Memories Bring Inspiration

Posted on April 19, 2023 by miriamjonesbradley_jd26km

April 16^th was the 118^th anniversary of the day my grandpa, George Lee Jones was born. It seems impossible that he has been in heaven 25 years already, but it’s true. I can still picture him pouring cream over a piece of pie Grandma baked, sitting on his stool while milking the cow, or bouncing around the pasture in his white Ford pickup, one hand on the wheel. For me, these memories bring inspiration. Memories, they are like gifts that keep on giving.

To celebrate Grandpa’s birthday, I thought I would share a little about one of my current projects. If you have followed my blog over the past several years, you know that my first mystery, The Double Cousins and the Mystery of the Missing Watch was set on, and inspired by Grandpa’s ranch, south of Berwyn, Nebraska. In addition the last book in the series is also set on what was Grandpa’s ranch and the cover has a picture of the ranch.

When we were kids, we spent a week or two several different summers out on the ranch with cousins. It might have been only two summers, but it seemed like a huge part of our childhood. So many great memories.

If you’ve ever attended one of my speaking opportunities or workshops on the writing process, you’ve most likely heard the story about A Boy Named George. That’s because, in order to explain to students why I became an author, this story has to be told. And so I tell it.

Fast forward to the present. After nearly 25 years of writing, editing, publishing, and marketing books I am finally working on the picture book I originally wanted to write. It is the story of George’s Journey, a fictional retelling of the migration Grandpa’s family made from Kansas to Nebraska when he was eight. It involves a covered wagon, cold, dust, and adventures.

The advice I was given all of those years ago about picture books being the hardest ones to write was true. Cramming such a grand story into eight hundred words seems an impossible task. But, it is one I’m determined to accomplish. Stay tuned for more on this topic. Writing a manuscript is just the beginning of the process. After that the real “hard work” starts.

But, like Uncle Jim once said, “Dad (George) didn’t teach us to give up just because it was hard.”

As Time Goes By-Of Stuffed Animals and Weddings

Posted on June 8, 2021 by miriamjonesbradley_jd26km

Somewhere, buried in Mom’s photo albums is a picture.

Vonda, my little sister, was good at entertaining herself. She would line up her stuffed animals—and her cat if she was in a tolerant mood—and she would lead them in Sunday School songs, followed by a lesson.

Mom’s picture is of one of these “Sunday School lessons.” A dozen stuffed animals attentively listen from their perch on the couch as Vonda diligently taught her “lesson.”

It seems, not so long ago that Vonda was that little five year old, but yet, we have another generation already grown and getting married.

I teased my niece, Megan, at her wedding a couple of weeks ago, that she might be married, but she was still eight in my mind. That she always would be.

But, as I watched her stand under the lovely trellis with her groom, absolutely princess-level beautiful in her wedding dress; I didn’t see an eight-year-old after all. I saw a woman, and I teared up. Joy? Or sadness?

A bit of both, I guess.

But wait! Maybe one of these days there will be more great-niblings from some of these eight year old brides and grooms.

Possibly a little girl or boy teaching their stuffed animals or pets about Jesus.

Maybe a little girl with three pigtails running with her arms rotating like a windmill “to make her go faster.”

Or, several, gathering around the new books they received from Great-Aunt Miriam.

And, in three blinks, there will be another group of weddings. That’s how life goes, isn’t it?

For more on the below opportunity follow Double Cousins Mysteries (Ages 7-13) on Facebook!

Daddy’s Yellow Truck

Posted on December 15, 2020 by miriamjonesbradley_jd26km

The other day, someone posed a question. If you could spend an hour visiting with anyone, past or present, who would it be? I immediately thought of Daddy.

Oh, there are many other people from history that I would love to talk to, including my mother and my grandparents. There are also many, still alive, that I would love to visit with for an hour. But still, I would have picked Daddy.

I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because his birthday was coming up (today) and I miss him a lot.

But, today a friend posted a picture of a red truck her son painted. A memory flashed across my mind. It was the story of Daddy’s first memory and it involved a pickup like the one my friend’s son painted, only his was yellow.

Click on the link below to hear Daddy tell the story of the yellow truck. The tapping sound is me typing as he spoke.

Interview with Daddy 12142010b First Story a

I have this story because we sat down ten years ago and spent almost ninety minutes talking and recording his memories. I listened to some of it today, including this story and it was bittersweet. I’m so glad I have his voice and the memories.

I know I harp on this a lot, but our parents aren’t around forever, like we thought they would be. And then there are our grandparents. Get their stories. Use that record feature on your smart phone this Christmas. Let the whole family submit questions. Make it a group activity! Maybe you’ll discover your own yellow truck story.

Why We Will Never Be Minimalists

Posted on November 23, 2020 by miriamjonesbradley_jd26km

Three weeks ago I had foot surgery to repair a failed tendon and the damage it had done. I was ready. I’ve worn a brace for six years, so it was time.

But, surgery is never fun and often inconvenient. After all, six weeks of non-weight bearing and a twelve week recovery wasn’t my idea of a normal fall season.

Fortunately I have an extremely helpful and resourceful husband. “I’ll have to get that old footstool up from the basement and fix it so you can use it,” he said. I was delighted. We both pictured the small stool we knew was “somewhere” and smiled in delight that it would be used.

But, when he went looking he didn’t find it. Instead he found another one which I think is actually a better size and didn’t need repaired. So, I started using it.

I use it in front of my pink rocking chair in the bedroom where I’m currently sitting. I use it under the table, so I can sit and work on my computer or work puzzles without having my foot down the whole time. It has been quite a useful little stool.

Then my husband asked this. “Do you know where I got this stool?”

My story radar went off. I love a good story and I wasn’t disappointed. It turns out that when Bruce was in graduate school “umptyjillian years ago”, as he likes to say, he found a wooden box in the lab that was to be thrown away. He took it home. Then he found a piece of foam which he added to the stash, and finally a scrap of brown and tan material. He had all the makings of a stool, except for the castors, which he bought. Now, he just had to put it together.

“Kay’s dad made it for me,” he continued. Kay was his neighbor and Bruce has been life-long friends with Kay and her late-husband Robin.

“Really!” I exclaimed.

“Yep. He asked me what that was all for and I told him. He took it home and brought the footstool back to me.”

I looked under the table at the ragged old footstool and smiled. A great story, indeed. But Bruce wasn’t done.

“You know, Kay’s father was a prisoner of war in WWII? And, if I remember right, he was in the Bataan Death March. He was a tough old bird.”

So, now this rather pitiful looking old ratty footstool has a special place in my heart too. We are story people and we are people people. And when we connect a story, a person, and an item together. . . well, it’s a very special thing.

This, folks, is why we will never be minimalists.