All in the Family – Winona Myra Alice Lake Brobst

My grandmother, Winona Myra Alice Lake Brobst is the oldest child of Robert Lee Lake and Fannie Isadora Stevens Pyle Lake, but she was younger than Fannie’s sons with her first husband, Joshua (Jack) Pyle, Robert’s relative.

The story goes that Robert had moved from Kentucky to help his cousin, Jack, on their farm. After Jack died, Robert and Fannie married and had two children of their own, Winona and Florence Ethel, plus raised the three sons she had with Jack. (Bert Franklin, D’Earle, and Ben Harold Pyle)

For a short time in the first three years of her life, Winona lived in Houghton, South Dakota, where her sister Ethel was born. A great storm ruined her papa’s crops, convincing him they needed to return to Indiana.

In her own journal Winona records, “A way back in the days when gas derricks were popping up in the middle west like mushrooms, I was born on the family farmstead in central Indiana.(Point Isabelle, Indiana) I was a very imaginative child; never played with dolls, but preferred doing creative work, either with needle and thread, or hammer and saw. In my idle hours during summer, I swayed back and forth in the rope swing, pretending all the great persons I had ever heard of were my friends. In long winter evenings, I listened avidly to the philosophical discussions of kinsmen, many of whom had degrees trailing after their names like the tail of a kite or a comet.”
   
“When I was nine, we went to the city to live. (She likely means Elwood, Indiana) My health had never permitted me to enter school, but I entered that winter. I romped on the commons and went to school with the other children on the block. When twelve, I wrote my first novel, if it could be called such. (Okay, anybody see anything familiar here between me and my grandmother?) Later, I enjoyed academic training in English, journalism, analysis of the novel, drama, psychology, mathematics, and speech. In eight years I completed the twelve years of grammar and high school and won the first scholarship ever awarded our school.”

Winona graduated from Elwood High where she attended with former presidential candidate Wendell L. Wilkie who was a great friend of her sister, Ethel.

She knew how to play the piano and was addicted to correspondence courses, especially psychology, philosophy, and religion. “I have read very little recent fiction, only collections of best short stories by various editors. I have been interested in home economics, gardening, and poultry raising. In fact, I not only studied correspondence courses in each but have had years of experience in these lines of endeavor.”

She wrote poetry and published a poem about the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 in the Chicago Tribune.

“I have worked in an office, and when the linemen were called to the army during the World War, I patrolled the lines on many a dark, stormy night in those troublous times.”

Winona stayed one semester with her son Gene in Lafayette so she could attend classes with him at Purdue University. She was so enamored with education, she thought she might like to be a teacher. She and Gene also traveled the U.S., and she said, “I have traveled from Canada down into Mexico, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, but know the middle west best.”

Winona loved to crochet and made afghans of various patterns. She was an excellent cook and baked pies and cobblers from the fruits Grandpa Brobst grew. She canned homegrown items and made jams and jellies. At Christmas she made chocolate covered cream candies and fruit cakes with dark rum soaked into them that I remember as the best Fruit Cake I’ve ever had. Every day she would prepare a lunch for Pearl to take to work. The fare was always a Canadian Bacon sandwich and a thermos of coffee.


She and Pearl are the parents to three sons: Loren Allen, Robert Ellsworth, and Ervin Eugene Brobst.

About her own life, she stated, “I have known joy, sorrow, heartache, disappointment; illness unto death almost. I have assisted at births, I have helped to lay out the dead. I think I have run the gamut of human emotions; yet withal, I seem to know so little.”

Winona died in 1980 at the age of 92. She was member of the First Christian Church.

(The child in the photo is Eugene's oldest son, Travis William Brobst. This was taken in the middle room of the Roe house where Winona spent much of her time.)

Writing Wisdom: Rick Walton

If you are a writer from Utah, then it is likely you already know the extraordinary talents of children's author, Rick Walton. I first met Rick at a local chapter meeting of the League of Utah Writer's, and I've always found him to be one of the most supportive and nurturing authors I've ever met. Filled with great ideas and always willing to help others as they perfect their craft, Rick is a popular speaker at conference and workshop events. And overall, he's just a nice guy! He has an incredible website, filled with lots of resources for teachers and writers, as well as fun stuff just for kids. I attended one of Rick's day-long workshops for picture book authors (okay, so we all know I can't write anything as short as a picture book), and I learned a lot that has helped me in all of my writing.

Rick first asked us to consider: "What makes a bad manuscript?" Preachy, telling, point of view shifts, the all-wise adult, boring words, irrelevant info, condescending tone, and digressions all made the list.

Then we considered, "What makes a good manuscript?" Limited focus and time, the kids solve the problem, the main character is someone the kids can relate to, humor, and the problem draws us to the character.

The problem with too many adults who want to write a book for children--especially a picture book--is they are so interested in delivering a message that they forget to focus on the story. With a picture book, you have limited time, so you must use the best words. Stay in the narrative stream and teach in terms of positives, not lecturing about what children should not do.

"Establish the rules, tone, and format of the book, then don't throw your readers for a loop," Rick says. Talking animals and story in verse are much harder to sell, so you probably want to avoid those when you just start out. "Prose gives a lot more flexibility."

He encourages authors to write text that suggests illustrations, but don't tell your illustrator what to do. Give them the freedom to use their own craft.

"Avoid those topics that have been overdone," he says. "Ask yourself, 'Can a child relate to my main character?'"

When it comes to working with your editor, if you have no real reason to say no, then learn to say yes. They have been there many times before and know the market and audience as well as anyone. Only 30% of authors even make back their advances on these books.

"The picture book market is very competitive," he adds. "Great quality and a nice story isn't enough. Your manuscript must rise above the others." It takes around two years to publish a picture book. You want the best illustrators the editor can find, you writers need to be patient, and keep on writing in the meantime.

A key element for a successful picture book is, "Does this book make a good read aloud?" Parents and teachers rely on picture books to use with their children. If it's not a fun an interesting book to read, wy would they want to buy a copy?

As much as we as authors might not want to hear it, a positive rejection letter is a good thing. It means we are on the right track. If it's personalized, that is even better. Find something new to send to that same editor as soon as your next manuscript is ready.

Rick does say we should write for reasons other than making lots of money. "Do it because you love writing."

And that's good advice for us all in this crazy business called publishing.

 

Been There, Done That: Mr. T

Last week I wrote about my unfavorable encounter with Bill Cosby. At least two of those who commented told about their own negative experiences with Mr. T. Since I too had a brief encounter with Mr. T, I thought I’d write about him this week.

As you may know, Mr. T hails from Chicago, Illinois, and that is where I had my first not-so-close encounter with the supposed tough guy actor who made his fame on the 1980s television series, The A-Team.

Because of all my adventures along the Osmond trail, I happened to be hanging out with Anita Lang when the entire Osmond family was performing in Chicago. Alan had decided he wanted to have Mr. T as part of the talent for an upcoming 4th of July at the Stadium of Fire in Provo, Utah.

However, Mr. T was having any of it, so Alan came up with a great idea. “Let’s give him some tickets to the concert tonight. Once he sees our show, maybe he will feel better about talking to me and we can get him to buy in to coming to Utah to perform.”

Before we knew what was happening, Anita had an envelope with complementary tickets to the Osmond show to be held that night at the Rosemont Theater, and we were on our way for a double-header assignment downtown (I’ll tell about the other part on Wednesday’s blog)

Mr. T and his people knew we were coming, and once our first errand was done, we headed toward his penthouse apartment, ready to deliver his tickets and the message inside from Alan Osmond. We had been given specific instructions to deliver the envelope directly into the hands of Mr. T.

There was only one problem, something we found out from his personal assistant who answered the door for us. Mr. T would no come to the door because Mr. T is afraid of people.

What? That’s what the man told us. Legendary tough-guy, Mr. T was afraid of two young women and groups of people in general. How would he ever make it coming to a concert? And Stadium of Fire? Fifty-thousand people would obviously be more than he could stand.

With no other choice but to leave the tickets with his assistant, Anita and I hurried back to the Rosemont, ready to deliver the news. Would Mr. T come? What would he do if anyone recognized him? What would Alan do if he didn’t?

