Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Liftoff! We Have Liftoff!

Fifty years ago today something magical started in action. . . liftoff of the Apollo Eleven mission to the moon. I wasn't anywhere near the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, but I can imagine. I've never felt the ground shake from a man-made monster such as this, but I can imagine. I've never heard the roar of Saturn V rocket engines, but I can imagine. Or maybe I can't, since this power was unimaginable to those of us merely watching on TV.
I can picture the crowds shading their eyes, watching from the distance. I can see the birds rousted from their nests as liftoff grew louder and louder and even louder.
We weren't just idle bystanders. We didn't say, "They are going to the moon." We said, "We are going to the moon." Big difference. We were caught up in the drama, in the possibilities, and deep inside, maybe in the fear that something could go wrong.

But it didn't, and now fifty years later we review and relive the experience. My heart still thumps extra hard just imagining.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Monday, July 15, 2019

Countdown

The countdown is on! This is the week I have anticipated for well over a year, probably even longer since I wrote Back on Earth: When Men First Landed on the Moon five years ago. It's arrived! The fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo Eleven Moon Mission, in case you haven't noticed all the hype floating around the internet.
My homage to those who wonder
Maybe I have anticipated this for fifty years, because this book is me, or at least what I remember from this week of July, 1969. It also is partly what other people remembered about their experiences. My artist, Bobbie Gumbert, lined her youngsters up in front of the TV set and watched with them. 
The purpose of my book was to start the conversation between generations about this historical event. My wish is that the children of today realize what a monumental accomplishment going to the moon actually was. As I've watched flashbacks on television and read articles in newspapers and online, I've developed a deeper appreciation. Maybe because I'm older. Maybe because I so passionately want us to return to that moment of unity. Our American pride was at its best as all eyes were looking upward at three men racing away from earth. 

Spread the word. Fifty years ago, we accomplished the impossible. If we can do that, we can do anything.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Monday, July 1, 2019

Closer, Closer, Closer

Today I'm taking a page from my own book to say that July 20 and the Apollo Eleven moon landing fiftieth anniversary celebration is getting closer and closer and closer.

The "we" in this excerpt is those of here, back on earth, watching the action unfold above. And there we sat, glued to the ancient television set, waiting, waiting, waiting.
There were many of us who had a personal connection to what was going on thousands of miles above our heads. One was Kristy Dempsey, a fellow children's author from the Carolinas. Along with illustrator Sarah Green, she relates the story of her father's contribution to the Apollo Eleven's success through the South Carolina textile mill that manufactured the space suit the astronauts wore. In her picture book, Papa Put a Man on the Moon, she pays homage to him in a most beautiful way. The artist shows what my artist shows in the picture above, watching the landing together. Kristy goes on to show commentator Walter Cronkite and his "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy" exclamations. She captures our emotions that day...joy, awe, more than a tinge of fear, and most of all in her book, pride. Pride in what America accomplished. Pride in what her father accomplished. What a wonderful honor to her father and to all those thousands and thousands around the globe that had even a tiny bit part in this.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Friday, June 28, 2019

The Ebook Adventure

I once attended a workshop led by our exceptional students' teacher where we teachers were given a taste of what being learning disabled really meant. This super-exceptional teacher passed out worksheets for us to do, simple worksheets similar to a typical classroom assignment of read and answer questions. Only in this case a few of us (including me) were set up to fail, without our knowledge. She had jumbled the words, misplaced some, twisted spellings, and done everything possible to make reading/comprehension difficult, if not impossible.

The control group hurried through theirs. I became frustrated. They were all clicking along like A-team students. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I click right along, too?

I finally gave up in frustration and waited for the others to finish the lesson so I could hear what was going on and then copy them.

Lesson learned, and it was a lesson that brought a new clarity to me. I have no memory of the content of the assignment, but to this day I know what exactly the real lesson was - the emotions brought about in daily challenges and struggles of children with alternate learning styles. I was no less intelligent or worthy than anyone else in the room, but I began to doubt myself, even in that short period of time. I had never experienced struggle, since all things academic came so naturally to me. I enjoyed the thrill of learning - until that moment.

