More feel-good stories

Mary Sullivan

I think you might have noticed here before that I like 'feel-good' stories :-)

I have a couple to share today. One actually happened to me, and the other, I read about online.

Two weeks ago, I had to take a bus to meet some colleagues, but had to purchase tokens at the local drugstore store first. It was either that or pay the exact change, which I didn't have. While walking to the store, two buses passed me. While paying for the tokens, a third bus passed the store. Three in such close succession meant I was going to have to wait a long time for the next one. I know this from experience.

To my surprise, another bus appeared about five minutes later. A few of us had gathered at the stop—this is a busy route—but groaned when the sign said "Out of Service." At that time of day, this meant that he was just starting his afternoon rush hour shift, frustrating for us because he officially starts at the subway station just down the road, which is where we were all headed, but he would drive right by without picking us up.

At the bus stop, he stopped, opened his doors and said, "Hurry! Everyone on. I'm not supposed to do this. Hurry!"

We got on and he drove off toward the station, explaining how high his fine would be if caught for picking us up ten minutes before he started his driving shift officially. My ex-husband was a bus driver when I met him thirty years ago and even then, when the city was less than half the size it is now, he spoke often about what he had to deal with as a driver. Very rude customers. Dangerous situations. There are so many rules that don't seem to make sense to the public, but are in place because of safety issues, and because of restrictions in insurance policies. Let's face it, we live in litigious times.

The driver was wonderful! He chatted away. He decided to take a chance and stop for us because he'd heard on his radio that the bus behind him had broken down—the one we'd been waiting for. With three buses already gone and a fourth broken, we would have been waiting forever and it was threatening rain.

He pointed to one young man and said, "You gave me the finger last week when I wouldn't stop to pick you up. That wasn't nice, but I picked you up today. Please remember that the next time I drive by and can't stop for you. I have rules I have to follow."

He also went on to say that there is so much bad press about our public transit and to please remember this example of kindness in the future.

I know I will. Drivers in a big city put up with a lot. They each have their own personalities and aren't all great people—as in any job—but if they return my smile when I board the bus, then I'm a happy camper. I thank them when I get off and many wish me a good evening.

Years ago, one driver was famous on his short route for the bird calls and bird impressions he whistled while he drove. It was the prettiest, cheeriest thing to hear first thing in the morning.

The other great story I read about recently is about a police officer whose job it is to talk 'suicides' down from the Golden Gate bridge. I can't imagine how difficult his job is, how gratifying it must feel when he succeeds, and how devastating when he fails.

He was featured in a documentary and recently met up with one of the young men he helped a few years ago—a long, difficult negotiation to save him. Oh, what  an emotional story. The young man is okay now and succeeding in his life.

Here is their story:

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/years-later-cop-reunites-suicidal-man-saved-golden-171522199.html

Enjoy,

Mary

Question of the Month: Regional Yummies!

 
It's time for the Question of the Month! This time we asked the Superromance authors,

What is a regional food specialty in your area, or one you've sampled while traveling? 

Pamela Hearon: In Kentucky, fried catfish is on almost every menu.  It's dredged in corn meal, and the corn meal must be white--none of that sweet yellow stuff you find in stores up north.  My niece went looking for white corn meal in New Jersey once and had to go to the gourmet section!

Vicki Essex: Toronto's a city of many cultural mosaic where you can get just about any kind of cuisine you can imagine. People have tried to name the dish that best represents the town, but so far, no one has been able to pin just one down.

For me, though, when I've come back from an out-of-town vacation, a bowl of Vietnamese pho--beef noodle soup--is what sets me right and tells me I'm home.

Liz Talley: What don't we eat in Louisiana? Lol. My part of the country is

known for its exquisite food. Boiled crawfish, blackened gator, shrimp étouffée and seafood gumbo, and why don't cha toss some andouille sausage in that pot? It's all good.  

Some people scoff at eating crawfish, but there is nothing better than 5 lbs of mud bugs and a cold Abita beer. If you've never been to New Orleans, I'd recommend it for the food alone, but honestly our whole state has good food. It's why we're so fat down here :)

Lenora Worth: I lived in Louisiana for over thirty years and now Florida. Grew up in Georgia. I have to say that soul food is my favorite food. I love cornbread and turnips, pot roast and mashed potatoes and sweet potato pie. Any kind of pie. Liz is right about crawfish. You kind of get hooked on the little stinkers. I love comfort food and it's hard to resist, especially when on deadline!!! After 9-ll when we finally turned off the television and got out of the house, I told my husband to take me to Strawn's. It's a local restaurant in Shreveport that is kind of legendary. I wanted some Strawn's strawberry pie. I'm not kidding--while I sat there eating it the whole place seemed alive with colors and shapes and humanity and I almost cried eating that darn pie! Wish I had some right now!

 

Kate Kelly:  Here in Atlantic Canada fish reigns supreme. Lobster, scallops, sweet, cold water shrimp and of course, Atlantic salmon with fiddleheads! 

