November 19 – Time-Lapse

by Ariela Zucker

If my pen, like a camera, was capable of condensing a whole summer season into one day using a time-lapse technique here is how my typical summer day as a motel owner would appear.


Hiring new stuff and retraining the old; spring cleaning galore. Fixing and sprucing up; restocking the supplies. Refreshing all the schedules and getting ready for a flood of reservations and last-minute cancellations

The toilet in room 2 is clogged. The bed in room 5 creaks. The curtain rod in 17 just broke. The Wi-Fi is slow; the mattress too soft. The mattress is too firm; the window doesn’t latch. The air conditioning wouldn’t hush. It’s too dark outside. The light comes up too early and the neighbor next door so noisy. What, only twenty channels! No swimming pool? What are we to do?

Maybe write a blog because it’s rainy all day long.

No brown sugar, no bananas either. I wish there was honey, or at least some peanut butter. I’m lactose intolerant, gluten sensitive too. Where is that damn ice, didn’t I pay a full price?

Couldn’t sleep a wink, those peepers make me crazy. Couldn’t sleep a wink the dog next door barked all night. Couldn’t . . .  Yes we know.

Huddled under the blanket all night, the hyenas were laughing in the dark; I think I saw a mouse. So much nature; too much nature; please give me some shopping malls. Forests and lakes, and ocean, and ocean and forests and lakes, need something interesting for the kids–maybe a mall?

The leaves are turning but it is still raining. How long will it take to get there from here? We can’t find it on the GPS.

Thanks for your hospitality, motel with such quaint personality.

Have to leave, bummer,
Till next summer.



I fold the lawn chairs, dim the lights, close the front doors, lock them twice, winter is on its way, time to rest.
Ariela Zucker was born in Israel. She and her husband  left sixteen years ago and now reside Ellsworth Maine where they run a Mom and Pop motel.

November 8 – An Unexpected Greeting

by Charlotte Wlodkowski

The end of June gave us a treat with warm mornings. Just as the sun rose early, so did we. Like most newlyweds, we were ready to purchase our first home. On one particular Saturday, we arrived before the real estate agent. Our only option was to wait in the car. After idle conversation, I began to evaluate the area that could possibly be our home address. The exterior of the homes were well-kept. This neighborhood had potential.

I spied an adult cat roaming the dead-end street. I will admit, I’m more of a cat person than a dog person. Cats are intriguing. One really needs to gain the trust of a cat to happily coexist. A dog is obedient to a fault. Cats demonstrate intellectual abilities, more so than dogs. Although you could say that cats are tame, there still lies a totally independent air about them.

As any cat loving person would do, I stepped out of the car with the intention of petting this unknown cat.  Besides, I was bored just sitting. As the cat sundered my way, he began to talk. I replied back in my language. Maybe he liked what he heard and thus came closer without hesitation. He was an average-sized, non-descriptive looking cat. I could hear purring sounds as I continued to whisper sweet nothings. It was apparent that someone cared for this cat. He was groomed and well feed. As I gently stroked his brown, soft fur, he seemed to enjoy the attention. He trusted me and I he. So as not to frighten him, I slowly lowered one knee to the pavement to be at eye level. This everyday looking cat placed one paw on my bent knee to raise his body, and with the other paw, caressed my neck. He then rubbed his cheek against my cheek as if to give me a hug and a kiss.

Though my heart was racing, I dared not move a muscle. This seemingly ordinary cat was acting with great tenderness. This feline was a stranger yet demonstrated a human quality called affection. He quickly returned to roaming the street as if his actions were normal. I was fixed with amazement in the kneeling position so I could watch as he nonchalantly strolled away.

I practically ran to the car and blurted to Ed, “Did you see what just happened?”

I didn’t think anyone would believe me unless I had an eyewitness. Ed did observe this extra ordinary action from an ordinary feline. I can be certain this affectionate expression will never be experienced again.

Writing family stories was the beginning of recognizing a new form of communication for Charlotte Wlodkowski–writing. A member of the Millvale Library Writer’s Group, it is her hope that her stories opens the hearts and mind of readers. 

October 6 – When I Heard Bill Had Passed Away

by Lisa Hacker

It never failed.

If I had missed church the previous week, I knew that during greeting time he would sneak up on me. Between handshakes and hugs, he would just suddenly appear. Some might say it was his height that made it easier for him to slip between folks, but I think it was just his sneaky nature.

“Hello, I’m Bill Self. Nice to meet you.”

It was his way of saying, “Where were you? You were missed.”

