Meredith Allard's Blog, page 16
August 3, 2020
What I’m Reading
I’ve been reading a lot this summer, but that’s nothing new. Here are some of the books I’ve been enjoying.
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
This is one of my all-time favorite historical novels and one I revisit every few years. The Red Tent is Dinah’s story, and where she is only briefly hinted at in the Bible as Jacob’s daughter, here in this novel she has her say. In fact, The Red Tent was the direct inspiration for my own Woman of Stones, which takes place in Biblical Jerusalem.
Joheved: Rashi’s Daughters, Book One by Maggie Anton
Joheved is an interesting combination of Jewish history and romance novel. Rashi, if you’re not familiar with him, is one of the most respected Jewish sages whose commentary on the Talmud is still studied vigorously today. He lived in 11th century France and made his living as a vintner while writing his commentaries. He had no sons, and it is said that his daughters studied Talmud. Even today there are those who believe women shouldn’t study Talmud for reasons I won’t bother going into. His grandsons became great scholars as well, and this book makes the connection from the great scholar Rashi to his daughters to his grandsons. As a historical novel, I found Joheved worth the read because I learned a lot about Jewish life in 11th century France, a time I knew little about.
Sotah by Naomi Ragen
I enjoyed Ragen’s An Unorthodox Match so I tried Sotah. There are times in Sotah when Ragen describes the Ultra-Orthodox in a way that makes it seem as though they have a unified consciousness, like the Borg Collective only Jewish. I didn’t have that same feeling when reading An Unorthodox Match, where I felt like the characters’ unique personalities were more clearly defined. Still, I gave Sotah four stars on Goodreads since I realized I must have been pulled into the story. If the story wasn’t engaging I wouldn’t have cared and I definitely wouldn’t have finished the book.
The Physician by Noah Gordon
I’ve only just started reading this one but this is exactly the kind of historical novel I love to sink into during the summer–a long read that pulls you into the past from the first page. The Physician takes place in 11th century England, and so far I’m enjoying the ride.
July 20, 2020
Writing Historical Fiction: Daily Life in Biblical Nazareth
Since the recipes in my last post about eating in Biblical Jerusalem were such a hit, I decided to add one more recipe that is a traditional Jewish food and something the Woman of Stones might have made—cholent. Cholent is simply a hearty beef stew.
Traditionally, cholent is cooked overnight, beginning Friday afternoon before sundown and then continuing through the night so that it is ready to eat Shabbat (Saturday) afternoon. Cholent is cooked this way because observant Jews will not cook on Shabbat. These days, cholent is a perfect dish for the slow cooker since you can put in your ingredients, set the slow cooker on low, and let it do its thing—in this case for 16 hours!
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I found this wonderful recipe on Tori Avey’s website (can you tell I love this website?) that I cooked myself and enjoyed. I agree with Tori that the finished result does look a bit medieval but it’s quite tasty and very filling.
Here are the ingredients for the slow cooker cholent:
2 1/2 lbs large red potatoes, peeled and halved (for a smaller slow cooker, use 2 lbs)2 whole onions, chopped2 1/2 lbs beef stew meat or brisket, cut into chunks 2 marrow bones1 cup dried beans – lima, pinto, chickpeas, red beans (not kidney), or a mixture1/2 cup pearl barley or coarse-grain kasha 3 whole garlic cloves6 eggs 1/2 tsp black pepper 1 quart chicken broth1 tbsp kosher salt1 1/2 tsp paprika1 1/2 tsp turmeric1 tsp cumin1/4 tsp cayenne Water
For the complete recipe, visit Tori’s website.
The Woman of Stones’ childhood in Nazareth helps us understand why she coveted comfort and ease. During the era of the Second Temple (from 516 BCE to 70 CE), Nazareth was a Jewish agricultural village. The village’s isolation kept the people Jewish while those living in Lower Galilee fell under Greek and Roman influence. Sepphoris was an important Roman center where the wealthier people lived while those in Nazareth struggled to make ends meet. The western boundary of Lower Galilee was defined by the slopes of Mount Carmel, the east by the Sea of Galilee, the north by the southern slopes of Mount Meiron at the sites of Kefar Hamaniah and Beer Sheba in the Beth ha-Kerem Valley. Though the hills were difficult to pass, those eager to communicate with people on the outside could do so. Over time, a trade route was established along the Mediterranean and the Sea of Galilee.
Grottoes lined the village of Nazareth, with cisterns for water, presses for olives, vats for oil, and millstones and silos for grain. The village center housed the artisans in their open-air shops—the carvers, the weavers, the potters, the woodworkers, the metallurgists, the glassmakers, the stonemasons, and the carpenters. Those who practiced crafts with disturbing odors, such as the tanners who worked with animal skins, were located at the edge of the village.
Near the end of the harvest season the farmers in the fields would separate the wheat from the chaff, sometimes walking two hours to reach their fields, vineyards, or olive groves. Sometimes, when the harvest drew near, farmers built lean-tos in their fields, living there from Sunday mornings to Friday afternoons, arriving at their homes before sundown on Friday for Shabbat.
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The Woman of Stones would have learned how to draw water, build fires, milk the sheep and goats, and churn the curdled milk to make cheese and yogurt. She would learn how to use the date palm for all its resources, the leaves for basket weaving, the fruit for sweets, the seeds for animal fodder, and the fig honey for fermenting into wine. She would learn how to use ingredients in season such as olives, almonds, pine nuts, coriander, black cumin, and cloves to make hearty meals. Honey donuts and sweetmeats of starch, honey, jasmine, and pistachio were popular sweets at the time.
Since bread was the staple of every table, one of the most important tasks young girls learned was how to bake bread. Round grinding stones were used to prepare the barley into flour. The dough was worked in a kneading trough. Unless it was Passover, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the millet and barley yeast was added and left to rise overnight. The risen dough was patted into a round and baked in a mud-brick oven in the communal courtyard where most of the cooking was done. The bread had to be placed directly onto the embers and watched carefully.
Breaking bread, or having a meal with someone, created a bond and so there were rules that had to be obeyed. The bread wasn’t cut; it was broken. The bread wasn’t touched by plate, cup, or pitcher. The bread wasn’t touched by raw meat. Crumbs as big as an olive weren’t to be swept away but gathered. Girls were taught how to cook for the feasts, how to observe Shabbat, how to light the candles, how to say the prayers, and how to prepare the meals.
