Massachusetts-A Break with Carole Ann Moleti

(Image of me, Maya and Tomie)

This year I took a break from blogging about New York, which is fortuitous because there is nothing escapist about the current situation statewide, particularly in my hometown New York City.

I have long, deep ties to Massachusetts. My paternal great grandparents came to the United States from Italy. They arrived in Boston and settled in Fall River, and I still have some relatives living there. Before my grandmother died, we took a trip to there, to and nearby New Bedford for a family reunion with her sister, nieces and nephews, and their children. One of those nephews was Tomie DePaola, the famed children's book author and illustrator, who recently passed. 

 

We toured Battleship Cove, https://www.battleshipcove.org/

 where the USS Massachusetts is berthed. Inspired, my husband and I organized a Cub Scout overnight on the battleship.

We also visited my great grandmother's home (Nana Upstairs in in Tomie's book Nana Upstairs, Nana Downstairs) on Foote Street.

Vacations included yearly trips to Cape Cod and the nearby islands, Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. The combination of fond childhood memories, beautiful beaches and family friendly activities draws me back.

I will never forget that horseback ride on the beach in Provincetown when I was about twelve. It was followed by a stroll down Commercial Street, which is just as colorful and quirky now as it was in the "hippie" era.

The bike path leads to Race Point, where you can sometimes see whales and, more recently sharks. On a recent trip, a street minstrel band played an accordion and glockenspiel, resulting in tunes that made me feel like I was on Diagon Alley with fellow students from Hogwarts.

I did my midwifery residency on the North Shore in Beverly, and commuted back and forth to Boston. I had a glorious time living in Kenmore area, under the Citgo sign in the shadow of Fenway Park. If I decided to live anywhere else, it would be in Boston. I have a Red Sox tee shirt to prove my allegiance. 

 We have yearly family get togethers in Brewster, which now include friends. Two years ago, a dream came true and we bought a cottage not far from a beach on the Brewster Flats.

At low tide, the water recedes for two miles. And the colors of the sand and mudflats, scattered with oyster farms, driftwood and erratic boulders soothe my soul and inspire my creativity. Every chance I get, I walk out to the ebb tide line and marvel at the numerous sea creatures I encounter, and the savor the peace and tranquility.

Sharks have become a concern at the ocean beaches in Chatham, Orleans and Wellfleet but communities are trying to find eco friendly solutions to a growing problem as ocean temperatures rise and seal populations. 

Each town has a historical society, which pays tribute to the early settlers and sea captains who sailed from the harbors. Many historic homes, like the Elijah Cobb House in Brewster, are open to the public. And no trip to the Cape would be complete without sampling fried clams and New England clam chowder--a regional specialty.

It is no surprise that the three novels in the Unfinished Business Series are set in Brewster. And the characters are a mélange of the people I know and love. And some that I have met there.

 I wrote Kayaking with Kids on the Cape for families like mine with young children to keep everyone safe and entertained. A portion of proceeds from sales of Kayaking with Kids goes to the Brewster Conservation Trust.

Bio:

Carole Ann Moleti lives and works as a nurse-midwife in New York City, thus explaining her fascination with all things paranormal, urban fantasy, and space opera. Her nonfiction focuses on health care, politics, and women's issues. But her first love is writing science fiction and fantasy because walking through walls is less painful than running into them.

Carole's work has appeared in a variety of literary and speculative fiction venues Short stories set in the world of her novels are featured in several of the Ten Tales anthologies. The Unfinished Business Series, a three volume paranormal romance, was published by Soulmate.

Excerpts of Carole's memoir, Someday I'm Going to Write a Book: Diary of an Urban Missionary range from the sweet and inspirational in A Quilt of Holidays to the edgy and irreverent in Not Your Mother's Book: On Being a Woman. She has an essay in the award winning Shifts Anthology, and one forthcoming in the Resistance Anthology

Links:

http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti  

http://Twitter.com/Cmoleti

http://caroleannmoleti.com

https://www.facebook.com/CaroleAnnMoletiNonFiction/

A Great Massachusetts Bookstore with a History, Titcomb’s Bookshop

In 1966, Ralph Titcomb, an engineer with General Electric, was transferred to Connecticut. He and his wife, Nancy discovered that finding a house for their 6 young children was difficult, but they settled on an old house with 7 acres and several barns in the small town of Canterbury. As the couple worked on the house, the children explored the property, and soon discovered in one of the barns a large pile of rare papers and books dating back to the 1600s. The Titcomb’s started a mail order catalog to sell some of the books and their business, aptly named ‘The Paper Barn,” blossomed from there.

When Ralph was transferred again in 1969, the family moved to East Sandwich. In addition to caring for their 8 children, aged 9 months to 14 years, and Ralph Titcomb’s full time job as an engineer, the couple opened the used and rare bookstore store a few weeks later. Anyone and everyone in the family was drafted to help keep the bookstore open.

The business evolved over the next few years, changing its name to Titcomb’s Bookshop.

The current barn-style building that houses Titcomb’s Bookshop was built in 1986-1987.

The business that began with an abandoned barn has now grown to a thriving 3 story retail store selling new and old books, games, puzzles and cards.

During its 40 years, Titcomb’s has enjoyed a warm relationship with customers and authors alike. We are proud to be able to offer the community the chance to meet and listen to some truly wonderful authors. Geraldine Brooks, Jodi Picoult, Alice Hoffman, Henry Winkler, Jeff Kinney and Jan Brett are some of the many authors who have visited. Philip Craig, the late author of Martha’s Vineyard mysteries, remarked “Titcomb's Bookshop...is a charming little shop with equally charming managers and customers. It's been my pleasure to sign books there several times…. Not only have I inscribed quite a few books, I've enjoyed excellent conversations with wonderful people who love to read. They are the most interesting people in the world, and Titcomb's draws them like bees to honey."

In 2007, the bookstore was selected by the International Booksellers Federation as one of 50 unique bookstores in the world and featured in their calendar.

https://www.titcombsbookshop.com/ is the place to go to find more. 

432 Route 6A, East Sandwich, MA  is the physical address and here’s the phone #508-888-2331.

Its open 7 days a week and looks like a great place to go explore. Check out the website and see what I mean.  

 (all info downloaded from https://www.titcombsbookshop.com/)

Update in Massachusetts with Margay Leah Justice

Here are the details on my latest project-how knitting and writing are similar.

I jumped into this with a gung-ho attitude, confident in my past successes and then it happened - I hit a wall. An email from my older daughter prompted me to try again. So here is my take on how two totally different crafts are alike:

First and foremost-the key is patience. Don't try to take shortcuts. Pay attention to what you are doing. Don't focus on the finished project or what to do with it. That's how mistakes are made.
Each begins with an idea upon which the foundation is built. For knitting I search for a pattern and gather my supplies. When I write, I decide which idea to tackle and gather the tools to accomplish that.
In knitting, you begin by casting on the stitches to build the foundation of your project, and then the first row establishes the pattern. In writing, you decide where you want to start your story, and then you lay your foundation with a hook that draws your readers in and establishes the story.
Sometimes the project doesn't progress the way you expected. While knitting a hat after several rounds of knitting, I realized the project didn’t resemble the picture. How does this relate to writing? One word: Revision. Like my knitting, I worked the pattern until I got a product I liked. Writing is the same. Thank heavens for second drafts.

If you follow through, pay attention to the details and persevere, in the end you get a project you are proud of.

Similar? With knitting and writing, a whole lot of something is made from nothing.

I hail from the beautiful state of Massachusetts where history is literally around every corner. We have the Freedom Trail in Boston - which I think everyone should walk at least once.
We have the historic towns of Concord, Lexington and Plymouth.
Our museums are worth a trip.
If you like sea life you can check out the New England Aquarium or visit the Institute at Woods Hole. 
Into science? Visit our Museum of Science.
Into literature? Check out the homes of Edith Wharton, Louisa May Alcott, Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
If you want to learn more about the Salem Witch Trials, you can visit the very place where they occurred or if you want to discover more about our rich shipping history, you can visit Gloucester. Gloucester has its very own castle.
If you visit in autumn you have the added bonus of leaf-changing season - definitely not to be missed!

Massachusetts is a beautiful state with warm summers and cold winters, perfect for knitting and writing ---there, another similarity! 

Margay Leah Justice is the author http://margayleahjustice.blogspot.com/

Updates Downloaded from Author Website

Descended from the same bloodline that spawned the likes of James Russell, Amy and Robert Lowell, Margay Leah Justice was fated to be a writer herself from a young age. But even before she knew that there was a name for what she was doing, she knew one thing: She had a deep and unconditional love for the written word. A love that would challenge her in times of need, abandon her in times of distress, and rediscover her in times of hope. Through her writing, Margay has learned to cope with every curve ball life has thrown her, including the challenges of single parenting, the harsh realities of living in a shelter, coping with the diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, and the roller coaster ride of dealing with a child who suffers from bipolar disorder. But along the way she has rediscovered the amazing power of words. 

Margay currently lives in Massachusetts

The Writer’s Loft, a Unique Writing Group in Massachusetts

My Massachusetts post dropped and my standbys were all swamped with work.  That’s a good thing for a writer.  It’s even better that, in the event of a drop, I get to highlight another writing group so, here’s something unique I discovered on my search.

The Writers’ Loft is a writing community organization located at 20 North Main Street in Sherborn, MA. It’s in a big red building, off of Cemetery Lane, and across from a Walgreens. 

Mission Statement 

The Writers’ Loft is a community which helps local writers foster their creativity, strengthen their spirit and grow professionally by providing them with quiet writing space, educational programs, opportunities to connect with supportive colleagues, and access to industry experts, as well as opportunities to give back to the greater writing community.

About once a month, they hold one social/writing event and one informational workshop with an industry professional. They also have ongoing critique groups and think tanks.  Those are listed under their Groups tab on their website.

When you become a Lofter, you join a community, even if all you do is come to quietly write. Our goal is to provide whatever it is a writer needs to get to the next level. Think about what you can offer to help someone else reach that goal.

Annual membership and quarterly membership are the two levels at which a person can participate or, people can donate at the door.

As of this post, there are five events scheduled thru June of 2017. 

Visit their website for more information.  

 http://www.thewritersloft.org/

 

 (All info downloaded from http://thewritersloft.org)

Living in the Bay State with Kristin A. Oakley

For five years, I’d ride a commuter train from Woburn, Massachusetts to North Station in Boston. On rainy or rare snowy days, I’d hop on the Orange Line (the “T” or subway system) to Downtown Crossing then walk the few blocks to 160 Federal Street. In the polished lobby of this skyscraper, I’d stop at Au Bon Pain for a flaky croissant then take the elevator to the 29^th floor where I worked as a law librarian in the law offices of Rackemann, Sawyer & Brewster. Biting into the buttery roll, I’d admire the damp view of Boston Harbor while trying to ignore the sway of the building.  

On clear days, I’d walk that mile from North Station past the fish aromas and sweet fruit smells of Haymarket Square (http://www.boston-discovery-guide.com/haymarket-boston.html). Vendors with Boston accents who’d drop their “r’s” and then put them where they didn’t belong would haggle prices with thick-accented Portuguese and Italian customers. 

Just around the corner I’d glance in the windows of the Union Oyster House (http://www.unionoysterhouse.com/) with its “Established in 1826” sign advertising its “raw bar” making me image naked people sitting on bar stools while enjoying frosty mugs of Sam Adams.

Further down on my right would be Boston’s sterile, concrete City Hall obviously and unimaginatively built in 1968. Not too far from city hall on the left, I’d pass the beautiful brick Faneuil Hall (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faneuil_Hall) built more than 200 years before. I’d admire the bouquets of roses and Gerber daisies, multi-colored kites, and green Boston Celtic t-shirts on display outside the bustling marketplace. 

When I wasn’t working in downtown Boston, my husband and I would visit Good Harbor Beach on Cape Ann where the low tide would reveal pools of crabs and give us a chance to walk out to the rocky island. We’d visit the nearby fishing city of Gloucester (http://gloucester-ma.gov/index.aspx?nid=299) where the events depicted in Sebastian Junger’s nonfiction book A Perfect Storm took place and where the “Man at the Wheel” statue stands in memorial to the men and women lost at sea. 

On weekends we’d head up to my favorite town of Rockport and eat rich lobster meat from paper trays while shopping in art galleries. Or we’d bring a bottle of Chardonnay to this dry town and toast the sunset while enjoying the catch of the day at My Place by the Sea on Bearskin Neck (http://www.myplacebythesea.com/). 

