Wednesday, February 14, 2018

February 14, 2018

Happy Valentine’s Day! As with many of our modern traditions, the celebration of this day goes back to very early Christian times, and a 3rd century AD martyr, St. Valentine of Rome. I’ve researched a little, and generally the consensus is that not much is known about this historical figure.

In the middle ages, people began associating this saint’s day with the tradition of courtly love. As time progressed, this association continued. Early tributes were in the form of written poems, and likely ditties that could be performed to the accompaniment of lyre or harp.

In Victorian times, the tradition of sending Valentine’s messages was set, and special paper for the occasion was marketed. In the 1840s postal rates were reasonable, and the concept of cards that could be sent through the mail gained popularity.

I believe Valentine’s Day is the first solid example of mass marketing, and in my own opinion gave birth to the modern day greeting card industry. And because this is so—the mass marketing connection—we have candy and flowers, and hey, how about a night out? Expensive dinner served amid candlelight and soft music. Or, why not make it an entire weekend? Our hotel has a stunning Valentine’s Day package! Or, hey, go big or go home, how about a cruise?

I’m not a cynic. I prefer to think of myself as a realist. The reality, in the past, wasn’t all hearts and flowers. Those of my generation had to endure that great cruel crucible of childhood, when Valentine’s Day was the day we all found out what others truly thought about us. Yes, in the olden days, no one dictated that if you were bringing Valentine’s cards, you must give one to everyone in the class. That rule was unheard of, which meant that some people received a lot of cards, and some had very few indeed.

I can’t even recall what the standards were, back then, for judging whether a classmate was deserving of a card. I know girls had crushes, and that was certainly a factor. Some girls were popular with other girls in a way that even to this day I can’t explain. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how something can have such a lasting impact on one’s psyche, without the details being etched in the memory?

A small digression here. I recall going to my High School’s 25th reunion, in 1985. At the time I was married, had children, and adulting to the best of my ability. We’d been married thirteen years. The one incident that stood out for me on this occasion was when one of the most popular girls in my school, at the time of my attendance, came up to me and told me how much she’d respected me and looked up to me, back in the day. I recall being gracious, but thinking, dayum, girl, where the hell were you when I needed you? I had perhaps four girls at the time I considered friends. I’m pleased to say that today, I am in regular contact with three of them.

As an adult, I always felt gifts on Valentines Day were nice, but not necessary. A card, on the other hand, was a simply bar to set. And I let it be known to my husband and kids that hand-made cards were the best.

Through the years I’ve received beautiful flowers, and they’re always a wonderful surprise that not only perk up my day but are lovely to look on for several days afterward. And then there was the year when my first books came out under my second penname, Cara Covington. Because my husband had to work, he asked my daughter to arrange with the local flower shop for three bouquets to be delivered—one for Morgan, one for Cara, and one for my real name.

I’m not sure if my daughter explained the situation to the florist, or not. She’s got enough of me in her that she might not have done.

For those of you who do celebrate this day—and I know some folks who observe today as a wedding anniversary—I wish you all continued love, laughter, and a very good life.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

February 7, 2018

I’m certain y’all have heard by now the results from last Friday. Two groundhogs proclaimed six more weeks of winter. Only Staten Island Chuck predicted we’d get an early spring. I think, over all, he has the highest percentage rate for accuracy. The really concerned should google it. I did a couple of years ago, but that rate could have changed.

Meanwhile in the Ashbury household, we’re chugging along just fine. Yes, we’ve got a lot of snow, again. That’s not a problem for us the same way it used to be in one particular area: we don’t have to go out in it. Since no one who lives here has to go out of the house to work, we can choose to hunker down, if that’s what we want to do. It was snowing this past Sunday, and we had planned to get groceries and pick up David’s new laptop. We just looked at the weather, then at each other, said “Monday”, and carried on with our individual pursuits. That was the easiest decision made and executed, ever.

I’m smiling more these days, because over the last month, during which my husband has been working on his novel, he’s made a few interesting discoveries about writing, the creative process, and an author’s life in general.

My friends, Karma is a wonderful thing.

You may recall that I asked David to relocate his computer and “office” area a couple of years ago. It now takes up a corner of our living room. I made this request of him after a long Christmas “shutdown” during which he was home for about three weeks. All through this time, he was in my office a lot, where his computer was also located. When he wasn’t surfing the web, distracting me because his monitor screen was in my periphery, he was sitting there, his chair turned toward me, and he was reading.

I explained as gently as I could that it was very difficult for me to get into “the zone” with him just sitting there. He protested that he was being quiet, and he just “wanted to be with me”. I felt a little guilty even as I told him I appreciated that, and we could have together time later in the day. Although I knew he didn’t really understand, he acquiesced to my request, and relocated his “office”.

One day last week, I’d finished writing for the moment. It was coming up on two in the afternoon, and I needed to get my legs up. I’ve found my arthritis is marginally better if I do this each day. I walked into the living room and told him I wanted to watch a bit of television, but not to worry, I would use the headphones. I would be so quiet, he wouldn’t even know I was there. He wouldn’t be distracted by the screen, because he sits with his back to it.

My husband said, okay, he’d take a break too. He definitely sounded disappointed. I told him he didn’t have to, I was fine wearing the headphones and watching television on my own.

He turned, looked at me, and the expression on his face…I can only call it sheepish. He told me he can’t seem to focus very well on what he’s writing when I was sitting there, in the room, with him. Friends, a bigger person than I would have simply made sounds of understanding and left it at that. 

Me? I put on a puppy-dog face, batted my eyes at him and said, in a Betty Boop kind of voice, “But I’m being very quiet. I just want to be with you!”

We both laughed, and it was a good moment, really. He’s now beginning to understand a little of what I’ve been saying and hinting at for some time. I know that in the last couple of years especially, he was thinking I was living a live of luxurious ease, while he had to work hard, and in a way, I was.

 But how nice it is for him to finally see my lifestyle through his own eyes, to understand the way the writing process can grab you by the throat, enslave you, enthrall you, and frustrate you beyond measure—all in the same breath.

The best part of all is one that was completely unexpected. Not only do I feel I have more writing time, and less pressure to do other things. This change in our routines has definitely brought us closer together.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury