Inglath Cooper's Blog, page 26

8 Ways to Make Someone's Day

1.  Smile at them.  For no reason.  The lady in the drive through at McDonald's.  The older man bagging groceries at Kroger.  Just smile.

2.  Point out something you like in someone.  Maybe it's how they talk to their dog in a way we would all like to be talked to. Maybe it's the way they send thank you notes that sound like they took time to write them.

3.  Ask someone for advice on something you know they're really good at and have worked hard to accomplish.  Most people have something they're knowledgeable about because they love it and have spent time developing it.  They may be only too happy to share what they know and feel complimented that you sought them out.

4.  If there's an older person in your life, drop by for a visit just to talk.  Ask them about something meaningful in their lives that interests you and give them a chance to talk about it.  Older people have a wealth of experience and history to share with others, but it may seem to them that no one has time to listen.

5.  If you have a dog that loves people, try getting him or her approved for visits to a local nursing home.  Dogs can make people smile with the simple wag of their tails.  Regular visits can bring joy to those who may not have many visitors.

6.  Plant a small garden in the spring and share your vegetables with a food pantry, an older person who can no longer garden, or a family who could use the assistance.  A few tomato and squash plants can yield an abundance of produce.

7.  Maybe you have a neighbor who isn't able to walk his or her dog as much as they would like to due to age or health issues.  Volunteer to do so for them.

8.  Offer to teach someone something you know how to do.  Maybe you know a teenager who would like to learn to play guitar but can't afford the lessons.  Or someone who doesn't have computer skills but would like to.  It may seem like a little thing to us, but can be huge to someone who may not have had the same opportunities in life.

Grandparents are Gold

I always loved my grandparents. Even when I was little, I knew they were special, and that I was lucky to have them in my life.  Each of them gave me many reasons to love them deeply.

My Grandpa Holland taught me the joy of helping dogs in need, showed me that Hounds just make great friends.  He introduced me to the back roads of our county on Sunday mornings when he would take my sister and me with him in his little red truck on what we called his "rounds" – the places he went regularly to visit with other farmers and friends.

My Grandma Holland taught me what it means to put others before yourself.  She grew up in a family of ten siblings, and her mother died when she was thirteen.  She was a child of the Depression years, and that time shaped her in ways that followed her throughout her life.  I loved hearing stories of the meals she shared with her brothers and sisters at a big harvest style table, how they would swing from grape vines over the creek in the summers and pick pawpaws at the edge of the woods near their house.  And she always carried Juicy Fruit in her purse.  It just seems right that a purse should smell like Juicy Fruit.

My Grandma Johnson was the youngest child in her family, and her parents were older by the time they had her.  She became their caretaker before she was a teenager, and she was self-sufficient at an age when I was still watching Scooby-Doo.  She started making biscuits when she was eight, and I have never to this day had one that can begin to rival hers.

My Grandpa Johnson, who at age 75, sometimes had trouble remembering what happened the day before, could tell me the number on the motel door where he stayed the night before shipping out to Germany for World War II.  When I was very young, it was hard for him to talk about his experiences there as a prisoner of war, but as I grew older, he would share bits and pieces about how long they would go without food, the potato peelings and turnips the guards would throw them when they did get fed, how when they were finally rescued, one of his fellow soldiers died after eating too many of the doughnuts brought to them by the Red Cross.

Their world was a totally different world from the one I grew up in.  And today, looking back, it seems even more hard to believe that was their life.  But it was.  And the bits and pieces of it that they shared with me are what I will carry with me throughout my life.

I think of the times when I sat and listened to them talk of their experiences, and my only regret is that I didn't sit longer or ask them to talk about their lives more often.  I can still see my Grandpa Johnson sitting under the maple shade tree in their yard, stringing a metal wash pan full of green beans, his sun-browned arthritic hands quick at the task.  There I am beside him in that orange and white nylon web lounge chair, hugging my knees to my chest, rapt as he transports me to that place and time.

I miss him so much.

I Loved The Vow!

http://www.thevow-movie.com/

The Vow

A movie on a cold February Saturday afternoon sounded like a good idea, but to be honest, I haven't seen that many movies lately that left me feeling glad I went once it was over.