Perhaps the Woman of Stones might have made a filling cholent to see her family through Shabbat.
July 13, 2020
How I’m Staying Sane Summer 2020
Yes, the four-year-old cutie pie named Poppy pictured above is the main thing keeping me sane this crazy summer.
Here where I live in Nevada things opened up a bit and then shut down again when cases of the coronavirus went on the rise. Wearing masks is mandatory in Nevada, and from what I’ve seen most people are wearing their masks and keeping their distance. My brother’s friend made me a cute pink and white-flowered mask so I can be fashionable when I’m out and about.
The hardest part for me has been the anger that people are directing like bombs at each other. Some are angry at having to wear masks. Others are just angry. Last week at the grocery store I turned down the wrong lane and an older, retired man yelled at me for “not giving a shit!” I had my mask on; he did not. I passed him quickly and at a fair distance. I missed the direction sign on the floor noting which lanes were for up and which were for down. It was a mistake, that’s all. I’ve been shopping in grocery stores my whole life and I’m not used to having direction signs dictating the flow of traffic. But this man was angry. He didn’t say his peace and walk on. He gave me hell for some time, to the point where other shoppers stopped to watch. I didn’t respond because what do you say to someone that angry? I got the groceries I needed and moved on. And what do you know? When I turned down the correct aisle on the next side a woman came walking down the wrong way. In fact, throughout the store there were shoppers going the wrong way. I was the unlucky one who caught the wrath of the angry old man, who, again, was not wearing a mask when everyone else in the store—employee and shopper—was. So then who, sir, does not give a shit? I understand that people are anxious for themselves and their loved ones. I certainly am. But yelling at strangers in the grocery store is not the way to deal with that anxiety. Luckily, that’s the only time it happened to me but I’ve heard enough stories to know that it’s not an unusual occurrence these days.
I haven’t been much of anywhere except the grocery store and a quick coffee take-out since the middle of March. Usually, summers are spent working out at the gym and relaxing in the sunshine and swimming at the pool with occasional trips to the beach in California. This summer, with new cases of the virus breaking daily records, I’m sticking to the safety of my house. I’m a homebody anyway and like being home so the current conditions are easier for someone like me. My front yard is well-shaded so I can sit outside and enjoy the view into the Vegas valley below. I have an (almost) unobstructed panorama of the desert sunsets from my west-facing windows, and those sunsets are beautiful in their goldenrods, hot pinks, and deep blues.
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The upside in all this is I’ve rediscovered some joys that had fallen away over the years. I used to love to cook and bake. I have this cookie book from Mrs. Fields published in 1992 that is so well-used and so splattered with cookie baking ingredients that it’s falling apart at the seams, but I don’t care. I shove the pages back in and use it anyway. When I downsized before I moved I donated nearly every cookbook I had because I use Pinterest find recipes now, but I kept the Mrs. Fields cookie book. After the pandemic hit I began baking cookies again. I even baked bread from scratch and I just baked an amazing strawberry cake with homemade whipped cream and strawberry sauce. Yum! I’ve been cooking again too, using my slow cooker two or three times a week. I love my slow cooker because all I have to do is drop in the ingredients and the slow cooker does the work. I love to cook but I’m a lazy cook and the slow cooker is perfect for someone like me. The food is healthy, clean, and delicious.
Here are some of the meals I’ve been cooking and enjoying lately.
Slow cooker garlic Tuscan chicken
We loved both of these recipes, but the taco bowls were a particular hit.
In addtion to the fab recipes in the Mrs. Fields Cookie Book, here are some of the goodies I’ve been baking lately.
If you’d like to keep up with the slow cooker and baking recipes I’m discovering, you can follow me on Pinterest.
I’ve also started exercising again. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with exercise my whole life. When I’m into it I’m into it, but I’ve found it extremely easy to drop exercise and I won’t manage to work out for months at a time. When I’m stressed or anxious I stop exercising, which is wrong, I know. When I’m stressed or anxious is exactly when I should exercise. To help myself deal with the uncertainties that these times bring, I decided to make that extra effort to exercise. I’m glad I did because I do feel better than I was feeling before I started working out regularly. I won’t go to the gym because of the virus, and although I live near some beautiful parks it can be 110 degrees outside during a Vegas summer, so that’s a no go for me. I discovered Leslie Sansone’s Walk at Home videos and they’re awesome. She has you moving to a pace that equals walking two miles in 30 minutes. While you’re walking you’re also working your abs, legs, and arms, and she even has some videos that use weights so you can work out your muscles too. Whenever I’m feeling lazy, which is frequently these days, I say to myself, it’s only half an hour. What else am I going to do with this half-hour? That’s enough to get me off my bottom and moving. Thirty minutes may not sound like a lot, but I get a pretty good work out and I’ve been toning up even with the cooking and the baking!
I also do yoga a couple of nights a week. I pull out my yoga mat, turn on the yoga station on Pandora and follow the positions listed on a free yoga app. There’s no class and no teacher directing me so I do poses that feel good to me and I go at my own pace. I usually opt for the more calming floor exercises, and afterward I feel relaxed, stretched out, and definitely calmer.
Finally, I’ve become a productive writer again. For months, since the middle of March until June, I couldn’t concentrate on much of anything. I know other writers and creatives felt the same. In June, I decided I had to bite the bullet and get going again. I started the first draft of the new Hembry Castle installment, which is coming along nicely for you Edward, Daphne, and Richard fans who politely inquire about the status of the story. I’m also finishing my first nonfiction book, a guide for writing historical fiction—no great surprise there, right? As Anne Lamott suggests in Bird by Bird, I’ve been giving myself short assignments. For my first drafts, I have a 500 word a day goal to meet. Five hundred words may not sound like a lot, but it’s enough to move the story forward but not so much that it feels overwhelming. I can’t handle overwhelming right now. I need to make progress every day, and that 500-word goal is just right. Maybe as things settle down I can raise that, but for now that’s what I’m sticking to.
However you spend this crazy 2020 summer, I hope you stay safe. There’s nothing quite like living through a pandemic to make us prioritize what is truly important to us.
*By the way, the links above are not affiliate links. I’m simply sharing things that have been helping me through these crazy times.
July 2, 2020
What Did They Eat in Biblical Jerusalem?
I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it many more times, I’m sure—I think I missed my calling in this life. I should have been a food historian.
One of my favorite parts of writing historical fiction is researching the foods they ate during whatever historical period I’m writing about. Studying the foods of Biblical Jerusalem while I was writing Woman of Stones was no exception. Since she is a woman in Biblical times, the Woman of Stones spends a lot of time cooking, particularly baking bread. Since her husband is wealthy, he spends a lot of time entertaining those of his higher social circle so they would drink the best wines and eat the finest foods. Writing these scenes was particularly fun for me.
According to Women in the Bible, during the era of the Second Temple (from 516 BCE to 70 CE) people ate bread with every meal. Bread was the staple food and grains included barley, wheat, spelt, and millet, which was ground in a hand mill for a course or fine flour. Spelt didn’t make high-quality flour and the less wealthy folks are barley bread. The flour was created to use leavened bread except at Passover. Olives (used mainly for their oil), grapes, figs, pomegranates and vegetables such as cucumbers, leeks, and onions were also common. Wine was a luxury, often saved for special occasions or holidays except for the wealthy. Meat was also a luxury, and for most their daily diets were mainly vegetarian. Since the Woman of Stones has a wealthy husband, they ate meat more often than their poorer neighbors.
Other foods from the time included beans, and lentils as well as dairy such as honey and curds and sheep or goat milk, which was available during spring and summer months. Other dairy included cheese and butter. Meals might be seasoned with garlic, coriander, cumin, mint, or oregano. Caper berries, pine nuts, carob, walnuts, and persimmon were also common.
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Challah bread is one type of bread the Woman of Stones would have made. According to Tori Avey’s website, these days the word challah is used to describe the braided bread that appears on Shabbat (Sabbath) tables all over the world; however, in ancient times, challah referred to a small portion of dough that was set aside for the Temple priests as an offering to God: “Of the first of your dough you shall present a loaf as a contribution; like a contribution from the threshing floor, so shall you present it.” ~Numbers 15:20
Here’s a recipe for challah bread from Kitchn that I baked myself. I should note, if it isn’t obvious, that this is a modern recipe for an ancient bread. Packets of active yeast weren’t available 2000 years ago. Yes, they had yeast, just not Fleischmann’s handy-dandy little packets-—as far as I know.
To make this challah, you’ll need:
1 cup lukewarm water2 teaspoons active dry or instant yeast4 to 4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour1/4 cup granulated sugar2 teaspoons salt2 large eggs1 large egg yolk (reserve the white for the egg wash)1/4 cup neutral-flavored vegetable oil, such as canola
Dissolve the yeast. Mix the dry ingredients. Add the eggs, yolk, and oil. Mix to form a shaggy dough. .Knead the dough for 6 to 8 minutes. Let the dough rise until doubled. Divide the dough and roll into ropes. Braid the dough. Let the challah rise. Brush the challah with egg white. Bake the challah 30 to 35 minutes. Cool the challah. Slice and eat!
See the recipe for challah bread from Kitchn for complete instructions. I’m not an avid bread maker, but I found this recipe simple to make and delicious to eat.
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Want something to go along with the challah? Here are the ingredients for Jacob’s Lentil Stew from Tori Avey’s wonderful website that features many delicious recipes. This stew included only ingredients that would have been available during Biblical times. See Tori’s website for the full recipe.
1/2 cup fresh chopped coriander3 carrots3 celery stalks, including leaves2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil1 large onion, diced1 clove garlic, crushed2 cups dry red lentils1/4 cup pearl barley 2 quarts vegetable or chicken stock1 1/2 tsp cumin1 tsp hyssop or parsley1/2 tsp sumac 1 bay leafSalt
The challah bread and Jacob’s Lentil Stew are just two examples of the types of foods they ate in Biblical Jerusalem. Their food used seasonal fruits and vegetables, tasty spices, and meat in minimal. Even today there are those who say that a Mediterranean diet is one of the healthiest ways to eat. I happen to agree.
June 18, 2020
Woman of Stones is #FREE Today
Woman of Stones, my historical novella set in Biblical Jerusalem, is free today on Amazon. Check back for future ebook and paperback giveaways.
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June 17, 2020
Writing Historical Fiction: Who Was the Woman of Stones?
For a while, I justified my lack of productivity during these odd times by saying that nearly every writer I know has said that he or she has been having trouble concentrating. I decided that well, things are just too weird right now and it’s interfering with the creative process. Then I read that Zadie Smith wrote a book of essays during the lockdown, which completely blew my theory.
I have only just started feeling productive again, and it’s not necessarily because things are better. I live in a state (Nevada) currently seeing an upward surge in COVID-19 cases, and wearing a face mask everywhere has become the norm, for me and for nearly everyone else I see in the grocery store. But I have been getting some work done, finally. Not as much as Zadie Smith, but then Zadie Smith is awesome and would finish a book of essays while the rest of us stare at the wall.
One thing I have completed is the revisions of my story set in Biblical Jerusalem, Woman of Stones. In some ways, Woman of Stones is the most challenging story I’ve written because it’s set in a time and place that seemed so foreign to me when I began my research. If you read the original version of Woman of Stones I’m not sure you’ll see much of a difference, to be honest, but I can see the changes and I think the book is stronger for them. As the years have passed I’ve become a better writer (I hope) and I felt the prose needed an upgrade. My “no extra words” rule applies more now than it did eight years ago.
If you’ve read Victory Garden, my novel of World War I and the Woman Suffrage Movement, and you think that’s a change of pace from the Loving Husband Series then Woman of Stones may as well have been written in Greek. In fact, if it had been written during the time it takes place—2000 years ago—it might have been written in Greek.
One of the glorious things about writing historical fiction is that inspiration can come from anywhere at any time. My inspiration for Woman of Stones began when I read Anita Diamant’s lyrical historical/Biblical novel The Red Tent. I was blown away by Diamant’s novel, so much so that as soon as I finished it I read it again. I loved Diamant’s poetic prose, her stream-of-consciousness storytelling, and her creative imagining of a Bible story from a woman’s point of view. A Bible story from a woman’s point of view? Cool. I loved the way Diamant made Dinah’s story come to life and I wanted to do something similar in a story of my own.
One of my favorite stories has always been the one about the woman caught in adultery. I love it because of the lesson–whoever of you is without sin, cast the first stone. It’s a lesson I have to relearn nearly every day of my life. I, perhaps like some of you, can be quick to cast stones without looking at my own actions, my own intentions, my own priorities, my own mistakes.
