June 3, 2015

Life is an always vibrant and an often intriguing combination of opposites. Within the course of a week we can have moments of great joy, and great sadness. We can suffer a horrible drenching thunderstorm one day, and bask in the most beautiful combination of blue skies and sunshine the next.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand that one of the best tools I have for living life is the ability to “go with the flow”. If you’re a rigid sort, or if you’re excessively anal, then life can be a frustrating experience. How much better, to just awaken each day thankful to still be alive, and to say to the cosmos, “here I am, let ‘er rip.”

These past few days have seen occasions of celebration and commemoration for my family. Last Friday my brother Charles and his wife celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. It doesn’t seem possible, when I look back, that so many years have passed since their marriage began.

 I was eleven years old when my big brother betrayed me by marrying Rosemarie. That’s how it felt at the time, of course. He was my hero, and in lieu of our father who’d passed away just three years before, my sister, who didn’t seem to like me much, and my mother, who was either working or too tired from working to pay me much mind, my brother was the most important person in my life.

Not only did he get married, but his wife had sisters, three sisters who adored him! They’d probably always wanted a big brother, and their dream had finally come true. These girls were older than I by only a few years, and not being the kind at that tender age to stand up and stand my ground, I let my anger show in other ways. For a short time, I became a child who acted out.

Over the years, of course, I grew older and I matured, too. Somewhere in my mid twenties, I decided to rebuild my relationship with my brother, and my sister, this time from the perspective of my faith.

My brother’s marriage flourished, and he and Rosemarie had two sons, and now have four grandchildren. Family and friends were present to salute them this past Saturday when we attended a dinner in their honor. 50 years of the usual mixture of happiness and tragedy, of good times and bad, with no thought of “ending it”, simply living and loving and learning to get along.

There are many of us who are involved in long term marriages, but not as many as there used to be. And that, in my mind is a shame. There’s a comfort to be had from enduring together, and growing old together, a comfort not found elsewhere.

And then yesterday, Tuesday, marked the second anniversary of my sister’s passing. It’s hard to believe that two years have gone by, but they have. I think of her life, one lived inwardly, and I feel such sadness that her options were ever so limited. In her “heyday” she lived a little wild—a lot of booze and a lot of men. I learned, only after her passing, that her wild ways started very early. I never knew that, never knew that at the age of eleven or twelve that she would sneak out of the house at night, or steal alcohol from our parents. In 1960 the parental reaction to such behavior was discipline, not therapy. It’s useless to ask the question, of course, but I can’t help but wonder if her life would have been different if today’s responses to certain behaviors existed back then.

In the last twenty years or so of her life, my sister found a comfort and a place, and man who loved her flaws and all. She achieved a measure of happiness, grounded in her routines. She died far too soon, ultimately as a result of years of alcohol and prescription drug abuse.

Two family milestones, at opposite ends of the spectrum, occurred within the space of less than a week. Life is like that—full of ups and downs, good and bad, joy and tragedy.

As for me, I’ve learned to be content within whatever circumstance I find myself. And I try to live each day with not only an attitude of gratitude, but with the resolution that today, I am going to touch someone in a positive way.

That’s my mantra, and it’s one that has brought me peace.

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

May 27, 2015

I had fully intended to give y’all an update on our trip in real time, as it was happening. Unfortunately, my laptop didn’t think that was a very good idea. Last Tuesday, when we were in south Texas, the computer “updated”. After that, getting on the internet at the hotel—at any hotel—just wasn’t happening. When I got home, I discovered that the laptop could be used online here just fine. So I’m going to take the thing in and have it looked at. Yes, even though I simply don’t seem to have very good luck with laptop computers. I have to at least try.

In the meantime, we had a fabulous trip. What a joy it was to be back in the United States—back in Texas! I love the United States and I especially love Texas—as you likely quessed since I have a soon-to-be 25 book series set in that state.

 I love Texans. I love their sense of getting ‘er done, no B.S. At least, many of the Texans I’ve come to know have that attitude. Step up, take responsibility, and move on. Love it.

Our initial two travel days, the first from home to the hotel in Buffalo, and then the second, the actual flying, went wonderfully well. On paper, we had nearly an hour and a half between flights. In reality, we got off the first plane and just a few minutes later boarded the second. But that was okay, since it meant we were all that much closer to Dallas.

We rented a car at the airport—I’d reserved one ahead—and had just one small miscue, but otherwise, we found our hotel without too much trouble. Fortunately we were on the road from airport to hotel just before afternoon rush hour.