A few hours later, Anita was backstage with Marie. I was comfortable in my seat down near the stage, and the opening music for the show had just begun. The lights flashed around the theater, a drum roll, and Donny and Marie were on-stage. The show had begun, with a no show for the seats reserved for Mr. T.

But wait, a few minutes later something in the balcony caught my attention and I glanced up. There he was—Mr. T—along with a bodyguard, moving along the back row of seats clear up in the balcony. Then he disappeared for a minute. When I saw him again, I realized he had slipped into the glass-encased sound booth. All the better to protect him from the possibility of meeting an adoring fan.

The show went on. Donny and Marie performed. Alan and the Osmond Brothers, too. Somehow during the show, Alan got a minute of time to speak to the elusive star and arrangements were made. Mr. T would come to perform at Stadium of Fire, but somehow they would need to keep all the people away.

I don’t know how they did it, but it seemed when he came to Provo, Mr. T got exactly what he wanted. As I recall, he was even distant with the Osmond Boys, and they shared the stage!

So, the next time you see a tough guy or think a celebrity is just not very nice, maybe you can think about Mr. T and realize, maybe, in reality, that person is more afraid of you than rude. After all, giving him the benefit of the doubt is at least worth a try.

Wisdom Keys: Problem Solving

I remember back in the days, before I was a wife and mother, when the hardest problems I had to solve included how much longer I could sleep after the alarm clock rang, what outfit I was going to wear to work, and how long it would take me to commute there. I lived on my own, and any difficulties that came my way were almost always of my own doing.

As a new wife I soon learned that I would be expected to be a sounding board for my husband as he worked through solving his own problems. He wanted to bounce ideas off me, asking for my opinion before he decided what to do. It was great to feel needed, but I have to admit, most often I felt myself burdened down with worry over situations where I had no control, and it wore me out. If I went to him to discuss my own problems, he wanted to jump right in and fix it, although that isn’t what I wanted at all. I just needed him to listen, but that isn’t what a man is wired to do.

Once children entered into the picture, the problems seemed to become non-stop. All of our boys are adopted; only one of them at the toddler age. Each of them carried their own set of baggage when they came to live with us. My husband and I have had many trials just learning how to interact with them in a way they might hopefully listen to anything we try to teach. That problem alone has become at times monumental.

As I consider the idea of problem solving, I’m coming to learn that there is no way every problem can be solved. That is especially true when you want to jump in and solve a problem that is really someone else’s problem to solve. Right this very moment, my youngest is sitting next to me whining about what kind of snack he should have. Unfortunately for him, this is not my problem to solve. No matter what suggestion I make, it’s not what he wanted, so there is no way I can give him a solution which will find him satisfied.

Dr. Mike Murdock once said: “You will only be remembered for two things: the problems you solve, or the ones you create.”

As a wife, mother, teacher and adult, I go about solving lots of problems every day. Some of the are minor; some perhaps more great. Perhaps I’ll someday be remembered for those solutions, but maybe not. Solving problems for points only comes in those math class assignments most of us grew to hate. Life doesn’t keep a tally.

If I could build a better mousetrap, find a cure for the common cold, or bring about world peace, then maybe my problem solving actions would make a bigger splash, but for right now, I’m content just solving a few of those little problems and letting the others fade away. If it’s not my problem to solve then I must be content to let others fret over the reasons why.

That brings me to the second part of Dr. Murdock’s statement—“the ones you create.”

The world is filled with people creating problems. All you have to do is turn on the television during any news program to see the evidence. Wars exist on everything from terror to obesity. Violence erupts over both abortion clinics and TV stations that promote shows about people with too many children such as the recent hostage situation at the Discovery Channel. Arguments ensue over both love and marriage. We live in a raging battlefield.

Even in our own lives we often bring on our problems by the choices we make. When we fail to listen to that still small voice, the conscience which is alive within each of us from the moment of birth, we put ourselves onto the path we must take. When our outcomes are not what we had expected, it’s usually because we made the choice to move just a little bit to the side of the road.

Like the train who took the wrong switch path and ended up in New York instead of Florida, one little mistake, one small error can make a drastic change in our final destination. That’s why it’s so important to actually make choices, and not just follow the path of least resistance or the one someone else tells us to take. 

The decision for each of us is whether we want to be held responsible for making problems, or for being the one who is able to come up with the right solutions. And that’s a problem worth solving when it leads us to a better life.

Home Cooking: The Best Banana Bread EVER!

“Are they dead yet?”

I knew exactly what my boys were talking about when they asked this question. We had three bananas that we had been carefully watching as the skins got darker and darker. My boys know that once the bananas have turned really dark—what they refer to as ‘dead’—the pulp inside is super-sweet and that’s the best kind to make into Sue’s Banana Bread recipe.

“Yes, they’re dead,” I told them.

“Then make banana bread!” was the immediate reply. It was the end of a long day, up early, off to teach school, lots of errands run that afternoon, dinner fixed, and now at 7:30 they wanted me to make banana bread.

After some searching, Zach and I managed to find all the ingredients—why did someone hide the vanilla and baking powder in the top shelf of the snacks cabinet?—and locate the bread pan—no, that’s a cake pan. I stirred everything together, sprayed PAM on the bread pan, and used one of the bananas to finish the mixture, but before I could get the pan into the over to bake, Chan and Kent stopped me.

“What about the other two bananas?” they asked. “Can’t you make MORE banana bread?”

“I’m not sure we have enough butter or pudding to make two more batches,” I said, knowing I was too tired to put them together anyway.

“Sure we do,” Kent said, as he was off to the pantry to find the pudding boxes, Zach trailing along behind him.

“I’m tired,” I said to Chan who was still standing in the kitchen.

“We’ll help,” he said.

He came to the table where I was sitting and retrieved the mixing bowl, rinsed it out at the sink, and was ready to begin. Zach and Kent were back at this time, and Zach had already helped me make the first batter so he knew what to do. I called out measurements for a double batch and the boys put them all together.

Once the two new pans were filled, they put all three of them into the oven to bake. An hour later I thought, They will never eat all three of these loaves but before bedtime an entire loaf was already gone. By the time I got home from school they next day, loaf #2 two was gone, and last night I noticed #3 was also missing.

When I sent them to the grocery store, guess what they came home with? More pudding and bananas, and now we’re waiting on this bunch of bananas to die.
So, what’s the secret recipe for the best banana bread ever? Here you go:

1 c. mashed really, really ripe banana
1 c. sugar
2 eggs
½ t. baking power
½ t. vanilla
2 c. flour
3 T milk
½ melted margarine
3 oz. package of Instant Coconut Cream Pudding

Mix it all together, adding melted margarine and bananas last. Spray buttery PAM on a loaf pan and pour in the batter. Bake at 350∘ for 1 hour or until done. Poke the center of the bread to check, If a knife comes out clean, it’s ready. You can also use Banana pudding mix, but my boys LOVE the coconut cream the best.

I shared this recipe with the ladies in our church for a cookbook, and I’ve had many of them now tell me they use Sue’s recipe now instead of their mother’s–it’s THAT good!

Week in Review: More Great Reads

I'm starting out this school year with a student teacher, so I'm actually having some free time to read and to write, but because I tend to read about 20 books at a time, I've only finished two more this week. I'll tell you about those in a minute.

But first, I want to share something fun that allows my students to buy into making reading recommendations to both of us and feeling validated when we read them. I made a spot on the chalkboard and wrote: Books Mrs. Staheli and Ms. Powell Should Read. Then I numbered a list 1-20 and asked our students to start their list. As they have added books and the two of us have set to reading them, we initial the books we finish and star the books we've both read. Right now our list has 16 books. I've read six of them, plus two books from one listed as a series. Ms. Powell has finished one of them.

Because I know someone will ask, here's the list so far:
1. The Rangers Apprentice (I'm currently reading book 1: The Ruins of Gorlan)
2. The Chronicles of Ancient Darkness: Wolf Brother (Sitting on my desk)
3. The Icemark Chronicles (I've read The Cry of the Icemark and Blade of Fire. Still need to read #3)
4. The Alliance (I read this one years ago)
5. Shakespeare's Secret (Both of us finished it this week)
6. Goose Girl (I've already read this one)
7. Fallen (I'm currently reading this one)
8. Levan Thumps and the Gateway to Foo (I've read this one already)
9. The Hunger Games (I started this once before and abandoned it. Guess I'll have to read it this time.)
10. Tunnels (I own it, but haven't read it yet)
11. Forbidden Sea (I hadn't even heard of this one.)
12. Where the Red Fern Grows (I read this aloud to a class and CRIED!)
13. Having Hope (Read this least year)
14. Just Listen (I own this one too, but haven't read it yet)
15. The Sister Pact (Hadn't heard of this one either)
16. At First Sight (Or this one. How did I miss a Nicholas Sparks novel?)

So, what did I read this week?

Shakespeare's Secret -- Elise Broach
This is a book recommended this week by one of our students. Ms. Powell picked up a copy from the city library and read it quickly, then she loaned it to me. I already owned a copy, but of course I couldn't find it at first in that crazy room filled with books at my house that is supposed to be a library. Anyway, once I found it, I read the book in a day as well, and both of us really liked it. The premise revolves around a possible link between Queen Elizabeth and Edward deVere, who some scholars believe to be the true Shakespeare, and a missing diamond taken from a necklace. Fans of Blue Ballitt's Chasing Vermeer and The Wright 3 will likely enjoy this book.

The Book Whisperer: Awakening the Inner Reader in Every Child
Donalyn Miller
This book was recommended to me by the other English teachers here at Payson Jr. High, and as I read it I felt validated. Not only does Donalyn use the same mentor references as I did in my own book and newspaper columns (Janet Allen, Nancy Atwell, Chris Crowe, etc.) but she also teaches her elementary classes in much the same way as I do those in juinior high, and our results are just the same--high test scores, improved writing, and an instilled love for lifelong reading in our students. Our students leave our class as READERS. The vast majority of them cannont get enough of a good book; those who entered as non-readers, or apathetic readers, discover a new joy, a favorite book, a genre or an author they now enjoy, and often come back to both os us, sometimes years later, asking for a recommendation for a book to read. (I now teach children of my former students, and these parents always report about books to me when they come in for parent teacher conferences! Once their teacher, always their teacher.) The point of the book is, if we want our children to become readers they have to read. This does not mean book reports or worksheets, it means giving them time to engage in texts that will mean something to them and letting them read for pleasure in school. I could lecture about this point all day, and give you example upon example of when I've found it to be true,  but I'll let this book speak for itself and just affirm that what she has to say is true.

Oh, and speaking of readers, I just looked at the chalkboard. My students have added four more books to the list, so I'll go ahead and share those here with you.

17. The Mysterious Benedict Society (I've heard lots of good kid reviews)
18. The Missing: Found (Loved this. Now on Book #3 of the series)
19. The Rescue (Who is my secret Nicholas Sparks fan? Haven't read this one either.)
20. When You Reach Me (Hadn't heard of this one)

I'd better close this blog before the list grows again!

All in the Family: Pearl Brobst

Pearl Brobst was born December 26, 1885, in Kokomo, Indiana, the second son to David and Mary Ann Blakely Brobst. His older brother was William Ellsworth, who I think my mother referred to as Uncle Worth. His younger siblings were Audison, who was killed during WW I and buried in France, and Olen, who played the piano by ear and traveled across the country with his own dance band. 

Prior to Olen’s birth, the family lived in Kokomo, then moved to Elwood sometime between 1889 and 1902. I never knew much about Pearl’s early life, so anything here from those who are older that I am would certainly be appreciated.

According to Eugene and from his mother’s “Light of the World (Red) Bible, on October 10, 1906, Pearl and Winona took the Interurban Electric Railway from Elwood to the Madison Country Courthouse in Anderson to get their marriage license. While there, someone asked, "Do you want to get married right away?" Winona replied, "I guess so" and they were led to another room where they were married by William O. Lee, either a judge or justice of the peace. The marriage was witnessed by A.K. Deets.

Returning to Elwood and to her home, Winona bid Pearl goodnight at the door, as though on a date. Pearl made some comment about the tow of them now being married and that perhaps he could stay the night. Thinking about it, Winona guessed he probably could. This was the first her parents knew about the marriage.

Pearl and Winona were the parents of three sons: Loren Allen, Robert Ellsworth, and Ervin Eugene Brobst.s

Pearl adored Winona, who called him Pearlie, and wanted to give her a wonderful life. He bought the three story house at 1016 Roe Avenue as a showplace for her, and he helped with the housework, something men didn’t usually do during this era. He loved to garden. He planted vegetables, various berries, grapevines, and fruit and nut trees. He even let her travel the country and go to Lafayette to attend classes at Purdue University with her youngest son, Eugene.

Pearl held several interesting jobs during his lifetime. Before street lamps were electric, he had the job of going through town each night and lighting the natural gas that came from the lamps.

He worked for awhile at Leeson’s Grocery in Elwood on the main north-and-south street. It was in operation until the 1980's, when it was bought out and other business ventures have occupied the two story building since that time. The building is still in very good shape and has weathered the storms of time very well. Leeson’s also owned a large department store which stood where Cox’s Supermarket stands today. It had groceries, clothing, merchandise and all the items that were common in those days. An elevator  for customers was available for customers to reach the second floor. I’m not sure if Pearl also worked here, but it is possible once he moved to Alexandria.

For awhile, the entire Brobst family lived at the power plant sub-station at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue while Pearl worked there. My dad and Uncle Eugene used to tell me stories of the boys climbing the towers at the substation, something that is expressly marked today as being forbidden.

Pearl retired from Johns-Manville, maybe as late as 1960, where he was a foreman. He died at home on November 17, 1961, after an extended illness.

Writing Wisdom – Matt Whitaker

You may not know Matt Whitaker by name, but it is possible you’ve seen his movies, Matt is a screenwriter and director who got his start in Provo, Utah. As a matter of fact, I worked on a LDS Motion Picture Studio film with him many, many years ago. The movie he is most likely to be recognized for nationally as screenwriter is for Saints and Soldiers, the story of four American soldiers and one Brit fighting in Europe during World War II struggle to return to Allied territory after being separated from U.S. forces during the historic Malmedy Massacre. Local audiences will also know his work from The Work and the Glory II & III.
Matt’s current project is Truth and Treason which explores the complex bond that forms between the brilliant young resistance fighter, Helmuth Hübener and Erich Muessener, the Gestapo agent intent on hunting him down. This film examines the human struggle for freedom and confirms the impact of one courageous voice. They are in pre-production in Budapest, and Haley Joel Osment is slated to play the Helmuth role.

Being a screenwriter is not always what people expect it will be. “I didn’t even see Saints and Soldiers until the entire film was finished and I went to the screening, and I wrote the script!” Whitaker says. “And no one has ever asked me where I went to film school, or if I have a degree. When it comes to making movies its all about who you know, what you can do, and how well you get along with other people.”

Matt finds his specialty as film adaptation of books. “Adapting is the process of identifying and focusing the story,” he says. “You need to keep everything visual, which means sometimes you add something new.”

Whitaker suggests you need to read the book a number of times. “Get to know the character, get a copy that you can tear out the pages to organize them into the plot the way it needs to bein the movie.”

He divides the plots into three or four parts: storyline A is the main plot, the one with the most movement and where you’ll find the protagonist. The subplots are B, D, and possibly D. They weave together around the spine of the main plt, where the protagonist finds his/her deep desire and uses sufficient effort to restore the balance of life.

Anyone who has studied film either formally or on their own by being an avid watcher will recognize the three act structure: Act One sets up the story, introduces characters, and establishes the problem the character must solve at the climax; Act Two shows what the protagonist is willing to do to solve the problem; and Act Three builds to a climax and provides a resolution that is emotionally satisfying to the audience.

As when writing fiction, don’t allow your characters to run into a cul-de-sac! Subplots need a relationship and effect on the main story. They must lead the characters somewhere else in the main story. If they do not, then cut them out.

Another trick for all types of writing, hide the exposition. Spread it out so the audience doesn’t know they are hearing it, and don’t let your characters talk about something they both already know.

Remember that film can’t support as many characters as a book. Define the function of each, then decide if you really need them. Find the sub-text in every scene. What does a character mean, as opposed to what they say. Give those characters each a unique voice, and look for the overall theme.

Whitaker also reminds us, “There should be lots of white in a screenplay. Find the most concise and meaningful way to express a moment of action. The script is the blueprint. Try to make it into its own form of literature.”

Been There, Done That – Bill Cosby

Lest you think that every celebrity encounter I’ve ever had was a pleasant experience, I thought I’d share a story that still leaves me shaking my head, trying to decide how I feel about this particular celebrity. Bill Cosby is often listed among America’s most respected and great celebrities, but when it comes to those I’ve met, I’d have to rank him among the top of the list for most rude.

My friend Mary LeBeuf and I had seen Mr. Cosby at a concert at Brigham Young University and really enjoyed his show. He was funny and personable toward the crowd, and from what we’d seen of him on television, that’s exactly how we expected him to be in person.

“Hey, let’s go see him at the airport tomorrow morning,” Mary suggested.

I was game, after all, going to the airport to see celebrities was part of our everyday life, why should this time be any different? We found out where he was headed and what time his plane would be leaving, and hit the sack because we’d be out the door very early the next morning.

We were on the road by six a.m. Although Mr. Cosby’s plane was not scheduled to leave until around nine, we wanted to be there early so we could catch him for an autograph before he boarded the plane. It took us nearly an hour to get to the airport, park our car, and find the correct gate on the call board, and once we arrived at the gate we found we were the only people there, so we sat down to wait.

This was the first plane scheduled to depart from the gate this particular morning, so it was already parked where we could see it from the window. Mary and I each had our autograph books ready, and it was a good thing because almost immediately we recognized the man walking toward us as Bill Cosby.

Mr. Cosby wore a pair of grey sweats and carried no luggage. He held his head down, so I’m sure he didn’t see us at first. Mary and I were already experienced at approaching celebrities so we knew how to act as we walked toward him. We caught sight of a woman—an airline employees—as she came from the hall that attached to the gate and moved toward the check-in podium, but she didn’t see to pay any attention to any of us. Absolutely no one else was in the terminal except for us and Mr. Cosby.

He had just arrived in the seating area when we approached him, autograph books and pens held ready. “Excuse us, Mr. Cosby,” I said. “May we have your autograph?”

He looked up at us sharply, and growled out,” I don’t give autographs.” Then he moved quickly to the woman at the podium. “I’d like to be taken aboard the plane now.”

She looked up at him, recognized his face and was quick to comply. “Come with me, Mr. Cosby.”

We heard he remind him that the plane didn’t leave for another two hours and that he might be more comfortable in the waiting area, but he didn’t seem to care as he walked into the tunnel that led to the plane. Mary and I just stood there, our mouths hanging open in shock at how rude he had sounded when he refused to sign our autograph books.

Before we could leave the airline employee was back. “Girls,” she said. At first we thought we were in trouble, but she continued quickly. “I saw what happened. Mr. Cosby is on the plane, signing autographs right now for the crew. Give me your books, and I ‘ll see what I can do.”

At this point I wasn’t sure I really wanted his autograph anymore, but like Mary, I handed the book over to her.

Less than five minutes later she was back, a huge smile on her face. She handed over the books, still open to the correct page, and sure enough, there was his autograph. There was no personalization, but that was okay. Many celebrities only write their own name.

We thanked the woman for helping us out—after all, an autograph was what we came for—but every since that day, I’m just not too sure how much I really like Mr. Bill Cosby.

Oh, by the way, here's the autograph:

Wisdom Keys: Do Something Different

Day in, day out, your life is always the same. You know you’re stuck in a rut, but you don’t know what to do to get yourself out. Whatever happened to all those big dreams you had? Where did the plans for success, fortune, and travel all disappear? Worse yet, will you be able to get them all back? And if you do, will you ever achieve any of those dreams, or will you soon find yourself right back in that same old rut?

Some people attribute the maxim, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results” to Albert Einstein. It doesn’t really matter who said it first, because the idea is still sound. Yet how often do we find ourselves doing the same thing over and over, hoping that some how things will change, our life will be different, or we will end up with a different outcome?

Unfortunately, making those changes that bring us the life we want are more difficult than we might imagine. The ruts we build are often deep, and getting out of them may take a lot of effort, more than we’ve developed the muscles to climb.

I’ve often heard my students say, Next year things will be different. Next year I’ll get straight A’s. Next year I have perfect attendance. Next year, next year, next year.” But next year comes, and guess what? Things soon slip back into being exactly the same.

Changing behaviors is work, especially those we lead us to an easy way out. Water always runs in the path of least resistance, and unless we keep a diligent watch, so do our reactions to a rocky path. Our reactions become complacent, and pretty soon, we’re right back where we started from, moving along at the bottom of that rut.

If we can’t bring ourselves up and out of the rut, what can we do about reaching those dreams? The answer is really simple, even if the work we must to do reach our goals are not: When you want something you never had, you have got to do something you have never done.

You want to be successful? Then you’ve got to look at yourself as though you were already a success. You’ve got to dress the part, believe you are, and associate with those who already are. If that means you must find new friends, change your job, or save to buy better quality clothes, you do it. If you don’t envision yourself as being who you want to be, you’ll never find yourself there, somewhere at the top.

You want to accumulate a fortune? Then you’ve got to stop spending money like a fool. Wealthy people invest in themselves, in their future, and don’t try to impress the neighbors before they have the means to do so. Learn to pay yourself first, setting aside 10% of your income in a place where it can grow and work for you. Give the second 10% to you church, returning back to God what he gave you in the first place, planting your seed for tomorrow’s harvest. Then stop thinking that the people who throw around their money, seeking pleasure in fancy cars, expensive homes, and other devices are the place you want to go. Use your money to become debt free, then learn the value of true charity. You will be wealthier in both money and spirit than you ever thought you could be.

You think you want to travel? Then travel with a purpose. Offer your knowledge to others who need to learn. Offer your muscles to those who need help. Offer your time to those who are alone. Find someone, someplace, or some cause that needs you and go there willingly. And while you’re there keep your eyes open. Opportunity abounds for those who seek. You will learn more about the people and the area by providing service to them than you ever would by spending outrageous sums of money just to travel around the world.

You’ll never find something different unless you are willing to do something different. Don’t let that rut you’ve fallen into keep you on the path to insanity. Start today to make that change, and you’ll find that all your tomorrows are incredible surprises, just waiting to be discovered.

Home Cooking: Family Favorite

When I was growing up our extended family used to get together quite often for meals. Sometimes these gatherings were for summer picnics, others for holiday meals. It seemed like every Sunday we had either Bob or Sue or Don and their families over for dinner. Mother seemed to do much of the cooking those early years, but as she aged Jan, Sue, and Sandra pitched in with their own specialties to add to the meal, and eventually they did most of the cooking. But that didn’t matter. Mom still had her hand in making at least one dish, one that was always a family favorite and something at least one grandkid would request—Grandma’s homemade Macaroni and Cheese!

Yep, good old mac & cheese. It got to the point that this dish was so popular, and there were so many grandkids, that Mom would have to make at least two dishes to even come close to satisfying the demand. Was that possible?

There really is no great secret to making my mother’s mac & cheese. I do it all the time with just as much success at my house. I’ve learned to bake mine in at least a 9x12 glass pan because my sons love it, and at least two of them get really upset if they can’t have third servings with a little bit left over for a late night snack.

So, here’s how easy it is to make my mother’s homemade macaroni and cheese.

Preheat the over to 350 degrees. I often put in a few potatoes to bake at the same time, and maybe a meatloaf as well.

Boil a large pot of water, adding salt to it to keep the pot from boiling over. Okay, the tough part here is knowing how much salt to add, I guess. It’s more than a pinch, less than a handful, and that’s as specific as I can get. There needs to be about a dime size of salt on the bottom of the pan when you get the water started. Add too much salt and you won’t be able to eat the macaroni because it will be too salty.

My trick for making this at home is to add 1 cup of uncooked macaroni for each person I plan to feed. Obviously if I’m taking this dish to a party, I just boil enough to make what I need for a baking dish.

While the macaroni is cooking (stir it occasionally), get out your baking dish. Mom used a deep, square piece of Corningware for hers in later years, but when I was young she used a set of blue baking dishes she had. As I recall, Connie has those dishes now and taught her own daughter, Madison, how to make this much-requested dish.

Coat the inside of the baking dish with margarine. If you’re still operating in the I-must-do-everything-myself stage, I hope you’ve already grated a big chunk of sharp cheddar cheese. If you’re like me, you need a pre-shredded bag of your favorite brand. (We once discovered too late in the game that we only had a bag of taco-flavored cheese at home. It was interesting, but likely not one we’d ever do again.) Sprinkle a solid coating in the bottom and along the sides of the buttered pan. The butter should help it stick to the sides.

Check the macaroni. If it’s really tender, then it’s ready. Drain the water as much as possible, using a strainer to get the majority of water off the macaroni. Then pour the macaroni onto the bed of cheese. If you’re making a deep dish then only put half the macaroni in, add a center layer of cheese and add the rest.

Once the macaroni layer is done, add a little salt to the top of the dish if needed for taste (you can check this by eating a single piece of macaroni). Pour 1 cup of milk over the dish, spreading the milk around as you do so. Then top the whole thing off with your remaining cheese. Be sure to cover all the macaroni so nothing burns. (Although Chan does like the edges of his macaroni crispy!) Sprinkle black pepper on the top if your entire family likes it. If not, people can add it once the food is on their plate.

Put the dish into the oven and bake for 45 minutes.

Once it’s done, serve it hot. If you’ve got leftovers, you can choose if you want it hot or cold.

One word of warning, if your family is anything like mine, this will become a family favorite and you’ll be making it regularly for Sunday dinner and bringing it to family gatherings. It’s a good thing macaroni and cheese is so easy to make!

Week in Review: Great Reads

Since it’s been a hectic week now that I’m back teaching school, I didn’t have time to make it to a movie. I did, however and as always, find time to read. So, I thought I’d share with you some books I’ve recently finished. Maybe you’ll find something here you would also like to read.

Before I forget, if you live in the Spanish Fork area, I’d love to have you join me on Wednesday, September 15th at 6:30 p.m. at the library. I’ll be doing book talks for the adult patrons, and it might be a great chance for you to discover a book or series, or just to meet some other avid readers from our community. Hope to see you there!

Apple Turnover Mystery – Joanne Fluke. This
series is one of my very favorite cozy mysteries. The main character, Hannah
Swenson, owns the local bakery and has an uncanny way of always being the one
to discover the body of someone recently murdered. Hannah is a natural sleuth
and uses her bakery specialties, knowledge of the community, and sense of intuition
to solve the case, even though her policeman brother-in-law sometimes wishes
she would leave that part up to him. If you love to bake, you’ll also love
these books which are always jam-packed with actual recipes for cookies, cakes
and other confectionaries that sound way too many calories or sugar grams for
my diet!

Hush, Hush – Becca Fitzpatrick. Since this book
came out I’ve had a lot of locals ask me if I read it yet, and what did I
think. I’d read an absolutely scathing review by a well-known nationally
published YA author, so of course, I HAD to read the book at that point to see
what all the fuss was about. I picked up the novel expecting to be absolutely
scandalized, and found. . . next to nothing. Okay, so there was a little inappropriate
language, maybe some hinted indication of sex, but nothing compared to some of
the other well-known and widely read YA novels that recently passed around our
community as a “must read.” Maybe I’m becoming desensitized and these glimpses
of impropriety don’t faze me anymore. Honestly the book I’ve reading right now
to review for a national magazine has content much worse than this. Perhaps the
entire industry is leading teenagers down a path toward vulgarity in both
language and sex. One listen to the radio and a look at MTV sort of proves
this. In any case, I actually liked Hush, Hush well enough that I’ve put the
forthcoming sequel on hold at the public library.

Readicide – Kelly Gallagher. This book is a must
read for teachers and administrators, language arts of not. The author tells of
a terrible tragedy that has befallen our country, one that I have cried about
for years. We are developing an alliterate nation—a nation of people who can
read, but who DON’T. The reason? Our teachers are committing readicide—killing the
love of reading by dissecting literature into such small parts that the
students never learn to engage, never learn to read simply because they love
reading. Why do we do this? Because of state and national mandates testing.
Everything in school becomes about the test. Are the scores high enough? Can we
reach 100% proficiency by the target date of 2014 as mandated in No Child Left Behind?Anyone who understands that you can’t compare apples to oranges already knows
that the goal

All in the Family – Helen Marie Heffner Brobst

Helen Marie Heffner was born at home at 810 Daly Street in Indianapolis, Indiana, as the second child of Lewis Orvil and Violet Mae Warner Heffner. She was welcomed to the family by her older sister Leona Mae Heffner, who had just turned two the month before.

At the recommendation of her mother Violet’s doctor, the family left the city while Helen was young and settled in the crossroads known as Hancock’s Chapel in the hills of southern Indiana. Violet’s health had caused the doctor some concern, and he felt living in the big city and working in the marshmallow factory as she did was not good for her. When Lewis located his siblings Herbert and Ethel, who had been adopted by the Wennings family, the tiny crossroads town where they lived seemed to make the most sense for the rest of his family.
   
Helen and Leona loved the outdoors, fishing in the pond, running through the hills, and playing in the barn. They attended the two room schoolhouse on the Wennings’ property behind the General Store. The two girls often sang duets at the chapel where their baby sister, Ethel Louise, is laid to rest. The baby was stillborn in 1922.

One of Helen’s favorite songs was “Fair Lilies,” and her best friend in Hancock was Mary Catherine Kennedy, whose married name was Wolfe. Helen continued to have a love for music throughout the rest of her life, and although she never learned to play an instrument or read music, she often sang as she worked around the house. She always had the perfect song to sing for any occasion to prove a lesson to her children.

When Helen was 12, the family relocated first to “B” Street in Elwood, where their grandma Mary Rose Fry Warner lived, then to Alexandria, Indiana, where they resided at 218 West Tyler Street. She remembered having sock hop dances on the new hardwood floors her father laid in this house, to help polish the floors after coats of varnish were added to them. She lived in this house until she was married.

Helen was very successful in business courses in high school, working in the school office as a student aide and being chosen as a member of the National Honor Society. She worked as kitchen help at the Colonaide, the beautiful building which still stands on State Road 9. She would walk the 2 miles to and from work each day for a meager wage, although sometimes the girls would share their tips if she could clear the dishes away quickly for them.

As a girl, she met and developed a crush on her neighbor Robert Brobst who had a crush on Helen’s cousin Roberta. Eventually, the romance worked out, and Robert and Helen were married at the home of Reverend Bigler at the corner of Water and Clinton Streets in Alexandria. Helen wore a lavender silk dress that she had made. She always wondered, however, if the marriage was legal as the minister insisted on calling Robert “Paul” throughout the marriage ordinance. Only Violet, Leona, and Winona Brobst attended the wedding because Lewis Heffner thought his older daughter should get married first.

The weather was cold and terrible on that January day, and after the ceremony the newlywed couple walked the mile from the preacher’s house to Loren and Opal’s house at 406 Walnut to spend the honeymoon night. Helen took a terrible chill which results in one of the worst colds she ever experienced in her life. She kept apologizing to her new husband and the next day they walked back to Roe Avenue and his family home. He made her a hot toddy that night, the first she had ever had alcohol, and she thought she hear trains rushing through the room. But the drink did its job and she slept through the night, awaking the next morning miraculously cured.

Over the next 45 years, Helen raised their four children (Robert Lewis, Beverly Sue, Donald Eugene, and Lu Ann), worked at Robert’s side at Brobst Photos Supplies, and developed her talents, which included cooking, sewing, embroidery, crochet, cross stitch, and writing poetry, but she never learned to drive a car. The one time she gave it a try, she became upset when she didn’t turn the car in the right place at the corner, which resulted in a chewing out from her instructor. Once she parked the car back home she said, “You can have the wheel. I’m done trying.” I think she later regretted that decision, but there was no way late in life she was going to try again.

Helen was the family historian and kept in touch with cousins on both sides of the family. She loved to read. After she lost Robert, whom she called “my best friend,”she traveled with her youngest child, Lu Ann, to Florida and Utah where she finally moved. She died there in 1995 from complications due to Alzheimer’s disease.

Writing Wisdom – Dave Wolverton, aka David Farland

There is nothing like being taught by a master, and that’s how I would classify New York Times Best-selling author and writing teacher Dave Wolverton. Winner of the 2009 Whitney Best Novel of the Year and Outstanding Achievement Award, Dave is one of the most genteel and humble men I’ve ever known. He is always there to nurture a struggling beginner and to applaud the success of everyone who has made the journey into publication.

In addition to his own success, Dave, who has published 50 books in the past 26 years, has been entered into the Guinness World Book of Records for having the most people ever attend a book signing while promoting his Runelords series in Germany, has been a teacher to a list of other best-selling authors, including Dan Wells (I Am Not a Serial Killer), Brandon Mull (Fablehaven), Brandon Sanderson (Elantris and The Wheel of Time: Towers of Midnight), and Stephenie Meyers (Twilight saga).

Recently I had the opportunity to attend one of Dave’s presentations at the LDS Storymaker’s conference, and I wished his session could have gone on for days. I’ve been writing and studying writing for a long time, but I learned so much in his session, short though it was.

His opening words of wisdom for that session were, “Nobody makes it alone. We all build upon each other.” He them went on to talk about how important it is to network. He encouraged the authors to prepare for a brilliant writing career and ask themselves, “What is your first good step?” He said there is no one set path for making a career as a writer, but like fellow science fiction author Kevin Anderson says, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

Dave encouraged the writers to do their homework on the person or pesons they most want to network with, then build your confidence for when you meet them. “You just need that one person to get your career started. “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail,” he adds, warning that you should also be aware of your potential competition.

He says to be entertaining, research the world, and develop genuine interest in people and knowledge that you can spread around. When you meet the agent or editor of your dreams, you want to have things to talk about, something with which you can engage them in conversation where they will remember you in a good way. “Prepare emotionally. Prepare spiritually,” he says. If we teach through our writing, we must be careful what we are teaching.”

Authors use writing as their way of screaming, and therefore you should write what is most important to you. Authors can change the world. They create entire communities. Dave says,” We are having a huge effect on people and we don’t even know it. A lot of people need what we have. Each of us has something to share in the world..”

He suggested we use the things he has said as our blueprint—“How to be more like me.” And that makes perfect sense when you understand that one of Dave’s goals is to help all of us become the next best-selling writers who are ready to speak to the world.

If you’re interested in learning more writing insight from Dave Wolverton, sign up for his free e-newsletter, Daily Kick in the Pants, at his website: http://davidfarland.net/. You can also find out about upcoming workshops there as well.

Been There, Done That – John Schneider

In the 1980s and early 1990s, I found myself free to travel just about anywhere I wanted. Living in Utah, a jaunt down to Vegas, a trip to Los Angeles, a drive north to Idaho, or a short-hop flight to Colorado was as easy as could be, and I never seemed to have difficulty finding a friend or four to   go with me. Even a second trip to the Big Apple—New York—was not impossible to pull off, but long before that my journey begins.

For several years I had been living in Provo, Utah, the place where this all begins. The Children’s Miracle Network annual telethon had made its home since the very beginning at the Osmond Studio complex in nearby Orem. I had almost annually made a trek to see as much of the telethon as I could get a ticket and a seat to attend.

Many, many celebrities came out for these shows and I often had the chance either at the studio or at the Salt Lake City airport to meet them. A few of those I remember include Richard Carpenter, Nia Peeples, Billy Zabka, Frank Stallone, and Andy Gibb. But probably the celebrity I ran into the most often was telethon co-host John Schneider.

John Schneider is one of those kinds of people who truly want to get to know their fans. Every time I saw him in Utah, which are too numerous to count, or even when the telethon moved to Disneyland, John would take the time to stop and talk. He’d pose for pictures and sign autographs, then he would start asking questions toward the group of us as fast as we could thrown questions back at him. He would really listen as we answered those questions, too. I felt like John wanted to get to know me.

That brings me back to New York and the rest of my story. One of my good friends, Mary La Fontaine, had a hankering to fly to New York to see John perform in the Broadway musical Grand Hotel. John would be playing the role of the Baron in the production currently running at the Martin Beck Theater, and she called to ask if I wanted to go.

Of course I wanted to go! I have always loved John as a performer, a singer, and especially as a person. Plans were made, tickets were bought, and a few weeks later, I was flying in late on Friday night after having taught school to meet Mary in New York late that night.

It certainly was late when I got there. My plan arrived at JFK right around midnight, and there I was, a single woman alone on New York, hoping I’d make it to the hotel alive. I’d learned to pack light for weekend trips like this, so I hauled my wheelie-bag from the plane and headed outside to the taxi stand. Now, I’d taken a taxi before when I was in New York, but I’d never done it alone—at night—with all those scary-looking taxi drivers standing around waiting for a final late-night fare.

I stood and stared at a group of them, all hanging out, smoking their cigarettes and staring at me, until I finally got up my nerve, raised my right hand, and said, “Taxi?”

None of them looked especially thrilled, but at last one mam took a final drag, stopped out his cigarette, and motioned me toward his car. I took a deep gulp of air as I slid into the seat. It’s probably a good thing because that cab absolutely reeked of stale tobacco, alcohol, and who knows what other smells.

I gave him the name and street number for the hotel where Mary had us booked and we were on our way. I had no idea where we were going. I only know the car careened one way, then another, sometimes coming to an abrupt halt behind a jam of cars, them tearing away into another side street as we headed somewhere that I assume was across town, although there were times I thought we hadn’t gone more than a street away from where our journey began. The only time I knew for sure we were someplace new was when we crossed the river and I could see bridges on either side of me a little farther up or down the waterway.

At last we arrived at my destination. Somehow I was lucky enough to have the correct amount of cash to pay my fare—some astronomical amount like 50 bucks as I recall, a number that matched the meter so I know he wasn’t being an obvious cheat—and I was a the door to the place, still not knowing exactly where I was headed.

I checked in at the desk then used the house courtesy phone to give Mary a call and let her know I was in the lobby. She came down to meet me, leading me upstairs and chattering all the way about how she had already seen the play this night and talked to John afterwards, telling him I was coming and assuring me that he wanted to see me.

Right! I thought. No matter how many times John had seen me, I knew he had no idea who I was, even if he did say he couldn’t wait to see me.

Somehow we managed to crowd into our postage-stamp of a room and settle in for an almost-night’s sleep. Despite the fact the window was the size of an 8x10 envelope standing on end, the outside noise of car horns, squealing tires, and overhead planes was more than I was used to and they all converged to keep me awake most of the night. Of course, the fact that the twin bed meant for me was more the width of a plank that a mattress didn’t help either. I think even if Mary and I had been able to slide the two beds together the whole thing combined wouldn’t have been wide enough for even a single person to sleep comfortably.

Tired, but not letting it stop me from having a great day, Mary did some Saturday morning sight-seeing before heading to the theater for the matinee. Until my luck with Christopher Reeve, we didn’t see John before the show, but that was okay. We had great seats right down front and both really enjoyed the play, Mary even more than she had the evening before.

After the performance, she said, “Come with me!” and we headed toward the curtain at the front right of the stage. There was an usher there, blocking the way for anyone to get backstage, but that didn’t seem to bother Mary. “Can you tell John that Mary and Lu Ann are here, please?”

The usher gave her a look that seemed to say ‘You’ve-got-to-be-kidding,’ but after a second he shrugged his shoulder and headed backstage. ‘He said he’s really excited to see you,’ Mary said, turning to me.
I smiled, but I didn’t believe we’d even get backstage, let alone have John excited to see me. I guess I was wrong. A few minutes later, the usher returned and Mary and I were suddenly standing on the other side of the curtain where we were walked farther into the dark recesses found backstage. “John will be here in a few minutes,” the usher said, then he was gone.

I can’t remember how long we stood there, but I do remember seeing Mary’s eyes start to sparkle right before I heard the deep voice say, “Hi Mary, and Lu Ann, it’s great to see you!” And there was John, his arms held out toward me, ready to give me one of those great big bear hugs his is notorious for. He started chatting away like we were finishing a conversation that had been started the day before. He asked me how school was going—did I have good students this year?—and how my flight was from Utah, and when did I have to go back, etc. We talked for probably twenty  minutes before he said, “Let’s get some pictures” and called over one of the stagehands who was resetting the stage for the evening performance.

Finally John said, “I’ve got to go. They have dinner waiting back in the dressing room for me, but it was sure great to see you—both of you!” He gave us each another hug and led us to the door that took us back outside. Before we left he gave us the name and address of one of his favorite restaurants in an area of the city known as Hell’s Kitchen and we were on our way—but that’s another story for another day.

Wisdom Keys: Never Spend More Time on a Critic Than You Would Give to a Friend

Everybody’s a critic, and the word alone means those people rarely have anything nice to say. I had a good friend express her concerns this week about a negative review that was left for her by a reader. Like a sore tooth, the hurtful words took joy away from my friend—at least on an emotional level—all the praise and kudos she’s received from hundreds of others not only for this book, but for her other bodies of work as well. In her mind, she fully understood that it was just one person—a lone voice ranting in the wilderness—but that didn’t change the hurt that came along with it.

I’ve heard it said that it takes us seven experiences with praise to counter-balance a single negative comment delivered to us, even by someone who claims to only be giving constructive criticism. Is there really such a thing? If the offering was unrequested, then perhaps those words are better left unsaid.

Like the saying goes, you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar. If you truly want to bring about change, then perhaps you should look at the words that are said, or choose to leave them unsaid if that’s the better way.

But what if you’re the one hearing those vinegar-laced words? My mother always told me to 'consider the source'. Would that critic set out to deliberately hurt you? Or are they just so blind they cannot see? If their actions seem deliberate, why would they do such a thing? Sometimes it might be out of jealousy, others could be because they simply don’t understand. Maybe they think they are doing you the good they believe you need. A critic is anyone who expresses a value judgment, and if their value differs from yours this may lead them to an erroneous conclusion—one they seem compelled to share, for whatever the reason.

In any case, we should never place more value—or spend more time—on the words of a critic than we would ascribe to those of a friend. The value of friendships is immeasurable in our lives. The listening ear, and open mind, a pat on the back, a word of support when the thorns of life seem to come our way.

True friendships carries with it the desire to give what is best to each other, feel both love and empathy for those we befriend; and maintain honesty, perhaps in situations where it may be difficult for others to speak the truth, not to criticize or correct, but to maintain an openness beget of nothing but true love. Friendship means a basis of mutual understanding and compassion for one another, and foundation or trust, and a place to go for emotional support.

As Walter Winchell once said, “A friend is one who walks in when others walk out.”

With such as these, we should spend our emotions, ignoring those who would seek to do us harm, both physically and emotionally, with their criticizing tongue. Elder David E. Sorensen once said, “It can be very difficult to forgive someone the harm they’ve done us, but when we do, we open ourselves up to a better future. No longer does someone else’s wrongdoing control our course. When we forgive others, it frees us to choose how we will live our own lives.”

So, forgive our critics, those who trespass against us, and set ourselves free. The time we spend on them is time taken away from us to go about doing good in the world, sharing our talents, and building ourselves into a better you and me.  

And that’s what will make this world a better, kinder, and more loving place to be.

Home Cooking: Hey, Good Lookin’

Whatcha got cooking? How about cooking somethin’ up with me?

My mother used to sing this song while she was working in the kitchen, a place she really seemed to love to be. That must have been a trait she learned from her own mother, and one that got passed on to my sister, Sue. Didn’t happen though with me, and honestly not with my aunt Leona either it seems. Some girls naturally inherit the “I-love-to-cook gene.” Others do not, and that’s where you’ll find me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I can cook; I just don’t particularly like to. But just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I can’t cook up a dish or two that rank as some members of my family’s favorite meals. And it’s not all just cake and desserts, either, although they do seem to like that too.

When I started this series some time ago, I had people asking me for some of my favorite recipes, so today I’m going to share one with you. Others will come as the weeks follow. These are tried and true and my boys gobble them up like they haven’t eaten in weeks. Oh, for the days I used to have leftovers for sandwiches or a lunch to take to work!

The main course dish that I’m going to share actually has a story to go with its history.

In one of my early years teaching at Payson Jr. High School, we were having some sort of pot luck meal in which members of the faculty were supposed to bring a favorite dish. I knew I couldn’t make desserts to equal those my sister could make, rolls were out of the question, and the salad I might have made took overnight to prepare and I didn’t have that time luxury, so I decided to make up some breaded tenderloin to share.

This is something I knew how to cook without even thinking. Breaded tenderloin was probably the first thing my mother really taught me to cook, and I know it was the first dish I was asked to prepare all on my own for a family meal. I followed my mother’s exact recipe.

Buy pork tenderloin, sliced as thin as you can get them. Cut off any fat, place the tenderloin between two sheets of waxed paper and pound on the meat until it is paper-thin.

Dip the meat pieces into a well-beaten egg until it’s covered, then press each side onto a waxed paper where you’ve crushed crackers into nearly powder. (I use Ritz crackers; my mother used saltines.) 

Heat an electric skillet to 350∘. Slowly place the cracker and egg-covered pieces into the skillet and let them begin to cook. When the side nearest the heat has started to turn golden brown, gently turn the meat over, cooking until the other side is the same color. Do NOT salt the meat at this time.

Repeat the process, allowing the meat to cook through and the coating to continue to brown on both sides. The third time you turn them, you may lightly salt each side.

At the end of t his final turn, the meat should be completely cooked, but cut open a tiny part in the center of the thickest piece of meat. If all looks good, then you are done and the breaded tenderloin is ready to serve.

Now, back to my story. I had made the tenderloin and brought them to this party at school. My humble offering was sitting on the table amid all sorts of fabulous looking dishes and I wondered if anyone but me would even want to eat any of this lowly meat. It didn’t take long in the line to find out.

Layne Blatter, our German teacher, was not far ahead of me, when I heard him exclaim, “Wienerschnitzel!”

Now the only time I had ever heard that word was when someone was referring to that hot dog place in Orem that served the best coney dogs I’d had since I stopped going to the Madison County fair. I wondered if someone had brought coney dogs to the party.

“Who brought the wienerschnitzel?” Layne asked, looking around for who might be the person responsible for this dish. All of us shrugged our shoulders, and no one claimed the be the cook. “I love wienerschnitzel,” he added.

We continued to go through the line, and I filled my plate, taking a piece of my own dish of meat. Then I took a seat at a table, only finding out a few minutes later when they came back from getting drinks that Layne and his wife would be sitting with me.

As Layne sat, he looked at my plate and saw my meat. “Did you make the wienerschnitzel?” he asked, pointed at my breaded tenderloin.

“That’s breaded tenderloin,” I said, a little confused.

“Not in Germany it isn’t,” he said before he took his first bite. He savored it like he had never tasted anything so good. “And you made it just right—just like I remember from Germany.”

A few minutes of conversation and I discovered that this dish that my mother used to make—one she had learned from her mother—came to us from our German ancestry, and that in that country what we knew as breaded tenderloin was known as wienerschnitzel.

 “All those hot dog stands are wrong,” Layne told me.”Now, can you give me the recipe?”

I shared the same information I have given to you, and Layne went home a happy man. As a matter of fact, several times throughout the rest of the school year he stopped to tell me, “My wife made me wienerschnitzel last night, and I have you to thank!”

And I hope any of you who decide to try this recipe will feel the same. I know my boys do.

Summer Movies The Final Countdown

The Expendables – You know, I’ll never understand today’s movie rating system. Some people would think I must be a terrible person and an even more terrible Mom because I took one of my boys with me to see this Sylvestor Stallone movie which is rated R. Yes, the movie was violent, but it wasn’t gruesome. Yes, Bruce Willis said the F-word, but he said it so many times in a single minute of screen time that it became comical rather than offensive. What should have been gore was more video-game-like in intensity. So, in comparison to Vampires Suck or Dinner with Schmucks, which I reviewed last time, The Expendables really wasn’t a bad movie at all. At least it didn’t have gratuitous sexual content, vulgar references or language interspersed throughout, and honestly, the story was great! Guy movie or not, I though this was a well-done, interesting, and exciting movie. I liked the way Stallone brought the entire story to a full resolution in a way that was satisfying to the viewer. The subtle humor helped me connect to the characters, and feel like I wanted to see yet another film with these same guys back again. Overall, The Expendables reminded me of The A-Team, another action movie from earlier in the summer which I also loved.

Nanny McPhee Returns – Although sometimes the situational humor tries a little too hard, I’ll admit I laughed pretty hard at most of this movie. I took my ten-year-old with me, despite his protests, but he liked it well enough that when we went back to the theater for another movie, he pooped over into Nanny McPhee to watch a few minutes of it before the new movie started. Emma Thompson is brilliant—as always! Oh, there were the typical kid jokes about poop, but the story has a great message. The lessons the children learn are not overplayed, and the ending is not as sad as one might think it would be. Overall, a very nice film, well worth the price of admission.

Vampires Suck – I admire Stephenie Meyer, and as a writer, of course I am jealous of her financial success, but sometimes that wicked little devil in my loves watching the entire Twlight saga being made fun of, and this film does exactly that. For the most part, the movie was hysterically funny. The girl who played the Bella-like character had Kristen Stewart’s every move down pat. Despite his bad wig, Edward was much better looking than Robert Patterson, and my boys thought the kid who played Jacob was also better looking than Taylor Lautner. I used to think he was totally cute, until I saw him as Sharkboy, but that’s another movie! The problem with Vampires Suck is that despite a great and very funny premise, the director in charge let the film sink into teen stupidity, using explicit sex scenes and graphic, bloody violence to tell the story, instead of sticking with the highbrow, and much more satisfying humor, of the premise. When it comes to this one, watch the trailers and know you’ve seen enough. The rest wasn’t really worth seeing anyway.

That's it for my movie-filled summer, but you can bet I'll be back with more movie reviews in the weeks to come.

All in the Family: Robert Ellsworth Brobst

My father, Robert, who was also called Bob by many friends and relatives, was born in Elwood, Indiana, on May 30, 1914, as the second son to Pearl and Winona Myra Alice Lake Brobst. His older brother, Loren Allen Brobst, had just turned six in January before Robert was born, and his younger brother Ervin Eugene wouldn’t come along yet for another six years.

During his childhood, Robert was a member of a Boy Scout troop, enjoyed riding the pony, and helped with a family egg business, dressing hens. He took piano lessons, played the chimes, and later in his life, enjoyed the chord organ. At one time he also played around with the ukelin, but no one in the family ever really learned to play this unusual instrument. Robert used to swim, until he became disoriented while turning somersaults in the pool and became frightened of the water afterward.

Robert’s best friend was Curty Babcock and the two of them used to drive to school in Robert’s Model-A Ford. Helen Marie Heffner, who later became his wife, says, “He and Curty used to go flying by my sister, Leona and me, as we walked to school, both rain and shine. His mother wouldn’t let Robert drive with anyone else in the car, except Curty.”

Like many of the boys of his time, before the danger of smoking was known, Robert wanted to smoke a cigarette. He was sitting on an old mattress not far from the kitchen. When Winona saw the smoke, she thought Robert and the mattress had caught on fire. She rushed from the house with the first thing she grabbed—a pot of beans, which she poured on his to put out the fire. Unfortunately for Robert, the beans were hot and left a scar about the size of two spread hands on his shoulder and back, a scar that remained there the rest of his life.

Robert knew Helen Heffner not only because she lived a block away, but also because he had a crush on her cousin, Roberta Shaw, whom he once thought he would marry. Their staring contest was legendary in Helen and Leona’s family story treasury. Helen thought for many years that Robert had only married her because he couldn’t have either Roberta or Leona, but Robert always tried to assure his this simply wasn’t so. It was always the young girl with the dark brown hair and big blue eyes who caught his attention, and that’s why he married her.

Robert worked at Johns-Mansville when he graduated from high school, then during WWII worked at Greer Steel, but he loved business. He and his brother Eugene first opened Brobst Photo Plant in a building they constructed next to the Brobst home on Roe Avenue. Robert and Helen lived in an apartment above the plant until 1953 when they moved to 305 Pennsylvania Avenue. Robert had already opened Brobst Photo Supplies on Canal Street, hoping to make a go of the business on his own in a more convenient location.

He loved music and had a beautiful tenor voice, and often said that when he grew up, he wanted “to be Al Jolson,” the singer he enjoyed seeing at the talking movies. Robert also loved whistling and once recorded himself on a vinyl platter he labeled “Whistlitis.” By the end of the record, he said he thought he was going to die until he had some water to “whet-his-whistle!” He loved movies and TV programs, especially westerns, enjoying the films of John Wayne and anything on TV that was about the Wild West. Each week he would watch Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, and Bonanza, as part of his regular TV-faire.

Robert was a tease and played jokes, like when he answered the phone “Joe’s Pizza Parlor,” fooling Chuckie Lee Pittman into thinking he had a wrong number. He had crazy nicknames for people, including calling me “loose ends,” because he said I had some!

Robert could write both upside down and backwards. He couldn’t go to work in the morning until he had a cup of coffee and finished both the crossword puzzle and the crypto-quote in the newspaper.

Late in his career, Robert designed and built an enlarging camera then ran a printing press, printing Memorial Cards for local funeral homes. He also had wood and metal lathes in the shop to use on various projects. Prior to his death in May 1980, he built a new shop behind his home and ran the family business from his own back yard.

Robert suffered from complications related to emphysema and died of a blood clot which moved from his leg to his heart. The whole town seemed to come out for his funeral. All those years in business had left Robert Brobst a friend to everyone, and everyone was his friend.

Writing Wisdom: Dian Thomas

I’ve known who Dian Thomas is for about as long as I can remember watching TV. From her early appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to the eight seasons she did on The Today Show, I always knew she was an author who came from Utah, and she wrote a book called Roughing It Easy. She also did these really funky cooking things like cooking fish on your car manifold or something. I knew she had a fun personality, and that she seemed to be pretty good at getting herself written about in magazines, newspapers, and appearing on TV. Last year, I met Dian and started getting to know her, and I discovered that she had lots of ideas that could help anyone get themselves written about in newspapers, etc.—maybe even me!

Dian has put together a package of seminars and teaching tapes to help the inexperienced break into getting free publicity, and I won’t steal her thunder here, but I want to share few of her points that have been important to me. Maybe her ideas will also give a kick start to you on finding your way to free publicity.

One of the concerns Dian had to overcome when she first started making television appearances was to get over her fear of being on stage and in the spotlight. She learned to ask herself a question—Are you here to be nervous, or are you here to sell books? The answer was obvious, and she disallowed herself to be nervous, instead using the time to tell people about the things that were exciting and interesting in her books. The sales soared as a result.

Her next fear was that there were perhaps others who had more to say—more to teach. Obviously the newspapers had articles each day to fill there spaces, so she worried, “Why would they need me?” Until finally she realized that those other people getting write ups were really no different that she was, someone with a product to sell and the need to let people know about it, so her response to herself became, “Why not me?”

Three tips she gives to those of us who want to gain free publicity:
1. Be really positive
2. Be open to possibilities
3. Connect with people. Let them know where you want to do, and let them help you get there.

If you can solve the problem of the reader, you are on your way to success. And, you never know where the publicity you get will take you. Even press in the local market can help sell your product, introduce you and your talents to new people, and open the door for other opportunities.

Dian suggests you build yourself a press kit. With the rise of computer technology you can do much of this from home for both the print and electronic media. Write you own killer bio, include facts about your product, answer the top ten questions you know readers will have, give the editor several story ideas they can choose from, and include a high resolution photo or jpg of you or your product.

Many times the reason why people don’t get press for their successes is that they simply don’t take action. You can’t afford to sit around and wait for someone to recognize you would make the perfect subject for an article or be a stellar guest for a television show. You’ve got to be willing, and knowledgeable, about how to sell yourself.

Media is like a pyramid. Start at the bottom and work yourself up. Local newspapers are always looking for people they can feature. Even some local news or talk shows are looking for guests that meet the needs of their audience. You don’t have to jump first thing onto a national show like Oprah. Would you really want to anyway without at least some experience at finding yourself in the hot seat?

Learn how to write not only your own press release, but also how to write articles. Choose one that fits what your trying to sell. How to, lists, profiles, information, historical, personal experience, inspirational, travel, investigative, and humor all have their places in newspapers and magazines. Which one works best for you?

Dian’s mantra is, “Advertising is what you pay for, and publicity is what you pray for!” Look for ways you can get publicity to pay for YOU!