The joy of family

These are my Mother's Day flowers from my Frisco kids. When I wrote a thank you to Mel, she said, "I thought they were bright and cheery, just like you." Isn't that a wonderful thing for a daughter-in-law to say about me? (I've always said she was my fifth child.)
Tonight's post is a shout-out to the sister of my son-in-law, Christian. Julie Wyatt received her master's degree in urban studies today from the University of Texas at Arlington. No small accomplishment to complete an advanced degree while raising two girls she and her husband fostered and finally, after some drawn-out suspension, were able to adopt. Julie's husband, Aaron, an elementary school librarian, has been a huge support, but still, the mothering fell on Julie. And I am mightily impressed and proud that she carried on with both roles. She has a job in Denton and they have a contract on a house there, so the future is looking good for them. Their daughters were brought to them, without notice one night, almost five years ago--filthy dirty, malnourished, and at least one physically abused. That they have turned life around for those sweet girls is no small accomplishment; that Julie also got an advanced degree is pretty remarkable. I'm glad to have people like that in my family.
And then there's my oldest granddaughter, Madison, who just turned fifteen and got her driver's learner's permit.--have you ever seen a prettier or a happier girl? Her mom posted on Facebook, "Be kind when you see us coming," but then added that Maddie is already an awesome driver. I haven't yet ridden with her but I'm looking forward to it. She's one of the nicest teenagers I've ever known (with all due respect to my two daughters, who didn't always fit into that category). Being the oldest of seven grandchildren on my side of the family, she has shown remarkable kindness and caring for the little ones who came behind her--and she was an only for four years. Now her interests, as far as I can tell, are basketball and signing for the hearing impaired. Makes me pretty proud.

And then there are my Houston kids. Morgan did a project for school on Grace, their German shepherd (who I suspect is a shepherd mix). I do not have fond memories of Grace--the one time she was here she wanted to eat Sophie, who only wanted to play, but they tell me she has settled down since. Not sure I want to risk Sophie on a trial run, but cheers to Morgan for her project.
And then there's Kegan who's most remarkable accomplishment (off the soccer/baseball/football field) seems to be eating chocolate and scowling--not an easy combination. He is, I'm sure, going to be every bit as good-looking as his dad who used to be compared to Tom Cruise Personally I think Colin is better looking, and he didn't jump on couches and act crazy. But I am crazy about this boy, the youngest of my grandchildren.
 

The Magic of a Mentor

The Sisters in Crime listserv has a program called Mentor Monday. Once a month an expert in a related field takes questions about their area of expertise. This Monday it was Kris Neri, author and owner of an independent bookstore. She answered questions about owning and operating an indie bookseller in these turbulent book times. It was interesting and informative, but it's a one-day thing and none of us develop a relationship with the mentor.
On the other hand, there are mentors who enter our life for varying periods of time. I am lucky enough to have had a mentor all my professional life. I met Fred when I was in graduate school, forty years ago. He was a young faculty member, and I was his first doctoral candidate. We've kept up the teacher/student relationship, though Fred would tell you today that it's more a friendship of colleagues. Over the years I've called him with innumerable questions, especially when I was writing historical fiction: "If you were going to pay a sympathy call in 1904 in East Texas, what would you take?" The answer was dried fruit pies. "If you were a bored kid in East Texas, what would you do? Chunk rocks in the stock tank. His knowledge of the trivia of the nineteenth century astounds me--and what he doesn't know, he researches. Once he gave me a thorough lesson in the workings of a derringer for a story I'd been assigned to write. For years he was a valued member of the TCU Press editorial board, and I relied on him to be first reader of all young-adult novels submitted to us.
The relationship did sort of a flip a few years ago when he wrote a book called  Boys Books, Boys Dreams, and the Mystique of Flight, about boys aviation books of the early twentieth century. He submitted it to other presses, and I finally asked why he didn't bring it to TCU. He said he didn't think we'd consider it. Long story short, we published it and the next book , From Bird Women to Skygirls. I became his publisher.
But as I started to write mysteries, he took up the mentoring role. At TCU he taught the genre fiction classes, including mystery, and he's widely read in the field. He reads my manuscripts at various stages and discusses plot strategies with me. He is generous with his praise but never hesitant to suggest other developments, other ways to do things, parts that don't work, and problems he finds.  Today I particularly wanted to pick his brain about the plot of the third mystery I'm planning--I know what's going to happen but I was stumped on motivation. He made excellent suggestions at lunch, then emailed me later with yet another one that is spot on. So now, if I find time between animals, grandson, and other things, I can write that first paragraph. Nowadays, we each make suggestions to the other.
Fred and his wife have been to my house on a few occasions, and I've had dinner at theirs, but ours is not really a social relationship. It's collegial--and I'm grateful for that. Every writer should be so lucky.