In case you’re wondering, no, we didn’t rent a GPS with the car, nor did we take one with us. I’m going to file this under the heading of men not liking to ask for directions. Mr. Ashbury shook his head vehemently when the question arose at the rental agency, and I am ever the dutiful wife. That said, I can promise you going without modern technological navigational assistance is not a mistake I will make again. Next time I go to Texas, or anywhere I plan to rent a car, I am updating and taking my Garmin with me.

While in Dallas we stayed at the Belmont Hotel. We weren’t making an appearance at the RT Convention this year, but our hotel was only a 7 dollar cab ride away from where it was being held. I know that, because on Friday morning, I headed over to the Hyatt Regency to have breakfast with my good friend and fellow author and OWG alumnus, D. B. Reynolds. If you enjoy reading paranormal fiction, you absolutely must read her series, Vampires in America. The ninth book in the series came out at the end of March, and she’s hard at work on book number 10.

D. B. Reynolds is one of the most talented writers I know, bar none.

Friday and Saturday evening, we attended the “get together” for the street team of my good friend, Heather Rainier. Heather was gracious enough to allow me to tag along, as many of the people in her street team, are also in mine. For those wondering, a “street team” is the Internet equivalent of a fan club.

It was such a thrill for me to meet these wonderful women who read my books. It was truly an honor to get to hug them and chat with them and get to know them better. We all had a rollicking good time. Laughter absolutely abounded. I feel so very, very lucky. I not only get to do what I love, on a daily basis. Other people celebrate what I do. Thank you, Ladies and Divas for such a wonderful memory that will live in my heart forever.

On Sunday morning we headed out, destination what I call Rainier Land. We stayed in a hotel close to where Heather and her family live, and spent the next few days simply being together. We’re truly good friends, and a bonus for us both is that our husbands get along so very well. The men folk hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years. My beloved really respects Mr. Rainier. I was also very happy to see the younger Rainiers. What great kids!

Together, they’re a truly awesome and inspiring family.

Getting to spend several hours with my publisher was precious beyond words. This woman changed my life forever by saying “yes”. She has also never steered me wrong. I hold dear her words of advice. She’s not only a caring publisher, she’s business savvy. I’m honored to be one of her “Siren-exclusive” authors.

Mr. Tuffy was excited to see us when we came home, of course, and we were just as glad to see him, too. We’re unpacked, my beloved has returned to work, and the dog is “Tuffy on duty” on the front porch—when he’s not dozing on my writing desk. Memories of our time away are still vivid, and my heart is full to overflowing from the experience. Where I am right now is special, too.

As the song, and saying goes, be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.

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

May 13, 2015

Later today we will be on our way to Texas, via Buffalo. Just about everyone we know who flies to the United States, flies from either Buffalo or Detroit, as opposed to flying out from Canada. We’ve always boarded our flights in Toronto in the past. Up until a few years ago, that pretty much guaranteed you’d be on a non-stop flight to wherever you were going.

But then, Canadian airlines began “partnering” with U. S. airlines, and so now for the most part Canadian flights into the States are tied into the hub system. There are still a few non-stop flights you can book out of Toronto, but not that many. But that’s not the reason we’re flying out of Buffalo.

It’s the $1,000 difference in the cost of air fare for this trip that decided us. I honestly couldn’t justify paying that much extra.

First, driving to Buffalo is only about a twenty minute travel difference, not counting the time at the border. Once in the Queen City, if we stay a night before our flight, and the night after our return flight at the same hotel, our car gets to be parked the entire time we’re gone, for free. Well, all right, not free, but the cost of the room includes the car parking, which for the same period in Toronto near to the airport would be 200 dollars all on its own (one of the reasons our daughter usually drives us to the airport and picks us up again).

The added bonus is that this plan reduces the stress of traveling, at least for me.

I am humbled that the reason we’re heading to Texas is for a joint gathering of mine, and Heather Rainier’s, Street Teams [the e-book equivalent of a fan club]. I’m so excited to get to meet these wonderful women. How cool is it that people will actually come together to meet me? The great fringe benefit, of course, is that I get to spend time with my good friend and fellow author, Heather Rainier and her family. I’m also going to get to see my publisher while I’m there as she is based in Texas!

Mr. Ashbury is coming with me, of course—though on my last visit to Texas he didn’t. That year—the year before last—he decided to take the girls on a trip instead. The main purpose of my visit then was to collaborate with Heather, which resulted in a book from each of us - another cross-over treat for our readers.

