What Is This Thing?

Bingo at the Gamewell Ruritan Club happens every first Monday of the month. As a Ruritan Club member, I am called upon to help, and I've avoided it, I admit...until the first Monday in September, which happened to also be Labor Day. They needed help, so I went. And HAD FUN!!! 

When each winner screams out Bingo! they call out the winning line, and if the numbers match, they select a prize from those displayed on a side table. I was drawn to one prize. This one...

I asked fellow members what it was. When no one knew, I asked the Bingo players. None of them knew, but there were plenty of guesses. So I did what every curious individual does nowadays. I asked AI. Actually, I took a photo of it using the picture icon on my phone's Google search bar.

The answer blew me away. No one had guessed it. It was a bocce ball picker upper.

A what?

So there you have it.  It's a telescopic lawn bowls lifter. One mystery solved brought another into its place. What is a bocce ball (bowl) lifter doing as a prize in our backwoods, very rural, Ruritan Club's Bingo Night? 

I'd heard of bocce. It's a sport, in fact, a Paralympic sport, one of two sports recognized by the Paralympic Games that aren't also Olympic sports. It's from the ancient, classical Greek and Roman world, which make sense that it has strong ties to Italian communities here in America. There's one near here, on the other side of the Catawba River from me: Valdese, North Carolina, settled by Italian immigrants in the late 1800's. 

They brought this game with them, and their descendants still play it. The 2026 state tournament was there a few days ago. The gist of the game is to throw balls to land the closest to a smaller target ball. It's more complicated than that, a challenge that makes it a game of strategy and skill. How this strange-looking instrument ended up in our possession, I have no idea. That is not a question, I imagine, that an AI search will answer. 

So much has been negative about AI lately, rightfully so, but there are uses for curiosity seekers like me. As an author, whenever I submit any materials, I am asked if AI was used for any of the creative elements of the book, the writing, illustrations, or the book cover. I truthfully answer "No." I am the true creator of what I present. 

Instances like looking for the bocce ball picker upper have been the way I used AI. I check for names of plants by taking pictures of the leaves, and Bingo! there's an identification. How sad...I'm realizing now that inventions intended for the betterment of life can just as easily be used for any evils mankind might come up with. This brave new world isn't all that it's cut out to be. 

Who can rein in AI? That is the question. In the meantime, if another weird item comes across my sights, I know where to look for an answer. 

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Newness

The first day of school has come and gone here in the foothills of North Carolina. I remember well the excitement of all-things-new. The anticipation. The smells of books. The butterflies in the stomach. The lack of sleep the night before. The feel of fall in the air when I stepped outside. The hope that this year will be the BEST EVER!!! I'm talking teacher perspective there. Yes, I had butterflies. Every year.

Starting a new writing project is like that. That would be me this week as well. I suppose it's in my teacher DNA to start fresh in the fall rather than January first. I've mulled this new book over and over in my mind. Yesterday I took the dreaded step into the unknown and started the interview process. 

A hint as to my newest project

Everything since lunch yesterday is moving at lightning-flash speed. I'm in contact with the right people. I'm learning more and more, and the more I learn the more humbled I've become. Usually doubts come once the manuscript is done and I wonder if I have done what I set out to do.

This time is different. I have butterflies now, as I type, just thinking if I am up to the task. Who am I to write this beautiful, humble story? Why me? 

And my spirit replies, "Why not me?" 

So, you might not hear much from me as I go wandering through the mountains of western North Carolina. I'll be busy searching for answers. The wheels are turning.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

A New Store in Town: Grassroots Appalachia

Seeing as how I write with a slight hilly twang, and seeing as how I graduated from the very mountainous Appalachian State University, finding a niche to settle into called Grassroots Appalachia seems like a perfect destination for me...and my books.

I couldn't have designed a store better suited to me than this one. Created as a brainchild of Lenoir, North Carolina resident Michael Barrick, it will enable artisans and authors throughout the Appalachian region to become a supportive community as they (we) share our own creative brainchildren. He found an empty, available space, (next door to a bakery - woohoo) at 458 Harper Avenue in Lenoir. 

Opening week will be filled with exciting activities designed to set the tone of the enterprise. First up, Saturday, August 15 at seven in the evening is a ticketed event, a comedy, "Don't Rock the Boat." 

Skipping to Tuesday, August 18, at 6:30, the soft opening really cranks up with a gathering to explain the  concept of "Creating Conditions Favorable for Community Life." Paintings by a late 19th century artist, Fred Boger will be revealed at this gathering.

