Joy Neal Kidney's Blog, page 34

Invitations to Write Book Endorsements

There’s a subtle shift in things once you’ve published a third book. I guess that with it comes the perception that you’re a real author, but I was still amazed the first time I was invited to endorse someone else’s book. 

Most of the requests for endorsements have been because of a short review I’d written for an earlier book (on Amazon, Goodreads, and BookBub). This new role as cheerleader for other authors is humbling, fulfilling and such fun!

You’d enjoy the two books already published:

See Jane Sing by Jolene Philo. See Jane Run was her first one, which I’d enjoyed and reviewed. She has at least two more delightful “Jane books” underway about a plucky young teacher, away from home (Iowa) for the first time, who helps solve a who-done-it in small town South Dakota. Jane gains a passel of  captivating characters, some charming, some not so! Each book has a specific recipe at the end.

Brothers Born of Adversity: How the Bonds of Friendship Helped Two Men Survive the Horrors of Japanese Prison Camps and the Infamous Hell Ships During World War II by Larry Dean Reese. I had reviewed his earlier book about Iowa pioneers. When I learned he was working on a book about WWII from the memories of two men who survived this history, I encouraged him. I’m thankful they will never be forgotten.

These three winners will be published yet this year:

Dillon’s War: Tracing the Steps of a Spearhead Driver for an Artillery Forward Observer through Europe in World War II by Dennis Peterson (due any day). We became online friends a few years ago because of his memoir, Look Unto the Hills: Stories of Growing Up in East Tennessee. Dennis also writes scholarly Christian histories, and he endorsed Leora’s Early Years: Guthrie County Roots. Dillon’s War is based on details from the eight letters written home by Dennis’s uncle, set in the grueling history of the unit he served with.

Cameron Lost, a novel by Craig Matthews is coming out in August. (Just this week I got a first glimpse of the powerful cover). I became acquainted with Craig through his book Immigrant Patriot, then The Stars in the Sidewalk (about the brutal affects of a broken past). After I’d reviewed them both, Craig asked if I’d read his latest manuscript, which he’d become discouraged with. It’s a gritty but amazing redemption story of a family member. I gratefully said yes to endorsing it.

The Legacy of the Rustic Rose Quilt by Cherie Dargan is to be published this fall. Cherie’s first book, The Gift: The California Quilt–dual time, historical fiction, set in Iowa, involving an old quilt with a mystery–is so compelling. I was a beta reader for this book, with its historical line set in WWII.

Cherie’s new book is a very moving and important Civil War story–also dual time, historical fiction, culminates in Iowa, involving an old quilt with another mystery. (I’ve seen a photo of the beautiful historic quilt.)

I’m grateful to officially champion these authors and their books!

 

I Attended the Writers Conference After All!

Last spring, I admitted to someone that I wouldn’t be able to attend the Cedar Falls Christian Writers Conference, that I’d become more disabled since the last one I’d been to in 2019.

But that confession seemed to plant a seed. It wasn’t long before I began to notice God’s nudgings about what it would be like to  e at the conference, thanking those who’d given feedback through the years for what became Leora’s Letters.

I rented the closest cabin (to escape to for needed naps), signed up for the conference, and began to pray about it. Even though my favorite chauffeur has started down the path of his own health challenge, he said he’d take me–a two hour drive (from the Des Moines area) four times, since he’d come home in between. 

I’d taken part in this conference four or five times, but this would be my first as an author! I wanted to let others know how I’d been supported by this group, even since 2019. 

My New Role

In recent months I’d embraced an unexpected and humbling affirmation when invited to write endorsements for other authors’ books. The conference would be an opportunity, in this new role, to encourage beginning writers, or ones not published yet. The CFCWC became the highlight of the month. 

The Conference

When the day came, we arrived in Cedar Falls early enough to try the Dairy Cream near the campground. They have black raspberry swirl! Guy helped me get settled before Thursday evening’s creative activity. Mary Kenyon provided materials for spiritual vision journey boards, suggesting that we meditate on Philippians 4:8, asking the Holy Spirit to guide each to a focal point. With just three others at a table, we got acquainted right away. The evening set the tone for the entire conference.

Co-coordinators Mary Kenyon and Nick Portzen, along with their in-town team, were superb. A beautiful Spirit permeated the whole gathering.

I’d already read several books by Mary Kenyon, Sheri Shonk, and Cherie Dargan, so I’m awaiting their newest ones. Craig Bishop’s book about Billy Sunday has already gone home with our house painter (along with two sets of “Leora books).

During the next two days, we all attended some of the inspirational presentations, and sometimes we could make choices between two workshops. Alas, I missed a few when my body insisted on naps, but I sopped up information and met new people between presentations.

Authors were given space to display our books, which was fun my very first time. I didn’t sell many books, but I did bring home a dozen from other authors who were there!

The Best Part

The best part of the conference was getting acquainted with the attendees and presenters, with their stories, with what they felt God had prompted them to write about. What a delight to find fledgling writers with compelling ideas and topics I could cheer for! 

Well, Saturday evening came quickly. My favorite chauffeur and I took time for black raspberry swirl at the Dairy Cream before heading home.

Afterwards

The incredibleness wasn’t done. Monday I learned a poem I’d entered will be published in Lyrical Iowa this year. Tuesday I was invited to speak to a local book club next month. Wednesday I was invited to submit a story about Independence Day.

Wednesday night, I came down with hives, although I didn’t know that’s what the misery would turn out to be. I spent Thursday applying hydrocortisone cream to rashes, only to have those calm down and break out somewhere else. Friday, I discovered that the hives was likely due to the effort it took to be at the conference. Yes, it was worth it!

Since then I’ve been reading and leaving short reviews for the books I’d bought, sharing across social media. What a delight to support them on their writing journeys, while still basking in the Spirit from the conference I thought I was too disabled to attend. 

“Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” – Philippians 4:8

Most of us attendees at the 2019 conference.

“As Grandma Says: Timeless Words to Live By” by Judith Robl

The Book

Drawing on her grandma’s lifetime of learning and biblical wisdom, Judith Robl provides charming devotions to help women embrace timeless principles and pass them along to those they love. Each offering is adorned with artist Audrey Jeanne Roberts’ endearing paintings of teacups and other charms of hospitality and generosity.

Readers will discover the blessings of Scripture verses that support each insight, the strength of personal prayers, and life-shaping teachings from Grandma including:

Success is getting up one more time than you fall down.Give generously from your own purse.One good turn deserves another.

This beautiful volume of wisdom encourages confidence, generosity, honor, and faith and makes a great gift of guidance and love for graduates, new brides, friends, and for moms to give to their daughters for any occasion or “just because.”

The Author

Cedar Falls, June 9-10, 2023 © Dave LaBelle

Reared in an ordinary small town in rural Kansas, Judith Robl led an ordinary life. She went to college locally, married a teacher/farmer, reared a family. Life was good. Then violence invaded her life and the lives of those around her .

Coping with the aftermath of that violence taught her much about patience and perseverance, forgiveness and faith. Because of the questions and reactions of those outside her family, she began to realize that there is a large, hurting world of people who do not have the faith grounding that was her privilege in youth.

She speaks and writes to help others forge a deep root of faith that will carry them through the worst the world and the enemy can do.

My thoughts: You can just hear the author’s wise grandmother advising youngsters with her pithy sayings, such as, “If your head won’t work, your heels must,” “Success consists of getting up one more time than you fall down,” and “You can’t stub your toe unless you are moving forward.” As Grandma Says is such a beautifully illustrated little book. Each of the nearly 50 sayings includes a story of the grandmother, a related Bible verse, a compelling comment, and a prayer.

I met the delightful Judith Robl at the 2023 Cedar Falls Christian Writers Conference. She’d paid for her cousin to attend with her, and to drive her from Kansas to Iowa. While I was at an author table with my “Leora books,” Judith came over to take a “selfie” with me and get acquainted. Among other things, she asked if I remembered World War II. I later wondered whether it was her way of finding out which of us is older.

Judith has started another devotional gift book. She says if you’d like to follow that progress, and even offering input, join her here.

When Leora Met Clabe

Leora’s Grandpap and Grandmother Jordan (David and Emilia) had lived on a farm just east of the village of Monteith, Iowa, since just after the end of the Civil War. Their oldest child was Laura Arminta, born in 1868. Their youngest was Frederick David Jordan, born in 1889. 

Laura Arminta married Sherd Goff. Their oldest child, born in 1890, was Leora. Yes, young Fred Jordan was the uncle of Leora Goff, with just over a year’s difference in their ages.

David and Emelia Jordan are at the left, with their youngest child Fred Jordan. Next is the oldest Jordan sister, Laura Jordan Goff, with daughter Georgia Goff in front. Laura’s oldest child was Leora, who is at the far right. Young Fred Jordan was Leora’s uncle. 1897, Monteith, Guthrie County, Iowa

As a young adult, Leora took turns with her sister Georgia staying with their elderly grandparents, helping them even after they retired into the village of Monteith. When Grandpap Jordan died in early 1913, Grandmother Emilia enjoyed the companionship of a granddaughter even more.

In 1909, Fred Jordan, Emilia’s youngest son and Leora’s uncle, married Rectha Wilson. They also lived in Monteith.

In 1913, Leora and her grandmother Emilia walked to Fred and Rectha’s to see their new baby, Leonard Clabe Jordan. They had another visitor, Rectha’s brother Clabe Wilson.

And that’s how Leora met Clabe.

Leora grew up in a large family who enjoyed visiting and having rousing discussions. She could start up a conversation with anyone, a winsome asset around a handsome man of few words.

In June of 1913, Clabe sent her a tentative Good Luck postcard, signed “C.D.W.” That’s all that was on it. I guess it was his way of letting her know he was interested. . . . early “texting.”

It evidently worked. She replied with a To Greet You card. “Dear friend,” it began, then some chitchat, ending “Answer soon. L.G. Guthrie Center.”

Their first real date was to the Chautauqua in Panora in June of that year, traveling there (and everywhere else) by horse and buggy. The Chautauqua advertisement offered “a new set of delightful surprises every day” to the citizens of Guthrie County. “Fine education and uplift. It’s an educational picnic.”

An easy way for shy Clabe to get acquainted with Leora.

 

 

Louise Oehlman Took in the Orphaned Daughter of the Clampitts

Louise Oelhman

The kindness of a Dexter teacher to a family living in poverty during the Great Depression is evident in a family story from those years. Since Delbert and Donald Wilson didn’t have suitable clothes for the junior banquet, they didn’t want to go.

Miss Oehlman came to the house. She and their mother Leora sat outside on the top step, talking quietly. “They are important members of their class,” Miss Oelman said. “I’m sure I can borrow suits for them, if it would be all right with you.” 

The brothers got to attend the banquet.

Louise Oehlman was also a favorite teacher of my mother’s, who was Delbert and Donald’s younger sister.

Recently I learned more about this remarkable woman. When she taught in Dexter, W.D. Clampitt was the school superintendent.

Lois, Doris, and Ralph Clampitt, Dexter, Iowa, 1936

Mr. Clampitt and his wife had three children. Doris was born in 1929,  Ralph in 1931, and Lois in1935. During WWII, the Clampitts moved to Johnston, Iowa, where he was superintendent of schools.

Doris Clampitt died in 1943, at only age 14. Mrs. Clampitt died three years later, leaving Mr. Clampitt a widower with a son who was 15 and an 11-year-old daughter. Mr. Clampitt died two years later, leaving two children, ages 17 and 13.

Louise Oehlman returned to her hometown of Derby, Iowa, where she served as the school superintendent for twenty years.

I found information about the orphaned Clampitt children through Find a Grave. From the obituary of the youngest daughter, Lois: “Upon her parents early passing, she was raised by a dear family friend Louise Oehlman in Derby, IA.”

I wonder whether my mother knew this story about the kindness of a favorite teacher.

 

Former Boxer W.D. Clampitt, Dexter School Superintendent

Supt. Wesley D. Clampitt, Dexter, Iowa

Remember the school superintendent who played marbles with the high schoolers? Wesley David Clampitt had an interesting history, including attending Frog Pond School with Clabe Wilson. 

