Happy 4th of July!

"It ought to be celebrated by pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other..."  ~John Adams

Nothing says summer like the fourth of July, especially in New England, comprised of states that were there “at the beginning” of the United States of America. I’m always amazed when I think about my country’s origins. It was built by brave folks who, despite the odds, fought for what they believed in.

I often wonder what George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John and Samuel Adams, and Thomas Jefferson would think of the nation today. Would they be impressed by our progress? Would they approve of what we’ve done with independence?

Would their hearts break over the injustices that exist amidst the freedom they helped win for us?

I’d be willing to bet they’d give us a thumbs up on some things and a thumbs down on others. What words of wisdom would they share with us? What changes would they make? Would they be willing to fight for the nation as it stands today?

Simply watching the news or surfing the web reveals all of the problems the United States faces on a regular basis. Financial woes. Environmental crises. Racism. Violence. Drugs. I have to believe, however, that for every negative, something positive is also happening in the country. Someone is working on solving problems. Someone is finding solutions. Someone is keeping the fight going.

Because freedom is not automatic.

It needs continual defense. It needs people who understand its value. It needs people willing to do whatever it takes. It needs unity.

So today, don’t consider yourself Italian or Irish or French or Portuguese or whatever your heritage involves.

Instead, be American.

Be American and remember the sacrifices that have been made and will continue to be made in the name of liberty.

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

The Maple Leaf Series, available now. Book One, More Than Pancakes, is always FREE in ebook.

The Nations In Me

by Jena Galifany

At this stage of the generations of my family, I am quite a mixture of nationalities. The list goes something like this: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix, and two other tribes of Native American. I'm not sure what those other two tribes are but would like to find out someday. I'm sure that the intermingling of the Euroamerican with the Native American was frowned upon.

The next generation, my son, Nick and my daughter Amanda, have all of the above plus their father was 100% Italian, so that is added to their line. My younger daughter, Jen, is Scandinavian and English from her father. At least now, there is not much said against the mixing of nationalities.

The real mix is my granddaughter, Halle, Amanda's daughter. She is as follows: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix plus two other tribes of Native American, Italian, with Japanese, Chinese, and Filipino from her father. It's hard to believe there can be so many nationalities in one young girl. We joke that she can have World War 3 all by herself. If she should marry a man of Russian decent, I think her children will have the world pretty much covered.

How mixed up is your family heritage?
 ______________________________

The Native American was treated poorly by settlers and the government. In the late 1800s, it was becoming more and more difficult for the tribes to remain on their own land. In the west, the Paiute tribes in Oregon were struggling against the white man as well as each other. It was a difficult time for them. For a greater understanding of the situation, read more about the Bannon - Paiute War HERE.

It was during this time in history that my novel "Shyanne's Secret" takes place. Here is a taste of the story.

Excerpt:


     Cole wasn't ready to face Rita after the morning he'd had.  He'd spent several minutes at a creek washing the mud out of his hair and off his face, clothes and the horse before he continued home.  None of them had scored a direct hit but had only splattered him.  He made his way toward home, not in the mood for a rematch with Dex.  After he dropped off the kitchen supplies on the porch, he continued into the barn to unload the bags of oats and other working items. Just because his Pa was gone didn't mean he'd let the farm fall to ruin or the animals starve. He moved past the variety of trees around the perimeter of the property and through the barn. He unhitched the gray, led him to his stall and brushed him down. He wanted to be alone, sort out his thoughts while he cleaned stalls.

    By afternoon, as he walked through the cool of the barn, he inventoried the unfinished work that awaited him.  He was hot, tired and frustrated about what he should do with his life.  Should he be the one to leave, or should Rita go back to A.J.? After all, it was his father's property and didn't that make it his now that Pa was dead? If only the grant office would make up its mind. His half-blood status was being weighed over his right to inherit from his white father. Cole hated the idea that he might need Rita to claim the land so he wouldn't lose it. She could sign it over to him, then be on her way elsewhere, if it came down to that.

    He wiped his brow on his shoulder and climbed the ladder to the loft.  He tossed his jacket into a corner that was piled with loose hay. He rolled up his sleeves, and sat on the pallet situated along the wall.  He closed his eyes, and recalled the hot summer days that he'd spent up here, listening to his Pa talk about how he and his friend, Martin Marshall had traveled out to Oregon for the free land the government was giving away.  The two friends had become brothers-in law when they'd married sisters; pretty squaws from a local tribe of Paiutes, when they found out they could get six hundred forty acres, a double portion of land if they had wives.

    Pa told him how he'd come to love that pretty little Indian lady after he convinced her that he'd never sell her. She was terrified the day her daddy sold her to Seth and her sister to Uncle Martin. She thought he'd bought her for a slave.  Seth had trouble convincing her that he'd made her his wife. Seth and Martin both had trouble convincing the community to accept their wives, and more problems when they'd had to convince the town council to allow their sons born a few months apart to be taught in the school with the white children. That only lasted until Cole and Will were twelve. So much for an education, but they got the basics and learned to work the farms instead.

    When Cole's parents were threatened, Uncle Martin got nervous and sent his wife and Will to stay with the tribe for safety. Cole missed his cousin but Seth couldn't do without his help. Cole felt he'd lost half of his spirit. The cousins were close and looked like twins, except that Will, the bolder of the two, was a bit taller and Cole's hair was a shade or two darker. They looked so much alike they delighted in causing minor trouble that the other would be blamed for. Four months after the Jackson murders, Uncle Martin brought his wife home but Will chose to stay on to learn more about his mother's people.

    The gray plow horse in the stall below nickered, reminding Cole where he was. He missed sitting up here listening to his daddy talk. Opening the buttons on his shirt, he pulled out the turquoise stone that hung on a thin leather thong around his neck, a talisman his mother had gifted him with years ago. He held it in his hand when he missed her, and wished he could bring her back.

    He collapsed on his back, one arm across his forehead as he contemplated the picture he'd drawn on the barn wall with a piece of charcoal when he was eight. Pa thought it was so grand he'd burned it into the wood so it would never fade. Cole once more envied the freedom that the wild mustang enjoyed.  In the midst of his thoughts, he remembered a certain smile and the kind blue eyes of Shyanne Bennett.

    He wanted to talk to her, say the things he had never said to any girl before.  He wanted to tell her how beautiful her blue eyes are; how much he'd like to touch her golden hair, how much he wanted to be loved by someone – anyone.  If that someone could be Shyanne Bennett, nothing else would matter.  He closed his eyes, and savored his memories.

_____________________________

BACK COVER BLURB:
    Cole Jackson promised to take care of Shyanne Bennett, to keep her secret. It was a promise he intended to keep—and then her father lynched him. It might take time, but he'll find a way.

      Shyanne Bennett loved Cole Jackson, that sassy half-blood. She lost her mind when he died to keep her secret. Cole promised to take care of her but how can he once Harvey Bennett hung him? Maybe her heart will find solace in becoming the wife of his look-alike cousin, Will Marshall. And then again, maybe the heartache will only begin again.

_____________________________

From my family to yours, I pray you have a safe and special Thanksgiving.

For more about "Shyanne's Secret" click HERE.

Cheers!

Who's Face Was That?

by Jena Galifany

I love to spend time trying to back track my family history. We do have the occasional highlights in the family tree. On my mother's side, she is third cousin to Winston Churchill, a fact that shows up with a look at my brother.


The thing that amazes me the most is how the faces keep being handed down. They may skip a generation or two, but there are several repeat performances.


One such repeat had my father baffled at how my younger sister could be in a picture with our mother when Mom was only fifteen. It turned out that the one who Sherri shares a face with was my dad's sister, Julia. Daddy didn't figure it out until my uncle told him he should recognize his own baby sister.



Then there is my niece, Talena and my father's Aunt Cornie. The hair styles were definitely different, but the face is the same.

I have been privileged to share a face with my Grandmother Margie Pearl, my dad's mother. The older I get, the more I look like her.