I’ve looked ahead to the weather and it looks like we’re going to see a fair bit of rain and possibly thunderstorms. I really don’t mind that so much, as there aren’t many places we’re planning to “see”. We visited a few tourist spots on our first trip to Dallas.

My beloved is hoping for good weather the day before we fly home, as we’ll be spending that day in San Antonio. He wants me to see the River Walk. The year I attended my first RT Convention as a published author, it was held in Houston. Once I was settled in at the hotel, he headed out to the airport—he was flying by himself to San Antonio, to see the Alamo. History buff that he is, it was one of the places on his “bucket list”. He came back excited about the city and wanted me to see it.

I’m praying that this is a really good trip for me. Issues that I’ve been dealing with, health-wise, over the last couple of years, seem to have settled down some. I’m very grateful, because nothing is worse than traveling when you’re not sure how you’re going to be on any given day.

That said, as tough as that was, I did the best I could, because really, everything is a decision. I believe with all my heart that you can either live your life reacting to your circumstances, or you can live your life on your own terms in spite of them.

I have already decided that I am going to have a wonderful time on this trip. I’ll be meeting face to face some of my most dedicated readers, I’ll be visiting with a family I love dearly, seeing my publisher again, and I’ll be spending time with my beloved.

Anything else—weather, or health issues—are just circumstances.

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

 May 6, 2015

This is the part of spring that I like the best—when it’s warm enough to have the doors of the house open, but there aren’t very many bugs flying around yet to get inside and annoy me.

I’m guilty of throwing open all my doors and windows during a mild January-thaw day, too, just to get fresh air into the house. I always have my bedroom window cracked open a bit, even on the coldest of nights. I sleep better for it, and yes, I could very well be a fresh air junkie. I hate that stuffy feeling that you always get in winter. My mother was one to do this, to throw the doors wide a couple of times during the winter months, and if we were chilly for a day, she’d just tell us to put on some extra clothes.

She asserted that scientifically speaking, fresh air with more oxygen heated faster than stale air and she was right about that.

Of course, in those days it did take a bit longer to replenish the heat, because we didn’t have a furnace with a nice fan to circulate the warmth. We had two oil space heaters in our eight room, one and a half story house. For those who don’t know, oil space heaters were stoves, made of metal and in our case, black. The one in the kitchen was about 3 foot tall, the other, in our living room, more than four. They had stove pipes that came out the back, and were vented by chimneys. When the stoves went out it was usually due to too much carbon in the inside, and required a repair man to come and clean them out to get them lit and working again.

You had to spread newspapers all around the working area thanks to the high volume of soot and grime involved. Once it was clean, he’d turn on the flow of oil and light it with a match and a small piece of paper, inserted into the fire pot.

The good thing about a space heater was that you could put something on top of it to dry, or heat, as long as you kept an eye on it so it didn’t scorch. The mainstay on our kitchen space heater was a pan of water, to combat the dryness in the air the heat wrought.

The one bad thing about oil space heaters? Twice a year you had to pull down all the glassware on the top two shelves of the kitchen cupboards (those fancy dishes that weren’t often used) and give them a good washing. They’d be covered with a grimy, oily film.

It never even occurred to me until I was married and moved away and no longer used them that the presence of that film meant we were breathing in crud. There are often more down sides to things than we care to think about. Another negative aspect to those space heaters was that sometimes in very high winds, there’d be a gust down the chimney. It gave us some very stinky air reminiscent of car exhaust and often put out the flame, too.

 Mom would light it again—yes, with a match and a small bit of paper—and it never occurred to us how dangerous doing that could be.

But spring and warmer air meant you turned off the stoves, and didn’t turn them on again until mid-to late October.

My mother’s house had several flower beds, and by the end of May that air coming into the house was scented with lilacs, lilies of the valley, and narcissus. That particular combination is an aroma I’ve missed over the years.

 But the new lilac trees that we planted last year have buds on them, and those lilies of the valley my son gave me last June are also poking little sprouts up. I look out over the flowerbeds every couple of days and measure the progress of the growth.

As I do, I spend a few minutes in joyful anticipation of inhaling that sweet fragrance once again, and soon.

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

April 29, 2015

Different geographic areas have different symbols—images that on their own represent the emotional, and maybe even the spiritual essence of the place it represents, both to its inhabitants, and to the world at large.

