One Christmas Day

Today I'm posting over at Inscribe Writers Online about my memories of one Christmas Day.

Merry Christmas!

MERRY

CHRISTMAS!

My hubby, Sunshine and I are headed south to see our families for the Christmas holidays. One good thing about being a teacher--he gets two weeks off! So I'll see you in January... I hope you have a blessed Christmas, with lots of snow, family, and food!

Book Review: The Great Karoo

The author’s name jumped off the book cover at me, though I had to think for a minute about how I knew Fred Stenson. Then I remembered I have a book of his about writing fiction, and so, intrigued to see how the man who talks about writing fiction actually writes fiction, I picked up the book. The Great Karoo is the story of an Alberta regiment who fights in the Boer War of 1899-1902.

I had to look up the Boer War in my history book, since it had formed such a small part of the course that I barely remembered it. The British and the Boers had a brief skirmish in 1880-81, in which the Boers successfully resisted the British and established the Transvaal Republic. In 1899, the British went to war again, attacking the Boer “rebels” in an attempt to establish an empire that stretched across Africa.

Canadians, Australians, and New Zealanders joined the fight, though many of them didn’t even know why they were fighting. Canadians were divided about the war and their feelings on British imperialism, but 7300 men eventually went to fight, and 245 died there. The British started with several successes, but the Boers had the advantage of knowing the country. They began a practice of guerrilla warfare, and to retaliate, the British burned farms and put women and children into concentration camps. Finally in 1902, when everyone was tired of the war and the Boers had given up, the Treaty of Vereeniging ended the war.

The Great Karoo by Fred Stenson

The Great Karoo begins in southern Alberta, where young men are excitedly enlisting for the war. Frank Adams is the main character, a man whose motives for heading to war remain uncertain. The men go through training camps in eastern Canada and then survive seasickness on the voyage across to Africa. There, they begin wandering through The Great Karoo Desert in Africa, following general’s orders, and trying to keep their horses alive through the desert marches.

They haven’t been in Africa for very long before Frank begins wondering why he and those he knows from Alberta joined the army. Fred Morden is a cocky, confident leader, one who seeks to become a hero in the war. Jefferson Davis is a halfbreed who wants to kill Boers to earn the approval of his future father-in-law. Ovide Smith is a quiet man from Quebec who talks little and grows angry at the army’s treatment of the horses. Frank is caught up in the excitement of the battles, grows weary by the extended marches, and then becomes angry as his comrades begin to die.

His motives for being in Africa change again when he falls in love with a Boer girl. Alma barely speaks any English, yet she is hungry for a man’s love. Frank is convinced he loves her, and when he must leave her, he tells himself she’ll wait for him, that when the war is over, they can be together. He no longer wishes to fight or kill Boers and tries to avoid any duties that would make him do that. And when Alma and her mother are put into a concentration camp, he goes across Africa to find her—only to find that, like the war itself, Alma isn’t what he thought she was.

Throughout the novel, Frank seeks friendship, first from Ovide, then from Jeff. He wants to feel that they are buddies and will look out for each other. However, when he fails to do this for Ovide, he sinks into depression. As he and Jeff begin working together, Frank slowly realizes he cannot be responsible for Jeff, that Jeff will make his own choices. When Frank’s beloved dun mare is stolen by the Boers, he’ll do anything to get her back—even risk a court martial for desertion to go look for her.

Fred Stenson makes the Second Boer War come alive through the characters. He shows the generals and commanders, their goals and motivations. He shows the gore of war, as well as the stubbornness and greed that drove men to slaughter each other for fame and wealth. And he shows the average soldier who joined the army to find adventure and then realizes that adventure of that sort isn’t what he wanted. The Great Karoo is a fascinating story of a little-known bit of Canadian history.

Writers-on-Wednesday: Kimberley Payne

Kimberley Payne is a fellow Inscriber and a motivational speaker and author. I chatted with her a few months ago when I participated in a series of fitness interviews she was doing for her blog, Fit for Faith. Kimberley has managed to combine two of her passions - faith and fitness - in an interesting and dynamic way!

How did you become a writer?
I started writing in grade school with poetry. Encouraged by the annual Remembrance Day writing contests, I continued playing with poetry for years.

Journal writing came easily to me and my parents loved reading about my adventures on the Quebec French exchange and other sole trips as a teenager.

My schooling and jobs required me to hone my writing skills over the years.

But, it wasn’t until 2001 when I felt the “call” to write. I had moved to a new town, with no friends or family. I spent many hours journaling. Speaking to God through my writing, I felt Him say, “Write to bring other’s closer to Me.”

Since then, I’ve dabbled in both non-fiction and fiction. I’ve written a non-fiction workbook, articles, poems, and devotionals. Currently, I am working on a novel.

What inspires you to write?
I am most inspired to write when I can relate raising a family, pursuing a healthy lifestyle, or everyday experiences to building a relationship with God.

What author do you admire and why?
An author I admire is Phil Callaway. I believe that to be a humorist requires a stronger backbone than any other type of writer. Many people dismiss humour as frivolous and do not take the writer or the written material seriously. Phil is not only funny on paper, but he’s hilarious on stage as well. This, in my eyes, is pure genius.

Christmas Preparations

It may seem a little strange that it is already the third Monday in Advent and I haven't made a single comment about Christmas. I'm sure somebody could tell me how many shopping days are left until Christmas (seven?) or how many hours until they open their presents on Christmas Day. It's not that I've been completely unaware of the approaching celebration or that I'm one of those "Grinch" types. It's just... sneaking up on me.

Last year all of my December posts had a Christmas theme. Maybe it had something to do with working in an office, where we took any excuse to celebrate and so as soon as December rolled around, so did the tinsel and Christmas baking. This year, I thought about putting up a Christmas tree—and then thought about having a nine-month-old baby who is learning to crawl and walk and get into things. I'm sure Sunshine would love a Christmas tree, and just as sure that I wouldn't love pulling her away from it every five minutes.

On Sunday, I taught the children's liturgy. The theme was preparing and waiting for Christmas, as that is what Advent is all about. I asked the kids how they prepare for birthday or visitors, and I started thinking about how we prepare for Christmas.

I've done some Christmas baking—pumpkin cheesecake, gingerbread cookies, shortbread. Our Christmas shopping is pretty much done, as my husband and I have made a habit of doing it throughout the year, when we see something that makes us say, "Hey, your mom would like that!" or "That's totally my brother's kind of thing." The presents are even wrapped, which was quite a feat, since Sunshine wanted to play with the paper. I sewed her a Christmas dress; it's dark green with gold print on it, and white and gold lace on the hem and sleeves. The colour suits her brown hair and eyes, and the dress makes her look like a little lady. I even managed to write and mail out a Christmas letter this year!

But beyond all that, I feel like Christmas is coming whether I'm ready or not—and maybe I'm not. Oh, I am excited. Excited to go away for a couple weeks, to see family for longer than a couple hours. Excited about Sunshine's first Christmas and how much fun she'll have playing with ribbons and bows and wrapping paper and with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. And yet I find myself thinking that I'm excited for what we've made Christmas, and not for the real reason behind the celebration.

Jesus. Where in all the family, presents, and baking—all good things!—do I find my Saviour? Last year, I dug through stacks of cards at a department store, trying to find just one card that actually said "Merry Christmas" instead of something generic like "Happy Holidays." Yet if I can't find ways myself to remember that Christmas is about Christ, then I might as well just say "Season's Greetings." Tonight, we're going to Confession at the church, and I'm looking forward to that—to taking the time from all the worldly preparations for some spiritual preparation for Christmas, so that I can come before the babe in the manger and give Him a clean heart.

A Few Quick Takes

I usually try to post on Fridays, but yesterday I couldn't come up with anything to post about. And today hasn't been any better. All I have are short, random thoughts, so like Jen, I'm just going to give you some "Quick Takes."

After a couple weeks with no snow, we got a snowstorm on the weekend (like most of the province). I try to stay on top of the shovelling, because we have a very steep driveway and I don't want it to get icy. So one morning this week, I went out to shovel. Sunshine sat in her snowsuit watching me, and I got half of it done before she decided she'd had enough of that. I shovelled the other half while she napped later. When my husband got home, and asked me what I'd done that day, I thought it should have been obvious. "I shovelled the driveway," I said. He grinned at me and answered, "There's more snow on it." Mother Nature got ahead of me! So we got our evening exercise by shovelling again, and it hasn't snowed since then.

The best way to cheer yourself up? Play peek-a-boo with your baby until she is laughing her head off. Or tickle her. Or for that matter, tickle another baby and your baby will laugh anyways because she's used to you tickling her. :)

What do you do on a Saturday afternoon, when your Jeep is in the shop getting its gas gauge fixed, and it is -30* outside, and you live in a small town where there isn't much to do beyond renting movies or watching curling, and you have a busy 9-month-old baby? Then again, if you've stayed up until midnight the night before watching a movie, then you can just have a nap when the baby does...

And sometimes, typing while keeping a baby away from the printer paper, keyboard, pens and note paper, mouse, DVDs, your glass of water, the mouse pad, and other miscellany around the computer, is a lot of work. Especially when said baby is tired and refuses to get put down to play with her blocks or rubber duckies. But when she sits quietly on your lap, hands planted on the desk, and goes "lalalala" while she watches you type, it's cute. However, it's also bedtime. So good night!

Writers-on-Wednesday: Mary Haskett

Every once in a while, I hear of a book that I really want to read. Mary Haskett's novel The Reverend Mother's Daughter is one of those books. It tells her own story, of being raised by the Mother Superior of an order of Anglican nuns. Mary is a fellow Inscriber whom I've met only over the email listserve and who agreed to answer my questions.

How did you become a writer?
I loved writing as far back as I can remember. By age six I was writing simple little poems. Later I wrote songs; one was about a little girl called Mary May who escaped her hard life by going to live with the fairies! Upon reflection, that could have been my own subconscious desire. I loved books and determined I would write books when I grew up. I had a little note pad and a list of best seller titles, none of which I can remember now, besides I didn’t even know about best sellers, I just knew I wanted to write. I excelled in English and composition, but I won’t tell you about my math! I think my first foray into writing was updating a booklet on the history of my church and that was followed by an article in the local paper about my church. I took some evening courses at UWO and met a woman in the class who had been my son’s math teacher. Fortunately she was only interested in writing. We joined a writer’s group where a dominant personality wrote opinion pieces and rebuttals to a major paper and made us feel so inadequate we quit the group. Praise God I found InScribe and some very encouraging folks like Marcia, Mary Waind and Glynis Belec. Do I digress?

What inspires you to write?
I find myself weaving stories around every scenario. My husband laughs at me analyzing people and situations when we are out. Before we reach our destination I have a plot with these unwitting characters in a story. I also draw a lot from my own experiences in life. Definitely reading other authors is inspirational. And my own writer’s group inspires me tremendously. When they are writing and publishing, it somehow makes me want to keep up with them.

I have to mention Dan Penwell here, acquisitions manager for AGM publishing in the States. He read my work at a conference and was so complimentary. He asked me to submit a book proposal to him. My proposal was not accepted, but his rejection letter was so kind. He took time to explain that out of 2000 proposals only five were accepted for publication each year. But he told me I was a very good writer and to keep at it. This week I decided to email him, thank him for his encouragement and tell him how far I’ve come. He responded right away! :)

What author do you admire and why?
It is almost impossible to cite one author. I’ve read hundreds of books in my lifetime and admired many authors. In my preteens it was Enid Blyton and her stories of four children and their dog. The stories were set in England and the four had adventures outwitting spies, robbers and smugglers. Her books were page turners and certainly birthed in me a desire to write.

And then as a teenager and young adult, I continued to enjoy books in the same vein: John Buchan with his adventure novels, like Green Mantle, Hunting Tower and The Thirty Nine Steps. I also loved the Bronte sisters and especially Charlotte’s, Jane Eyre. Frank McCourt is another favourite; his book Angela’s Ashes tells a tale of abject poverty, but at the same time the story had me crying with laughter; Phil Callaway has that same ability.

Another author who inspires me is Jan Karon, with her stories about Mitford and her delightful descriptions of the town and its characters. Who wouldn’t love Father Tim!

Currently I’m reading The Silver Chalice by Thomas B. Cotstain, a novel of yesteryear, but beautifully written with detailed description of life after the death of Jesus.

I suppose I cannot name a particular author whom I admire. I admire so many.

Of Traders and Travellers

Breathing deep and heavy, I push my legs to carry me the last few feet to the summit of the hill and then, breathlessness forgotten, I stand there and surveyed the surrounding valley. In front me, Jasper sprawls beside the highway, its red and yellow and white houses competing with the evergreens and elk for space. Whistler’s Mountain towers just to the left of the town, capped with the tram house. The Athabasca River twists its way between grey pebble banks, its water milky white with the spring runoff, as it passes under the green steel bridge that carries tourists to the trail to Jasper’s best viewpoint. In my mind, I wipe it all away, and try to imagine the white men who first came through this valley, following Native trade routes and, unlike tourists today, avoiding any mountain climbing because it was too much work.

The Rocky Mountains feature among the world’s most spectacular scenery. From jagged cliffs spearing blue skies to green rivers tumbling over rocks to the majesty of a male elk wearing his antler crown with pride, the mountains attract, challenge, and amaze us. Yet it wasn’t so for the first white men to see them. A few hundred years ago, the mountains represented an obstacle to be overcome in the fur business; rivers were a means of transportation, and the beautiful waterfalls that now draw thousands of tourists were problems to be portaged around; the elk that has traffic backed up for miles along the highway was dinner to the hungry voyageurs.