All this background to say I had one of those struggling moments this week when I doubted my intelligence and had no joy in the thrill of learning. I uploaded my latest book to Kindle, not that I haven't done it before, successfully, I might add. This one was different. I needed to get a square picture book into a rectangular ebook.

At issue: How to convert this 8.5X8.5 square into a 9X6 rectangle
No easy task. Frustration. Self-doubt. The same emotions from that workshop wound their way to the surface. Thank heaven for kindle create and YouTube. I'm a visual learner. No problem, once I realized what I was doing. I chose the comic/graphic novel option, and whoop, there it was! (After three days)

I also had to redesign the cover, so I went totally in a different direction.

From this:

To this: 

Now it's a done deal, available on line, and I've learned the lesson, no, I re-learned the lesson from this ebook adventure. I am no less intelligent or worthy. I struggled, but I DID IT!!!

Catch of the day,

Gretchen






Monday, June 17, 2019

Highest Bidder Takes Home Fly Fishing Basket

A couple weeks ago I posted about a gift basket I had put together for auction. We have results!

As announced by the Red Awning Gallery:

We are happy to announce that our first gift basket in our series of baskets went home with a long standing friend of Western North Carolina Society of Artisans and The Red Awning Gallery who wanted to remain anonymous. When asked what his primary interest in the basket was and he said actually it was primarily Gretchen’s book and as an avid fisherman thought it had some interesting equipment in it that he really appreciated.
Our next basket is a beach themed basket that is being put together and donated by Iris Wyvill, a member of WNCSA and displays in The Red Awning Gallery. She has included a painting she created especially for her basket. You can see more of her paintings at the gallery.
Proceeds from this basket series goes toward meeting the goals established by Western North Carolina Society of Artisans and The Red Awning Gallery.

So now you know. I hope the bidder is as thrilled as I am!

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Friday, May 31, 2019

Fly Fishing Gift Basket Auction

Announcing!
Up for auction!
Fly fishing gift basket, an antique creel basket filled with goodies from the past!


I belong to the Western North Carolina Society of Artisans, a wonderful collection of outstanding local artists representing a wide variety of the arts. They accepted me as an artist and I believed them. I am an artisan. Writing is truly an art. So is fly fishing, and the two widely different arts merge in my book, Fly Fishermen of Caldwell County, which just happens to be the theme around which this basket is built.

At the center is a copy of the book and each item included connects in some way to a page or chapter in the book. The classic creel basket was donated by James Henson, page 91. He used it, and used it well in his years on the creeks and streams not only here in western North Carolina, but throughout the United States as well. Oh, if this basket could talk!
In our conversation when I told him my plans for the auction basket, he mentioned this creel basket that was sitting neglected and forgotten in his basement. Would I like to have it for the auction?

Yes!

And when he brought it to me, he had a surprise. He had gone to his workbench and tied a few (eighteen to be exact) new ties, six of each, to also include. Wow!



And then. AND THEN...

He casually mentioned he would like to donate an old rod he had laying around that he would never use again since he has newer equipment. A bamboo rod. Cork handle. Would I be interested in including it?

Yes!

It's a Horrocks IBBotson from the fifties. I found it on Clark's Classic Bamboo Rod Forum (thank you google!) Check it out.

I've said all along that I'm not a fly fisherman, well, fisherwoman. Never have been. Maybe I'll try it some day when the snakes have decided to vacate the streams. So I don't really know the value of this. My husband made the rounds showing it to various fishermen about town (who also just happen to be in the book) and they agree it is in excellent condition, but they disagree on the value. It is what it is, so bidding (and in depth research) will be what it will be.