Then I wondered…who was this woman? How did she come to be at that place at that time? Having read The Red Tent, I began to imagine a story for her. That’s all the novella is—my imagining a story for the woman.
Woman of Stones is a study in memory. I’m fascinated by memory, how we remember, what we remember, who we remember, what we forget, whether intentionally or not. I tapped into the stream-of-consciousness narration in Diamant’s novel, and I love that poetic fluidity in Toni Morrison’s novels as well. The novella became a first-person narration from the Woman of Stones herself. We follow her from her humble beginnings in Nazareth, to how she came to live in Jerusalem, to how she struggled on various levels. She tells her story as she remembers it. Sometimes she remembers in linear order, and sometimes she doesn’t. Her memories are fluid, jumping from here to there and back again as she struggles to make sense of her life.
While it is a difficult story at times, it has a positive message about forgiveness and love, traits we could all use a little more of these days.
Woman of Stones is now available as an ebook at Amazon for 99 cents. It will be available through KDP Select through September 17, 2020. The paperback will be available at Amazon and other retailers beginning Wednesday, 6/24/20.
June 2, 2020
What I’m Reading
Reading has always been a solace to me, these days perhaps more than ever. Here’s a bit of what I’ve been reading lately.
After much anticipation (on my own part, as well as many others around the world), Hilary Mantel finally released The Mirror and the Light, the conclusion of the Thomas Cromwell Trilogy. As someone who writes historical fiction, I’ve looked to Mantel as a mentor for my craft, even if she doesn’t know it. Whenever I begin a new historical fiction project, I reread her novels to remind me what historical fiction at its best can look like.
I was so excited when I finally bought The Mirror and the Light, but being the Mantel fan I am I decided to reread Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies before I read the last book just to remind me of the brilliance of the first two books (and to keep me up to speed as to where Cromwell’s story left off). It took me a while to get through all three books since they’re long, which is not a complaint. Who said that if a book is good it’s never long enough? Jane Austen? I’m glad I read all three books together because it’s easier to see Mantel’s genius as seeds she planted in Wolf Hall come to fruition in The Mirror and the Light. While there shouldn’t be any spoilers here (most people who read the trilogy know that Cromwell ends without his head), The Mirror and the Light is fascinating in showing Cromwell’s downfall. How could someone who rose from nothing and nowhere become King Henry VIII’s most trusted adviser? And then lose that trust almost as suddenly as he gained it? Again, there shouldn’t be any great surprises. We see it happen to Cromwell’s mentor, Wolsey, and we see it happen to others. All three books are magic in their own way, and if you love historical fiction then I cannot recommend the Thomas Cromwell Trilogy highly enough.
Which of these book choices don’t belong? If you chose Naomi Ragen’s An Unorthodox Match then you are correct. I had this book on my kindle for a while and after the heavy lifting of the Thomas Cromwell Trilogy I wanted to read something lighter. I’m surprised at how much I liked this book. I’ve been reading a lot about Judaism lately, both fiction and nonfiction. It’s not that that I’m suddenly Jewish. I’ve always been Jewish. Maybe it’s the times, maybe it’s getting older, but I’ve become interested in exploring Judaism from different points of view, and that includes reading novels about Jewish characters. There’s a lot to like about Ragen’s novel. I liked the fact that An Unorthodox Match is written from several characters’ points of view. I liked that it wasn’t a story about who is good or who is bad, but just about people doing what they believe is best at the time. And I liked the love story between Leah and Yaakov—even if the cover designer needs to find a different occupation. Seriously, don’t let the cover scare you away. It’s a sweet romance about how people from different worlds can find their way toward each other despite the odds. This is the first book I’ve read by Naomi Ragen and I’ll be back for more.
April 3, 2020
When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 3
I’ve been trying to think of something to post that might cheer us up a bit. I know I certainly need it. I immediately thought of Hembry Castle, my Downton Abbey inspired novel set in Victorian England, since it’s my funniest novel, or so I’ve been told. I’ll leave it to you to judge.
Here’s Chapter 3. Enjoy.
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In south-central England near the River Enborne are the North Hampshire Downs where the chalk hills rise and the green land rolls and the coral-colored field poppies, pink orchids, and yellow buttercups sprout haphazardly around grazing sheep and a startled deer or two. If you listen, you can hear skylarks singing and woodpeckers pecking in the plentiful trees. If you’re traveling from London, you’ll pass first through Slough, then the tall-tree woods of Bracknell Forest, and further on you’ll pass villages like Woolton Hill, Burghclere, and Highclere within the surrounding region of Staton. In the sprawling countryside of the North Downs you’ll find the village of Hembry. You’ll know you’re in Hembry when a farmer, or the postmaster, or the vicar tips his hat to you. As you continue into the village, the cottages bid you welcome with open doors and fires at every hearth. You’ll pass the plots of land cultivated by the tenant farmers, and the farmers’ families will wave as you pass.
Over there is the village pub, the Staton Arms, and over there is the post office—the center of village life where everyone congregates, most to gossip, others to insist gossiping is wrong though they may have overheard a tidbit or two they feel obliged to share. If you want to know what Mrs. Montrey said to Mrs. Kents about the burgundy dress with the embossed sleeves and the blooming flower at the high collar that Lady Staton wore at the latest village fête—the one held only a month before the 8th Earl died—then you should stay close to the post office. According to Mrs. Montrey, her ladyship’s dress featured the newest fashion—a protruding bustle at the back—and how does one ever sit in such a contraption, Mrs. Montrey wondered? When you’ve had your fill of village chatter, you’ll cross the common square where the afore mentioned fête is held and arrive near the stone church, the sun-bleached one commissioned by the first Earl of Staton. And there, on the highest hill, is Hembry Castle.
In 1596, Blackfriar’s Theater opened in London, Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice was performed for the first time, and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth named Horace Meriwether the first Earl of Staton for his role alongside the Earls of Essex and Nottingham when British forces destroyed 32 Spanish ships and captured the city of Cádiz. Immediately, on the vast gift of land Her Majesty most graciously bestowed upon him, the new Earl began building a home worthy of his title. He was lucky, Horace Staton, formerly Meriwether, since he began his life as your lordship with wealth—his family had made their fortune as shipbuilders in Southampton—and his country seat was impressive from day one. The house had changed quite a lot over nearly three centuries. The castle’s fortifications—the stone walls, the keep at the center, the towers on the four corners, the outer curtain wall—were knocked down by the fourth Earl when he became convinced that the first Earl’s fear of barbarian attack was largely overrated. Now, the Countess’ Garden is built over what used to be the moat. Now, the castle features had largely disappeared, though a fragment or two could be found in the parklands so the name Hembry Castle remained.