Mary Brady:  Oh, ya, hey. For da cheeseheads you may t’ink it’s cheese. Nope. Some might say da best and brightest here is brats 'n' beer. But ya know our favorite--is to go over dere by your house--and jus’ eat lots of whatever you got. So, dere ya go. Ain’a, hey?

Sometimes we talk funny, but we're a loveable crowd--and very appreciative when you feed us.

Jeannie Watt:  Here in northern Nevada, Basque cuisine reigns supreme. Items of note--Basque chorizo (or txorizo) which is a juicy, spicy sausage (not to be confused with Mexican chorizo, which is made with different ingredients and is by nature drier). Grill a chorizo and put it on a poor boy with grilled onions and peppers...heaven.  And then there's manchego cheese...*sigh* The very best Basque specialty in my estimation, however, is the Picon Punch--a wicked (delicious and sneaky) drink made from Picon (a bitter orange liquor), brandy, club soda and grenadine. It has to be made by someone who knows what they're doing or it just doesn't work.  It has it's own special glass, which coincidentally is also the one used for Irish coffees in Buena Vista Cafe in San Francisco--purported home of the original Irish coffee. I believe that glass was a picon glass long  before it became an Irish coffee glass.

Kris Fletcher: my corner of central New York state is known for salt potatoes - bite size white potatoes left in their skin, cooked in seriously salty water (four pounds of potatoes, one pound salt), served with melted butter. But this weekend I traveled to Rochester NY and had my first ever garbage plate: a mix of meats (burgers, hot dogs, Italian sausages, etc) served with macaroni salad or hash browns or baked beans or fries (choose two), all chopped up & topped with onions and hot sauce.

Mary Sullivan:Here in Toronto, there's a series of diners called Fran's that were started in the early forties by an American man. They sold/sell diner food—burgers and fries, mac and cheese—nothing fancy, but both the meals and the prices are great and the restaurants busy even to this day.

I loooove their rice pudding, which has a layer of delicious custard on top. They've been known for their pudding and still serve it all of these years later. Nowadays, I still have it occasionally, but will also opt for an updated, upscale version in an Irish pub on the Danforth, made with wild rice and a sherry custard on top—to die for!

Margaret Watson: I'm from Chicago, and we're known for our deep dish pizza. It's served in a one to two-inch-deep pan, with a relatively thick crust and lots and lots of gooey cheese and ingredients. Sausage is one of our favorites, but you can get deep dish in just about any combination of ingredients.

Makes me hungry for a Lou Malnati's 'Lou'. I think I know what we're having for dinner tonight.

Joan Kilby: I will throw in wild sockeye salmon done on the barbecue, a favorite in Vancouver.

But at the moment I'm in Barcelona so I'd have to nominate tapas, washed down by Spanish wine. Ole! 

Karina Bliss: Here in New Zealand it would be simple fare for me. Hokey-pokey ice-cream served with a fat pavlova (a giant meringue, crunchy on the outside with a marshmallow texture on the inside). I'd top the dessert with feijoas and tamirillos, both gorgeous fruits. For breakfast I'd boil a couple of eggs with deep golden yolks and spread some Vegemite and butter on a slice of Vogels toast. Then I'd cook Anzac biscuits using the recipe in the Edmonds cookbook, a national institution.

And now, dear readers, you tell us: what's the go-to regional specialty in YOUR area?  

Let Us Talk Tote

  by Mary Brady

Many of you already know the SuperRomance authors are giving away this lovely Coach tote and you know there are SuperRomance novels to be included in the bag, but did you know there is so much more dimension to this giveaway? 

Firstly, can anyone tell me if "firstly" is a word?--never mind, never mind. Anyhoo, that cutest ever, small snap purse has a clasp sometimes called a "kiss clasp"! How apt for Super authors to give away a little kiss. Perhaps the clasp is named so because it makes a cute little smacking sound when closed. One lucky winner gets to find out if that's true. Lame? Oh come on, it gets better.

Click here for contest link

More books other than the eight shown have been added as well as other items. Maybe authors will pipe up here or in future blogs to let you know what books and other treasures they have included just for you. Of course, surprises are wonderful, too, and the winner of this tote should be prepared for wonderfulness. 

I added Winning Over the Rancher and two fun "beach" bracelets.
  

Winning Over the Rancher

Anyway and anyhow, if you have not yet entered, please use this Spring into SUMMER link or look for this lovely green Spring into Summer link in the lower section of the sidebar.

Read! Read! Read! and enjoy the summer (or for some of us, the coming summer, or some of us the fall). I think, and I believe most authors would agree, each of you deserves a Coach tote, so enter and may the winner be you. 

Now, close your eyes for a moment, imagine you with the stuffed tote slung casually over your shoulder and tell us...where is the first place you will take your new tote???

How do I love thee?

By Karina Bliss

One of the toughest jobs when you're writing a romance is getting the declaration of love right. It's got to pack an emotional punch and it's got to be true to this couple and this story, it's got to carry the theme and it's got to convince readers that these two will be together forever.