For my country, Canada, it’s the maple leaf. Although there are maple trees in so many different locations throughout North America, the maple tree and its distinctive leaf are special here, north of the 49th parallel. And while it means many different things to individual Canadians, you can be certain that to each of us there is an almost visceral connection to the image of it, when it appears before us.

Of course, symbols aren’t just nation-wide. Sometimes they’re province wide or—in the case of my neighbors to the South, state-wide. For Nova Scotia, for example, the symbol most often associated with that Atlantic province is a picture of the light house at Peggy’s Cove; for Alberta it’s Banff National Park, with Lake Louise prominent; for Ontario, it’s the C. N. Tower in Toronto.

This isn’t only, as I’ve already pointed out, a Canadian phenomenon. In the United States, geographic areas have their symbols as well. Of course the first image Americans hold dear is their flag. Americans have a stronger emotional connection with the Stars and Stripes than we Canadians do with our own flag. That’s completely understandable since the red and white Maple Leaf has only been our flag since 1965.

There’s the Liberty Bell, the image of which makes us think of Pennsylvania. I’ve spoken to Pennsylvanians who have a distinctive emotional, pride-filled reaction to seeing that symbol. Other areas as well have their “symbols” – pictures that once seen, stir the heart and the spirit and engender pride and love. For Michigan it’s the Great Lake that bears its name; for California it’s the Golden Gate bridge; and for Texas? Texas has two great symbols as is befitting that state—The Alamo, and a container of Blue Bell ice cream.

April 20th of this year was a dark day for my Texan friends. You see, on that day Blue Bell announced a recall of all of its products, and that production of its ice cream had been suspended due to a Listeria outbreak. This total recall is the final stage in a process that began last month with a limited recall, the very first one in the family-owned business’s 108 year history.

Listeria can cause serious and sometimes fatal infections in young children, the elderly, and any whose immune system is weak. According to the Center for Disease Control, in the United States an estimated 1,600 people become seriously ill with Listeria each year, and about 16% of these become fatalities.

Clearly, a total recall until the source of the contamination is found, and the problem fixed, is the right thing to do. Personally I applaud the company for doing the right thing. What has to happen is that all of the manufacturing equipment has to be taken apart and thoroughly cleaned, as this bacterium is stubborn and can live for a very long time.

The CEO and President of the company, Paul Kruse, has promised to make sure all products are safe before they go back on sale. This is a very good thing. In an age when we often feel that greed steers the ship of commerce, this is a very good thing indeed. Blue Bell has put the welfare of their customers ahead of profits. This is more than commendable. This justifies the importance of Blue Bell as a symbol of the Great State of Texas.

It is, however, a devastating situation for many Texans. After reading the reports and observing the discussion in social media, I have come to appreciate just how emotionally attached some are to their Blue Bell ice cream, and what a deep and meaningful symbol it is to many Texans.

A lot of grocery stores don’t have shelves of different kinds of ice cream for consumption the way they do up here. They have two freezers for Blue Bell, and a tiny token space for all the other brands, combined. As one person said, “Blue Bell isn’t just an ice cream it is the only ice cream. If there’s no Blue Bell, there’s no ice cream, period. We might just as well cancel summer.”

To my friends who are suffering, I urge them to take heart. Doing the right thing is always the right thing. The ice cream will flow again, and all will be well.

It’s simply a matter of time.

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

April 22, 2015

What is your legacy?

Have you ever wondered what memories and impressions in others you’re creating with each day lived, each action taken—or not taken? Have you ever thought about what your impact is on family and friends, and how you’ll be remembered? What kind of person are you? What matters to you the most? Do you live your life to the fullest, or have you always pulled your punches, and are now riddled with regrets?

Life is so short. We none of us know how long we’ll be here. We don’t know why some people are given more than a hundred years here on this planet, while others’ lives can be measured in days or weeks or only a couple of decades. We don’t know why, for example, in the midst of a violent attack, a grandmother survives, while, just inches away from her, a child dies.

All we have is what we have, and we never have more than one day at a time. We hope for more, and because it is in our nature, we plan for more. But we don’t ever have more. We only ever have today. In fact, we only ever have this moment.

Some people are spiritual beings, open to the possibilities of different faiths and beliefs. Some people only believe what they can see with their eyes and touch with their hands. Each of us might hold that our beliefs are the only right ones. Or we might accept that some matters are between the individual and the God they worship. With so much diversity, and so many differences, where you find your comfort and your strength, is as individual as you are. One thing, however, we all can agree upon, is that what we do and who we are can have an impact on others. We all have the ability to do ill, or do good. That’s our choice.