Wesley Clampitt was born in 1899 in Monteith, Iowa, to Reverend Henry Thornton and Alice Clampitt. In 1918, he graduated from Guthrie County High School in Panora and enlisted in the First World War June 3, 1918. After spending 15 months in France, he was discharged in 1919 at Camp Dodge. 

For three years he was a member of an undefeated boxing team, and in 1924, was mid-west champion in semi-final Olympic tryouts in Boston. 

Even before earning his degree, W. D. Clampitt taught in Adair County and was a bookkeeper for a Red Oak auto company. From 1924 to 1927, he was high school principal and coach at Bondurant, then superintendent of schools at Farrar from 1927-1929.

He earned a BS degree from Iowa State College in 1929, and a MS from Drake University in 1936.

He married Evelyn Atwood in 1924 in Monteith and had three children. Doris was born in 1929,  Ralph in 1931, and Lois in1935.

W. D. Clampitt was superintendent of schools in Dexter from 1929-1942. About 1934, a schoolmate of cousins Merrill Goff and Junior Wilson needed a smoke, so the boys went with him, out behind the fifth and sixth grade building. Both tried smoking. Mr. Clampitt happened to check out the science room window and didn’t like what he saw. He spanked the boys and warned them not to get caught by the nicotine habit. After school let out he paid a visit to their parents to let them know what he’d done. They approved.

Next he served at superintendent of schools at Johnston, Iowa. The spring of 1943, Dale Wilson was home to the Minburn farm on furlough after receiving his commission and pilot’s wings. Taking him back to the train station in Des Moines, the Wilsons stopped at the Johnston high school so Dale could see Mr. Clampitt, his well-liked former superintendent. Mr. Clampitt introduced Dale to his senior class and asked him to say a few words, and also walked out to the car with Dale to greet Clabe and Leora and ask about the others. 

Lois, Doris, and Ralph Clampitt, Dexter, Iowa, 1936

Doris Clampitt died in 1943, at only age 14. Mrs. Clampitt died three years later, leaving Mr. Clampitt a widower with a son who was 15 and an 11-year-old daughter.

Wesley D. Clampitt died at the age of only 49 in 1948, leaving two children, ages 17 and 13. He is buried in Dexter Cemetery.

W. D. Clampitt was a member of the American Legion, Iowa State Teachers Association, Dallas County Schoolmasters Association, the Stuart Golf Club, the Community Club, Masonic Lodge,  the Christian Church, and enjoyed fishing, hunting, and golfing.

The smoking episode is from Leora’s Dexter Stories: The Scarcity Years of the Great Depression. The story about Dale home on furlough and stopping to see Mr. Clampitt is from Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II.

Books with Patriotic Themes

Sounding Taps by Robin Turner

Subtitle: A Duty of Remembrance. This is a beautiful book to savor, story after story. The author was bothered at a burial service by “an undignified, electronic bugle rendition of something that sounded like Taps.” A veteran himself, Robin Turner learned to play the bugle. He was so moved by the experience of sounding Taps that he visited several cemeteries to seek out veterans’ gravesites to honor them with the soulful cry of his bugle and a salute. A poignant reminder of those Americans who’ve served our nation.

Because of You Old Glory Flies by Julie Dueker

Subtitle: Poems of Gratitude for Our U.S. Military and Veterans. There are only eight poems in this delightful collection of remembrance and gratitude for our volunteers in the American military, but they are powerful reminders of those who’ve served the rest of us. “Think of Me” emphasizes a reliance on God in whatever circumstances a warrior has found himself in.

I enjoyed recognizing the illustrator’s children in one poignant drawing. The illustrator is Ray “Bubba” Sorensen II, known across Iowa as the artist for the Freedom Rock north of Greenfield, but also of Iowa’s Freedom Rocks, with the goal of one in each of Iowa’s 99 counties to promote tourism in the state.

I’m especially captivated by this collection of original poems by Julie Dueker.

The Everyday Patriot by Tom Morris

Subtitle: How to be a Great American Now. Inspired by the words of “our national birth announcement,” our Declaration of Independence, this public philosopher posits that patriotism isn’t flag-waving emotion. He insists that each of us, doing what we can for good in our own space, then radiating to our neighborhood, town, and beyond can help rekindle the nations ideals. Those ideals reach out beyond the USA to encourage the best in other nations, a radical but valuable idea for all humans.

