Liz Flaherty's Blog, page 40

How Would I Know? by Debra Jo Myers

As I write this, Easter is near. It makes me remember my mom getting me up on that Sunday morning, and putting on my new dress, shoes, and hat for church.  After we had a big dinner at Aunt Sue’s with my cousins. My favorite part was the Easter egg hunt! Uncle Ron would hide dozens of eggs outside with candy and change inside. One gold egg had a $1 bill, so we all tried to find it first. I didn’t understand what Easter really signified. Some years it was the only time we went to church. It wasn’...

Still More than Just A Building by Liz Flaherty

I already posted this on Facebook, but it's still going on, so consider it a reminder. Below it is a revisit of an article I wrote several years (and several books) ago about the library and supporting it. While the article didn't change anything, I still feel the same. Thanks for reading. Have a great week. Be nice to somebody. 

It's National Library Week. In recent years, the term "a safe place" has often been decried as a sign of weakness. (Insert a snort here--I don't know how to do that in e...

A Little Murder by Susie Black

If there is an inheritable gene for story-telling, mine came from my mother’s mother. My nana

should have been a writer. No one could tell a story like her. She was the eldest of six children of a modest immigrant family from Eastern Europe that settled in Boston at the turn of the century. My great-grandfather was a tailor who managed to clothe, feed, and shelter his children, but there was precious little left over for extravagances like a day at the cinema for one child, let alone for six. Nan...

Keep Hunting by Liz Flaherty

Sometimes you just have nice things happen. Isn't it great when they do? Yeah, I'm going to do the Pollyanna thing again. And, please, feel free to join in. I've read recently that blogs are dead--please, no!--and I don't think they are, but commenting isn't very healthy anymore. I miss that. But, anyway...Pollyanna...

On Thursday night, we went to Ole Olsen and saw Drinking Habits in the dinner theater performance. We got to sit with friends, catch up with friends we hadn't seen for a long time,...

The Prize by Kayleen Reusser

 

Katleen Reusser
By Joan Brewer as told to Kayleen Reusser (her daughter)

When I was eight years old in 1938, the preacher at our church in Ossian, Indiana, made a surprise announcement: “The person who brings the most people to church next Sunday will win a prize.”

My mind raced around the word “prize”. What if they were giving away a doll? At recess the next day I looked for someone to invite. A new girl in town, Joyce, seemed like a prospect. I wasted no time meeting her and asking her to come....

Musings... by Liz Flaherty

Happy birthday to Grandma Neterer, born this day in 1888. While I wasn't a fan of childhood, I remain eternally grateful for the part she and Grandpa played in it. I still feel all mushy when I think of the house on Roys Avenue in Elkhart.  

When they moved there, I think the house was still in the country. Their lot was a large one, and they had sheds and a chicken house in the back. In the side yard was a well with a hand pump where my siblings and I went when we wanted a drink because we could...

Candy Cigarettes, Bun Candy Bars, and Other Memories by Joe De Rozier

After my wife and I enjoyed a nice meal at The Twenty Restaurant in Wabash, we decided to walk around the Charley Creek Inn, in which this dining area is located.

We ended up strolling through their candy shop that contains about every confectionery delicacy you can imagine. 

When we were there a few weeks ago, I picked up Candy Cigarettes.   I had no idea they existed, anymore! I had no intention of eating them because, honestly, I think they taste like chalky antacids. I got them for the sheer n...

"The tongue has no bones..." by Liz Flaherty

"The tongue has no bones, but is strong enough to break a heart. So be careful with your words." -Unknown

I have a fondness for words, which probably isn't much of a surprise to anyone. I have, in recent years, come to flinch from the cruelty of some of them. I learned to love being called a snowflake because before it became a universally loved and accepted pejorative term, it meant something beautiful that brought joy. 

I've learned not to resent stupid as much as I used to because I know I'm no...

Casino Queen by Cara Bertoia

I worked in the casino industry for a long time. As a child watching Ocean’s Eleven, they were so grown up and glamourous. They were open 24 hours, which made them seem so alive.

I was never lonely working in the casino. I always made good money and got to travel the world. To get my first job I drove across country from North Carolina to Nevada. The first casino I saw was the Cal Neva casino on the beautiful shores of Lake Tahoe. Dealing there allowed me to look out at a panoramic view of the la...

Am I the Only One by Liz Flaherty

On blogs I write for, I occasionally make the post a list. I do this in part because I can't think of anything to write and in part because I have all these miniature thoughts that don't have enough to go with them to make a column of their own. So here's my list for the week. It's called Am I the Only One and I encourage you to add to it. 
Here we go: Am I the only one who thinks a middle-of-March snow without any wind in it is pretty? Am I the only one who takes fair-weather-exercise to the ext...