Not so with The Vow.

For me, this was a movie that did what movies are supposed to do, offer up a story that allows for a couple hours of complete absorption, a mini-vacation of a sort.  The story gets off to a roller coaster start, a short ride up the first hill to happiness, and then it's dropping off the other side into total uncertainty.

The Vow

Leo and Paige are two people you can't help but want the best for.  As guys go, Leo(Channing Tatum) is a good one.  Once Paige(Rachel McAdams) snags his heart, it's clear he's hers for life.  His love for her is so earnest and convincing that he's easy for us to love.

Paige's struggle with what has happened to her(trying not to give away the story here!) makes her a little less sympathetic at times, but not enough so to make us question why Leo still loves her.

The most outstanding scene in the movie for me was the one in which Jessica Lange who play's Paige's mother, explains to her daughter why she stayed with Paige's father after he had an affair with one of Paige's friends.  Lange's explanation is riveting, and this was the part of the story that made me cry.

Again, without giving away the plot, it was nice to leave the theatre feeling hopeful instead of hopeless.  If you're looking for a good love story to lose yourself in, go see The Vow.  I'm glad I did.

 

 

 

 

Charlie Matters

Charlie

The day Charlie was brought to the Franklin County Animal Shelter might have been both the worst and best day of his life.

He arrived there with someone who said he had been hit by a car.  His back leg was retracted, and he could not walk at all.  He kind of rolled instead.  A Franklin County Humane Society volunteer happened to be there at the time and said she would take Charlie with her to the Rocky Mount Pet Clinic where it was determined that the injury was actually an old one.  His nails were so long and curled that they were almost embedded in the pads of his paws, compounding the difficulty he had walking.

The old injury could not be repaired in a way that would allow him to be without pain and to walk normally.  So Dr. Eric Lorens removed the leg, and there began Charlie's journey to healing.

Shan Sirry volunteered to foster him during his recovery, and Charlie could not have hoped for a more loving, nurturing foster home.  Shan took him in as her own, shuttled him to vet appointments and therapy sessions to help him adjust to his new life as a dog with three legs instead of four.  And just gave him truckloads of love.  Which was all he'd ever really wanted anyway.

Today, Charlie starts the next phase of his new life.  Shan and her mother are driving him to New Jersey.  If all goes well, he will join his new family where he'll receive the kind of love and care he deserves.

Dogs like Charlie leave permanent paw prints on our hearts.  Watching him heal and show joy for even the little things, a car ride, a cookie, a new toy, well, you see, that's what it's all about.  Every volunteer involved in his journey from that shelter to the home he's travelling to today knows they have done something meaningful, something that matters.

Because Charlie matters.

Charlie matters.

Water Therapy

A Dog Like Columbo

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If you're a dog who ends up in need of a new family, it would be a far better deal to be a seven pound poodle than a dog like Columbo.

You see, Columbo is a big boy.  Eighty pounds easy, and brawny with cords of muscle like a linebacker.  Oh, yeah, he's also a Pitt Bull.

But to know Columbo is to want a dog like Columbo.  First off, he's just drop dead gorgeous.  Like one of those pro football players who not only got the gift for the game but the looks to go with it.

Columbo's game is a love for life.  And he's so darn good at it.  That was the one thing he made abundantly clear during the October 22nd Franklin County Humane Society Adoption event hosted by Tractor Supply.

The boy's never met a stranger.  Whenever someone new would stop to greet him, he was up on his feet like the Southern gentleman he is, wagging his tail and panting one of his big goofy smiles.  "Hey, how are you?  Nice to meet you. Glad you could come out today!"  You could almost hear him say the words.

Columbo didn't bother with sitting around looking pitiful either, dwelling on the fact that he's been at the FCHS Adoption Center since May, watching weekend after weekend as his buddies leave with a new family or head out on a transport for New Jersey or New Hampshire.

He's had to watch a lot of newfound friends leave him behind.  He misses them when they go.  But he has lasting people friends at the Adoption Center.  Ray, who takes care of him everyday and Karin, who tries to make sure he gets seen by the families who come to look for a dog.  And all the volunteers, too, like the ones who signed up as his date for the adoption event.

It turned out to be a beautiful day there, and Columbo enjoyed every minute of being outside in the sunshine, getting lavished with treats and chew toys, and ooohed and aaahhed over by each of his escorts.

The puppies were popular, and three kittens got adopted.

No one filled out an application for Columbo, but when the event ended, and he climbed into a volunteer's car to head back to the adoption center, he seemed to be okay with that.  He knows he's not a dog for just anyone, but he's a dog for someone.  And he can wait until that person comes along.  Someone who's been looking for a dog just like him.  They'll be every bit as special as he is.

*******

If you're the person Columbo has been waiting for, please email ascott@embarqmail.com.

A Dog Like Columbo

If you're a dog who ends up in need of a new family, it would be a far better deal to be a seven pound poodle than a dog like Columbo.

You see, Columbo is a big boy.  Eighty pounds easy, and brawny with cords of muscle like a linebacker.  Oh, yeah, he's also a Pitt Bull.

But to know Columbo is to want a dog like Columbo.  First off, he's just drop dead gorgeous.  Like one of those pro football players who not only got the gift for the game but the looks to go with it.

Columbo's game is a love for life.  And he's so darn good at it.  That was the one thing he made abundantly clear during the October 22nd Franklin County Humane Society Adoption event hosted by Tractor Supply.

The boy's never met a stranger.  Whenever someone new would stop to greet him, he was up on his feet like the Southern gentleman he is, wagging his tail and panting one of his big goofy smiles.  "Hey, how are you?  Nice to meet you. Glad you could come out today!"  You could almost hear him say the words.

Columbo didn't bother with sitting around looking pitiful either, dwelling on the fact that he's been at the FCHS Adoption Center since May, watching weekend after weekend as his buddies leave with a new family or head out on a transport for New Jersey or New Hampshire.

He's had to watch a lot of newfound friends leave him behind.  He misses them when they go.  But he has lasting people friends at the Adoption Center.  Ray, who takes care of him everyday and Karin, who tries to make sure he gets seen by the families who come to look for a dog.  And all the volunteers, too, like the ones who signed up as his date for the adoption event.

It turned out to be a beautiful day there, and Columbo enjoyed every minute of being outside in the sunshine, getting lavished with treats and chew toys, and ooohed and aaahhed over by each of his escorts.

The puppies were popular, and three kittens got adopted.

No one filled out an application for Columbo, but when the event ended, and he climbed into a volunteer's car to head back to the adoption center, he seemed to be okay with that.  He knows he's not a dog for just anyone, but he's a dog for someone.  And he can wait until that person comes along.  Someone who's been looking for a dog just like him.  They'll be every bit as special as he is.

*******

If you're the person Columbo has been waiting for, please email ascott@embarqmail.com.

Bliss Hit

[image error]Got a Bliss Hit Thursday afternoon when visiting the Adult Cat Room at the Franklin County Humane Society Adoption Center! I bent down to snap a pic of one of the cats and this precocious little bundle hopped on my back and proceeded to purr himself into my heart! These cats are all so wonderful – loving and sweet as can be. I've never experienced so many sweet-as-pie personalities at one time.  If you could use a bliss hit, visit with the kitties at your local Kitty Rescue!

Bliss Hit

Got a Bliss Hit Thursday afternoon when visiting the Adult Cat Room at the Franklin County Humane Society Adoption Center! I bent down to snap a pic of one of the cats and this precocious little bundle hopped on my back and proceeded to purr himself into my heart! These cats are all so wonderful – loving and sweet as can be. I've never experienced so many sweet-as-pie personalities at one time.  If you could use a bliss hit, visit with the kitties at your local Kitty Rescue!

On Writing What You Know

Most of the books I write take place in a small town.  It's where I grew up and where I'm most comfortable putting characters.  They move around most naturally there because they know what they're supposed to do and how they're supposed to act.

I'm having lunch today at The Hub, my town's place to go for a home-cooked meal that won't leave your wallet feeling empty but will leave your stomach full.  It's the kind of place that lists peach cobbler on the white board of daily lunch specials under Today's Vegetables.  I'm okay with that because every once in a while it helps justify the choice.

[image error]This time, I'm being good though and having the Vegetarian Omelet and iced tea.  The waitress who takes my order has no doubt been the template for a number of secondary characters in my books.   I guess it has to be true that I've written about this place under one fictitious name or another a good number of times.

Doesn't every small town have one? The diner/cafe/locally owned place that's been around a couple of generations - a spot where you're guaranteed to know most of the people there by face if not by name.  For me, there's a cozy kind of comfort in that, both in real life and within the pages of a story.  A place where characters know and are known, where they stop in for an update on what's going on in the community.

Write what you know. This was the advice given to me by teachers in my pre-published years of writing. It wasn't that I exactly disagreed with them, but wasn't what I knew boring and mundane, the same kind of thing everyone else knew? Wouldn't it be much more exciting and interesting if I wrote about places like Paris and St. John, Florence and Munich?

To answer my own question, maybe, if they're what I know.

Over the years, I've had the good fortune to visit each of those places, and one of the things I learned from going there is that visiting isn't the same thing as living.  I've experienced those beautiful spots a slice at a time, but I don't know them like I know my own corner of the world.

If my characters feel real to a reader, I think it's because I've put them in a life that is real to me in all its seemingly everyday normalcy, quirks, curiosities and all.  As writers, what might seem routine and not terribly exciting to us can be the exact opposite to our readers when we paint our story with a brush of details that give it color and life.  The red Formica tops of a diner booth.  The stainless steel stools with the royal blue cushions kids like to spin on.  The Peppermint Pattie jar that sits by the cash register.[image error]

So as I sit here, absorbing the bustle of a regular old Monday at The Hub, I realize how nice it is to belong in a place.  And as a writer, to be able to write stories that come from a place in me that get their truth from the life I live here.  From what I know.

I didn't order the homemade coconut pie today. But I really wanted to.

On Writing What You Know

Most of the books I write take place in a small town.  It's where I grew up and where I'm most comfortable putting characters.  They move around most naturally there because they know what they're supposed to do and how they're supposed to act.

I'm having lunch today at The Hub, my town's place to go for a home-cooked meal that won't leave your wallet feeling empty but will leave your stomach full.  It's the kind of place that lists peach cobbler on the white board of daily lunch specials under Today's Vegetables.  I'm okay with that because every once in a while it helps justify the choice.

This time, I'm being good though and having the Vegetarian Omelet and iced tea.  The waitress who takes my order has no doubt been the template for a number of secondary characters in my books.   I guess it has to be true that I've written about this place under one fictitious name or another a good number of times.

Doesn't every small town have one? The diner/cafe/locally owned place that's been around a couple of generations - a spot where you're guaranteed to know most of the people there by face if not by name.  For me, there's a cozy kind of comfort in that, both in real life and within the pages of a story.  A place where characters know and are known, where they stop in for an update on what's going on in the community.

Write what you know. This was the advice given to me by teachers in my pre-published years of writing. It wasn't that I exactly disagreed with them, but wasn't what I knew boring and mundane, the same kind of thing everyone else knew? Wouldn't it be much more exciting and interesting if I wrote about places like Paris and St. John, Florence and Munich?

To answer my own question, maybe, if they're what I know.

Over the years, I've had the good fortune to visit each of those places, and one of the things I learned from going there is that visiting isn't the same thing as living.  I've experienced those beautiful spots a slice at a time, but I don't know them like I know my own corner of the world.

If my characters feel real to a reader, I think it's because I've put them in a life that is real to me in all its seemingly everyday normalcy, quirks, curiosities and all.  As writers, what might seem routine and not terribly exciting to us can be the exact opposite to our readers when we paint our story with a brush of details that give it color and life.  The red Formica tops of a diner booth.  The stainless steel stools with the royal blue cushions kids like to spin on.  The Peppermint Pattie jar that sits by the cash register.

So as I sit here, absorbing the bustle of a regular old Monday at The Hub, I realize how nice it is to belong in a place.  And as a writer, to be able to write stories that come from a place in me that get their truth from the life I live here.  From what I know.

I didn't order the homemade coconut pie today. But I really wanted to.