One of the men we talked with was Jasper Reese, page 79 in the book. He was more than thrilled to donate something to the cause. Proceeds, by the way, will go to the WNCSA and its Red Awning Gallery.
That's him holding the landing net he donated. It looked a little dilapidated with rubber bands holding the container together. Until he snapped it open.
And there it is, in excellent condition. I brought it home with me and snapped it open to snap the picture. Big mistake. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to collapse that net back into the little, tiny pouch. So. Back I went for a fly fishing essential lesson from Jasper. He makes it look so easy!

You are invited to come into the Red Awning Gallery where WNCSA members sell our handiwork. See the basket I'm about and register to bid, and I'm not worried that you will snap open this net and not get it stuffed back in. The basket is wrapped in a see-through gift bag for your viewing pleasure only. The gallery is located at the HUB, Hudson Uptown Building, 145 Cedar Valley Road, Hudson, North Carolina 28638. Please come and enjoy our art! You can also call during gallery hours to register and bid once bidding gets under way, but do NOT leave messages on the answering machine. 828-610-6300 We do ask that highest bidder come in person once bidding is completed to show identification.

Bidding opens June 1 at 10:00 in the morning and remains open during gallery hours until 6:00pm June 11. (Gallery hours, Tuesdays through Fridays 11-6 and Saturdays 10-3)

Bidding starts at $100 and please bid in increments of $5 or more.

For more information contact me through my website, www.gretchengriffith.com 

Let the bidding begin (tomorrow)!

Catch of the day, (and this basket full of goodies is a great catch)

Gretchen

Thursday, May 23, 2019

Hang Down Your Head, Tom Dooley

Of course I sang the song. I was a child of the sixties. In North Carolina. Enough said.

The Kingston Trio made it famous in the late fifties, but the original folk version twanged its way through the backwoods of the Carolinas long before that. In 1866 Tom Dooley murdered (or did he?) his lover, Laura Foster, who just happened to be the cousin of his former lover, Ann Foster Melton. Whether he did the deed or not has remained one of the greatest deep country debates for a century, worthy of a hit song that has kept the question alive for over a hundred years.

The story garners enough respect to be the focus of The Tom Dooley Festival, a delightful event despite its gruesome backstory. It was held last weekend, as every year, at Whippoorwill Academy and Village, in Ferguson in the foothills of western North Carolina, Tom's stomping grounds. Actors from the summer theatre presented a snippet of the story. I hope Tom's character had a chance to say his proclamation from the gallows: "Gentlemen, do you see this hand? I didn't harm a hair on the girl's head." And then he was hung. And then the legends and whispers and ballads began.

I didn't have a chance to hear it. I was over on author's row, selling my books, two of which by the way, are about characters who in addition to Tom Dooley, can claim the community around Whippoorwill as their stomping grounds.
Okay, so I really don't have a book by that title. It's a joke.

Neither does Charlotte Barnes, the author under the tent next to mine, the one in this Author's Row non existent book titles announces "I Am Laura." That's a little closer to facts than my "Secret Lives of Women who Stalk Fishermen," but we had a good laugh.

Charlotte wrote a well researched nonfiction about Tom Dooley, which was her reason for being present at the festival.
We had a great day, connecting as authors do. I later learned she was one day short of her newest publication, Dooley, a base-on-real-events, Tom Dooley novel told from the perspective of the newspaper reporter who covered the hanging. I can't wait to read it. Her initial shipment arrived at her home the next day, a Sunday delivery, in fact.

Meanwhile I talked with festival goers about my books, not only those two with settings in the Ferguson area. The most fun I had was watching children play with the rockets and parachutes I brought as part of my Back on Earth book, the one about Apollo Eleven.

So it didn't fit the theme of the festival with the spinning wheels and blacksmiths and the geneology of Tom Dooley, but we had fun.
There's nothing quite like spanning the history of western North Carolina civilization from colonial Daniel Boone, through Civil War veteran Tom Dooley to the 1969 Apollo Eleven moon shot. What a day. Nothing to hang down your head about, either.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen