Home > Pulpwood Queen Blog > Archives > 2006 > June
June 2006
Flying the unfriendly skies
I had been invited to speak at the first ever book club convention in San Jose, California, Book Group Expo. My author friend, Kathi Kamen Goldmark of “And These Shoes Keep Walking Back to You” had been commissioned along with author, Susanne Pari to put together this book convention.
As Kathi knew I was doing the exact same thing here in Texas, she invited me in to speak on my book club, The Pulpwood Queens that is now the largest “meeting and discussing” book club in the world. I also would be moderating a panel of southern authors on Sunday of which were also all Pulpwood Queen Book Club Selection Authors, so I was thrilled to go on this book adventure.
Margie Dilday, Head Queen of my Squire Creek Country Club chapter was going to be traveling with me. She arrived at my shop on Thursday afternoon and we were off to Dallas. We would spend the night and then the hotel shuttle would take us to the airport at the crack of dawn on Friday. We would arrive in San Jose and be able to have a luxurious afternoon free to relax before the evening festivities of an author reception.
I knew we were in trouble when we called the hotel for directions on our way and the young girl who answered could not tell us where the hotel was located.
“It is right by the Whataburger.” She exclaimed sure that would help us find our destination. I don’t know about you, but I do believe that there is more than one Whataburger in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area.
One hour and ten minutes later after multiple calls to the hotel Ifinally stopped to ask for real directions from a kind tattooed man on a motorcycle who actually had us follow him to our destination. There it was, just like she said. Right by the Whataburger. Funny we only passed at least twelve as we were driving around.
As we checked in a little chagrined by our experience, we informed the young clerk that we would need a 4:30 a.m. wake up call and then a shuttle to the airport.
“Our shuttles are all full in the morning for trips to the airport.” She announced sheepishly. “How could this be?” we cried. “We always stay here and particularly as you give free shuttles to the airport.”
“Well, if you had arrived earlier I am sure we could have made those arrangements.”
I could see the Dallas Morning News headlines now, “Irate East Texan Murders Hotel Clerk in Cold Blood.”
I gritted my teeth, as I wanted to strangle this mere child. I grabbed our plastic passport to our room, checked my temper, and wheeled my leopard suitcase to the elevator.
When we arrived at our room, the air conditioning was off. It was hotter than Hades. I called the front desk biting my tongue to tell this clueless Generation Xer that we needed a 4:30 a.m. wake up call and would she please arrange for a taxi to take us to the airport. She complied.
Crack of dawn we were up and ready to go. Hailed the taxi to the airport and thought, a ha, now we are on our way. We had a layover in Las Vegas. As I had never been to Vegas, I thought this would be interesting. I was not disappointed. Slot machines were everywhere and I picked up some kitschy souvenirs for my girls as we grabbed some Starbucks for breakfast. Our plane was going to be delayed. Evidently, there was some kind of mechanical failure.
Now it does not matter where I go with Margie, she instantly makes friends. When the plane landed, Margie had introduced herself to our fellow passengers and within minutes knew and had met the flight attendants and woman pilot that were to be ours when we departed. A slight glitch occurred.
Our pilot told us our planes windshield has developed a break in its seal and the plane in landing had began to lose cabin pressure. This minor detail seems to make an aircraft lose altitude, fast. Sure enough, our plane was going to need a new windshield. The one it had was coming off. I recalled that Murphy was my maiden name. Murphy’s Law?
Now I speculated, do they call in the mobile units that replace windshields like those that you see on television for cars? Much to my dismay, that was not to be the case. They announced the flight was cancelled. We would have to go back to the American West/U.S. Airways ticket counter and rebook a new flight.
An American West employee announced, “Follow me.” She took off like a rocket leaving half the intended flight’s passengers scrambled for their bags including Margie and me. As we ran to try to catch up with the mass of stranded passengers, we lost them in the terminal. One Japanese couple and another elderly couple latched on to Margie and me crying, “Me don’t understand, you help us.” to “Where do we go, I don’t know what to do.”
Margie and I forged the way down the escalator to the American West crowd of lines to the counter. One of their employees told us we could go in either line. We were at least 100 yards from the counter as we slowly snaked through the maze to the counter.
Upon arriving, the man informed us, “You are in the wrong line. All passengers for Flight blah, blah, blah, that was cancelled should be in that line.”
He pointed to a line that was at least a mile long to the far right.
Margie proceeded to have a hissy fit.
“Young man, I beg your pardon, but the woman at the end of the line told us either line.”
He pointed to the far line that faded off into the distant cavernous airport, “Go to that line ma’am or you will not be able to rebook your flight.”
As we went back, like rats back through the maze of travelers, Margie went into full tilt hissy fit. The women who told us to either line took charge listened silently to Margie ranting. “Follow me,” she motioned as we proceeded straight to the front of the counter with the Japanese and elderly couple in tow.
M’Lisa and Lisa helped us get our new tickets but there was no way we were going to make the author party that evening at our hotel. In fact, we were not even scheduled to fly to San Jose now but San Francisco.
“What?” we cried. “Our destination is San Jose not San Francisco.”
Not to worry as they were going to put us on a shuttle bus to San Jose when we arrived. Now I had not ridden a bus since my mother put me on one to go back to Kansas State University one weekend when the roads were bad and she didn’t want to drive me back to school. It took me twelve hours to go what was normally a two and a half hour drive. In Junction City, Kansas, our driver had sideswiped five cars and never even hit the brake. I vowed to never ride a bus again. I was wrong. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:30 p.m., which means we would arrive in San Jose at around 10:00 p.m. It was now 11:00 something in the morning.
“We also have put you on standby for all American West flights to San Francisco,” M’Lisa and Lisa announced. “Just got back through clearance and to gate blah, blah, blah, and each flight that comes in if someone does not show, we will let you board that flight.”
As we went back through the metal detectors, sensing my growing anger, I was taken aside for a full search of luggage and carryon. I was ready for full body cavity search as they spread eagled me and did the wand. I was not a happy America West/U.S. flyer. As the cute airline luggage and body search guy studied my driver’s license I thought of the hymn, “Why Me Lord.” What had I ever done to deserve, well you get the picture.
As flight after flight took off overbooked, I gazed out at Mandalay Bay, the Sphinx in front of the Pyramid and other architectural wonders of the Las Vegas Strip. I thought to myself, “Here I am in Vegas and I am stuck at the airport in a mind sucking day of standby.”
“I am sorry, but this flight too is overbooked.” They exclaimed over and over, each and every hour. As we finally boarded our 6:30 p.m. flight with our Japanese friends and elderly entourage, I read the sign on the counter that stated, “American West, no lower rates in the friendly skies.” I reached for my black magic marker and wrote in the white space underneath those auspicious words, “There is a reason.”
To be continued… Tiara wearing, Book and Author sharing, Kathy L. Patrick Founder of the NOW International Book Club, The Pulpwood Queens
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Embracing music of all kinds
Summer is here and I have been in throes of flashback to the music of my youth. Both my girls are into music, therefore, it is blaring at my house from their waking hour, noon until way after midnight.
So instead of becoming that mean mom and yelling, “Turn down that awful music!” I have decided to embrace it. I have listened to Green Day, Korn, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco and other weird tracks of songs my daughters have discovered on the internet more hours than I care to mention.
The oldest is contemplating being in a band. Her boyfriend is lead singer in a local band called “Lost and Forgotten.” I saw their first concert live. I lasted until 11 p.m. They were good and loud. Loud is hard to take after 40. Now she has had two years of mandolin and guitar lessons but has decided to play keyboards.
I could have reminded her I paid for her to have piano lessons, but no, she hated the piano. I keep my mouth shut and say, “That’s nice,” as I contemplate the amazing Stratocaster steel guitar that my husband bought for her last summer or the incredible mandolin she received the Christmas before. I marvel that my younger daughter chose the saxophone to play in band even though one Christmas brought her a full trap set that she was just dying to have. It is now gathering dust in my old shop. I bite my tongue as I see them finding their way through music.
People who know me think that beauty and books are the driving force in my life. They are but I have many other interests and music happens to be one of them. Music can sooth the savage beast and it can also provoke one to random acts of violence. Like me, if I hear “Helena” just one more time!
My husband and I recently watched Cameron Crowe’s “Elizabethtown” which is just about the greatest movie we have decided that we have watched all year. We keep playing that movie repeatedly and have gathered my daughter’s friends to watch that film. What makes it such a great story is the soundtrack, the music.
I know that the book is always better than the movie but we recently watched a full day of Star Wars movies and that music just blew me away. Could it have been the surround sound? Probably, but what I have decided is that to fully experience everything in life we need to use all our senses. Okay, where is the buttered popcorn, peanut M & M’s and a frosty Coke?
My daughter and her friends were wailing about there was no parent to take them to the Warp Tour that was coming up in Dallas. This is a day where the kids get up at dawn to mold their hair into liberty spikes, don black corsets, fishnet hose, black net mini skirts and ten ton black buckled leather boots to listen to all their favorite bands and get totally sun burnt and dehydrated.
I, being the good mom, not the mean mom, volunteered to take my daughter and her “Goth” entourage with my daughter going, “We are not Goth or even Emo or as defined by the kids, means emotional, mom, we are just expressing our own personality.” Whatever, as I am thinking what in the world is a almost 50 year old mom going to wear and do at this event?
I have decided I am going as a reporter, to document this event with an unjaded eye for a future blog. There is no way I am going to fit in so I am even thinking about carrying a briefcase. Could I be an agent, publicity manager?
I flashback to 1976 as I and my friends are in the nosebleed section of this outdoor stadium in Kansas City to see in concert Linda Ronstadt, The Eagles and surprise guest Dan Fogleberg.
My date who was the brother of my co-hair stylist’s boyfriend and I double-dated to this event. I remember my date as never saying a word, having really long black wavy hair, wire rimmed glasses and continuously going to the concession stand to buy me buckets of popcorn.
You see on the way to the concert my friends had baked some incredible brownies and I was starved. I woofed down two of those gigantic and delicious chewy chocolate squares not realizing they had made them with a special herbal recipe. I can remember my friends as laughing their fool heads off as I asked my date, could I please have one more bucket of popcorn, I was really, really, hungry.
It was the best concert I have ever been to in my life even though I had to use binoculars to see the band. Well, I can’t declare like Clinton, I inhaled those brownies but I was a total innocent. I almost killed Teresa when I found out what exactly was in those brownies that made them so fibrous! Good grief, whatever would make anyone want to eat or smoke something that made them eat like a pig! To this day, I still pick through a brownie to make sure it is safe before eating.
I find it highly ironic that playing in Linda Ronstadt’s band was lead guitarist, Richard Bowden who now runs with his wife, The Pulpwood Queens of Linden, Texas at Music City Texas. How cool is that? I think I will have to tell Richard my brownie story. I can guarantee you that he will then tell me a story that will leave mine in the dust.
Richard is president of Music City Texas, a not-for-profit organization that is bringing great music to East Texas. I have gone to see Don Henley, Marty Stuart, John Anderson, and recently took a carload of teenagers to see The Terms. They went grudgingly thinking, old folk’s music. By the time we left the concert after they spent an hour talking with the band and getting their autographs on everything from their arms to CDs to t-shirts, all they could talk about was how cool was that band all the way home.
I have spent a good part of my life trying to get kids to read. I have always felt that given the right book, they will go on to be lifetime readers. I have also found that music can be a wonderful bridge to reading. Someone had to write the songs and those songs really speak to kids in the angst of finding their own selves. You get a teenager that won’t read and loves music? Hand them a Cameron Crowe book, “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” “Almost Famous,” “Elizabethtown” then get them the soundtrack. Who says reading has to be boring? Give them something they can relate too and you will not be able to keep books in their hands fast enough.
Got a great book that has music ties? For me check out “The Song Reader” by Lisa Tucker or “And These Shoes Keep Walking Back to You” by Kathi Kamen Goldmark. Now “Panic! At the Disco” has come on full blast. I am thinking my paying job is working at Beauty and the Book but my real job is raising these kids to be responsible citizens, good readers, but who says they can’t have some BIG TIME FUN while they are at it!
Tiara wearing and Book sharing, Kathy L. Patrick
For more information on the above check out these websites: www.cameroncrowe.com for the wonderful world of Cameron Crowe www.musiccitytexas.org for Richard Bowden and Music City Texas www.myspace.com/theterms for more on the Baton Rouge, Louisiana band, The Terms www.lisatucker.com for author, Lisa Tucker www.dqydj.com for author Kathi Kamen Goldmark
Here she comes, Miss America!