Edward Ellis admired everything he saw as he walked at his usual brisk pace through the village of Hembry. He enjoyed wandering the winding roads, nodding at the friendly, curious faces, laughing at the gossip in the post office, watching the sheep loiter, and admiring the green patchwork farms dotting the landscape. You could hire a wagon (driver included) to take you up the hill, but Edward preferred to walk. It gave him a chance to take in the country scenery along with the quiet calm that can only be found in nature and birdsong—two things Edward missed when he was in London. He was born and had spent the first half of his life in Hampshire, in Portsmouth, and he loved the sweeping hills of the northern part of the county as much as he loved the southern coastline. It was a steep climb toward the castle, but Edward didn’t mind. He loved the green pastures that stretched as far as he could see, and the closer he came to the great house, the more clear its features became, the more he was struck by its steadfast stance, like a patient parent watching over its children.
On the outskirts of the grounds were the follies, the decorative mock castles (more reminders of the house’s earliest incarnation), and the Greek temple façades, which made Edward chuckle with their extravagant uselessness. He passed the rotunda and the statues from Ancient Greece and Rome, added to the family’s collection by previous Earls. He stopped to admire the rainbow spray of colors in the Baroque-style Countess’ Garden, then walked the tree-lined avenue toward the house. He marveled at the dignity of the old place, how the sand-colored limestone blended gracefully into the green hills, the winding river, even the sky above. The exterior of the castle was as eccentric as some of the Earls who had lived inside. The pitched roof pointed skyward with seventeenth century gables while the south-facing exterior was designed in the Palladian style by renown architect William Kent. Edward paused to admire the Corinthian columns, the cornices, the triangular Tympanum above the entrance. He stepped toward the door, changed his mind, and walked down the slope to the other side.
Jemima was the newest housemaid at Hembry Castle, and she screamed in a manner most unbecoming when she dropped a silver tea service and sent the pieces clattering to the floor. Fortunately, the empty pot bounced so there was only a splash of tea that she and Ruth, another housemaid, had to wipe away. They giggled nervously as they glanced for the housekeeper, but when they realized Jemima’s clumsiness had passed unnoticed, their giggles became laughter.
“You’re a lucky one,” Ruth said as she wiped away the remnants of her ladyship’s tea. “If that pot had been full it would have been a disaster to clean up.”
“At my last place the butler could hear anything from anywhere in the house, though it was a much smaller house, of course. He loved to dock our wages for time wasted, and he was such a mean old brute he would have considered this time wasted.”
“Housemaids are under the housekeeper’s orders.”
“Supposed to be,” said Jemima. “The butler and the housekeeper were always arguing about his ordering her staff around.”
Ruth gathered the tea things and set them back on the tray. “You don’t need to worry about that here.” She winked at the cook, Mrs. Lainie Graham, who had come to see what all the racket was. “Our butler and housekeeper get along quite well.”
“Most of the time,” Mrs. Graham said.
Ruth carried the tray and Jemima followed with the wet cloths, setting them down in the washing sink in the scullery. Mrs. Graham was so busy with the pigeon pie for that afternoon’s luncheon—slicing the ham, melting the butter, beating the eggs, and laying the puff pastry over the mixture in the baking dish—that she hadn’t noticed the girls admiring her work.
“Something smells good,” Ruth said.
“The family’s having a few guests for luncheon,” Mrs. Graham explained.
“I thought they were still in mourning,” said Jemima.
Mrs. Graham wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s nothing fancy, her ladyship said. Just some friends of his lordship and Mr. Frederick’s for a simple meal. Her ladyship isn’t very happy about it, I gathered, but his lordship said his father liked to have friends nearby and he wouldn’t have wanted the family sitting around like wet sacks feeling sad all day.”
“His lordship never did like mourning,” Ruth said. “God bless him in Heaven. I do miss him.”
“Who is ‘her ladyship?’” Jemima asked. “His lordship never married.”
“He isn’t married yet,” said Mrs. Graham, “though I fear he may be soon enough. Since there’s no wife, his mother remains Countess for now.”
Ruth leaned closer to the cook. “Is his lordship going to speak out?”
“There’s been some chatter about Lady Lily Carter-Marsh as the next Countess of Staton, but I don’t think anything is settled yet. I don’t think it will ever be settled for him, poor soul.” She checked her menu, then stirred the suet and candied peel for the baked plum pudding. She shook her wooden spoon at Jemima. “You should hear the rumors they spread about his lordship. Mr. Lannow, Lord Tilling’s valet, told us. They like to say his lordship is quite the ladies’ man. Of course his lordship doesn’t help matters, traipsing off to who-knows-where with his band of merry men like he’s Robin Hood, disappearing for weeks at a time. His lordship is suspected of having female companionship in London, if you know what I mean. That’s why he disappears as often as he does, they say, to visit her in Covent Garden. They say he sends her money too.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “They say there’s a child. But you listen to me—there’s no truth in that.” She winked at the plum pudding as she pressed the mixture into the baking pan.
“Mr. Lannow should know what his lordship is up to,” said Ruth. “After all, his lordship and Lord Tilling are friends.”
“What else did Mr. Lannow say?” asked Jemima.
“That his lordship goes about with the Prince of Wales.”
“I don’t know,” said Ruth. “His lordship doesn’t seem the type to involve himself with such a crowd. His other friends like Mr. Hough aren’t from aristocratic families.”
Jemima spun across the kitchen floor, her hands out as though she were dancing with a gentleman. “His lordship is so handsome, isn’t he? His eyes are a little small, and his face a little long, but there’s something about him that makes him so pleasant to look at. He has such a nice smile. Is he as kind as he seems?” Jemima swooned at the thought. “He asked my name my first day. I don’t think my last employers knew my name the whole year I worked for them.”
“Yes, he is every bit as kind as he seems,” said Ruth. “His brother, Mr. Frederick, seems much the same, though the goodness must have skipped over Mr. Jerrold. He’s too much like his mother.” Ruth pressed her hands over her own mouth, stopping herself from saying more, though the downstairs walls stood stoic as ever, used to such gossip.