The F4ith of July by Baron D. Hall

This picture book is a fun reminder for adults of why we celebrate Independence Day while teaching youngsters what’s important about the holiday. The activity of finding the hidden Liberty Bells is a delightful addition. The book has engaging illustrations by the author’s niece. Our granddaughter will enjoy this one.

A Loving Father, the Answer to Prayer for a 12-year-old Boy–Guest post by J.D. Wininger

For the first 14 years of my life, I seldom felt the joy of being loved. I never knew the difference encouragement made in a young life; and never understood how being part of a family was something to cherish. By the time I was 12, I had all but given up on the dream of being truly loved, with one exception. I prayed at night to belong to a family that cared about me. In doing so, I felt sheltered from the reality I had grown all too accustomed to.

God answered my prayers when a Massachusetts family moved to my small central Florida town and adopted me into their family. When the man who would become my earthly dad brought me into his family, my world blossomed. Immersed in a family where my brothers and sister loved and accepted me, I grew to become who God always planned. I was in a world where Mom and Dad taught me true Christianity by their actions; a world where I learned by their example what it meant to be a member of a family. In this environment, they laid the foundation for my life.

I’m blessed that my dad invested over half a century of love, wisdom, and learning into me. When I stop and think about my dad, I’m often overwhelmed by all the blessings he brought into my life through his example of godly living. I will always remember him as being a patient teacher, sharing both life and trade skills. He remained a firm believer in Christ, held a fierce commitment to family, and a dad I want to emulate in my life.

Even though I’m adopted, it amazes me and others at how much we are alike. I sure hope folks can say that about ourselves and our relationship with our heavenly Father.

In what ways are you and your dad alike? How alike are you and your Abba Father? #ChristianDad #LikeHim CLICK TO TWEET

In my mind, there’s no doubt God brought dad into my life as an answer to prayer. Many years ago, I tried to repay the wonderful gift of dad-ship with a poem I wrote for Father’s Day. I’ve realized in the years since, my words were not directed only to my earthly dad, they are repayment for the gift of family from my Heavenly Father. Whether your earthly dad is with you this year or not, know that your Father in Heaven can be there for you always.

My Father’s Arms

When I’m tired, sad, or lonely,
When few others seem to care,
There’s a place I go to get away,
For there are no troubles there.

I can laugh or cry, or fall asleep,
Or all my problems bare.
It’s the one place where I can just be me,
For there are no troubles there.

I love that place, its peaceful warmth,
A place with many charms.
My favorite place in all the world,
Is in my Father’s arms.

-JDW 6/78

Let your dad, whether still with you on this earth or awaiting you in heaven’s glory (like mine is), know how very much he means/meant in your life. I’m forever blessed to say I am my Father’s son.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there; and God’s blessings,

—–

You might like to check out J.D. Wininger’s compelling website.

Here’s his latest 20-minute visit on PJNet, talking about attending the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference.

 

Our Stars and Stripes: A Symbol of Hope and Service

Flag Day

Being a descendant of Betsy Ross, the famous American flag stitcher, was part of my childhood legacy. Sons in the family still choose “Ross” as a middle name. I’m almost certain it’s not true, even though at least two branches of the Wilson family tree still carry the story. And the name.

Betsy Ross was married three times, the first to John Ross. They had no children. During her next two marriages, she had all daughters. One was married to a Wilson, but they don’t connect to the Wilsons in my family tree.

There was no American flag when our first ancestors came to the New World. There was no America yet when a couple of them signed their names to the Mayflower Compact.

Although none of my ancestors actually fought in the Revolutionary War, one sold provisions to the soldiers (and was disowned by the Quakers for that act) and another was a young drummer boy who helped guard prisoners of war.

The Betsy Ross Flag

After the United States of America was born, the Continental Congress established the Stars and Stripes to symbolize the new nation, on June 14, 1777, with one star and one stripe for each state. The stars were to be a symbol of the “new constellation.” In the flag known as the Betsy Ross flag, they formed a circle.