Those first traders, voyageurs and explorers saw the mountains from hundreds of miles away, as tourists still do today. My family frequently drove the Highway 2 from Edmonton to Calgary during my growing up years, and we always watched for the mountains to the west. As we neared Red Deer, Mom would tell the story of how Anthony Henday stood on Antler Hill and caught his first glimpse of those mountains in 1754. He was searching for an easy route across the continent to take furs back to Europe, but when he saw that formidable barrier, all he said was, “This isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”

Nor was it as hard as he thought either, for there are passes and valleys through the mountains. Today’s visitors to Jasper are surprised by a sign that stands by the TransCanada Highway, at a place where the mountains are just beginning to appear on the horizon. The sign announces that this round hill, covered with a rolling carpet of evergreens as the hills in all directions are, is Obed Summit, and it is the highest point on the Highway. That seems surprising, because the Summit isn’t even in the mountains yet. But after the highway passes the Summit, it winds its way through the valleys to Jasper, following a nearly flat route that all the traders would have approved of.

As I drive that curving highway, my eyes are often drawn from the road to the peaks of the mountains towering on either side. I try to trace with my eyes a path to the top, wondering what’s there, what I might see. From the top of Whistler’s, there is a 360* view of mountains in every direction, peak after peak after peak, each one unique. Some cover themselves in snow and others hide themselves in cloud. Mount Edith is distinguishable by her height and the bars of snow and rock across her face. Pyramid Mountain could be transported here from Egypt, as it sticks its red triangle—now adorned with a pointy radio tower—into the sky.

The highway and railway curve past Pyramid Mountain to Jasper and then around Mount Edith and further into the Rockies, carrying people and goods with an ease that would have amazed David Thompson. He spent most of his career searching for an easy way to get over the Rockies, to reach the furs on the other side and take them back to Montreal. When Indian rivalry made his first trade route impassable, he ventured north and discovered the Athabasca Pass in 1811. Today, only hikers cross the pass, but for forty years after David first went over it, it was the highway through the mountains. A small, turquoise green pond in the pass is called The Committee’s Punchbowl, because here the traders stopped to toast their successes.

I’ve hiked through much of the backcountry in the Rocky Mountains, carrying all of my food and gear on my back, and I can appreciate the traders’ desire for a flat, easy route. I imagine that the places I’ve seen are much as they saw them, unchanged except by a few more human footsteps and a few amenities like outhouses and bear poles. While the traders were pushed by weather and competition to get over the mountains, my hikes are bound only by the need to get into camp before dark. So I stop, lean my pack against a fallen log, and stare at a glacier that has been retreating since the first white men saw it. I dip my feet into the rivers that carried the explorers on their journeys. And I watch the bears, eagles, goats, and marmots with as much excitement, though they mean neither food nor furs to me, but only the awe of nature.

Writers-on-Wednesday: Bonnie Grove

Bonnie Grove is a fellow Inscriber and blogger whose debut novel, Talking to the Dead, is being released in the summer. On Fiction Matters, she talks about her novel, writing, and why fiction matters to all of us. In January, along with six other authors, she's launching a new blog, Novel Matters. Her enthusiasm for writing and reading are contagious, and I'm looking forward to meeting her at the 2009 ICWF Fall Conference, where she'll be one of the keynote speakers.

How did you become a writer?Beats me! Talk about your accidental tourist; that's me. I meant to become a psychologist. I took a job developing strength based programs for families at risk. When my contract expired, I realized much of the programming I had developed needed to be made available to a wide audience. So I wrote a proposal and submitted it to a publisher. They accepted! That book, Your Best You: Discovering and Developing the Strengths God Gave You is available for pre-order anywhere you buy books online.

Meanwhile, we moved to a new city and I needed to be home with my young children in order to help them transition. Hubby and I prayed, and we felt that God was opening a door for me to write a novel. I did. I shopped it around and found a few interested publishers. That's when it hit me; I have NO idea what I'm doing! Thanks to a friend who was willing to stick her neck out for me, I was introduced to a marvellous agent who signed me, and sold the novel and a second one as well (I'm currently writing my second novel). That novel, Talking to the Dead, will be available June 1, 2009.