Once we vacationed on Nantucket Island (http://nantucket.net/) and slept in the Jared Coffin House, the

historic, three-story brick home of a sea captain from the 1800s. We easily understood why Herman Melville based “Moby Dick” upon the island’s whaling tradition. Later we stayed on Martha’s Vineyard (http://mvol.com/), toured the lighthouses, hiked along Gay Head Cliffs, and ate quahog chowder and fish and chips at the Black Dog Tavern.

Back on the mainland, we’d head to Salem to tour Nathaniel Hawthorne’s House of Seven Gables (http://www.7gables.org/) or travel to Concord for a peaceful, technology-free walk in the woods around Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Pond (https://waldenpondstatereservation.wordpress.com/). There we’d place a stone on the cairn where Thoreau’s cabin once stood.

After my first child was born at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in downtown Boston, we moved back to the Midwest. Many years later, my mother and I returned to Boston for the 20^th anniversary of Growing Without Schooling magazine founded by John Holt, the father of the unschooling movement (http://www.johnholtgws.com/). Because of Mr. Holt, I homeschooled both my daughters and wrote the award-winning novel Carpe Diem, Illinois about political intrigue surrounding a small unschooling town.

So the Bay State is the place of my first professional job, my first house, the birth of my first daughter, and the inspiration for life-long learning. And because of this, Massachusetts will always have a special place in my heart.

Kristin A. Oakley’s debut novel, Carpe Diem, Illinois, is the winner of the 2014 Chicago Writers Association Book of the Year Award for non-traditionally published fiction and a finalist in the Independent Author Network 2015 Book of the Year. The sequel, God on Mayhem Street, will be released in 2016. 

Kristin is the president and a co-founder of the professional writers’ organization In Print, a board member of the Chicago Writers Association, and editor of The Write City Magazine. As a writing instructor at the UW-Madison Division of Continuing Studies, Kristin critiques manuscripts and offers an online course on cliffhangers. She has a B.A. in psychology and a J.D., both from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. You can find out more about Kristin Oakley here: http://www.kristinoakley.net

Kristin will give one lucky winner a signed copy of her award-winning novel, Carpe Diem, Illinois. Remember to leave your contact information with your comment so Kristin can award your prize if you’re picked!

Beans and Cod by Kenneth Weene

“You’re going to boarding school,” my father proclaimed. It was December 1954. I was thirteen, in ninth grade and not really ready for this dramatic announcement. I was not, however, completely surprised. My father didn’t like me; that had been amply demonstrated the summer before. I could not forgive his rages and my multiple humiliations. From everything he said, it was obvious he could not remember any of those horrible episodes. Any references to the summer’s events met a look of incomprehension.

So, we set about the task of finding the right boarding school. My father, with his seething anger held in only minimal abeyance, wanted me to go to a military school. My mother, with her characteristic preoccupation with her own interest and comfort, wanted me to go to a school near Providence, where my brother would be starting college the next fall; he had received early admission to Brown. That way, she explained, it would be easier for them to see us both.

My own anger on low simmer, I wanted a school that would be the antithesis of my family. If I didn’t belong in their home, I was going to be something better than they. Coming from a middleclass Jewish home, I picked something historical, New England, traditional, and very Boston Brahmin.

Now called Governor’s Academy but at the time named Governor Dummer Academy, GDA met my passive aggressive standards. It was an old school, in fact the oldest boarding school in the country. Forty-five miles north of Boston, it was in the opposite direction from Providence. Most importantly, it was a bastion of traditional Back Bay values.

Foremost among those values was the religious nature of the school. It was well rooted in the myth of “the shining city on the hill,” with a heavy emphasis on what were Unitarian and Congregationalist values. While Catholic students were allowed to go to mass and Episcopalians – even if they were Tories – were allowed to go to Anglican services, Jews were expected to go to either Unitarian services in the nearby city of Newburyport or to join the Sunday morning hike to a nearby Baptist church. Those early Sunday hikes were part of the character building that was the cornerstone of GDA as were the Sunday evening assemblies with their talks on ethical values and singing.