“Rachel said she was dusting the sitting room this morning when she heard his lordship and her ladyship arguing,” Jemima said. “Rachel said her ladyship told his lordship she wants him married by the end of the Season.”
“She’s been saying that for five-and-twenty years,” said Mrs. Graham.
Jemima curtseyed, dipping toward the floor in the manner of a great lady. “I should be most happy to marry his lordship.”
Mrs. Graham threw her flour-covered dishtowel into the air. “The likes of you, married to the Earl of Staton! Whoever heard of such a thing?”
Jemima stood with some difficulty from her curtsey and straightened her apron. “Why isn’t he married already? Has his heart been broken? Is he pining over someone?”
“Who knows what goes on in other people’s hearts?” said Mrs. Graham.
Ruth leaned toward the cook. “I know that smirk, Mrs. Graham. You look that way whenever you know something other people don’t. What do you know?”
“I get the meals around here prepared on time. More than that, I don’t know.”
Ruth peeked into the servants’ hall where the footmen Henry and Colin sat at the table drinking tea and eating sandwiches. She sighed as though she wanted to join them. “Come Jemima. We have a lot more to get through today.”
They were startled by a knock at the downstairs door. Outside Jemima found a good-looking young man of average height and slim build with chocolate-brown hair that fell over large hazel eyes, more gold than brown or green, that seemed to take in everything at once. The young man smiled.
“Good afternoon. I’m here to see my grandparents.”
“Grandparents?” Jemima glanced into the hallway. “There’s no grandparents here, sir.”
Jingling keys grew louder. “I believe here comes a grandparent as we speak,” the young man said.
Mrs. Mary Ellis, the housekeeper at Hembry Castle, appeared. Edward Ellis took his grandmother’s hands with the greatest affection.
“What are you doing down here?” Mrs. Ellis asked. “You’re a guest today. You should have used the front door.”
“I wanted to see you and Grandfather before I went up.”
Mrs. Ellis kissed her grandson’s cheek. “You look so handsome today, Neddie, but a little thin. Aren’t you eating? Don’t they pay you at that newspaper? Heaven knows you work hard enough for them.”
“They pay me well enough, Grandmother, and yes, I’m eating.” He sniffed the air. “If luncheon tastes as good as it smells, I’ll be eating plenty.”
Mrs. Ellis opened the door wider so Edward could step inside. “Come in and sit down. I pressed and ironed the clothing you sent ahead and they’re laying out in my sitting room, though you have time for tea and a chat before you change. Jemima, close your mouth and tell Mrs. Graham my grandson is here. Ask her to send Frannie with some tea.”
“Yes, Mrs. Ellis.” Jemima smiled at Edward as though she agreed with the housekeeper—her grandson was looking rather handsome that day. A stern look from Mrs. Ellis and the maid scurried away.
“Is she new?” Edward asked. “I don’t remember her.”
When Mrs. Ellis entered the servants’ hall the footmen stood until she acknowledged them. She gestured for Edward to sit at the table.
“As a matter of fact, she is new. She’s never worked in a manor like this before, so she has a lot to learn.” Mrs. Ellis looked at the whitewashed walls decorated with paintings of Queen Victoria in various stages of her life—from young ingénue to fleshy widow. The sunlight cast pink-yellow shadows on the wall, leaving the tea-drinking footmen under two spotlights as though they were on the stage. It was, Edward noticed, the only color in the room. “I can’t complain, though. I know what those first months in a big house are like. I remember when I first came to Hembry more than 40 years ago. I was lucky that my sister would watch your father when I couldn’t have him down here.” Edward shrugged, and his grandmother didn’t press him. “Fortunately for me, your grandfather had already been here some time so I had an easy enough adjustment. But there’s so much to learn in a big house like this.”
“And you learned it quickly, my dear.”
Edward marveled at how his grandparents hardly changed as the years passed. Augustus Ellis, butler for one of the most respected families in England, was a medium-statured man like his grandson, his slim frame hunched forward, Edward guessed, from his perpetual downward-looking stance, as though he were always trying to sneak up on something that needed improving upon, his round, wire-rimmed spectacles dipping from the tip of his nose. Edward’s grandmother had grown stouter through the years, and her hair was more white than gold now, but she still had that motherly smile that put everyone at their ease. With the appearance of Mr. Ellis the footmen stood, and again, after acknowledgement, they sat.
Edward nodded at the footmen. “Being in service is similar to calisthenics, isn’t it? Sitting and standing, sitting and standing.”
Henry Horrocks, the peacock of a first footman, was about to respond though he stopped after a swift kick under the table from Colin Pratt.
“Yes, it is, sir,” Colin answered.
Clattering was heard from the kitchen, and then Mrs. Graham bustled into the servants’ hall with a tray of tea and cakes. “Ned! Let me have a look at you.” She put the tray on the table, then her hands on her hips as she squinted at Edward. She was a tall, broad woman, Lainie Graham, with her sharp eyes and dark hair swept haphazardly under her cook’s cap. She nodded with approval at what she saw. She poured some tea and handed Edward the cup and saucer.
“You didn’t need to do this yourself, Mrs. Graham,” Edward said. “You should have sent one of the maids.”
“I wanted to see you before you disappeared upstairs.”
Edward sipped his tea. “You don’t have to stay, any of you. I know you’re busy.”
“I think everything is settled for the moment,” said Mr. Ellis. “I wanted a moment to speak to you before you went upstairs, Edward. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“It sounds serious, Grandfather.”
“Not too serious, I hope. But I do want you to know that Mr. Frederick discovered that you’re my grandson because I told him so. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, but I realize now it may have been a lapse of judgment on my part. If I did wrong, I apologize.”
“If I weren’t your grandson, then apologies may be in order, but as it stands…”
“Thank you, Edward, though I feel I ought to explain. I knew Mr. Frederick had agreed to take over the editorial duties at the Daily Observer, and in a burst of pride I blurted out the fact that you worked at that same paper.” Mr. Ellis gave a hard stare in the direction of the footmen, both of whom appeared not to notice anything but the tea cups in their hands. “I’m very proud of the work I’ve done for this family, Edward.”
“As you should be, Grandfather.”
“Your grandmother and I have put our all into Hembry Castle, and we consider it an honor to be in service for such a respectable family. And yet I understand how a young man like yourself, who has chosen a different path in life, might not want it known by his employer that his grandparents are in service for said employer’s family. You needn’t acknowledge me in front of the others upstairs. In fact, it wouldn’t be proper if you did.”
“Grandfather, as you carry off every fine detail of this luncheon to perfection, as you always do, I’ll point to you and say loudly enough for everyone in the castle to hear, ‘That great man is my grandfather. I learned my work ethic from him. I learned how to work hard, take pride in my work, and always perform to the best of my ability from him, and from my grandmother as well.’”
“Thank you, Edward, though I don’t know how well the family will take to such a display of familiarity between us.” He nodded, his butler’s duties overtaking his family feelings. “Now if you’ll excuse me. Henry and Colin, I believe luncheon should be attended to?”
The footmen marched single-file up the stairs. “Henry and Colin will get everything in order,” said Mr. Ellis, “but I should be there to supervise.”
“Of course, Grandfather.”
“Perhaps you should reenter at the front door. You’re an invited guest of Mr. Frederick’s, after all.”
“Mr. Meriwether is perfectly aware that I’m your grandson. I doubt he’d be the least surprised to see me coming from down here.”
Mrs. Ellis looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “You ought to change, Neddie.”
Edward disappeared into his grandmother’s sitting room, emerging a quarter of an hour later in his freshly pressed coat and trousers, wing collar shirt, and blue and green plaid waistcoat. Mrs. Ellis tied her grandson’s cravat into a fancy-style knot, then reached into her apron, pulled out two repoussé cuff links, and slid them into place. “Your grandfather and I thought these would look nice.”
“Are these Grandfather’s?”
“They were a present from the 8th Earl. We know it’s only luncheon, but still, how often do you dine with the family?”
Edward admired the gold at his wrists. “Thank you, Grandmother. I look as fine as the Earl of Staton.”
Mrs. Ellis led Edward to the staircase. “Are you ready?”
“You sound like I’m about to be sacrificed to the lions.”
“There’s a whole other world up there, Neddie, one I hardly understand and I’ve been here a long time. You already know Mr. Frederick is a good man, and his lordship is much the same. Her ladyship is…her ladyship is…”
“I’ve heard she’s quite deaf.”
Mrs. Ellis turned her sternest expression onto Jemima, who was yanked into the kitchen by a disembodied arm.
“Is she deaf?” Edward asked. “I thought it was more of a selective hearing.”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. Just remember that Mr. Frederick wants you here, his lordship is happy to have you, and that’s all you need to know. Your grandfather will be there to help you.”
“Will I need help, do you think? After all, I have eaten luncheon before. Perhaps not upstairs, but I am familiar with the meal. Will I be dragged away by my ear for using the wrong fork or for speaking to someone on my left when the Countess is looking to her right? Besides, I thought luncheon wasn’t as formal as dinner.” Edward brightened. “Will Miss Meriwether be there?”
“Do you know Miss Meriwether?”
“I met her briefly at the newspaper office.”
Mrs. Ellis eyed her grandson with the observant look he inherited from her. “Yes, Miss Daphne will be joining you for luncheon. I understand her ladyship has big plans for Miss Daphne.”
“I’m sure she does.”
Mrs. Ellis pointed at the staircase. “All right, then. Up you go.”
“I feel like I’m being dropped down the rabbit hole.”
“In this case Wonderland is upstairs.”
Edward grinned as he climbed toward the Wonderland of Hembry Castle.
March 17, 2020
Cheap Entertainment For Homebound Days
All righty then…
As a highly sensitive introvert (and an INFJ, in case you were wondering), I feel a bit odd these days for all the same reasons as many of you. My favorite days are when I don’t leave the house, but there’s something different about choosing to stay home and having to stay home.
Still, keeping ourselves, our loved ones, and our neighbors safe is our first priority right now. If you’re like me, you’re looking for ways to fill the hours. Reading has often been a comfort for me, so we’ve lowered the prices of all my ebooks to 99 cents. I hope you find something to read that will entertain you during these homebound days. The price changes are now available on Amazon and they will appear on other online retailers throughout this week. We’ll be republishing Woman of Stones, my historical novel set in Biblical Jersusalem, soon and that will also appear on all online retailers at 99 cents.
I wrote about the 1918 flu epidemic in Victory Garden, which takes place in New York City and Washington, D.C. during the years 1917-1922. One of the strangest parts about writing historical fiction is seeing history repeat itself, which it often does. You know how it goes. The more things change, the more they stay the same. One of the lessons learned from the 1918 flu epidemic is the necessary step of social distancing. While social distancing is a challenge to many of us for a number of reasons, now is the time for us to band together and do our part–for ourselves and for everyone around us.
On an unrelated note, I’ve been humbled by the response my article about being a hearing-impaired introvert for Introvert, Dear has received. For years I never mentioned the fact that I struggle with hearing loss. I never wrote about it. Only a few people who knew me knew. I’ve loved seeing the comments on the website and it’s been a thrill to receive emails from others experiencing something similar. It just goes to show that whenever we feel we’re the only ones in the world going through something, there are others experiencing something similar. Thank you for your comments on the article. Keep them coming!
Stay safe. Wash your hands. If you’re social distancing, let me know what you’re doing to pass the time. We could all use some tips right now.
February 17, 2020
What It’s Like Being an Introvert With Hearing Loss
I know this is a different topic than I usually write about here, but I wanted to share an article I wrote for the fabulous website Introvert, Dear. Introvert, Dear has been one of my favorite websites for years, and I’m honored that they allowed me some space to share my particular conundrum–being an introvert who doesn’t hear well. Yes, as an introvert I love my alone time to read and think, and I may do a little writing from time to time… But there are times when I struggle because even when I’d like to interact with others it can seem ridiculously difficult because of my hearing.
If you’d like to see the article on their website you can view it here. Enjoy.
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Socializing is far more difficult because I can’t always hear what is said. At times, I feel isolated from the world — not by choice, but by chance.
I wasn’t familiar with the word introvert until I was in my thirties, and it wasn’t until I read Quiet by Susan Cain that I realized I wasn’t as odd as I thought I was. I’m still odd, just not in the way I thought. For me, my difficulties with engaging socially have been compounded by the fact that I don’t hear well. I have the double whammy of being an introvert with hearing loss.