All my favourite romances do this brilliantly. I challenge you to read any one of these without giving a happy sigh...

“Look at what's happened to me, facing this and telling you – I'm a shambles; Jesus, I feel like I'll be crying for the next century.” He bent his head, pressed his tear-wet cheek to her dry, cold skin. ”But I'm here. I'm not hiding anymore. Princess-I'm asking you. Come back to me. You're my life.” Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire.

“You feel this, don't you?”

“Desire? It is fire and madness in me. I want you very much.”

He shook his head impatiently. “I don't mean that.”

Abruptly he brought his hands up into her hair. His long, clever, lock-picking fingers held her face as if she were infinitely precious. He kissed, once, just upon the threshold of her mouth. “We got a rare amount of wanting between us. That's fine. That's good. I want you more than I've every wanted anything in this world.”

She would have looked away if she had not been held so closely. When a man so hard and secret opens his heart, there is no way to reply except with honesty. “I have never wanted anyone else.”

“But it's never been just wanting, has it? Not even the first time.” He shook his head impatiently. “Tis' the rest of it. You and me, we belong together. We always have.”

Joanna Bourne – The Black Hawk

His expression would have made most men back up a few steps but Mary crossed her arms. “I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me.”

“Hellfire!” he roared and jerked her up against him. “Not love you? Damn, woman, you've been wrapping me around your little finger since the first time I set eyes on you! I'd have killed Bobby Lancaster in a heartbeat for you, so don't you ever say I don't love you!”

As a declaration of love cum marriage proposal it wasn't excactly romantic, but it was certainly exciting. Mary smiled up at him and went on tiptoe to loop her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.” Linda Howard, McKenzie's Mountain.

She kissed him. “Now I want you to say something wonderful to me right before you tear this shirt off my body.”

He rolled her onto her back and, looking into her eyes, said, “Mel, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm going to make you so happy, you won't be able to stand it. You're going to wake up singing every morning.”

Robyn Carr, Virgin River

Davy bent and kissed her, all that heat on her mouth, in her mouth, everything she was afraid she'd never have again and she grabbed onto his shirt and said, “Don't leave me.”

“I'm not going to.” He bent to kiss her again, and she grabbed his shirt tighter.

“I mean ever, don't ever leave me.” She tried to swallow some of her desperation. “I'm sorry, I know this is a huge turnoff-”

“Yeah,” Davy said close to her mouth. “I hate it when women want me.”

“-but I really need you forever, the whole thing, for always-”

“You got me,” Davy said and kissed her again.

Jennifer Crusie, Faking It.

Which romances give you that declaration of love happy sigh? 

Hopefully, my new release, A Prior Engagement, hits the right notes for you. Read an excerpt here. And remember to enter our Spring into Summer giveaway where a host of happy sighs await the lucky winner. Enter here. 

My Tribute to the Class of 2013

Even if you've never taught school, you probably are aware of our "dirty little secret."  Yes indeed, we do have favorite classes.  I was in education for 30 years before retiring four years ago.  And, although I loved all of my classes, there are a few that hold the dearest places in my heart.  One stands out from all the rest--the class of 2013.

When I had these kids in Language Arts, they were only 8th graders, and 8th graders by nature are quirky, which only adds to their lovability.  But this group had another unique quality that set them apart.  They were huggers--all of them, girls and boys alike ... a trait you generally don't find in 13 and 14-year-olds.

Now, I, too, had always been a hugger, but in 2007, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I had a bi-lateral mastectomy with reconstruction, and for a couple of years, I gave up hugging anyone except my immediate family.  After reconstruction, it takes a good while for things to have a normal feel, and, honestly, I thought my fake breasts would feel like hard lumps pushed against anyone else.  So I didn't push, but instead gave impersonal hugs from arms' length.

And then the class of 2013-to-be came along.  The first day of school, they were excited about finally being the upper classmen at our middle school.  Some of the girls hugged me in the hall before we went into the classroom.  More of them hugged me when we got in the door.  A couple of the boys hugged me.  And then, some of them hugged their classmates.  I was astounded!  I'd never seen a group so demonstrative with their affection, but I expected it to have passed by the next day.

It didn't.  The next day, more kids hugged me, and though I was still hesitant, I responded with more warmth.  Day after day, the hugs came, and not just for me.  There were hugs for everyone.  The superintendent came in the classroom?  He got hugs.  The principal?  Yep, hugs for him, too.  That year was a 10-month hugfest.  I forgot about feeling weird to other people.  These kids didn't care--they loved me anyway.  Within a couple of weeks, I was doling out the hugs as naturally as ever.  And at the end of that year, when they hugged me goodbye, words couldn't express what they'd done for me.  Only a tight bearhug would do.

We live in a small town, and I frequently run into those kids.  They're still huggers, and it still delights me.

This Satuday evening, they'll graduate from high school.  I smile at that because I have no doubt their entrance into the adult world will make it a warmer, better place.  I look forward to sharing it with them.

((((hugs))))