The most fun I've had matching the faces in my family photo collection is this set. It shows me in the first photo. The second photo is me again, the baby sitting on my Grandmother's lap. The third photo is my son, Nick.

 It amazes me how the genetics work to pass a face down through the years. Last but not least, my mother has the Churchill look down pat. Don't you think? After all, they are third cousins.

I hope I've not bored you too much with my comparisons of the family faces that have been handed down over the years. There are others but I didn't want to be known as the blogger with the "old home movies".

I do want to point out that it is important to record all that you can about your family history. My mother is the last survivor of her family. She is the youngest of fifteen children. She never thought it was important to listen to the old stories Now she wishes she had because there is no one left to ask. We have a large collection of photographs from years gone by but there is no one to ask who the people are in the photos.

If you have elderly in your family and you have photos, have a reunion and spent time writing down who is who as well as anything else you can find out about your heritage. It will mean a lot to the generations that come after you. Especially if they happen to see their own face in one of those old photos.
 ________________


Cheers!

Please check out The ShadowsForge Series and Shyanne's Secret, available from Whiskey Creek Press
Available from Red Rose Publishing are Her Perfect Man and Love Lifted Me. Coming Soon from Red Rose Publishing: Day Labor.

Father's Day

By Jena Galifany 

Jena and Daddy 1967

In 1906, a young lady, while listening to a Mother’s day sermon, was moved to wonder why there was not a day that similarly honored fathers. After all, her own loving father had personally taken care of his children after their mother died while giving birth to the sixth child. He took on the challenge of raising his new born and its five siblings in a day when most men would have found another woman, probably a relative, to take the large brood off his hands.

Sonora Smart Dodd felt that her father deserved as much honor as mothers all over the country. After all, he had acted as father and mother to the six children. She raised support for the idea, including the YMCA and the Spokane Ministerial Association in Washington. Spokane responded by celebrating its first Father’s Day on June 19, 1910.

The idea spread and was supported through the years by President Woodrow Wilson in 1916. In 1924, Calvin Coolidge said he supported the idea, noting that it would, "establish more intimate relations between fathers and their children and to impress upon fathers the full measure of their obligations". These men supported the idea but did not make it a declared observance.

In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson made Father’s Day a presidential proclamation to be observed on the third Sunday of June. Finally, in 1972, President Richard Nixon established the third Sunday of June to be the permanent national observance of Father’s Day in the United States.

It seems that it took a long time to establish this day of honor for fathers but Sonora saw her desire to honor her loving father come to fruition. She died in 1978 at the age of 96 and will always be remembered for the love she had for her father, Mr. William Jackson Smart, Civil War Veteran and outstanding example of fatherhood.

Steve and Jen 2010

Fatherhood should be an event seriously thought out and planned. It should not be taken lightly and too often these days, it is. Fatherhood was not on the mind of a young Brian Cummings, percussionist in the ShadowsForge series. It took three years and major tragedy for him to find out. Here’s the blurb from Brian’s story:

Brian Cummings has come a long way from Leicestershire, England. Miles of hard road lay between then and now—hard road he’s kept hidden—until the nightmares begin again.

Brian Cummings

Diane Starling loves Brian. If she were not carrying his child, she’d still do anything to make him happy—even letting him go to someone else. Who is the woman in his nightly dreams? Why does she make him scream?

Valerie Leonard, journalist, dredges up history that should remain buried; history that could ruin Brian and hurt the people he loves most. Should Val keep his dangerous past to herself? Doesn’t Diane have the right to know the truth about the father of her child?
Brian and Diane fight to overcome the past, embrace the present, and build a future as they travel with ShadowsForge on “THE LONG WAY HOME.”

