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November Magic

— Jan Goldyn —

Deep leaves rest

at the bottom of a birch,

Sunrise sparkles crisply

hard and frosted earth,

Moody gray mountain

catches light at the crest,

Hear the sparrow’s greeting

decree life’s onward step,

Stubble of corn stalks

by what deer have etched --

Hoof-print decorations

over field and forest stretch,

Lovely bare branches

silhouetted on the sky,

A smudge of coal-dust clouds

tell the story that is nigh,

Deep anticipation

in the hearts of those who wait

for heaven’s silent magic,

Her downy white grace.

^{_{November Update}}

Thanksgiving — it’s almost impossible to think of November without it!

Much of what we know about the happenings at the feast celebrated in Massachusetts in November, 1621, comes from Pilgrim chronicler Edward Winslow, who wrote:

Something interesting is that historians have suggested some of the dishes served were likely lobster, clams and swan! Turkey may or may not have been on the menu. ☺

It is well known that Native Americans have had a rich tradition of commemorating the fall harvest with feasting and merrymaking for eons.

It seems uncertain whether Native Americans were invited to feast with the Pilgrims or whether the Pilgrims were gifted much of their feast by the native people first.

In either case, it was obviously a beautiful gathering. The tradition of celebrating and expressing thankfulness for what we have is deeply rooted in our being. The warmth we feel in giving of ourselves and experiencing that given by others is so comforting.

Like Tisquantum of the Wampanoa people, who shared life-saving knowledge with the Pilgrims, we are truly at our best when giving to the world our innate gifts!

In my little life, Thanksgiving has meant,

— Crisp fall days, luscious turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and pecan pie.

— My grandmothers, my brothers and sisters, mom and dad sharing a peaceful afternoon into the evening.

— Watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade with my daughters, eating whipped cream atop pieces of pumpkin pie.

— Making cardboard Pilgrims and Indians at my Brownie meetings.

— Walking through our backyard on a Thanksgiving that brought us snow, thinking it was such a wonder.

So cozy up and enjoy those we have been given and think about — in the example of Tisquantum — whom we can serve. ♥

It is said that in the moment one is being thankful it is not possible to be sad!

November Sneak Peek

-Excerpt from Julia Prequel to Coal Town Girls--

“So it was, that without hesitation, Francis had taken the sprite’s engaging hand and followed her through a curious Missouri evening, as one who is homeward bound follows the distant hearth light emanating from his place of rest.

This ethereal being’s place of rest was a wagon in an open sprawl of woods at the edge of a river. The red lamp glow from inside gave Francis pause. But only momentarily, for the woman guided him, as one would guide a child, and brought him into the warmth of her shelter.

There, he was a foreigner. The woman bade him sit on an iron-framed bed painted with intricate pink and gold roses. By the light of the oil lamp he could make out the deep crimson curtains draping the walls.

Francis watched as the woman slowly walked to the other end of the wagon. She wore a pale-yellow shift dress that fell right to her knees and exposed her arms. Probably the type of dress you would see on any farm girl on a muggy summer morning as she hung the family’s laundry.

He was certain that was so. But when this woman swayed her body beneath its fabric, her dress no longer bore any resemblance to its wash-day cousins.”

* * * * * * *

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.

When I first saw Out of This Furnace by Thomas Bell, it was sitting on a friend’s book shelf along with other volumes he had used for college studies. When I saw the word “immigrant” and the photo of the workers, I was hooked. This seemed to speak exactly to my family’s own story.

Shortly into the read, I realized that it was, in fact, a type of family saga in addition to a statement on the condition of mill/mine workers’ lives and the rise of unions near the turn of the Twentieth century. The story involves three generations of Slovak immigrants.

Djuro Kracha came to America in 1881, leaving his new wife, Elena, in Slovakian Austro-Hungary whom he would call to join him after he was established in the US.

In a scene from his voyage by ship, we see an example of one of the things that would eventually be part of Djuro’s downfall — women. Really, just one woman named Zuska.

“She was as dark as her husband was fair, as lively as he was grave, a dark skinned compactly plump girl who missed beauty, even prettiness by a face too broad at the cheek bones and a nose that matched. She lacked beauty but had no need of it; the day after she boarded the ship every man on it was keenly aware of her as if she had come among them naked. She had a throaty laugh, a provocative roll to her hips and she could warm a man to the roots of his hair with a look.”

We see Djuro in Pennsylvania, struggling to survive.

“In Braddock, it was an exceptional month which didn’t see a man crippled or killed outright. American industry for all its boasting was still crude and wasteful in its methods; and part of the cost of its education — of that technique it was in time, to consider, somewhat smugly, as a uniquely American heritage, a gift from God to the corporations of America — was the lives and bodies of thousands of its workers.”

Eventually Elena joins Djuro and they and their three daughters settle in Homestead, Pa, where he finds mill work. Djuro ultimately decides to attempt to improve his family’s life by going into business for himself as a butcher.

Zuska comes back into his life, moving to Homestead after her husband dies. Djuro starts an affair with her and they marry after Elena passes from ill health. This goes badly for Djuro as Zuska ruins him financially.

The next generation of the family framed in Out of This Furnace is the life of Djuro and Elena’s daughter, Mary. Mary marries immigrant, Mike Dobrejcak. We see his political zeal for workers’ rights and his desire for education.

These pages highlight his struggles, violent worker strikes and the fight for the formation of unions. Workers like the Slovak immigrants were looked down upon by those already in unions who were of English or Irish descent, the Irish having eventually “fit in” to the slightly more prestigious culture.

From LitCharts: “The old guard of the AA continues to invoke the steel company’s tactics in order to quell rank and file organization from below. There is a blatant irony in the fact that both the AA and the steel company refuse to recognize the new union. Here, Bell suggests that authority for authority’s sake is one of the great obstacles to justice in America.”

Mike and Mary’s son, Dobie Dobrejcak, carries on the desires of his ancestors to improve his life and that of his new wife, Julie. He attains great influence in the workers’ unions. And they manage to purchase some new furniture and appliances, which the previous generations would have hailed as “making it in the new country.”

We leave the book with Dobie and Julie relaxing in a comfortable home, expecting their first child and the knowledge that Dobie sees Julie as his exact equal.

If the women in this story are not the highlighted characters it is because they worked and influenced life behind the scenes of the corporations’ labor force.

Their lives were burdened by sometimes squalid home conditions, lack of proper food and difficulty with all of the day-to-day chores. In addition, they often took care of boarders for extra money. Many times they were on the receiving end of the disfunctions that come with alcohol abuse. They are heroes!

Seeing the rise of Kracha’s family through the generations is such a hopeful and eye-opening experience that many of us in America share.

In fact, my father-in-law, Stephen Gruss’, family were from Czechoslovakia and immigrated into the US around the turn of the 20th Century, well before the establishment of Slovakia. At one time people of both ethnicities, along with other Slavs typically called themselves “Slovak,” as did Steve. He handed down a great admiration for his family and all they accomplished!

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 this pic of Holsopple students (1948?)

Courtesy of Holsopple Station ☺

—-Excerpt from Coal Town Girls—-

“The next morning, as she came down the steps, Joan heard her Uncle John’s voice whispering in Polish, “trzymany pod zarzutem (held on charges) ---” Although Joan knew some Polish, she couldn’t make out the words. She saw Uncle John bent over the newspaper with her Grandmother Cecelia. Her grandfather was still asleep on the cot near the stove.

The whispering came to a halt.

“Awe, I hope you slept well my Dear,” Uncle John smiled. It was unlike him to be here in the morning but Joan figured his presence had to do with the goings-on between her mother and the police officer. Something to do with “back taxes” according to Uncle John. It made Joan's mind uneasy.

Uncle John folded the newspaper and placed it under his arm. “Now don’t be late for school, Joanie. “He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and stepped out the door, Grandma Cecelia ringing her hands.

Joan peeled a banana. “See you tonight, Grandma.” She headed off to school on Thomas Street, past Schantz Farm and onto Campus Avenue.

When she arrived, Trudy Baxter stood in front of Joan’s locker in her chenille sweater and Lana Turner hair waive; arms crossed over her books which she held to her chest. She cast a disparaging look at Joan's scuffed and torn saddle shoes. Others glanced at Joan sideways from across the hall – from open doorways.

Trudy dropped her books and the morning newspaper in front of Joan. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so clumsy. But, oh, look here ---” She picked up the newspaper. “Have you read it today, Joan? Well, let’s just see what we have beneath the fold. Isn’t William Stephenson your father?”

As Trudy unfurled the paper, Joan’s eyes caught the words Stephenson, Manslaughter – they seemed to splatter off the page.

Guest Authors

Each month, I plan to bring to you a wonderful guest author. Published, unpublished, aspiring authors will share their journeys, goals and snippets of their work.

This month I feature

— Samson Gruss — 

Thank you so much for being my guest, Sam! Tell me what it was that got you into writing?

I've always been interested in reading and writing, but especially after I took Creative Writing I and II in college.  Now, my main pass-time is reading  -- I belong to the Portage Public Library Book of the Month club.  I always get the book and read it, but I can't always make the discussions as work gets in the way, but I do come frequently.   

I like reading the Book of the Month because it is usually something I wouldn't normally read.  I like the discussions, too.  It's a bunch of older ladies and me, but I enjoy their insights.

That’s wonderful. It’s great when you find yourself really appreciating a read from a genre that you’re not usually drawn to.

I also have received much inspiration and initiative from being part of a group of fellow book lovers — my writing group, SCRIBES.

I so enjoyed your book, “A Mountain of Beans.” I’ll share with my readers a passage —-

What inspired you?

The inspiration for A Mountain of Beans came to me as I was walking to work.  I got an idea for a short story.  I wanted to create a very complex situation with no resolution.   Just set up the problems and let the reader resolve them.   

When I sat down at the computer to write it up, it nearly wrote itself as I had worked out all the details while walking to work. 

After I finished, I said to myself, "If I expect the reader to work out these issues, then I should be able to do so as well --at least to my satisfaction".  So I made the short story Chapter 1, and started into Chapter 2, which lead to Chapter 3, and so on. 

After 10 Chapters, I had all the issues resolved, and a short novel.  That's how the book came to be.

I like how you set out to challenge the reader. What have been some of your favorite books/authors?

As for my favorite books -- Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach, is my favorite book of all time.  I've read it over and over.  I'm like a little kid with Green Eggs and Ham with that book.  I've often suggested it to people, and before I give it to them, I read it again with that person in mind. 

I also read it every New Years Day -- it's a book about ambition, and it helps me start the year off right.  I bet I've read that book 50 times -- no exaggeration. 

I also like Illusions --Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by the same author.  I also like Jodi Picoult books, My Sister's Keeper being my favorite.

You certainly have me itching to re-read Jonathan Livingston Seagull! It’s been years. Thank you so much, Sam, and I look forward to other literary creations that may come to you on your “walks to work.”

Thanks so much.

………………………………………………………………………………

Sam is a graduate of Indiana University of PA with a major in Spanish, a minor in English. He’s been the winner of the Browning Competition and is a former national champion unicyclist. He still performs at festivals and parades as a unicyclist-juggler-musician-clown. He can be reached at [email protected] 

You can find “A Mountain of Beans” on Amazon.com