My friend and fellow writer, Karin Davidson, shares loom weaving starting at 11:30 Wednesday morning, August 19. It's a do-drop-in moment in time.

Following this hard-act-to-follow is my presentation of fly fishing/fly tying with special guests David Anders and James Henson. Starts at 2:00, so once again, do drop in! Of course, my books will be there with me. I wrote about these anglers and tyers in my fly fishing books, and even though...EVEN THOUGH I have never been fly fishing in my life, I can't wait to share this time with them as we talk about the books, the art of tying, and the lives of those who are devoted to this sport.

To round off Wednesday, at 6:30 crafter Amber Shoemake will teach a class with "a few fun surprises" thrown in. I think I'll hang around to see what she has in store...literally "in store."

Thursday August 19 is a biggie! A doozy of a day, if I say so myself, because I am thrilled to be a part of it. The day focuses on Caldwell County Literature, starring at first step, The Foothills Writers Group. 11:30. We (I say we, because I'm a Foothills writer, too) will bring our books, and, get this, a potluck luncheon of mountain staples to share with whoever comes. My assignment is pinto beans, and rest assured, there will be cornbread and all the fixins. We'll talk books over the goodies, like this one, our fifth cooperative book. Do drop in.

Now for my fun time: the time when I share what I have discovered about the impact women have made on the Appalachian culture. 2:00. Same day. Do drop in again to relish with me these outstanding women. Doctors. Teachers. Salt of the earth women who give and give and give some more. I might have a new thing or two to share...

Another local author, Tony Deal, takes the stage Thursday evening at 6:30 to share his newest book, "But That's Not True!" This I've got to hear!

All of the opening week events are designed to excite the community about the possibilities of creating and then selling in a fair trade market. I cherish the friendships I've developed being a part of the creative community. I've learned from mentors. I've learned from just being present and absorbing. Also I've learned from observing this one thing: there is always a welcome spot for others to join. 

See you soon!

Catch of the day, 

Gretchen

 

Learning to Cosplay

Once all the writing is done, redone, revised and redone yet again, and the hard work converted into a physical book, then the author can breathe for a while and have fun. Take last Saturday, for example, at Hudson Con! where I shared my books as I enjoyed meeting all kinds of characters. I even dabbled a bit in this adventure called cosplay, a portmanteau creation of blending the word costume with the word play. All morning long when I was at my volunteer job, I was delighted to view a long, drawn-out walkthrough of wannabes dressed in a wide variety of fictional comic book or computer game characters. By afternoon I was free to roam through the displays and enjoy the view. One featured guest was the man behind the voice of Scooby-Doo, Scott Innes, who was gracious enough to pose with two of my books.

Of course I had to have my photograph taken at the entrance. Take a look at the outfit I chose: Charlie Brown's sister, Sally, a little conservative for my first time dressing as a comic character. 

Here's the full outfit with my book being held up a cosplay enthusiast dressed as a Minecraft creeper.

For a brief moment in time, we all entered into the pages of a book or into a computer screen and became someone other than ourselves. We left reality behind. Well, I didn't exactly. I wanted to see what those characters would think of my books. 

My favorite of all was this monster. Was it a person or a robot? I'll not tell. (Because I DON'T KNOW!)

There were all kinds of vendors with all kinds of merch. My books were for sale in their usual spot, The Red Awning Gallery, down the hall from the auditorium where everything was happening. Two booths were sponsored by friends of mine. One was so congested with people that I couldn't get a decent photo. The other ran a booth filled with those good old games and toys people remembered from their younger years.

Behind all the fun I had at this event, there were hours and hours, no, let me say months and months of hard, grueling work. Sitting in front of my computer. Researching. Interviewing. Learning patience. Learning various computer quirks. Replacing broken-down computers!

Days like this are sweet, sweet icing on the cake. Fellow writers, hang in there. You'll have your own wonderful sweet icing experiences being an author. 

First, get that book done!

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Freedom!

For history enthusiasts, this July has been a whirlwind of joy. I started to use the word "overload," but that may not be the case for people like me, people who absorb any fact or picture or emotion that comes with a look into the past.

Then again, my trip through the Freedom Truck yesterday might have set off so many emotions and realizations that I could define it in a positive way, a joyful overload. 

Who would have imagined two hundred fifty years of history packed into one semi's trailer! This display arrived here in town this past Monday and was open to the public through Wednesday. The public came, I'm pleased to report. Over three hundred went through the pouring rain to visit on the first day, and when my husband and I went through on Tuesday afternoon, there had already been over five hundred. Jokingly saying, we were in the midst of half of them at that one time, it was that crowded. 

