little play stove. He was Davy Crockett with his coonskin cap. He was Superman and broke his arm when he jumped off the porch. I was not as daring.

Do you remember what your favorite toys were when you were young?

For What It's Worth

I became serious about publishing over twenty-five years ago. I started writing at the age of nine, but it took a long time before I really got the itch to get my books published. First, I had to get an education, then I had to get a job, then I married the love of my life and popped out three daughters. Then the publishing bug hit me--and it hit full-force.

After my first rejection, I joined a professional writers' organization where I was inundated by tons of advice. I now belong to three professional writers' organizations. I've read innumerable books about writing and publishing and I have no doubt I could write my own non-fiction book about publishing--but I won't.

Writing is a solitary act. A fiction writer makes up stories and then commits her waking dream to paper. There is no right way to do it. Every writer has a different method. Some are very organized and plot everything in advance of the actual writing. Some are very unorganized--being quite free and loose about the process. There are many writers who use some of each system. It doesn't matter how the writer gets the job done, but she must have a good story and there should be no grammatical errors.

However, while a writer may believe she has written a good story, a publisher--or agent--will not necessarily agree with her. I could wallpaper a room with my rejections and so could most published writers. It can be very discouraging to get rejection after rejection. I have seen plenty of writers give up.

I did not give up. On the other hand, I did not wait to be published by one of the big publishers. I took what I could get. When e-publishing came into being, I jumped on the bandwagon. It made sense to me even if it didn't make sense to most people at the time.

So I was published, though in the opinion of those who were published by the big publishers, I was not published. I didn't care. Nevertheless, I continued to go to writing workshops and conferences. I took notes and carefully decided what was good and useful advice for me. My family and my real job came first. Of necessity, writing had to take a back seat. Nobody can do it all at the same time. There should be balance in one's life. It should not be a juggling act. I had my priorities and I stuck with them. I still do. I do not regret it at all.

Naturally, I did not make much money, but I had fun writing stories when I could squeeze in the time. Writing is a blast.

Despite the fact that smaller publishers thought my books worthy of publication, I still could not get a big publisher to give me a contract. Yes, I continued to get rejected. But I won two EPPIE Awards and was nominated for a Reviewers Choice Award.

Then e-publishing exploded. Now anyone can be published. I republished Prince of the Mist on my own. It had been originally published by New Concepts Publishing. I gave it a new cover and uploaded it. I am not getting rich, but the book is selling.

I may publish another book on my own if I believe in it and several publishers do not. Publishers have proven to be rather shortsighted when it comes to choosing books. Still, there are many advantages to having a publisher. Publishers edit books and give them covers. Of course, sometimes publishers give books really horrible, rotten covers. :^(

For what it's worth, my advice to new writers is to join a professional organization. Attend workshops and conferences. Shift through all the information and decide what is right for you. Do not abandon your husband, children, or your regular job to become famous. The odds are against you. However, if you don't give up, if you write well, and you keep your ear to the ground for breaking news in the publishing world--you can be like me.

Satisfied.

Superstitions

Since it's Friday the Thirteenth, I thought this video would be appropriate. :^)

Be a Fan, Win a Tote Bag and Books

I need to get rid of stuff and declutter my house, but I also need new fans. The solution is another contest.

This contest is open to anyone in the United States because the shipping costs are going to be incredible.

If you want to be a winner, you must LIKE my Facebook fan page at:

http://www.facebook.com/penelopemarzecbooks

You must also comment below this post.

There will be six winners. Each winner will receive a tote bag and each bag will come with two books by variety of authors and one copy of my own Sea Of Hope.

The results of the contest will be posted here and at my Facebook fan page. The contest will end next Friday, January 13, 2012.

Hildie is the one and only winner of this contest. Thank you, Hildie!

How Many Did You Read?

Shelfari has informed me that I read 20 books this year while last year I read 22. Clearly, I am a slacker. I do have valid excuses. The first half of the year was a real trial. Plus I also write books, which includes revising, all that grammatical editing stuff, and tons of promotion. Nevertheless, I wish I had made a bigger dent in the stack of books I fully intend to read. I have ebooks waiting for me to read as well, but fortunately, they don't take up much room. :^)

The sad fact is there are so many books and so little time.

How many books did you read this year?

In Perfect Harmony

Dear Santa,

I haven't written lately because I thought I had all I need. However, this year taught me a few lessons because it was particularly difficult. I have discovered that there is one thing I would dearly love but it is beyond my capabilities to obtain.

I would like PEACE. I know that's a tall order, which is why I am writing to you. I know people have been fighting each other since the dawn of time. Unfortunately, I've found raging hatred isn't only a problem between different countries, there's a disturbing amount of hostility and bitterness in our own United States.

There are people in my community who have beautiful homes, plenty of food on their tables, and who drive much nicer cars than the one I drive and yet they hate their fellow Americans. What's worse is their total lack of compassion for those less fortunate.

They are scary. The land of the free and the home of the brave is beginning to resemble the land of the mean and the arrogant.

Can you soften their hard hearts? Can you somehow make them realize how blessed they are? Can you heal their souls and take away the hatred that is not only eating them up inside but poisoning our own beautiful land?

I know this won't be easy, but since you're magical maybe all it would take would be a sprinkling of enchanted glitter. Or maybe a song would do it. You know, the kind that gets stuck in your mind.

I sure hope you can help me out. I'll leave some oat shortbread by the fireplace. Give my best to Mrs. Claus.

Thanks.

Love,
Penelope