Because that is true, then I believe that leaving a legacy of caring is an enviable thing. Being a person who loves others, helps others, and thinks of others’ well-being before their own is to give blessings and receive them back a hundred fold.

 You cannot purchase the sense of satisfaction you get from having touched someone in a positive way in any store for any amount of money. There is no substitute for the internal benefits you get for being a person who seeks to uplift others, rather than to tear them down.

When you seek to leave a legacy of love, you’re doing the very best thing in the world that you could possibly do. You are giving increase to others and gifting them with a part of yourself.

It’s never too late to make a difference in the life of one person. You don’t have to spend a lot of money, or do anything heroic. You don’t even need to spend a lot of time. You really just need to take your eyes off yourself and put them on someone else for a little bit. Even a smile, given to someone who looks alone, or sad, or just thoughtful is something you can do to make a difference in that one person’s life.

I know that life is hard, and full of challenges that must be met, and obstacles that must be overcome. Trials hit us all, as does pain both physical and emotional, and the tragedy of loss. These things are inevitable. And it is because life can be hard and harsh that even small gestures and random acts of kindness matter so much. People matter. Every life is worthwhile, and every life counts.

So, what is your legacy?

When I’m gone, and people think of me, I hope they smile and say, now there was a good friend.

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

 April 15, 2015

Twice in the space of the last week or so, tragedies have struck in two separate incidents that were headlined on the US evening news. Those two stories centered on twelve deaths, that were completely preventable. I’m sure you know the news stories I’m referring to. The first was in Baltimore. A father and his seven children, aged 6 to 15 died in their sleep a week ago Monday, as the result of carbon monoxide poisoning.

With no electricity in their rented house, the family was using a gas fed generator for heat.

Then, the following Friday afternoon, in Queens, New York, and elderly couple and two other older people were discovered to have perished. The suspected cause, again, was carbon monoxide poisoning—this time from a car left running in an attached garage.

You may recall that more than a year ago, in March of 2014, I penned an essay about the dangers of exposure to carbon monoxide.

Carbon monoxide is an odorless, colorless and tasteless gas that can kill. The only way it can be detected is with an approved CO (the periodic symbol for carbon monoxide) detector/alarm. Here in the Province of Ontario having such a device in your home is the law. The really good news is that a CO detector can be had for a fairly modest sum—usually under 25 dollars. If the home in Baltimore and the home in Queens had each been equipped with these detectors—a combination of fifty dollars worth of technology—then 12 people who are now dead, seven of them children with their entire lives ahead of them—would now be alive.

Carbon monoxide is a four-season killer, as people have various gas appliances in their homes. Misuse of these appliances, improper installation, even stupidity can all contribute to tragedies like these.

Tragedies that, I say again, are completely preventable.

As I was looking for the facts on the above two cited cases, I came upon a third one, a story I had not seen on the news. A mother, 29, and her 7 year old daughter died in their East Orange, New Jersey home the week of April 1, also from carbon monoxide poisoning. The culprit was once again a gas generator, this one in the basement, and not properly ventilated.

The night before her death, this young mother had been chatting on Face Book with a relative. According to that relative, she had said they should get together soon, because with death and sickness, life was just too short not to.

That young mother had no idea how true her words would prove to be.

Maybe, if I write about this one more time, someone who might not understand the nature of this silent killer will finally get it, and take that one, very simple yet vital preventative measure.

I’m going to repeat myself. Carbon monoxide is a “four season” killer, as a lot of us have homes that are fuelled by combustible fuels—not just our furnaces in the cold weather, but our hot water heaters, and our kitchen stoves as well. In truth, it’s not just natural gas that can create carbon monoxide, but all other fossil fuels as well. If you burn wood in a fireplace and it’s not vented right—or if you try to use a charcoal barbecue indoors—you’re creating carbon monoxide. Yes, the gas is odorless, colorless and tasteless, but in the last two examples, the killer gas is wrapped up in wood smoke.

If you don’t already have a carbon monoxide detector in your home, get one. They’re available at Wal-Mart, Lowes, Home Depot, Ace Hardware, and even on Amazon!

Please, please, please, spread the word. A CO detector can be life saving—and the life it could save might be your own, your spouse’s, you children’s, your grandchildren’s or your neighbor’s.

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