E-lists, mysteries, and foood, of course

I spent much of today improving my e-communication position. I've been reading on Sisters in Crime and the Guppie list how important Twitter is. I'd signed up some time ago but never did anything with it, because I simply didn't know what to do. The buzz on the Guppie list today was all about Twitter, so I signed up to follow some Guppies, and then, through the listserv, a bunch of them signed up to follow me. But when I checked my site, I found lots of postings from people I didn't know--only recognized one or two names. So it's a lot of stuff to wade through, time-consuming, and I don't know what for. But I did find some lists I want to follow, like agents and food and Guppies. I feel like I've just dipped my toe in the water, and I'm in awe of those who are proficient at it. Also I'm sort of hesitant to fill in that box that asks "What are you doing right now?" What am I doing that I want to share with the world? On a more practical note, I retrieved my user name and password for the Sisters in Crime Web page, which is full of helpful information. Browsed on it, so I'll know where to go for specific things. Finally, my brother sent me a link to a petition I want to sign--long story, but there is a move afoot to add an M.D. degree program to the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine and like many loyal to the DO profession, I don't want to see that happen. John called with phone directions, but still all I got when I clicked on the link was the sales site for Go Daddy. So I finally emailed the state osteopathic organization and asked them to fax me the form. Whew! I'm about through with technology for the day.
I've been chewing on that bit of advice, found on Agent Quest, that your blog must reflect your focus on writing mysteries. No trivia about my hamster died, or my grandchild said this, because agents will decide you're not serious. Well, I do report on my grandchildren and my cooking, and if I had a hamster and it died, I'd blog about that. I don't know that I want an agent who expects my life to be so narrowly focused, and I'm not sure but what having such a rich and varied life doesn't help my mysteries. But I read the posts on Agent Quest and realize that most of those ladies--and a few gentlemen--spend a lot more time on their mysteries than I do. Yet I do feel I am a serious professional. So what's the answer? First of all, I don't think I could come up with serious, weighty comments about writing every day; second, I'm not about to give up grandchildren and food.
So here goes: I fixed Norwegian hamburgers tonight. Jordan was home sick all day but since she was fever-free she brought Jacob and Christian came straight from his office. Norwegian hamburgers are a recipe from Torhild Griesbach, Colin's mother-in-law who was raised in Norway. We all adore Torhild and her "meat patties" (I think that's what she calls them--Colin gave them the Norwegian hamburger name). The recipe is in Cooking My Way through Life, but basically it's lean hamburger, eggs, corn starch, pepper and enough milk to bind. You saute onions, then brown the patties in the same pan (having removed the onions). Here's the part that amazes me: you make 4-5 packets of instant beef gravy and then add the patties to simmer, along with the onions and 2 boullion cubes. You cannot tell me that 40-50 years ago in Norway they had instant gravy mix packets! Still it is delicious, and I could eat a whole pan by myself. As I was washing dishes and licking extra gravy off the spoon, it occurred to me those gravy packets probably have a whole lot of salt in them--and tomorrow is weigh day.

Storms and a good day of work

'Twas a dark and stormy night . . . . No, seriously, it really was. So dark and stormy, with thunder and lightning so close, that I did what I rarely do--turned off the computer, got out candles, matches, and flashlights, and brought the dog in early. He continues to cower in the shower stall in my office bathroom, though the storm has long since passed through. I don't know that we got that much rain but it was a powerful show of thunder and lightning. I can still hear very distant thunder off to the east. With the computer off, I spent a contented hour reading a food book and was a happy camper.
But that's maybe because I made great progress on my chapter of the osteopathic history today--wrote 2200 words (it is supposed to be 3500) and made some contacts with people who can help me. Granted, it's not a polished 2200 words, but I always think if you can get something down in writing (or in a computer file) you're on your way--you have material to work with. I talked today to the first faculty member hired (after the dean), Dr. Elizabeth Harris, and I plan to email her the draft, along with a set of questions. I had arranged to call her Friday, but Friday is shaping up to be a horrendously busy day, and I think I'll have to reschedule.
The college began in makeshift quarters with donated equipment, donated books, most out of date, for the library, an anatomy lab in a garage apartment, etc. In the fall of 1970 it welcomed it's first class--nineteen men and one woman, average age older than that of most beginning medical students. Today it is a modern sprawling complex, covering several square blocks, with another large new classroom building under construction, and I don't know how many students. But it has several schools, such as public health, under the umbrella of the University of North Texas Health Science Center. My chapter is entitled "Humble Beginnings," and they were indeed humble--who would have envisioned the college as it is today? And yet some of the people from those early days remain my heroes--Dr. George Luibel, an old friend of my father's and the man who often trreated my sore back and scolded me for the way I sat (eyes and toes always in the same direction was his dictum), was the one with the vision to found and build a college and to make it work in spite of incredible odds. He's gone now, but he lived to see that his dream was firmly established. He would not like the move today to add an M.D. degree to the curriculum--nor do I. And then Dean Henry Hardt, a retired chemistry professor, former president of the NCAA, and founding president of the Texas Board of Basic Sciences, who came on board as the dean, early on when the school was only a paper college. He inspired all with his grace, wisdom, and kindness. I agree with Libby Harris when she said today she thinks the two of them were the wisest men she ever met in her life. I was pleased to be on the fringes of that beginning--my ex-husband was among the founding faculty and I have been an "osteopathic brat" all my life (yeah, I feel sort of the same way about osteopathic medicine as "army brats" often do about the army). I miss my involvement in the osteopathic profession today. So writing this chapter is really a pleasure--I just worry about getting it right.
I think it's supposed to rain most of tomorrow, and I will stay home and work on that chapter. When Socorro Escobar comes to clean my house, which badly needs it, I'll hide in my office.

That first sentence . . .

I've mentioned before--probably tiresome times--that a chapter I promised to contribute to the 40-year history of the Texas College of Osteopatic Medicine has been weighing on my conscience. The editors want it in October, which is now getting perilously close. As with many writing projects, if I can get the first sentence, I'm off and going. Today, thanks to a phone conversation with an old acquaintance, I got my first line--in fact about five lines. Now I'm itching to get back to it, because I know at least where the rough draft is going. For a week I'm giving up my work on the Google Book Settlement so I can write this chapter, although today I finally, with help, navigated the Google Book Settlement web page to get an updated list of TCU Press titles which have been scanned--a lot more than I originally thought. In fact, the total is 124. I'll have to dig in and see how many of those authors have responded to my query about having the press reprsent them or representing themselves. But I also did some acquisitions work today--felt so overburdened with Google and manuscripts piling up that I emailed those who submitted and told them it might be three months before I answered. But now, I feel a little silly, because I'm ready to answer two of the queries. Next week, I plan to keep my seat glued to my computer chair and clear up a lot of these projects.
Tonight it's too late to do any of those things. I have been to a lovely dinner party, something I don't often do because I'm not good at night driving and always a bit uncomfortable about going places alone, especially places that I don't know and might have stairs without railings or some other barrier for me. This time I was smart--drove by this morning and checked it out--easy access from the parking area by the garage and, since the house faces a really busy street, I emailed and asked where to park. The hostess, my friend Mary, said to park by the garage and came out to offer me an elbow but I didn't need it. Even left my stick in the car. Piece of cake.
Lovely evening--two other couples (three of the four people from the TCU English Dept.), and we had a lively discussion. In this household, Harry is the cook, though Mary does super-service at serving, clearing, etc. Harry made pork roast with tonnato sauce (tuna and capers) and asparagus. Then they blew my diet with ice cream, but it was good. And pirogues which I love and rarely eat. I was reluctant to break up the party but by 9:30, it was time for me to head home.
Harry has a tremendous collection of cookbooks--I always think I'm over-run by books but he has as many cookbooks as I do total books. He doesn't use them to check recipes as much as he simply reads them, like many people read a novel. I told him about the book I'm reading currently--Jam Today by Tod Davies, a sort of conversational memoir about cooking without recipes, but more about that later in a future blog. I'll go to Central Market tomorrow and probably run into Harry--we often meet there on Saturday mornings.

Osteopathic Medicine

Today I finally got serious about the chapter I am to contribute, called "Humble Beginnings"--and believe me, they were humble--to the 40-year history of the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine. Reading the 20-year history, which I wrote, obviously 20 years ago, took me on a real trip down memory lane. As the preface says, I was born into the "osteopathic family" as was my brother: when we were kids we could count 18 D.O.s in the famiily--uncles, fathers, even a cousin or a cousin married to one. John's father was one of four brothers who studied osteopathic medicine; my father was the president of the Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine for 40 years. No wonder I married an osteopathic student! People today still ask me what osteopthic medicine is, which astonishes me in this day and age. Basically (and if John is reading this i hope he thinks I got it right) it's a system of healing developed by Andrew Taylor Still in the nineteenth century in Kirksville, Missouri. Still discovered, according to legend, that a headache would ease if he lay sideways in a hammock, with his head hanging over the edge and the border of the hammock putting putting pressure on the back of his neck just under his skull. Eventually he came to the theory that many bodily ills were the result of misalignment of the body, hence osteopathic manipulation (of which chiropractic medicine is an offshoot). The theory has been refined over the years, and osteopathic physicians are now trained in all the sophisticated specialties of medicine such as surgery, neurosurgery, orthopedics, and on down a long list (look at the phone book of any large city). Unfortunately, manipulative medicine has disappeared from the repetoire of most D.O. physicians, although that was John's specialty toward the end of his practicing years--he's now ten years or so retired. Theoretically, though, the osteopathic emphasis is on health as a way of life and treating the body so as to achieve maximum well-being rather than treating the disease. Aha! Preventive medicine, which M.D.s came to late in the game.
Back to TCOM--as I reviewed my earlier book, I ran into all kinds of memories and people now gone--George Luibel, who had the idea of a Texas college in the 1960s and the vision to make it work, enlisting two other doctors as co-founders; there was a saying going around in those days, "Let George do it"--and he did! Legislative work, dealings with the American Osteopathic Association, all those things. He was also a good friend of my father's and the man I went to when my back hurt--I can still hear him demand, "Who in the hell taught you to sit that way?" when he discovered me in his waiting room with my feet twisted around each other--his motto was "Eyes and toes in the same direction all the time."
And Ray Stokes, the pr man who was the college's first employee, and did all the organizational work; Dr. Henry Hardt, the first dean, a wonderful man who faced doing what few have done--building a medical school from scratch--and did it with a sweet dispoisition but a German hard-headedness. My good friend Dr. Mary Lu Schunder, who taught anatomy to twenty students that first year in a garage appartment.
I am not really a part of the osteopathic community these days. I've been divorced from my surgeon/husband for almost thirty years, and many of my friends in the profession have died--though I remain close to a few. Wednesday I'll pick up Charles and we'll go to the TCOM retirees lunch--he likes to take me as his guest, and I see a few people there I recognize from the "old days." I guess I'll always think of myself as part of the community, though the college has now grown to a sprawling campus with several hundred students and faculty. From humble beginnings indeed . . . tomorrow I'll call a couple of friends who were students in the second class and try to interview them over the telephone. I'd put this project off, but now I've got my teeth into it, I'm enjoying it. Memory Lane is a good place to stroll.