What Did You Say?
Sensorineural is a hearing loss best described as nerve damage of the pathways from your inner ear to your brain. Conductive is another type of hearing loss caused by problems with the bone that conducts sound through your ears. I have both sensorineural and conductive hearing loss. I remember when an ENT saw my audiogram, he exclaimed, “Wow! I’ve never seen this before!” Which, generally speaking, is not what you want to hear from your doctor.
Until a few years ago, the technology for hearing aids for my particular problems didn’t exist. I now have a bi-cross hearing aid, which takes sounds from my right side, where I have no hearing, and transfers it to my left side, where I have moderate hearing loss. But my nifty new hearing aids aren’t perfect. Sometimes they fail, as they might for anyone who wears them.
Introverts love solitude, introspection, and reflection, and they need time to recharge after social situations. Imagine being an introvert with hearing loss. The difficulty of managing social situations is magnified tenfold because I cannot always hear what is said to me. Even when I’m recharged and ready to engage with others, I often don’t — because of the challenges presented by my hearing.
An Introverted, Hard-of-Hearing Teenager
When I was a teenager, my girlfriends spent hours chatting on the phone, but being both introverted and unable to hear well made that rite of passage unavailable to me. I was all right hanging out with one or two friends, but as soon as there was a group, I’d go home. When I did hang out with the crowd, I stayed close to my one or two friends. I was the quiet one who preferred to be alone in her room reading or writing. I still am, come to think of it.
College was hard for me for different reasons. In an Introvert, Dear article, Jana Louise Smit discusses how quiet people are often considered stupid. Our education system fails every introvert that has ever sat in a classroom. For some reason, educators believe that students need to talk to learn. No thought is given in either K-12 or university classrooms to the introverts who learn from quiet contemplation or solitary reading and writing. Susan Cain does a brilliant job covering this topic in Quiet.
Class discussions work well for some students, but not all students. Sometimes I’d lose track of the conversation. In one class, the professor decided that everyone should respond to the discussion. I had a hearing aid fail and didn’t hear most of what was said. I did what I always do in such situations, which is to wait until I can pick up the thread of the conversation.
Suddenly, everything stopped. I could tell by the professor’s body language and the students’ downcast gazes that something had happened — but I had no idea what. After class, my friend told me the professor had announced we weren’t continuing with the class until every person added to the conversation.
She was referring to me.
I hadn’t contributed because I couldn’t hear, and she was…what? Offended? She embarrassed me in front of everyone without considering why I might not have spoken.
As an introvert, especially an introvert with hearing loss, I learn by observing. Even introverts without hearing loss learn a lot by observing. I also learn by writing things out. I learn by quiet contemplation. I never lost out on learning because I didn’t always participate in conversations. I learn differently, that’s all.
Those Closest to You May Not Understand
Even among friends, it can be hard. I have a couple of friends I’ve known for nearly ten years. They both know I have hearing loss. They both know I’m introverted. I remember the afternoon I sat with one friend, crying because someone had laughed at me because of my hearing loss. My friend was kind and sympathetic.
Yet this same friend was annoyed with me when I wouldn’t attend a gathering at her house. I loved visiting her when it was just two or three of us, but spending time with strangers, struggling to make small talk, struggling just to hear is too exhausting.
This same friend was distant toward me again when I didn’t attend our mutual friend’s retirement party. I’ve had to learn to forgive people for not understanding what it’s like to be me.
I’ve Had Many ‘Pretend’ Conversations
I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had where I couldn’t make out a single word the other person said. It’s amazing how far you can get mimicking the other person’s facial expressions and nodding. When a cue is missed, I say, “Oh, I thought you said (fill in the blank with whatever seems appropriate)” and the conversation I can’t hear continues.
If I were less introverted, I might have learned at an earlier age to be truthful about the fact that I can’t hear. How many honest connections with people have I missed because I wasn’t having a genuine conversation?
Isolated Not by Choice, But by Chance
Someone who is introverted may be alone but not feel lonely because we “quiet ones” enjoy solitary time. But there have been times when I wanted to socialize more and didn’t. There have been times when I felt isolated from the world — not by choice, but by chance.
Like some other introverts, I don’t consider myself a shy person. I enjoy talking to people and getting to know their stories — when I can hear them. Introversion is not synonymous with shyness, as Susan Cain points out.
Allison Abrams from Psychology Today wrote that introverts “…most simply have a lower threshold for small talk and superficialities. They prefer to conserve their energy for meaningful interactions that stimulate them, rather than shallow ones that drain them.” With my hearing loss, however, it can seem as if every interaction is draining since I have to struggle to simply make sense of what is being said.
Connections have been made between hearing loss and introversion. Roberta K. Ness for the Houston Chronicle wrote about how older men tend to check out in social situations due to their declining hearing. Most people would check out when it’s hard to hear. I know I do.
Ness also points out that isolation caused by hearing loss has been shown to increase depression and even accelerate dementia. Despite the challenges, being an introvert with hearing loss doesn’t have to be the end of all social interaction.
What Can Be Done for Introverts With Hearing Loss?
While there is no one-size-fits-all solution for introverts with a hearing loss, here are a few tips I’ve discovered over the years:
1. I focus on what I’ve accomplished.
While I struggle with self-doubt like anyone, I’ve still achieved many things that I’m proud of. My hearing loss and introversion have never stopped me from achieving my goals. Once I set my mind to something, I get ‘er done.
2. I focus on what I do well.
Some introverts find their creative expression through writing, as I do. I find great joy in creating worlds with words. Since it’s hard for me to take part in social gatherings, I share my thoughts and feelings, my experiences, and my imaginings through the written word.
I’ve had to accept that I’m most comfortable at home reading and writing. I put myself down for years because I rarely wanted to go out where I knew hearing would be a struggle. Finally, I’ve accepted that I prefer to be alone or in the company of a few people. This is who I am, and that’s okay.
3. I’m more honest about my hearing loss.
For years, I would never tell anyone I couldn’t hear well. Quite simply, I was embarrassed. Finally, I started saying, “I wear a hearing aid and I can’t hear you.” People can be more understanding than we sometimes give them credit for.
With my new hearing aids and my willingness to be honest about the fact that I can’t hear well, it’s easier to get through conversations. I don’t need to mime back people’s expressions. I can hear, talk, and connect. And that is a good thing.