Someone on Facebook commented that it was too crowded...and it was, but how wonderful. I saw children with their parents. I saw grandparents explaining history to little ones in their care. I saw summer daycare groups with older elementary students. These children were engaged. All of them, down to the preschoolers who saw the exhibits from a mere three-foot-high perspective. I had to get down low as well to sign the Declaration of Independence. Yes, my John Hancock was there, for a brief moment. But it was there!

Another complaint this same negative person wrote on Facebook was that all of this was AI created and had information they already knew. Who cares! It reminded us! It educated us! It showed us who we once were and, therefore, what we can become.

Sure, it was full of colorful gimmick displays, complete with an animated George Washington greeting us as we stepped inside. Of course, it left out a lot, but it gave a basic look into our nation's history. I could have spent hours there, but I would have taken up needed space for the flow of traffic behind me. 

I saw examples of bits and pieces of history connected to my writing career. On the Hero wall, I found a few to mention. My first venture into official authordom (not a word, but more my creation to clarify the kingdom of being a published author) was an article about Jackie Robinson, "Finding Forty-two" published in Highlights for Children. It has been picked up by other presses, like this one in CommonLit, with activities designed for fifth graders.

On the same wall under "Innovators" was Thomas Edison, a "character" in my memoir about the Great Donora Fog. And there he was, right next to Albert Einstein. 

One thing I've not talked about in my blog or on my webpage is the volume of material I have written that has not yet been published or was published under someone else's name, with me more as a ghost writer. I saw snippets of those on the walls, too. Like this saying that was in the book, Reflections, that I helped Senator Donald Kincaid independently publish. He quoted Benjamin Franklin and I even used it as a title in my blog about the book. Check it out, as it's super important to this blog. 

I've thought about that quote a lot in the past few years as the United States struggles to keep our republic. Freedom trucks like this going from town to town will certainly enlighten or engage citizens to work hard to keep it.

Another book I didn't write at all, but worked with the author, is not published as yet (coming soon, so I'll tell more then). There was only one paragraph about the Lewis and Clark Expedition in the entire book, but I had to research to make sure that one paragraph was correct. This display affirmed my findings. 

And finally, this story. When I first began taking my writing career to the serious stage, I was still teaching fourth grade. One afternoon, my students were sitting on the floor in the auditorium listening to a presentation by a folk musician. They had sung the first stanza to "She'll be coming 'round the mountain," when he stopped playing, leaned over his guitar, and asked them a question. "Who was she?" I knew by their responses when he told them who she was that I wanted to write that story. It's a wonderful story, but it just hasn't come together yet. His version of who she was included a character from history whose picture hung on the same wall as Thomas Edison and Jackie Robinson: P.T. Barnum. And what a story his is!

America250 is not yet over. The celebration has just begun because the Declaration of Independence set off the revolution that followed. We'll recognize each battle through the next few years leading up to the founding of our great nation. One thing to remember, though, as Benjamin Franklin in his wisdom and wit said, "It's a republic if you can keep it."  

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

 

God's Little Firecracker

 7-6-26. Sounds like a good passkey number for me to use, a date easy to remember, so significant in my life. I spoke it frequently for several years when I used the drive-thru at the drugstore, picking up medicines for a special lady I called my aunt, Lorraine Freese. "Birthdate," the clerk would say, and I'd respond quickly, without having to ask her, simply because I had said it so often. The only thing is that twenty-six isn't today, July 6, 2026. It's July 6, 1926 I'm referring to. 

She would be a hundred years old today, and she was sure looking forward to it. A hundred and five was her goal. She made it to ninety-five. She died alone, in a covid restricted facility where I could only visit and let her know I cared by knocking on the outside window of her room. So today I celebrate her century birthday alone, without her. How sad for such an energetic little lady who liked to call herself a firecracker.

She might have been two days late from being born on Independence Day, but she was certainly a firecracker of an independent sort. Her first five years were spent in an orphanage. She was taken in by her aunt's family (my grandmother's), and lived there until she graduated from high school and went out on her own. After a few years of trying to find herself, she joined the army. The Salvation Army.

She was assigned to a mission in western North Carolina and there she found herself and the purpose for which she was born. Because there was already a soldier stationed there named Lorraine, she went by the name Jean. Through years of hard study and commitment, she became known as Captain Jean and then Major Jean, but I knew her as Lorraine. She was full of energy and had no issue about being a woman on horseback going into the backwoods of the Appalachians to knock on doors and tell people about the love of Jesus. When she started driving a scrapped World War II jeep, she learned, in a hard-earned sort of way, to back into people's driveways to make a quick getaway. 

That's her, on the left, with Sib, her friend of many years, standing beside the mission's sign. If you have any inclination of celebrating the true meaning of the Declaration of Independence, might I make a suggestion? Send a check to support this mission that is hanging on through tough times and dwindling interest in mission work. This little firecracker named Major Jean would so appreciate it. Drop a card in the mail to the Shelton Laurel Mountain Mission, 35 Mountain Mission Road, Clyde, NC 28721. The firecracker in heaven would certainly be thrilled. So would the mission, because she was too precious to them, and to the Lord, to be through with her impact on the world. 

One day, years ago, she called me and asked me to write her story. We sat together, talking, her revealing to me a life that was so dedicated and inspiring that I couldn't say no. 

The title of the book, Called to the Mountains, was a no-brainer selection, because time after time she told me she was called by God to go to the mountains to spread the word of God to the people there. I guess a fairly accurate title could have been, God's Little Firecracker, because of her energy and her drive...and the fact she stood barely five feet tall, if that. 

Learn from Lorraine. Go. Do. We all should be firecrackers in our chosen plight in life. 

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Childhood Games

I belong to a writer's group called the Foothills Writers. We meet each Wednesday to share our work and learn from each other. The idea is to teach about some aspect of writing and have us to write to prompts, reading them aloud, and then discussing them. A different member moderates the weekly session. We've had some wonderful activities that strengthened my writing ability.

When my turn came up, I keyed in on childhood in the summer. We wrote for about ten minutes and then shared with each other. We are all from such divergent backgrounds that the fun of hearing the varied answers makes for some robust discussions. The prompt I proposed was to write about memories, or a specific memory, of summers as a child. 

After we read our responses to each other, I asked those who wanted to share on our corporate google page to be entered into ChatGPT. We did, and we learned quite a bit about our writing, about what it was getting across to a neutral party who didn't know us from Adam.

Here's my written answer to the prompt: "Summer as a Child." Has anybody ever played the game, Ain't no bears out tonight? There is such a thing. I found it on YouTube, although they politically corrected the word "killed" to "got."

Ain’t no bears out tonight, 

Daddy Killed them all last night

I can hear the sing-song now, playing in the backyard with my friends, summertime, fireflies blinking. Mama hadn’t turned the porch light on yet.

Brenda and Patricia. They lived across the road from me, and I couldn’t wait to finish my chores to run free outside. They were a patient two, sitting on the front stoop while my mother timed my piano practice for the day, saying Are you done yet over and over, Mama shouting, I don’t hear anything!!!

But the evenings were the best. Hot, muggy, dark, in a time before daylight savings was imposed on us, and darkness fell early enough for us to play well.

Our game of choice was a hillbilly version of tag, Aint no bears out tonight. Brenda always called “It,” and she became the bear, hiding behind whichever tree trunk she could find before we opened our eyes.

Patricia and I holding hands, walked together through the woods in the backyard with the moon and the fireflies our only source of light. We sang at the top of our lungs, knowing sometime soon, that bear would emerge, growling, and chasing us back to the side porch. 

Daytime it was Mother, may I, hot afternoons it was read a book. Mornings were chores

But evenings, the bears came out and frightened us.

I miss the freedom of being chased by a pretend bear, the wind blowing in my hair, the thrill. Life has been like that, bears coming out from behind all kinds of tree trunks. The innocence of backyard playing never returned. 

So that was my creation, the playing in the backyard. I inserted what you read above into ChatGPT and instructed it to create a picture that shows what I wrote. Here's what it came up with: 

It was a little dark, so my next instruction was to make it be at dusk before it was dark, and the first picture shows that. One by one I inserted other members' stories into the chat and slowly (the waiting is the pits), a picture emerged. By looking at it, we could tell if we got our messasge across. What do you think of mine, did the AI key in on what I wrote? Scary isn't it, to think that some machine gets it when maybe a human doesn't.

Recently, the use of AI has been a topic of discussion not only in our group but across the internet. We came to no conclusions, but had energetic opinions to give each other. As for me, I will not use AI to write. What I present to others is what I have done, sitting here in the summer doldrums, typing away. No AI for me...unless you count Grammarly!

So there you go.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen