Yes, It’s Been An Unusual Spring….

 The 1.00″ of rain at Flagstaff airport yesterday was the 6th rainiest June day on record for the city (which dates back to 1898). The record is 2.40″ from 06-29-1956. The previous record for June 5th was 0.40″ in 1903.

— Posted by US National Weather Service Flagstaff Arizona on Saturday, June 6, 2015

So, it’s no wonder that we’ve never seen a spring like this in our twenty-one Flagstaff springs.

Memorial to Decoration Day

Roses in CemeteryWhen I was young, Memorial Day was quite different. This was after the days when everyone walked 10 miles to school no matter what the weather, but we were still in the era of black and white TV where the test pattern came on after the 10 o’clock news. Though I now live in Flagstaff, Arizona, my recollections are from Iowa, where I grew up. Somehow, I think the way things were observed in Iowa were not much different from in Flagstaff in the 1950s.

One way in which Memorial Day was different is that every adult called it Decoration Day.  Another difference is that it was not always on Monday as part of a three day weekend. It was on May 30, no matter what day of the week that happened to be. (The change to the last Monday in May happened in 1969.)  May 30 came at a convenient time of year to take a day off in Iowa since the crops were in (meaning corn and soybeans were planted) and it was usually before the first round of hay baling (farmers tried to get three in each summer/fall in order to keep the cattle in hay during the winter).

So, everyone dressed up as though it were Sunday and got in the car and visited cemeteries. Sometimes, someone would go out to a nearby cemetery the Sunday before the actual holiday so the graves would be decorated before anyone arrived on Memorial Day – there was often a little competition about the most elaborate decoration.

In our family, Decoration Day had little to do with military honors. It was a day to remember the grandparents and others who had died by decorating their graves. By the time we finished the circuit of graveyards (first picking up an aunt and uncle or two to ride along), we may have put over 200 miles on the car at an average of 40 miles per hour on the narrow two-lane roads. We started early and got home long after dark.

Along the way, we looked forward to each cemetery to come because it meant getting out of the hot (no auto air-conditioning then!) car to run around under the shade of the big old trees surrounding the graves. We also learned a lot about our families. All the grandfathers had come directly from Germany to Iowa to claim and farm new land, and to avoid the Kaiser’s military draft. One of them had been born in New York harbor and was thus a U.S. citizen though no one else in his family was. The origin of the grandmothers was a bit less clear, but at least one of them was German since that’s the language she spoke at home. There were also a few of their children buried nearby – still-born babies and victims of life on the plains without the miracle of antibiotics. That sort of thing was much more common in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, and the evidence and history lesson was evident on the ground around us on those Memorial Days.

I was off to college by the time Congress changed Memorial Day to just one of those Uniform Holidays conveniently always located on a Monday to make a nice three-day weekend. Somehow, I think we’ve lost something important to gain these mini-vacations.

©Ann Heitland 2007, then published in the Arizona Daily Sun as Coconino Voices and on Active Rain.

It’s Not If. It’s When.

You show me a highly unequal society, and I will show you a police state. Or an uprising. There are no counterexamples. None. It’s not if, it’s when.

Nick Hanauer, self-described Zillionaire

Read more:

The Growing Generational Divide

The joys and sorrows of the older generations serve as examples for us to learn from, to emulate or, perhaps even more useful, to avoid. As age segregation becomes more ingrained in our culture, what cycles will be repeated, what misconceptions will flourish?

Silas House via The Growing Generational Divide –

I hope that my writing will bridge this divide, at least for those who read.

Anatomy of a Best-Selling Story—Structure Part One


Kristen Lamb's Blog

Structure Matters Structure Matters

Writers must understand structure if they hope to be successful. Yes, it might take five years to finish the first novel, but if we land a three book deal, we don’t have 15 years to turn in our books. Also, in the new paradigm of publishing, writers who produce more content have greater odds of making money at this writing thing.

Understanding structure helps us become faster, cleaner, better writers. Structure is essential to all stories, from screenplays to novels to epic space operas.

Plotters tend to do better with structure, but even pantsers (those writers who write by the seat of their pants) NEED to understand structure or revisions will be HELL. Structure is one of those boring topics like finance or taxes. It isn’t nearly as glamorous as creating characters or reading about ways to unleash our creative energy.

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I’ve run my 20 page Death Star Critique…

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Obergefell: A Personal Take on the History of the Marriage Cases

Red Equality SignMost of you will hear snippets on the radio or see a headline. You’ll see a few comments or profile picture changes on Facebook.

Some of you may think, “Why are we even still talking about this?” Others may say to themselves, “That’s a very sad story;” and then go about their business of the day. Some will be angry that the government enforcement of their religious beliefs are about to be “discarded on the ash heap of history,” as one Pennsylvania judge said last year.  Others may not know what I’m writing about at all – please read on if you don’t and if you care.