One of my fellow First United Methodist Church members came by the other day to show me her daughter-in-law’s book. Eloise Gamble handed me a copy of “More Grace than Glamour” by Jane Jayroe with Bob Burke and I immediately after seeing the cover seriously jumped to attention.
The book was written by Miss America of 1967. My adrenaline began pumping, I live to watch the Miss America pageant!
Every since I can remember my mother would gather my sisters and I on the divan in our living room, turn out all the lights, place a big bowl of popcorn, bottles of Coca Cola and we would watch the Miss America pageant.
We would suck on halves of lemons after being sprinkled with salt from the Morton’s salt shaker. You know the big container with the little girl with the umbrella on the dark blue label and be glued to our big black and white Curtis Mathis television to watch the epitome of every little girl’s dream, to become Miss America! I know strange ritual, but one we loved to watch this pageant each year.
My sisters and I all wanted to be Miss America! Who wouldn’t want Burt Parks singing, “Here she comes, Miss America” as the lucky girl would walk the ramp in her glorious gown, gigantic diamond or what we thought were diamonds, crown, carrying a dozen red roses, tears streaming as she walked the runway, scepter in hand.
She was every little girl’s dream and I had just been handed a book on the memoir of a real Miss America. I could not wait to read the book.
I woke up really early that next morning with that book in mind. After making my morning serious coffee, I settled into my favorite wingback chair, coffee mug in hand and read the book, cover to cover before work.
That is a common occurance for me, as you know the saying, “So many books, so little time.”
I was not disappointed, in fact, being a child of the 70s, I read the book with a jaded eye. I went through many years thinking “beauty pageant,” what is that all about? Having girls in bathing suits parading like cattle for judges to be judged strickly by physical attributes, forget that interview thing, that was just for show.
Was the author going to tell me that the Miss America pageant was a sham, fixed by the girl with parents with the most money, girls in cat fights over who would win the title and secret politics involved in who won the coveted prize?
Actually, the book told a very realistic story about how a young small town girl from Oklahoma became Miss America at the age of 19. She could have been me or any other young girl in America. At 19 she had no idea what she had gotten herself into as Miss America.
Only after the glamour of being Miss America had faded did we find out that Jane’s life was like a roller coaster. You will read that while the glory of Miss America is one thing, there is a life that goes on beyond the crown.
I appreciated the beauty in the honesty of her failed dysfunctional marriage and the fact that she questioned her own self worth. Miss America has been taken off the pedestal and she has been found to be just like me, or your mother, sister, daughter or girlfriend.
She is a real woman with a real life, not the “Barbie” image we see on the stage but a real, live, living woman. The title “More Grace than Glamour” comes from Jane’s life of public service and community involvement that was only possible because of her great faith in God’s grace.
I was inspired by Jane’s book and so will you. I found it the perfect read for any naysayer on the Miss America pageant or for anyone who has ever dreamed of being Miss America. I hope to bring Jane Jayroe in for my BOOKS ALIVE!, Christian and Inspirational Author Extravaganza that I am putting on November 4, 2006 as a fundraiser for the First United Methodist Church this fall.
In the meantime, I do hope you will read “More Grace than Glamour” as this book exemplifies the categories that I have as my guidelines for making book club selections as follows:
1) The book must be well-written. 2) The book must give a new voice to literature, one in which it’s perspective has not been heard before. 3) The book must be discussable, have some conflict that spurs question and discussion. 4) I like to feature authors that have yet to be discovered in a big way. Or authors who may be known in other venues than being a writer. I happen to believe that people should not be categorized in only one box. I have found that people who excel in one thing, can also excel in another.
When Eloise handed me the book, I could see great pride in her daughter-in-law through her eyes. How very lucky for Jane. Everyday I thank my lucky stars for having people, authors, and publishers for bringing great books to my attention. That is why I would love to hear from all of you.
What great book have you read lately? If it fits all the criteria above, please let me know about that book. Some people go to the bestseller lists to find good reads. I have found that the best books that I read come from word of mouth. I would love to hear from you.
Tiara wearing and Book sharing, Kathy L. Patrick Founder of the NOW International Book Club, The Pulpwood Queens!
For more information on Jane Jayroe go to: www.missamerica.org/our-miss-americas/1960/1967.asp
This book is published by Oklahoma Heritage Association and part of the Oklahoma Voices Series. For more information go to: www.oklahomaheritage.com
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