When Francis Scott Key wrote The Star-Spangled Banner in 1814, the flag had fifteen stars and fifteen stripes. The flag grew in size with each additional state, making it an unattractive shape, so four years later Congress decided the number of stripes would remain at thirteen but a new star would be added for each state joining the union.

Iowa became a state in 1846 and by the Civil War there were 34 states. During the Civil War, President Lincoln refused to let the stars for the southern states be dropped from the flag. By the time the war ended, two more stars had been added.

My most recent immigrant ancestors came to America in the 1870s, to escape having sons drafted to fight for the German Kaiser. The American flag was the symbol of the hope of their new life.

The 48-Star Flag

When the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag was first recited in public schools on Columbus Day, 1892, there were 44 stars in the flag. By 1912, there were 48. America flew the 48-star flag when at least four great uncles served in World War I, and when my father and several uncles enlisted for service during World War II.

During my grade school years, each class recited the Pledge to the Flag, right hands over our hearts, before we began our lessons for the day. Congress added “under God” to the Pledge on Flag Day right after my fourth grade year.

I was in high school when the last two stars were added, for our new states of Alaska and Hawaii. The 50-star flag, the same one we honor today, represented our nation when my husband served in Vietnam.

Danny Wilson’s New Testament

The American flag is pictured inside small New Testaments given servicemen during World War II. Beneath the flag in one small Testament, saved for decades by my Grandma Leora, in bold handwriting, it says “I give everything for the country it stands for. D. S. Wilson.” Danny Wilson, a P-38 pilot, was killed in action in Austria.

All five of the Wilson brothers served in World War II. Only two came home. When I fly the precious Stars and Stripes, I think about those three young brothers who were lost during the war. 

I understand that the Pledge of Allegiance isn’t practiced in the public schools much anymore, and that patriotism is passe. Then it’s up to parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors to make sure today’s youngsters know just what their freedoms cost. 

Tell them why our ancestors were so anxious to risk everything to start over in this nation of hope, which is represented by the Stars and Stripes. 

 

Cheetos: A Confession

Last week I attended the Cedar Falls Christian Writers Conference for the first time since 2019. My fibromyalgia symptoms have worsened during the last year so I signed up, not knowing whether I’d be able to attend or not. The closest cabin to the venue was rentable, so I reserved it (for fibromyalgia’s insistent naps).

My favorite chauffeur got us there too early to check in, but in just enough time to try the nearby Dairy Cream. Why doesn’t anyone in the Des Moines area offer black raspberry swirl?

Another health difficulty (I’m a mess, but a blessed one) keeps me from having supper, but I enjoyed connecting with other attendees at the picnic. Then I spied a bag of Cheetos. I was missing out on my decades-long favorite junk food for writers conferences and workshops! (In the old days, I savored them with baloney sandwiches.)

Susan’s husband Mark heard me mention that and later brought me a little bag of them anyway. Hey, I can save it for morning, with the tuna salad I’d brought. What a satisfying breakfast!

After a nap the last day, I returned to the main building. Someone had parked a bag of Cheetos right where I’d left my notebook and shawl (always a shawl). But the gifter from the night before was nowhere around. When he arrived, I asked him about it, but he was innocent. His wife Susan was giggling though. She’s who had stationed them there for me.

I also wanted to meet the wife of one of the presenters. She arrived halfway through lunch, which (for me) was a gluten-free sandwich and Cheetos. My fingers were orange. I tried to expunge the orange from those fingers with a napkin so I could give her a hug. When we eventually got into a conversation about the lack of focus and  concentration, I learned she lives holistically and has used herbs and natural remedies. My lunchmates had finished so we sat at the table to keep chatting.

In front of me were half a bag of Cheetos. Well, I wasn’t sure my new friend would approve of them, but I nibbled a few more. More tell-tale orange. I kinda lost interest in my wonderfully salty and crunchy traditional conference companions. Since I’d already consumed a whole bag of them at breakfast and half of one at lunch, I reluctantly tossed the rest.

My favorite chauffeur arrived that afternoon to load up my bedding and all from the cabin. We decided there was time for another black raspberry treat before heading home. Do you suppose that will replace my craving for Cheetos and become our traditional writers conference tradition?