What inspires you to write?I love stories. I am THE best audience ever. Tell me a story and I'm yours. I'll sit, dreamy-eyed, and listening until you say, "The End." On top of that, I'm big into research. When I find a topic that interests me, I'm off and running to find out more about it. I suppose those two qualities, married in the same person, would sound like an obvious recipe for a writer, but it wasn't so obvious to me. I wanted to be a psychologist!

When I went back to University as a mature student, I took some English lit courses for fun. Soon, the English department was trying to recruit me from the Psychology department. But I didn't bite. English was just for fun.

It took a God moment for me to step onto the path of writing for real. And while that moment lasted the blink of an eye—it had taken God all these years to set up every perfect detail in order so when the time came, I was ready.

What author do you most admire and why?My list of "well-loved" authors grows daily. One reason is because now that I write full time, I'm always bumping into "new-to-me" authors. Just this past month I've read a half a dozen novels by author's for the first time. Authors like Kathleen Popa, Sharon K. Souza, Debbie Fuller Thomas, Susan Meissner, and others. The writer I admire most is the one I'm reading at the time who can capture my full attention and tell a story in a way that makes me happy. Gifted word smiths like Arthur Plotnik and Susan Isaacs make me giddy with happiness. Authors with silken voice such as Frank McCourt and Alice Sebold light a fire beneath me and stretch me to reach further into my storytelling bag of goodies. Writers who can weave timelines and plots together like threads in a tapestry such as Susan Meissner and Francine Rivers are writers I admire. But the list grows and I grow as a reader. I bet yours does too.

Book Review: Epic Wanderer

In my hunt for information on Charlotte Small, I’ve been reading biographies of her husband David Thompson (since there aren’t any on Charlotte). I just finished Epic Wanderer: David Thompson and the Mapping of the Canadian West by D’Arcy Jenish, which brings Thompson alive, showing readers an intelligent, determined young trader who thirsted for new discoveries.

While many biographers focus on David Thompson’s main achievements—surveying and mapping the Columbia River west of the Rockies—Jenish attempts to tell the whole story, from David’s school years in London, England to his death in Montreal, Canada.

David Thompson’s Education and Early Years with the HBC

David was a good student at a boys’ school in London when the Hudson’s Bay Company came looking for recruits. Thompson signed up and crossed the ocean to Canada, but throughout his time with the HBC, he wanted to learn more and to have opportunities to apply his skills.

A broken leg gave him the chance to learn surveying from Philip Turnor, but that same broken leg kept him from accompanying Turnor on a surveying expedition. Finally, realizing that the HBC was more interested in trade than exploration, Thompson handed in his resignation and joined the North West Company.

David Thompson’s Explorations for the NWC

The NWC was interested in finding a way over the Rocky Mountains to carry trade west. Distance was their biggest problem, for the further they had to haul goods and furs, the less money they made. So they sent Thompson to find a way through the mountains.

David was looking for a big river, one that would flow from the Rockies to the ocean and carry canoes loaded with trade goods and furs. While he was briefly transferred to other posts to trade for furs, he spent years at Rocky Mountain House and Kootenay House, trying to push the trade west and find that river.

Finally, at the same time that John Jacob Astor established a post at the mouth of the Columbia, Thompson travelled from the headwaters of the Columbia to the ocean. It was 1812 and he had completed his huge task.

David Thompson Retires to Montreal, Canada

He then told the NWC of his intention to retire and took his family to Montreal, where he started working on his maps. Yet “retirement” was not easy for Thompson. He worked as a surveyor for the Canadian government, determining where the Canada-US border should be, and tackled other jobs as he could find them. The bankruptcy of the NWC and other poor financial decisions hurt him, forcing him and Charlotte to live with their children in their last years.

Charlotte Small Thompson

Jenish mentions Charlotte Small frequently, but he seems to think that she travelled less with Thompson than other historians do. This may be because Thompson himself rarely mentions his wife in his journals, leaving readers wondering whether she is with him or waiting for him at a trading house.

Jenish suggests that the Thompsons’ marriage was a love match. He hypothesizes that Thompson saw Charlotte in a brief stop at Isle a la Crosse the year before they were married, then returned the next year to court her. In their old age, they were constant companions, with Jenish romantically saying they continued to watch the stars together.

Conclusions About Epic Wanderer

Jenish provides information on other historical events that affected the Thompsons, like the competition between the HBC and NWC and the War of 1812. He uses quotes from Thompson’s own writing, and notes where information is lacking because Thompson for some reason failed to write in his journals. The book also includes maps, but I found these so tiny and detailed that they were useless.

In general, Jenish provides a readable overview of David Thompson’s life.  He tries to delve into the explorer’s motivations and feelings, and in doing so, brings the explorer alive for the modern reader.