Review:

"ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is a reader's dream. The tug of emotions I felt while reading Brian's story are a credit to Ms. Galifany as a writer. I was moved to tears on more than one occasion and besieged by frustration as life worked against Brian, Mia and Diane. Page after page I was drawn further into the lives of the characters, wanting to know what would happen next, hoping that somehow Brian's life would finally end in happiness. Ms. Galifany has woven a tale of tragedy and love that is more genuine than any I have

read in a long time. I wasn't expecting such a deeply moving story from a series devoted to a popular British rock band, but ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is just such a story.If you have not read the rest of the ShadowsForge series, do not hesitate to start with The Long Way Home. Ms. Galifany has woven enough history into the story that you will quickly learn about the other members of the band and some of the interesting adventures they have had. If you are a devout ShadowsForge follower, I think you will be intrigued by the in-depth look into the past of their drummer and the secrets he's been carrying within him all this time. As for me, I'm off to find the first three volumes of the ShadowsForge series so I can hear about all those amazing adventures these bad boys of rock have had a part in." - Reviewed By Sabine Maurier, Novelspot.

Please visit my WEBSITE for excerpts from the ShadowsForge Series.

Have a wonderful day!

Cheers!

JG

Family Reunion by Jena Galifany

Have you ever had a family reunion? I bet it was interesting seeing everyone you hadn't seen in many months or maybe even years. It must have been hard to say good-bye again after it was over. I have to ask these questions because the last one I was at was for my father's family and I was eighteen years old. That was in 1976.

At that get-together, I was able to see my Uncle Bob, Uncle Billy, and my Aunt Marge. I got to meet cousins that I'd never met before, thought we were only related by marriage. It was interesting but not the blast I thought it would be. We were worlds apart. I was older than they were and they only wanted to go skateboarding around the neighborhood. They grew up in Arkansas and Texas, and I grew up in California. Needless to say, I spent my time with the older generation.

I've only seen my Uncle Billy once since that day, at my first wedding in 1979. He's passed away now as are most of my aunts and uncles on both sides. I don't mean to make this article a sad event. What I'm leading up to is the fun I have in tracking down information and putting together my family tree.

Wm Provins. Sr. Family

Have you ever done genealogy? It can be quite the adventure discovering your roots and how far they go. On my father's side, I've only just begun to do the research. What is making it difficult is that after three generations, the family disappears. My dad thinks that maybe the name was different but we have no one to ask about it. That is the importance of asking questions and making notes on your family history before they are all gone. Out of eight siblings, my dad, Uncle Bob and Aunt Marge are the only ones left.

(My father is on the left on the bottom step followed by Bob and Billy. Aunt Marge is on the next step, holding Barbara. Margie Pearl (Grandma) and Wm Sr (Grandpa), holding Julia, are on the top step. Dad's oldest sister was already married and his youngest brother was not yet born when this photo was taken.)

Mary and Bill Provins, Jr.

On my mother's side, we have a family tree back to 1857 in County Cork, Ireland. We know that Elicum Briggs set out for a better life and traveled through England where he married a nice young lady with the family name of Churchill. Shortly there after, the family sailed for America and settled in Ohio. Through the generations, after moving through Iowa and Missouri, the Williamson family merged with the Thompson family. After fourteen other children Riley and Ferne Thompson produced my mother, Mary.

I am fortunate to have the family tree on this side as my mother is the only one left of her siblings, mother and father. I'd only met two of my aunts on this side, and none of the cousins.

The one I know the most about is my Uncle J.R. Thompson, my mother's brother. His name is only J.R. He joined the Army when he was seventeen and shipped out during the Korean Conflict. He was killed at the age of eighteen. My mother was twelve and she was devastated by the loss. Since she was the youngest and he was six years older, she was closer to him than any of the other children in her family. Most were married before Mom was born.

J.R.Thompson

There are so many little stories I've learned about my family that would have been lost if my mother didn't share them with me. Like the time my mother was throwing a fit in the school yard so J.R. picked her up and spanked her right then and there. She never threw a fit again but she worshiped the ground he walked on. I'm glad she shares these things with me because once she is gone, there will be no one left to share her family history.

Do you have a family tree? Do you ask about the old days when you are talking to your aunts and uncles? Do you still have your grandparents to talk to? If you do, take advantage of the memories they have and write them down for the generations to come. My grandfathers were both gone before I was two. The last time I saw one grandmother was 1966 and the other was in 1979. They are also both gone now.

Make copies of photos and share them. If something should happen to my computer, both my sisters and my brother have copies of all the photos that can't be replaced. Be sure to make notes of who are in the photos and when they were taken, too. Years from now, that information might be lost.

My father and I in 1967

It's fun to research your family tree. See how many "nuts" you can find. There may be a few gems there as well. That lady named Churchill who married Elicum so many years ago is my family connection to a great man by the name of Winston. You see, he is related to a family in Britain with the name of Spencer. One more step takes me from Diana to her son, William, who is now married to a lovely lady by the name of Katherine. It's nice to know there are a few princesses in the family.

I know this was supposed to be about family reunions but when you find out something new about your family history while doing genealogy research, it's like a reunion with a past you didn't know you had. It can be fun and rewarding. You are compiling a great gift for your children and grandchildren as well. They will know where they are from and what kind of wonderful people were their forefathers. It is a unique way to meet those who have gone before.

----------------------------------
Doing research for historical information is one of my favorite parts of writing. I loved the information I found when writing "Shyanne's Secret", my historical inspirational romance. I felt a connection to what Shyanne and Cole were subjected to in 1880s Oregon. My grandmother, Margie Pearl, was a Native American and William Sr was of German descent. I haven't heard stories of any problems they may have had with the mixed culture marriagey. That is another thing I need to talk to my father about.
 
Cole Jackson promised to take care of Shyanne Bennett, to keep her secret. It was a promise he intended to keep—and then her father lynched him. It might take time, but he’d

find a way.

Shyanne Bennett loved Cole Jackson, that sassy half-blood. She lost her mind when he died to keep her secret. Cole promised to take care of her but how could he once Harvey Bennett hung him? Maybe her heart might find solace in becoming the wife of his look-alike cousin, Will Marshall. And then again, maybe the heartache will only begin again.

Discover how it turned out for Cole and Shyanne by reading "Shyanne's Secret", available from Whiskey Creek Press.

Cheers,
Jena Galifany
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Passing History onto Your Children and Grandchildren

By Vonnie Davis

My thirteen-year-old grandson called me as I was cooking supper tonight to tell me about his eighth grade field trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Although he lives in Frederick, Maryland, he's been to the battlefield several times before. His dad, my youngest, still enjoys hiking over the area and crawling across the boulders of Devil's Den.

He's introduced Ryan to what he considers a special part of his childhood. You see, as a single Mom, taking my kids to Gettysburg, about twenty miles from where we lived, was a great way to spend Sunday afternoons. Oh, the teachable moments we had!



Now my son is doing the same with Ryan. He's had custody of Ryan since he was eighteen months old (Think bodybuilder doing pottie training!)

 

"I knew more about the battlefield than anyone else, Grandma. Well, except for the teacher."

I smiled at my over-achieving grandson. A straight "A" advanced placement student, he's taking intro to calculus as an eighth grader, plays first chair trumpet, plays football, soccer and wrestles on the Maryland Terp Elite team. He wants to be an actuary when he grows up.

"Oh? Did you?" 

"Yeah. Some of the kids got a little rowdy, and I told them they were being disrespectful of the soldiers who bled and died there."

I stopped stirring the cornbread I was making and silently cheered his "hootspa". "What did they say?"

"Some listened. A couple jerks wanted to act immature." He sighed as only a teenager can. "Some people have no clue." 

So true.

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought July 1-3, 1863 in and around this sleepy little town in Southern Pennsylvania, just a few miles North of the Mason-Dixon line. Historians cite it as the turning point of the Civil War. Between 46,000 and 51,000 soldiers from both sides were casualties of the battle.

I've always felt an important part of our jobs as parents and grandparents is passing along the history of our ancestors, our communities and our country. Many societies have a strong oral-history tradition. We've lost that along the way--too much technology perhaps. I fear our pasts will lessen in importance and dim in the historical horizon. Soon, hallowed places like battlefields will be plowed under and turned into parking lots of shopping malls or another apartment complex.

Some may not see the connection between my concerns and a poem written by John Donne. I hope you do.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.