Obergefell is the guy who flew from Cincinnati to Maryland in a medical transport plane to marry his long-time partner who was dying of Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS). The partner, John, is dead. Obergefell would like to be listed as his husband on the death certificate but cannot be because Ohio, where they lived together and where John died, does not recognize gay marriage. This is one of the petitions before the U.S. Supreme Court tomorrow along with other sad stories of discrimination.

I’ve been putting on a happy face about these cases for a lot of years. I am happy with the Windsor decision (2013) and with many of the opinions that I read in the ensuing years. Today, I’m here to say I’m not really happy. I’m angry. It’s just not pleasant to sit and listen to people debate my life, but that’s what I’ll be doing again tomorrow.

The Supreme Court doesn’t allow live broadcast of its hearings. There will be blogging and tweeting and a recorded tape will be released some hours after the arguments end. The courtroom is actually quite small. There is more seating in most U.S. District Court courtrooms than in the U.S. Supreme Court. People care so much about Tuesday’s arguments that the line to get in started to form at 6:00 a.m. on Friday. Those folks staying in line are quite weary by now. I’m weary, too. Along with being angry.

Here are a few things I’ll be remembering tomorrow as I read the live stream blog of the Supreme Court arguments and throughout the coming months as we wait for the June decision:

  • October 10, 1972: I’ve been in law school for less than a month. I’m 22. The U.S. Supreme Court issues an order in Baker v. Nelson declaring that Minnesota’s denial of a marriage license to two men does not “present a substantial federal question.” I’m scared.
  • A snowy Sunday morning in the 1970s: I’m reading the papers on the couch with my lover. We are a couple of young professionals in an apartment off Lincoln Park in Chicago.  If it weren’t snowing, we’d probably be golfing. I saw an ad for a new golf course development in a suburb and I said, “Let’s run out and look at this – maybe we can buy a house there!”  She said, “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” We even discriminated against ourselves in the 70s. I’m sad.
  • June 30, 1986: I’m a partner in my law firm and living with my future wife and our two teenagers. I pick up the Chicago Sun-Times as I walk to my evening train and read that the U.S. Supreme Court in Bowers v. Hardwick has upheld the conviction of a man for having sex with another man in his own home. I sit stunned as the train makes its way north to my home in Evanston, which doesn’t feel quite so safe anymore. I decide that it is past time for me to become active around the issues of gay rights. Over the next years, I serve on the board of a political action committee and help pass the Chicago non-discrimination ordinance.
  • I sit in a partners’ meeting in 1989, the lone female in the room of about 100. The young men are fighting with the old men about restructuring our firm’s health insurance policy as it relates to the cost of dependent coverage. The night wears on and finally I’m fed up. My future wife has just left her employer to start a private practice and she has no health insurance. I stand up. I say, “I’m tired of paying for health coverage for all of your wives and children while you are not paying for mine.” Eighteen months later, my law firm becomes the first in Chicago to provide health insurance to “domestic partners.” We pay federal taxes on the value of that insurance, unlike my heterosexual partners.
  • It’s 1992. I’m sitting in my office with an ACLU attorney discussing an employment discrimination case we are handling together. Our discussion turns to a similar case developing in New Jersey where a man has sued the Boy Scouts for expelling him after he revealed he was gay. The LAMBDA attorney handling that case was pushing the GLBT community to move away from emphasizing employment cases toward suing for the right to marry. My ACLU associate thought that notion insane. He argued it would create a tremendous backlash. I sided with Evan Wolfson’s view that we had to change the law not just to change the law but to use the legal change to change society’s views. Seeking the right to marry — showing the nation who our families are — was a more effective way to accomplish that than a series of employment and housing discrimination cases. Evan Wolfson lost his Boy Scout case in a 5-4 decision before the U.S. Supreme Court in 2000 but went on to found the LAMBA Freedom to Marry Project in 2001. LAMBDA attorneys are the lead attorneys for Mr. Obergefell before the U.S. Supreme Court tomorrow.
  • Shortly after that office conversation, I got a call with a request that I prepare an expert witness for testimony in a case brought in Colorado to challenge a voter-approved amendment to the Colorado Constitution. The law would have prevented any city, town, or county in the state from taking any legislative, executive, or judicial action to recognize homosexuals as a protected class. I was swamped at the time so I enlisted an excellent associate in my firm to assist. As usual in these situations, she did most of the work. Still, I had the privilege of meeting the witness, a history professor at the University of Chicago, and learning more about GLBT history and oppression than I ever imagined. He testified in Romer v. Evans, which went our way in the U.S. Supreme Court in 1996. I’ve been delighted to read his research cited in the marriage cases of recent years. Romer was the beginning of the end for opponents of equality for GLBT people. Nineteen years after this beginning, we are still fighting and there will be many battles ahead. Don’t tell me that this “sea-change” has come too fast, Justice Ginsberg.
  • I breathed a sigh of relief in 2003 when Lawrence v. Texas expressly overruled Bowers.
  • We lived through the ups and downs of marriage in Hawaii, of Proposition 8 in California, and through state-by-state battle around the country. A few months after our marriage in California in 2008, we celebrated a win in the Iowa Supreme Court (yes, Iowa, my home state).  Finally, we celebrated the downfall of Clinton’s embarrassment, the Defense of Marriage Act, in Windsor in June 2013.