To understand the disconnect in time between the school’s life and the outside world, one need only know that one of the songs often sung at those assemblies, or vespers as they were called, was Aura Lee. The tune of Aura Lee was used for that wonderful Elvis Presley song Love Me Tender. At GDA, Elvis was not to be mentioned, but tradition abounded.

The headmaster of this very traditional “New England” preparatory school was Ted Eames, and he had the lean, chiseled, unbending look of a true New Englander. I was immediately impressed by the way Ted Eames looked down on us. Evidently, he was impressed by my test scores.

The next fall my father took me shopping for the clothes required by the school. They were very explicit, and he – as was his style – ignored those specifications. My charcoal gray suit was, while quite attractive, very different from the one sold by Brooks Brothers. Other clothes from Filenes certainly set me apart the moment I arrived on campus, and my leather jacket would soon be a source of ridicule. Proper gentlemen did not wear leather.

Within hours of settling into my room in Perkin’s Hall, I was suffering from culture shock. Only forty-five miles from my childhood home, I had been thrown into a world I did not understand, the world of the Back Bay Bostonian. It was an offshoot of the world of that cute poetic comment:

I come from the town of Boston,

the land of the bean and the cod

where the Cabots speak only to Lowells

and the Lowells speak only to God.

Over the next three years I learned more of that world. I learned that one never admitted to discomfort or made requests of a personal nature. I learned that responsibility included those events over which one had no control. I learned that education was about attitude. I learned that sports had an important place in education but art was irrelevant. Most importantly, I learned that the appearance of good manners and breeding were the most important standard by which people were and should be judged.

And, yes, I learned what the proper charcoal gray suit would be.

Of course, I did not just go along with the values of GDA. I had my own little rebellions. For one, I continued to by the worst ties off the racks at Filenes’ Basement. But I knew better than to wear those ties to church or vespers; there are limits. 

Years later, with an Ivy League degree and a Ph.D. in psychology, I returned to GDA. My wife had become an established painter, having shown in such places as Paris, New York, and Arlington, Virginia. The fundraisers from GDA told me the school was very proud of the new arts center – now that was a major change. I suggested that my wife would love to have an exhibit at this new center and that we would donate part of any sales to the school. She also offered, with my urging, to give a portrait of Ted Eames to the school, which did not have one. With the school’s agreement, the show was to take place on a reunions weekend. A second artist, a sculptor who lived near the school, would also be represented. The plan sounded good to us.

When we arrived, we learned that the school had scheduled the reception only for the sculptor so nobody from the surrounding community would be coming to see my wife’s work. Nobody from the school administration showed up for the opening. Nor was it listed in the reunion weekend events. Nor was there any plan to accept the portrait; ordinarily one would expect at least some minimal ceremony.

After we returned to our home in New York, I wrote to GDA and remonstrated with them about their lack of manners. I received a response saying that the fundraiser who had made the arrangements was no longer at the school. The note did not even include the words “sorry” or “apologize.”

When I subsequently said there would no longer be contributions from me to the school and explained why, I received a letter from a classmate saying that the school had clearly apologized for what had happened and that I should forgive. I sent him back a copy of the letter I had received and did not hear anything further.

So what has this to do with Massachusetts? Everything and perhaps nothing. For me, a state is not just a place but also a way of life. In rejecting my father’s values – albeit with good reason – I had hoped to find a new set consistent with traditions that claimed to be of a higher order. Sadly, those values were anachronistic. Perhaps Ted Eames and I were the last people to believe in them. 

Does anyone sing Aura Lee anymore or does the whole world prefer rock and roll?

I remember the last night before graduation from GDA. We seniors were welcomed into the headmaster’s home. We were given old-fashioned but lovely ceramic pipes to smoke and glasses of sherry. We were being welcomed into a world that was already disappearing. Yes, there was once a Bay State that was a different world and I glimpsed it. But that world has slipped away. 

Kenneth Weene offers up a free copy of Memoirs and one of Tales from the Dew Drop Inn.  Print copies for US and Canada winners and Kindle for winners from elsewhere.  Leave your email with your comment for easy connection and good luck! 

More about Kenneth Weene here, http://www.kennethweene.com  He has a great selection of varied work for every reading taste.

(All info provided by Author)