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Jan Goldyn
November 02, 2024
Jan’s Journal♥
Hello Friends! Thank you for subscribing! Enjoy some of my personal and writing updates, sneak peeks and reviews ♥
Table of Contents
September Friend, —- Jan Goldyn-- |
Soft I hear your foot steps, |
clear pristine skies. |
Your voice the call of finches, |
yellow wisps in the light. |
Your perfume gathers sweet grass, |
the beginnings of an earthy grind |
of leaf turned under soil |
fallen apples’ fruity brine. |
Your hands reach out with promise |
of bright purposeful days, |
moments of tranquil stillness, |
memories set ablaze. |
Soft I hear your foot steps |
coming to me, friend. |
Sit now on my porch swing |
a mellow morning we shall spend. |
September Update |
— Summer at the start. A breezy whisper toward mid-month, telling of what’s to come. Little yellow leaves under foot appear near the end — it’s September! |
My mother used to ponder why we kids were sent back to school right after Labor Day when some of the best of summer weather was yet to come.
Not that she didn’t look forward to my little brother — the youngest of her six children — starting his first day of school! Years later, she told us how she drew a nice bath that morning and soaked in its warm soapy bubbles till almost noon.
To me, September itself feels like a month of cleansing. There’s a sweet, yet heavy haze by the end of summer and September comes in like a fresh breath of air. Cloudless azure skies are crisp and renewing to the soul. I think back to days with my mother and little brother when all of the older kids were in school.
The smell of starch sprinkled onto cotton shirts and pressed under mom’s warm iron wafted through the house. She hummed with the radio to the soft tune Try to Remember by the Brothers Four.
Some September days it was the heady sugary smell of grape jelly that permeated our home. But no matter the sounds, no matter the fragrances, there was a sweet calm that reigned.
But somehow I know as I reminisce, that we are together somewhere in spirit listening to the Brothers Four and soaking in the gentle stillness of a September morning.
September Sneak Peek
The click-clack of the railway fell in rhythm with the shards of light penetrating at the top of the box car door. It wasn't a bad car. Only two other bo's aboard, although one of them could use a good boil, Francis thought. The other was clean enough but just as in need of a hot and a flop as he was. A day and half since he'd eaten. But the next stop should prove to be lucrative. His pal had told him of a cherry orchard ready for picking. He hoped to sign on straight away. He'd try to talk these two fellows into sticking with him – safety in numbers.
As the train chugged on, bits of blue sky shown at the door's crest. He took out his harmonica and began to play. "Julia with the blue eyes, you hide. Because, Julia, with the blue eyes you lied. Under those eyes, was there love for me darlin’? No, Julia, with those blue eyes you lied."
The train screeched to a stop and roused the other two hobos. "Time to breeze," said one of them. |
"And let's stay together boys. I hear there's a bo jungle just a ways from here. We can get some supper and place to flop," said Francis. The two men agreed. "Just keep an eye out for the bull and hit the ground runnin'." They all laughed.
Francis put away his harmonica and sighed. |
-Excerpt from Julia, Prequel to Coal Town Girls-
Julia
I am so excited to be working on my Prequel — Julia. You’ve all given me such super feedback on Coal Town Girls! Those of you who have grown up locally have been sharing your excitement at seeing the landmarks of your youth (or your present!) showcased within its pages.
Coal Town Girls started with a seed planted in a young girl’s mind by two remarkably strong, funny, witty friends who shared their stories of growing up in Hollsopple, Pennsylvania. The little girl was me and the women were my Mother Joan and her best friend Mary — friends from the ages of five to ninety-two!
Now, with Julia, I’m taking a journey further back in time to the people, places, struggles, triumphs and dreams of those who came before Joan and Mary. I can’t wait for you to join me.
Jan’s Reading Nook
Throughout history, our ancestors gathered around fires telling and soaking in the magic that is “story.” This primal need continues and has not left us! I love to share thoughts on nuggets of literature I’ve been enjoying and exploring. For me, a main focus has been historical fiction, literary fiction, family sagas. Although all genres have their own jewels.
Edith Holden, The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady
I was first introduced to Edith Holden while spending time at my sister Maryann’s little apartment in the city. It was filled with the most interesting and magical artwork, fossils, photographs and books about all things Nature. It’s quite fitting, then, that I found The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady in a stack of books at her antique desk.
In Warwickshire, England, 1906, Holden made her first beautifully hand-written entry into a diary chronicling the intricacies and gifts produced by Mother Earth in each lovely season. It was written to encourage her students at Solihull to engage with nature. |
To say I was enamored with Holden’s delicate sketches of swallows in flight and blooming wild rose would be to underplay its effect on me. I thought, what an obvious labor of pure love! |
Some entries provided factual information --
“July…...the Anglo-Saxons called it Moed-monad or Mead-month from the meadows being then in bloom.”
Many others were her observations of a particular day’s trek -
“April 27. Found two wren’s nests, both made of moss, one in the side of a haystack, the other in a bank. Saw a Swift.” However, my favorite entries were those showcased from various poets |
“That autumn eve was stilled, a last remaines of sunset dimly burned o’re the far forests – like a torch-flame turned by the wind back upon its bearers hand, in one long flare of crimson; as a brand, the woods beneath lay black.” Sordello R. Browning
In 1976, the diary which had been passed down through her husband’s family was re-discovered by her great-niece Rowena Stott who saw to having a facsimile edition published. I will forever be grateful to you, Rowena and MaryAnn.
Coal Town Girls
Joan and Mary from Coal Town Girls
Coal Town girls was an idea that bubbled up over the years and finally found its way to paper. My mother, Joan, and her best friend, Mary, were often found on our back porch, telling stories of their youth -- the town, the river, the people, the adventures, the sadness's, the joys. Each month I’ll try to highlight a tidbit of history from Coal Town Girls! Enjoy reading about the tradition of teenagers hanging out at the Hollsopple bridge by Springer’s Hardware — waiting for one-eyed cars to pass so they could kiss the lucky gal or fella beside them ☺ |
“Padiddle!” Charlie Steck’s mouth took the shape of a giant gap-toothed orange slice as a ‘35 Buick lumbered into Benson Borough at dusk. Teenagers lounged against car hoods, store fronts, the steps to Springer’s Hardware – shaking off the chill of the beginning of the ‘44 school year, shaking up whatever could be shook. Charlie’s wiry forearm reached out to embrace the back of Mary Lynch’s neck.
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