Today I am interviewing D.L. Finn, whose book, Miracles & Ghosts Past: A Christmas Collection, has recently been released and is perfect for this season. I decided we could discuss her new book and all sorts of other things over brunch at Guglehupf (pronounced Googlehoff), a German restaurant and bakery that is a huge favorite in this area. Claudia Kemet- Cooper founded this restaurant in 1998, and in September of 2004 opened to the long anticipated Guglehupf Café in its architecturally unique building adjacent to the bakery. That’s where we’re meeting today, sitting outside in the fall sun, with the trellis filtering gold from the leaves. Noelle: Good morning, Denise! Is there anything on the brunch menu that peaks your interest? I can highly recommend Smashed Avocado Benedict. For those of you listening in it, consists of two poached eggs, smashed avocado, local tomato confit, smoked paprika hollandaise, brioche toast, and a side of fruit.) Denise: That looks yummy. Minus the tomatoes! We order two of those dishes, with no tomatoes, plus two cups of coffee. Noelle: Do you mind if I start peppering you with questions? Denise: Pepper away! What is your favorite Christmas memory? Although I may have had a rough childhood, the holidays were always nice. The one I remember most was the year when there was a layoff and times were challenging. Instead of the usual evergreen tree, we had a tiny white artificial tree on a table. Still, I asked Santa for a Barbie house and van and hoped. When I woke up Christmas morning, there was no Barbie house or van, but I wasn’t disappointed. Wrapped neatly with lots of Scotch tape were the sheets and towel I needed, with my favorite Snoopy on them. The absolute best gift that year was a huge fortune cookie stuffed with regular fortune cookies. That fortune cookie is still my favorite present from childhood. These surprise gifts were not what I thought I wanted but what I needed. What is your favorite holiday movie? Do you have a favorite Christmas movie? I can’t narrow it down to one, but some of my favorites White Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, Polar Express, Rudolph, It’s a Wonderful Life, A Nightmare Before Christmas, and A Christmas Carol. Tell me a little about this book? Well, it’s eight stories from past holidays. In one, Rita buys train tickets for her and Morris’s 30th anniversary. She’s convinced this trip will bring her and Morris closer—if he can find the time – but a murder mystery excursion will change Rita’s life in more ways than one.  In another, Opal trusts the wrong man and loses her mother in the same year, leaving her feeling lost. On a mission to get candles for the dinner table, she makes an unexpected find. One story is set in the 1920s, where a widower is desperate to hold on to his farm and children. He doesn’t want charity, just a bit of luck or a miracle. In the final stories, you’ll meet an eleven-year-old who’s home alone, a family living in the aftermath of war, a girl who gets some shocking news, a widow with a warning from beyond, and a woman trapped on an elevator with Santa. My goal is for the reader is discover hope in these stories, even in the direst of circumstances. I believe miracles are just within reach. ****** Our food arrives, and for a while we munch contentedly. Then I start another round of questions. I know you’ve already published a first Christmas Collection. Why another?  I found the ideas kept coming after I published the first collection. By the time I wrote them all down, I realized I had book two. My focus was on Christmas and poetry this year. What do you enjoy most about writing and why? I love how writing lets me escape into another world. It’s like getting to know new people (my characters) and watching their stories unfold. Sometimes they even surprise me, and that’s the best part. Plus, knowing readers might connect with them the same way I do makes it even more special. What are three interesting facts about yourself that we might not know? What is your least favorite part of the publishing/writing process, and how do you manage this? I would say it’s the publishing part itself. Because it is hard to find the right publisher. It’s not easy as some independent publishers operate more to take your money than to genuinely support your work, so you have to be careful and do your research. What’s your next project? I haven’t been working on anything new until an idea for a Christmas story just came to me 🙂 I will see where that goes! ****** We finish our brunch with another cup of coffee, and I set out to write my review. Miracles & Ghosts Past: A Christmas Collection is a delightful and charming read. I finished it over the course of a few hours and felt a sense of contentment when I finished. The author captured the best of humanity, the Christmas spirit and the promise of new love in each story. The strand running through the stories, set in different times in our country’s history, is a loving ghost for each main character and a green-winged angel in some. What’s not to like? It’s hard to choose a favorite, but I especially liked “Is There a Santa?” about a widowed farmer  down on his luck, trying his best to provide his two sons with a good Christmas when he has to choose between presents for the boys or food on the table. I loved the strength of the father and his determination to do the best for his sons, even if it meant losing them. All of the stories are told with empathy and warmth, a hallmark of the author. I highly recommend this book not only for a seasonal read but one for the whole year. About

In recognition of Veteran’s Day, I am reposting this from previous years. We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,        In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throw    The torch; be yours to hold it high.    If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies grow        In Flanders fields. This poem was written by John McCrae. I learned it in school as a child and remember it every Veteran’s Day. My sincere gratitude to all our veterans, living and dead, for the sacrifices they made so we could enjoy freedom. 3 0

During our recent annual vacation in Maine, we made our second visit to the Railway Museum to entertain my five-year-old grandson. He was four when we first visited and doesn’t remember much about that visit. The museum has a vintage train, powered by coal and steam, and two original train stations. The one you see here from the back, the Freeport Station was built in 1912 and moved in 1964, 39.2 miles from Freeport to Boothbay, over the Kennebec River. Here you can see the steam powered engine and the carriage car. View inside the carriage car. We sat in an open air car at the back, the better to enjoy the views. The chairs inside were small!             The second station, the Thorndike Station, is located halfway around the large circle of the narrow track on which the train takes its passengers for a ride. The station was built in 1871 for the Belfast & Moosehead Lake Railroad. Here you can see the steam-powered engine and the carriage car.             The circular track surrounds the village, which contains artifacts from Maine’s railroad history as well as historical structures from the 1800s and 1900s that were moved to the site. There is also a goat enclosure with two very friendly goats named Coal and Tender. See 16 on the map.             The Boothbay Town Hall is the oldest structure on the green, moved there in 1990. Built in 1847 for $700, it is a good example of Greek Revival style and has a magnificent open room with a gorgeous floor, still used for meetings.             The Spruce Point Chapel was built in 1923 and relocated to the museum in 1995.             The fire station houses the 1925 Cosmopolitan fire truck and a 1929 hook and ladder from Boothbay Harbor. From Take Me 2 Maine But by far, my favorite place to visit is the antique auto museum. There I found a 1930 Model A phaeton, which was the first car I owned (no, I’m not that old!) and it’s color is the same as my car.  I’d love to have one again. I could go on and on about the filling station, the blacksmith shop, the general store, etc. but I wanted to give you a taste of a really great place to visit. We were very happy that we managed to do our tour earlier than three tour buses and the day before a fall fair on the village green that had cars parked everywhere. Tompkins Filling station, originally from East Boothbay From Take Me 2 Maine Maine’s Merci car, from 1880. Presented in 1949 by the people of France to the people of Maine, this is one of 49 antique boxcars filled with gifts of gratitude for the donations of relief goods sent to France in 1948, “40 & 8” boxcars like this one were used to carry 40 men or 8 horses during WWI. The village green. I highly recommend that if you are in this area, you make a morning of it at this museum! 2 0

Peter “Wolf” Toth is an American sculptor born in Hungary, who immigrated to Ohio and studied art at Ohio University. Beginning in 1971, he created a series of large sculptures to honor Native Americans. His first was made of stone, carved into a sandstone cliff in La Jolla, California, a six-foot-high Native American head. It took him three months. His goal became to create a sculpture in each state.  Toth donates his time and effort to each sculpture, and the communities typically provide the large log or timber used for the carving.  The statues vary in size, with some of  the largest towering over 40 feet tall,  with most ranging from 15 to 40 feet. From the Winslow Mail, Thursday, January 3, 1980, Peter Toth carving a 3000 pound log Ponderosa pine to create this 20 foot tall statue. From Roadside Arizona He sculpted his second large contribution to his Trail of the Whispering Giants series, in his hometown of Akron, Ohio. Carved from Kentucky red oak, Rotaynah was removed in the fall of 2018 due to extreme deterioration, but the face of the sculpture was saved and is currently in storage. Rotaynah Since then he has completed a statue in each of the 50 states, and in several provinces of Canada, and some states, such as Florida, now have more than one sculpture. His mission was completed in May 1988, when he finished sculpture #58 in Hawaii. Instead of a Native American figure, like the other Whispering Giants, Toth opted to carve a statue of a Polynesian for the Hawaiian islands. That statue has since decayed, I first discovered a Whispering Giant in a recent trip to Plymouth, Massachusetts, where I encountered Enisketomp, standing beside Highway 3, Exit 5, in front of a McDonald’s of all places. Carved in 1983, this giant is named from the Wampanoag word for “human being” and is designated as a gift to the people of Massachusetts. Enisketomp. Wikimedia “I study the Indians of the area, then visualize an Indian within the log. It is a composite of all the native people of the state.”  A quote from Peter Toth. This Whispering Giant is pictured on a postcard, dedicated in October 0f 1981. The material is Sitka spruce and the Lakota Sioux Nation contributed to the sculpture. “I study the Indians of the area, then visualize an Indian within the log. It is a composite of all the native people of the state.”  A quote from Peter Toth. Seneca, found in Seneca, Mercer County, Pennsylvania (Wikipedia) On Gwe Ohn Whe, New York (Wikipedia) Calostimucu, Punta Gorda, Florida (Wikipedia)                                  Peter Toth 0 0

I was honored to find this review from one of my blogging buddies and a fellow teacher, Pete Springer. As a fan of historical fiction and having read The Last Pilgrim by Noelle Granger, I snatched up Daniel Boone and Me as soon as it became available. The story begins when two children, Eliza (10) and Thatch (4) hide in a root cellar when their home is attacked by Shawnee Indians. Tragically, the children become orphans when their parents are killed in the attack. Eliza initially tries to protect Thatch from learning the truth about their parents. Daniel Boone comes across the children and, after learning they have no relatives, offers to take them to a fort, named after him, called Boonesborough. Many families live inside the confines of the fort under Colonel Boone’s direction. Daniel’s wife, Rebecca, already has eight children, but she readily agrees. Eliza and Thatch quickly become part of the family, taking on chores and learning the ways of a wilderness family. Though Granger indicates that this story is told from the perspective of the point of view of White people through Eliza’s voice, I appreciated that the author didn’t try to glorify or exaggerate Boone’s life. There were plenty of hardships as well as great times. Boone is captured by Indians at one point and is gone for so long that Rebecca fears he has died. She eventually moves from the fort taking most of her biological children and Thatch with her. Eliza, still longing that Boone may return, decides to stay at the fort with Boone’s oldest daughter, Jemima, who is now married to Simon. Boone eventually escapes from the Indians and returns to the fort, but by this point, his reputation has taken a hit. Some people living at the fort believe the rumors that Boone became friendly with the British and the Indians. Though he is still in charge, the rumors never go away completely. After fending off several attacks on the fort by the combined forces of the Shawnee and the British, Boone finally decides to leave the fort to reunite with Rebecca. From this point on, Eliza and Boone do not live together, so the author follows Eliza. Still, Eliza and Boone cross paths after this, so we continue to learn more about Boone. He gets involved in government and many business ventures. Many of these endeavors do not go well, and the Boones move several more times. Granger does a marvelous job of portraying Daniel Boone’s life, sharing his triumphs and failures. It is the kind of read one doesn’t get in a history book. I thought I would give you a little snippet from the book to whet your appetite to read it! ******* Probably eighty people lived in the fort — free men, some slaves, boys, but only a few women and girls. Most of the men had claimed land in areas around the fort and worked their land, just as my parents had done — planting crops, harvesting, or hunting, depending on the season. I often worried when I saw that among all these people, no one took charge of guarding the back gate of the fort and only sometimes did a guard stand at the front one. One morning, after me and Levina, who was going on ten like me, had finished a considerable amount of washing and had hung the clothes to dry, Colonel Boone himself approached me. He carried a long rifle crosswise in his arms. “Eliza,” he said, “my wife knows how to hunt and she’s a dead shot. All my children know how to hunt, so I think you should too. You have to be able to take care of yourself and Thatch, especially if anything should happen to me or Rebecca.” Levina, who stood beside me, nodded. “I can shoot and I got me some rabbits not long ago.” “I’ve gone hunting with my pa,” I replied, “but he never showed me how to shoot.” “So come with me now. And leave your bonnet here.” Levina gave me a friendly push. “You go on with Pa.” I followed his long strides across the meadow outside the fort, past the corn and vegetable patches, and into the dense, surrounding woods. The moccasins let me walk without making much noise. The colonel had showed me how make my skirts less of a bother when I had to walk through the bushes, by bunching them up into my belt front and back, making them like pants.  “Are we hunting a deer today, Colonel Boone?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear me. He responded with that chuckle of his. “Whenever you hunt deer, the hardest part is finding them. So we’ll just see what’s out here. Maybe rabbits.” We spent some time scouting, with the colonel checking for tracks and other signs and showing me what he saw. I knew he was very skilled at this, and I vowed to learn the signs myself. He showed me some bear scat, a pile of large black turds big as Colonel Boone’s foot. Rabbit scat looked different, small round droppings, and when we found a clearing with a lot of it, we stopped. “I’m going to show you how to load the rifle, Eliza, so pay attention,” he said quietly. He stood the rifle on its stock and took the powder horn from his belt, uncorking it and pouring some powder into the barrel of the rifle. “How do you know how much powder to put in?” I lowered my voice, too. “I don’t know, I just do. I’ll show you the right amount later.” Then he plugged the powder horn back up and took a small piece of greasy cloth from his bag along with a lead ball. Wrapping the ball in the scrap of cloth, he pushed it into the barrel. Then he slid out a long rod from a holder on the side of the rifle and used it to