by jphilo | Aug 27, 2024 | Reflections on the Past
This summer, my fact and fiction shared an afternoon in a tiny little town near the site of the country school where I taught the dear people in the picture above and many more.
The children they once were captured my heart. For decades I have carried the memories of them and Camp Crook, the town where my husband lived and worked, since we moved away. I expected them to fade as time marched forward. Instead they grew more vivid with each trip we made to that wild country to see our friends.
As time went by my memories began to clamor inside me. Insistent. Demanding to be put down in words. To be shaped into a story. I spent years writing and rewriting a factual story based on our life there. Eventually I incorporated the facts into the books in the West River Mystery Series.
This past July my memories came to life again at the Camp Crook All School Reunion. Between 135-150 former students and their families came. Two former students––who used to take a food truck to area rodeos, fairs, and other events––prepared the food. The oldest person in attendance was 102. The oldest former student was 91. The youngest was in her twenties. Seven former teachers, at least one of them a former student as well, attended also.
Everyone talked and ate and looked at tables filled with decades worth of school pictures. Students who attended the school before my time there and those who attended afterwards shared their memories. Amazing memories. This post would never end if I tried to record them all. Even then some would be missed.
In light of that, I will focus on a few memories I hope to carry into the future.
- The delight on the faces of school friends reunited.
- My former student who asked, “Mrs. Philo, was I in your class the year the lamb ate my homework?” I laughed. “Yes, Micki, you were! You have no idea how many times I’ve told that story.”
- Listening to students describe the firm educational foundation they received at Camp Crook’s country school.
- Observing groups of classmates who took pictures together and kept talking long after the reunion was supposed to end.
- Seeing people pitch in to clean up without being asked.
But what captured my heart once again were my former students. Getting to know them as adults. Hearing about their lives and their kids. Watching their eyes light up while we talked. Seeing the bright, eager children they once were still shining from within them.
Gratitude overwhelmed me. It overwhelms me still. For the privilege of teaching these children. For this rare chance to have seen them again. For the realization that my former students are the reason I love to write school scenes with Jane and her students into my mysteries.
This summer my fact and fiction shared an afternoon in a tiny town near the site of the country school where I once taught. The school building is closed but, but I am happy to say, its spirit is alive. May it ever be so in our hearts.
by jphilo | Jun 28, 2024 | Family, Reflections on the Past
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I miss her smile, but not the suffering she endured.
I miss her wit, but not her weeping.
I miss her perseverance, but not her pain.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I miss our games of Uno, but not the “Oh no” sensation upon entering her room.
I miss the twinkle in her eye, but not her distress when she tinkled in her pants.
I miss hearing her say my name, but not her embarrassment when she couldn’t recall someone else’s.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I wish her last days had been more comfortable.
I wish she’d found more solace in her faith.
I wish she’d still wanted to eat ice cream.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I’m grateful for all she taught me.
How to escape into a good book.
How to cook and bake.
How to manage money.
How to work hard.
How to exasperate my children.
How to love someone in sickness and in health.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I miss her every day and always will.
I love her and will never wish her back.
She ran her race.
She finished well.
She is whole once more.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
She is now reunited with those she longed to see in her final weeks on this earth.
Her husband.
Her parents.
Her siblings and their spouses.
Dear friends.
A year ago we said goodbye to Mom.
I am so grateful to have been with her when she went home.
In memory of Dorothea Lorraine Hess Stratton.
September 3, 1928-June 23, 2023
by jphilo | Jun 5, 2024 | See Jane Dig!
It feels like See Jane Dig! already made the news this summer. That can’t be, of course, since its release date with Midwestern Books is October 1, 2024.
However, when I saw a link on Facebook about 3 boys who discovered a T-Rex fossil, Yogi Berra’s famous line, “it’s deja vu all over again,” immediately came to mind. Here’s why:
- The person who posted the link is one of my former country school students…and See Jane Dig! is all about country school. Thank you Shelly!
- Also, my former student is a shirt-tail relative to one of the boys in the story.
- The fossil was found near Marmarth, North Dakota, as in the Marmarth Road that goes north out of fictional Little Missouri to guess where? Marmarth, North Dakota.
- While researching See Jane Dig! in 2022, Hiram and I went on a paleo site tour with the geologist from Pioneer Trails Regional Museum located in Bowman, North Dakota. Guess where the geologist took us for our mini dig? Just outside Marmarth, North Dakota. You can read more about our paleo tour here.
- The Denver Post article about the boys’ find features several photographs of the area where the T-Rex was found. Those pictures aren’t all that different from the one above, which I took during our paleo tour.
- See Jane Dig! has several scenes in pastures where dinosaur bones are sticking out of the ground, just like in the news story.
First of all, the geologist, Hiram, and I might have walked right past that bone sticking out of the ground.
Second of all, it’s a good thing See Jane Dig! hasn’t been released yet or I might think those little boys plagiarized my book!
Third of all, do you see what I mean about deja vu? No wonder it feels like See Jane Dig! already made the news this summer.
by jphilo | May 23, 2024 | Family
The sad and glad of Memorial Day is pressing on my heart this year as never before. The mix of emotions is due the passing of the people in the picture above.
Aunt Donna died in September of 2022.
Mom died in June of 2023.
Uncle Jim died in October of 2023.
This Memorial Day we will be honoring these strong, hard-working, exasperating people who loved their family above all else in this world. Our memories of them will not be enough to fill the holes riddling our hearts in the aftermath of their passing. Yet those memories and the emotions accompanying them are their legacy to their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And so this Memorial Day…
We’re sad to be without them.
We’re glad they and my dad are together again.
We’re sad they can’t enjoy bouquets of irises and peonies this spring.
We’re glad they taught their children to love and grow them.
I’m sad they will never read the the 5th book in my mystery series, in which characters based on them are prominently featured.
I’m glad for the rich fodder of adventures they took us on that make writing their scenes glorious and funny and joyful.
I’m sad knowing we will never visit and reminisce and eat together again.
I’m glad to have talked with each of them in the months before they died.
We’re sad. I’m sad.
We’re glad. I’m glad.
Above all, we are blessed to have been loved by them and to love them in return.
by jphilo | Apr 5, 2024 | See Jane Dance!, See Jane Dig!, See Jane Run!, See Jane Sing!
“I’d like to see Jane fix this,” I muttered after opening the first of the 20 book merch mugs* I ordered in advance of summer speaking events and spotted my proofreading error.
Do you see it too?
As a former teacher who corrected enough papers to kill dozens of trees and drained oodles of red pens, I deserve no mercy…at least not from past students.**
In my own defense, I have only two things to say:
- I ordered them while in the grips of a raging sinus infection that the second round of antibiotics I’m currently on will hopefully work.
- I actually caught and corrected the error, but neglected to click “save” before placing the order.***
After staring at the mugs in dismay for a couple minutes, visions of red pens danced in my sinus-fogged head. “Hiram,” I asked my husband, “is the pack of multicolored Sharpies you bought still around somewhere?”
As a matter of fact, they were in his desk.
I plucked out the red Sharpie, picked up a mug, and did this:
Do you think they can be sold at book events if I inscribe each mug with whatever red pen message the buyer requests…within reason of course? Or use them as door prizes? I’d love to hear your suggestions, too, so leave them in the comment box.
*The mugs in the picture are all identical. They are arranged at different angles to show the 4 different covers that circle each mug.
**Those students, now adults with their own kids and grandkids, are very forgiving people. After I posted a picture of the errant mugs on Facebook, several of them wanted to know how to order them.
***The error has been corrected for a second time, and the save button clicked for the first time. Sigh!