Since Windsor, we’ve watched lower court decisions roll out in our favor at a tremendous pace. However, the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals held in a 2-1 decision that courts should not decide whether states are required by the Equal Protection Clause of the U.S. Constitution to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples. These two judges think that the right to marry should be governed by political forces in state legislatures and by voter referenda. That’s the first question before the U.S. Supreme Court tomorrow. If they discard that tired argument, it gets complicated, but we are likely to win.

Is this too soon, as some have said? Is it too shocking? Should we be patient and go state-by-state to gain the support even more slowly than we have?

I’m weary and angry and enough is finally enough.  I look forward to victory in June.

Turn the Internet Red

Note to readers: I cite to Wikipedia instead of the actual cases to make the source material more readable for you. You can follow the Wikipedia citations for more details if you wish.

Free Public Education Is What Made America Great

Today’s Des Moines Register contains an opinion piece with some important reminders from American history. Here’s something from our second President (one of the “founders” before holding that position):

“The whole people must take upon themselves the education of the whole people and be willing to bear the expenses of it,” President John Adams declared in 1785. “There should not be a district of one mile square, without a school in it — not founded by a charitable individual, but maintained at the public expense of the people themselves.”

Of particular note for my novel in progress: By 1918 everyone was required to complete elementary school (then defined as 8th grade).

via Candidates dangle tax money at home-school parents.

Remains From Lincoln’s Last Day –

A subtheme of my novel has to do with the beauty of the Republican Party as the older members of my family grew up with it. Here’s why many of them clung to Republican Party membership for decades after it began to transform.

Remains From Lincoln’s Last Day –

Storytelling in literary fiction: let’s discuss | Nail Your Novel

Some things I liked about this post and will try to keep in mind:

  • “…engaging the reader, provoking curiosity, empathy, anxiety and other strong feelings are not ‘cheap tricks’.”
  • “Writing is self-taught, and this critical scrutiny is one of our most powerful learning tools. Whenever we read [I think she meant “write”], we should ask ‘does this work’.

Here’s the full, original post by Roz Morris: Storytelling in literary fiction: let’s discuss | Nail Your Novel.

First Excerpt

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter One of my manuscript, a work in progress:

It was September 25, 1914; nine months to the day since Christmas. Not three months since Archduke Ferdinand had been assassinated in Sarajevo, setting off the Great War. Ma had decided that as much as Ava, 20, knew, having been to Teachers’ College and taught the Otterville School now for a year, Ava needed a lesson in birth. So, Ma had decreed that Ava would stay home when Ma started labor with me. That happened about 3 a.m.

By noon, I was born, the last of Emma and W.H.’s nine children. Eleven if you count the two sisters already dead and buried in the Otterville cemetery by then.  Ma had given off a lot of groaning and sighing, but there had been no screaming from the bedroom until Ava, sweeping herself out into the kitchen, yelled “THIS HAS GOT TO STOP,” scaring the bejesus out of Ken and Jessie. Mide came out and picked up Jessie, saying, “Kenneth, go fetch your father.”

Pa had long since taken the bread out of the oven and gone down to the barn to check that Murray and Faye had indeed milked the cows before school. Belatedly, he fed the chickens – normally Emma’s task to do or supervise. Ken ran to the barn and screeched to a halt at his father’s feet. Looking up, he said, “Baby’s here.” Without a word, Pa strode toward the house. Kenny was curious about me, but after babysitting Jessie in the corner all morning, he decided being outside on this fine fall day was the better choice than immediately satisfying that curiosity.

Because Kenny was not quite five he still had some tight restrictions. He couldn’t go near the pig pen or hog house. He wasn’t to climb on anything in the barn, or even be there really unless he was with someone. Even when there with someone, he wasn’t to go into the horses’ stalls or the cow enclosures, unless specifically invited by a responsible adult (basically, Pa or Murray). Kenny’s range really was limited to the house, the porch, the driveways and the apple orchard. He didn’t care about the chicken house – it made him sneeze. No walking to the creek or down the road toward Otterville unless he was with the older sibs. All that was fine with him, there was plenty to entertain. Today, since he was already inside the barn on a legitimate errand, he took an iron wheel hoop out from the center aisle and rolled it with a stick down the driveway toward the road. He saw Grandma Mide come out to the porch and sit in the rocker with a tall glass of water in her hand.

Mide and Nancy had left Will and Emma alone to get acquainted with me. I’ve wondered whether Emma, lying in her exhaustion after any of the eleven baby deliveries, ever had second thoughts. Whether she wished that she’d just gone away before that first one, especially since Ruth died right away. But, of course, she couldn’t have known that was going to happen. She had clearly stayed for Pa. She loved him deeply, though many of my siblings could never understand why.

© Ann Heitland 2015

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