At work, he often did the same thing. I would look up and he would just be there, in the doorway, with that precocious smirk on his face. Sometimes he would get a cup of coffee. Sometimes he would rant at some thing or another that had gotten under his skin. But more often than thought, he came, in his own words, “Just to harass you.”

If you needed him, he was there without question or complaint. Whether it was a trip to the airport or a malfunctioning electrical outlet, Bill Self was your man. He was as solid as granite and as sure as the sun.

I remember one evening as we chatted in his backyard, getting a tour of the new chicken coup he had built, I spotted a skunk moseying around the side of his garage. Without saying a word, he stealthily slipped into the house and returned with a shotgun. I won’t lie. When he lifted that gun to his shoulder, there was a bit of Elmer Fudd in him. Needless to say, the skunk didn’t bother Bill Self after that.

He was a man who didn’t accept BS and didn’t serve it. You got the truth whether you wanted it or not, and you were always better for it. He had a heart that melted like a Hershey’s Kiss when he spoke of his beloved grandchildren, and he had a love for his wife that inspired every married couple who knew him. They both looked at each other with stars in their eyes.

He told me more times than I could count that Bev was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t know how she put up with him. But the truth was that ‘putting up’ with Bill was a privilege of the highest honor.

He was, perhaps, the best thing that ever happened to us all.

Lisa is a community college writing center supervisor, an adjunct writing instructor at a local university, and a freelance writer. She lives in Santa Fe, Texas, and enjoys traveling and crochet. She looks forward to the day when she can live in a little house in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. Her website is

September 26 – One of Life’s Magic Moments

by Judy Alter

Recently, my four kids and I headed out to tour the Chicago neighborhood where I grew up. We turned off the Outer Drive at 47th Street where a huge sign welcome us to the Kenwood-Hyde Park Neighborhood.

Down Dorchester Avenue, past Farmer’s Field (an open field in my day, now a community park), past St. Paul Episcopal Church where the Judy who lived next door to me met and married her husband fifty-some years ago. And then we turned into Madison Park.

I grew up in a small, three-block enclave between 50th and 51st streets. The park is ringed by houses on the north side and apartments on the south, with a narrow one-way drive all the way around. 1340 is about a block into the park, a skinny tall red brick-and-stone structure. The kids were enchanted and got out to explore. Eventually the next-door neighbor came out to see what was going on–his house sits on my dad’s garden and was designed to match 1340. He obligingly took a picture of the kids on the steps of the house, and that picture is forever emblazoned on my mind. That was the magic moment for me.

As best I could I recalled who lived where. Finally, we drove a few blocks to see the Obama family’s home. I didn’t expect to drive right by it but neither did I expect the whole block to be off-limits to foot or vehicle traffic. Trees around the house have been allowed to grow up to the point you can barely tell there’s a house there.

We drove around the immediate neighborhood, dodging one-way narrow streets. Couldn’t recognize the hospital where Dad worked–it’s now condos but I couldn’t see the structure of the original building. We drove by and photographed friends’ houses, we drove down 53rd, the main drag which took us past the YMCA where I spent much of my teen years and past the church around which my social life revolved. The kids wanted to see Cunag’s, an ice cream parlor that made the best thick, old-fashioned milkshakes–alas it is gone.

Then on to the University of Chicago campus where the Gothic buildings transport you back in time. Particular favorites were the impressive Rockefeller Chapel where I graduated, Robie House, a Frank Lloyd Wright building, and the Unitarian Church where my parents married–my kids are sentimentalists and insisted on pictures.

I had forgotten the grace of Madison Park. Today those wooden front porches everyone had are gone, revealing the beauty of the original houses, and property is landscaped in a way never dreamed of in my day. I was delighted with how beautiful everything was–the kids expected a neighborhood that had seen better days and were surprised. The tour gave them a new view of me, and gave me a whole new appreciation for my parents, the atmosphere in which they raised me, and their taste in neighborhoods and houses.

An award-winning novelist, Judy Alter is the author of several fictional biographies of women of the American West and now has turned her attention to the late nineteenth century in her home town, Chicago, to tell the story of the lives of Potter and Cissy Palmer, a high society couple with differing views on philanthropy and workers’ right. She blogs at

September 19 – Follow Your Dream

by Doris Jean Shaw

Follow your dream. I remember reading a Dear Abby column where some older person wanted to go and get a degree. The family said she was too old. Abby said something to the effect that it didn’t matter because time would pass anyway. If she wanted to go to school she should do it.

I heard about a 98-year-old woman who never missed Bible Study. When asked why she never missed she replied, “I am cramming for finals.”

Sometimes the chance to live your dream gets dropped in your lap. I never dreamed I would have a chance to go to Hawaii until my son was stationed in the Pacific and offered me a room if I could make it there. Ever since then, I have been trying to get back. I will make it someday.

Other dreams you have to work at like graduating from school. I dream of doing retreats. At the moment, I am at a stalemate but soon I hope to begin the process of making my dream come true.

Wonder what you have to have to make a dream come true? Does it take a lot of
planning or do you just go for it? What is your dream? What do you need to do to make it come true?

Doris Shaw is a retired educator, Life Coach, author and member of Beauregard Parish Writers Guild “The Ink Blots.”  She loves to travel and writes romances, children’s stories and devotionals.  She presents a workshop, entitled “Reclaiming Me” that helps others find direction for their futures.

September 16 – August Blog

by Ann McCauley

On this rainy August 31, the temperature is a bit cooler and fall is in the air. And the still-student grandchildren are back in school. We are anticipating hosting my husband’s family, (and after all these years my family, too), for the Labor day weekend. It is an annual thing and we always have a great time. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, then you know family time is what life is all about for me!

I had the privilege of attending the Wilkes Writers Workshop on August 5- 6th. I was on a panel, Pennsylvania Fiction: What it is and What it Does, with fellow writers Chris Campion, Heather Harlan and Barbara Taylor, moderated by David Poyer. My long-time friend and fellow writer, Susan, went with me. We had a wonderful time, and it was good to reconnect with old writing friends and make new ones at the workshop. The writing community at Wilkes U. is so invigorating!

Books I have enjoyed reading this month are:

Crave, Sojourn of a Hungry Soul, by Laurie Jean Cannady. She’s new to the Wilkes U. faculty. Her memoir is poignantly honest, packed full of details about growing up in the projects and escaping that life through education. I highly recommend this one to increase our understanding of a sub-culture that is an important part of our country.

Hope You Can Guess My Name, by Heather Harlan Debut thriller novel that soars from page one. You can read my review on Story Circle Book Reviews at
Six Car Lengths Behind an Elephant, Undercover & Overwhelmed as a CIA Wife and Mother, by Lillian McCloy
The author is a natural story-teller and shares her wonderful memoir, packed with details, poignant honesty and sharp wit. You can read my review on Story Circle Book Reviews at:

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. Nonfiction. This was our book club’s book for this month. It dealt with the judicial system in the US, and prompted a long and stimulating discussion. Another book I recommend to promote increased understanding of poverty, race and a side of life in the U.S. that is not familiar to most Americans.

Leave Me Alone, I’m Reading by Maureen Corrigan. Memoir. I met her after she spoke at the Writer’s Workshop. She is down to Earth and witty…as well as, oh so knowledgeable about books! And she never forgot her blue-collar roots.

I mentioned In Robin’s Nest in my July blog, it was posted on Story Circle after I had already posted my blog.You can read it at:

My review of Tipping Point by David Poyer was on air twice last week WPSU’s BookMark, you can listen to it at:

We have felt a real void this summer for good movies. We did see Jason Bourne, and it was exciting, though unmemorable. the next few months. We also watched God is Not Dead on Netflix, and really loved it. Honestly, I did not expect it to be so good.

Until next month, keep reading and always take time
ann mccauley

Ann McCauley is the author of Runaway Grandma, (2007) and Mother Love, (2012). She’s a contributor to, Women Writing on Family, (2012), and Women Writing After Retirement, (2014). Ann reviews books for regional NPR radio and She’s an RN, with degrees in Nursing, Psychology and Creative Writing. For more info, visit her @

September 12 – Being First

by Doris Jean Shaw

I hear the gripe that no one wants to be first. My husband insists that his father told him to never volunteer. Teachers especially deal with the fact that when they ask a question, no one raises their hand to answer.

Guess I am different.

I was the first in my family to graduate from college. I set a new trend; I might even be called a leader. Got me to thinking about others who have been first.

Ever wonder who was the first to cross the Red Sea? Moses was busy holding up the staff to keep the sea parted so someone had to step up and be first to step out on dry land at the bottom of the river.

Other first are more memorable: like the first one in space and the first man on the moon. I wonder who was the first one off the Titanic?

What other first could we celebrate?

How about the first sandwich, or being selected as the first from the writer’s
group to attend a conference at the Billy Graham Center in North Carolina? I am so excited to go to the Christian Communicators Conference. What are you the first to do?

I was also the first to get a Master’s degree. Does that make me a nerd?

Doris Shaw is a retired educator, Life Coach, author and member of Beauregard Parish Writers Guild “The Ink Blots.”  She loves to travel and writes romances, children’s stories and devotionals.  She presents a workshop, entitled “Reclaiming Me” that helps others find direction for their futures.