Summer Camp: Sign your kids up and let them go

April 26, 2025Leave a comment

When I was eight years old my mother announced that I would be going to summer camp for two weeks. I don’t recall being asked if I wanted to go to Girl Scout Camp. It was just a pronouncement. A short time later, I was placed on a bus with a bunch of other girls and whisked away.

I mention this because I just watched a network TV anchor interview a child psychologist about sending children off to camp.

“You need to reassure your child that everything will be okay,” the nice psychologist said. “Tell them it’s okay to be nervous. Talk to them about their worries.”

I squinted at the television and tried to remember if my mother addressed any fears my eight-year-old self might have harbored. And, no, she did not.

I decided to look into this preparing-children-for-camp thing, and boy is the process exhausting: Discuss your child’s concerns. Visit camp ahead of time. Talk with camp staff, past campers and parents of past campers. Teach coping skills. Run through the camp’s bedtime routine. Discuss what food will be served and the meal schedule. Look at pictures of the camp. Talk about the various activities available. Consider a pre-camp sleepover with a friend or other family member.

I’ll stop there, but the list goes on. I considered whether my parents ever talked to me and my two siblings about camp, but if they did the conversation eludes me. It was just a family given that every summer the three of us would board busses for various locations and leave home. For eight years I headed off to camp, my tour expanding to a month after that first year.

In case you’re wondering, I loved every moment of it. Camp was the highlight of my year. Then, when I turned 17 and was nearing the age of some of the counselors, it was clear I was getting too old to be a camper. I wept at the thought of never returning to beautiful Eagle Island in Saranac Lake, New York and today, at 70, my time there remains among my most cherished memories.

Here’s the thing. Children need to go off on their own. They need to be in a place without Mommy and Daddy where they can make new friends and try new things. And wouldn’t it be great if they went to a camp where they were asked to put away their phones and tablets? (Yes, I know there are science camps where screens are part of the program, but I think you get my point.)

Going away to camp teaches children lifelong skills. They learn to rely on their own decision making, develop resilience and independence, and hone leadership and social skills, all of which come in handy when they become adults.

So start talking up the merits of summer camp when you’re kids are young. Get them used to the idea early and, of course, do all those other things the psychologist mentioned if it makes you feel better.

Then…let them go.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

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A place for everything

April 19, 2025April 19, 20252 Comments

***That’s my old Yamaha 12-string on the left, a guitar I’ve been toting around for 55 years.***

I’ve moved a lot over the years. I’ve lived in—hold on I’m counting—ten different homes that spanned from New Jersey to Washington D.C., Virginia, Georgia, New York, Connecticut and Arizona. I mention this because I have a number of possessions that have traveled with me during my journey, ones that I can’t seem to part with. The thing is, I am now finding the need to divest myself of objects I no longer use. But, wow, that can be hard.

Recently, we purchased two new sheds with the idea that we would move some unused items out of the house and give others away. My sweetie pie and I managed quite a few trips to Goodwill, and while I had no trouble relinquishing some possessions, others made me pause.

***Rocking with my boys is one of my favorite things to do.***

For example, the Yamaha 12-string I recieved for Christmas when I was 15. I have many fond memories of playing that guitar around those campfires at Girl Scout Camp and singing with my best friend Jill at various events and retirement homes. I played constantly for years. Then, one day, for no particular reason, I stopped. And yet I still toted that guitar from state to state, propping it in a corner where it seemed to stare at me. When I decided to pick it up again, 35 years had passed. Since then, I’ve acquired several guitars, so the 12-string was hung on the wall in my youngest son’s room, where it looks pretty but mostly collects dust.

Out in the yard, Ryan nodded at a small set of yellow shelves, a solidly built case that I’ve had since I was 12. “What do you want to do with this?”

***My 58-year old rock box got a paint job and new life.***

“That was my first rock box!” I smiled. “My brother made it for me as a birthday present.” Jeff would go on to create furniture as a hobby, and the solidly-made piece was a testament to his skills, even though he built it when he was just 14.

Ryan waited. “Goodwill?”

I squinted. I could find no possible use for the little box, and yet I just couldn’t part with it. “Put it in the shed.” This despite the fact that my rocks are now housed in a six-by-three-and-a-half-foot glass and pine behemoth in my living room, a box that holds about 400 mineral specimens. I should have parted with the small case years ago, and yet, like my long-unused guitar, I kept taking it with me.

***Maybe, when he’s older, Adrian would like my 12-string guitar.***

A short time later, I had a revelation. My old rock box might have a use after all, because, on occasion, I get the boys together and we all go rock collecting. They do this for me, and these trips are some of my favorite family get-togethers. My grandson Adrian is now seven, and he goes with us too and I sense he’s developing an affinity for rock hunts. I considered that he has acquired a lot of specimens and has no real place to put them.

I mentioned this to Ryan, and the next thing I saw was him out back painting that rock box white, since maybe yellow wasn’t a great color for a little boy.

Adrian seemed thrilled when I asked if he’d like to take the box home. And you know what? He also likes strumming my guitars.

Hummmm? Maybe I’ve found a home for that old 12-string afterall.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Release Date: June 6, 2024

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

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Amazon

Literary contests: Think hard before grabbing your credit card

April 12, 20254 Comments

Everyone loves a prize. I know I do! And the vast majority of people who run the hundreds of literary award competitions in the U.S. each year know this too. Authors are bursting with excitement to get the word out about their new book, and are drawn to these contests like teenage girls to a Taylor Swift concert.

***I’ve entered book contests and on occassion I’ve actually won something. Still, are literary contests worth the time, effort, and costs?***

Before I go on, note that there are certainly legitimate and influential literary competitions out there like the Pulitzer Prize, the Nobel Prize in Literature, the National Book Award, and the Booker Prize, to name few, ones that can obviously change the course of one’s writing career. I’m not talking about those.

While I’m not saying all the other pay-for-play literary contests are scams—though some are—the vast majority are just simple money-making schemes. When you check out those submission guidelines, send in your manuscript, and pay the application fee, someone will win. Maybe they’ll even take home a check, but it won’t be much, because those submission dollars generally stay with those running the contest. Still, the folks in charge will point out that you can win pretty stickers to put on your books, or maybe a free or discounted public relations/marketing package, or a visit with a literary agent. Hell, they might even invite you to a fancy dinner.

But, in the end, your little prize means, well . . . little. I suppose you can call yourself an award-winning author, still whenever I see that particular claim, I’m always skeptical. It reminds me of the hand-painted sign I saw on a recent road trip: World’s Best Jerky! I couldn’t help but wonder how said jerky earned that appellation. Was there a world-wide jerky contest? Or did the jerky-maker’s mom say, “Gosh, honey, that’s the best jerky in the world!”? (Note here that there apparently is a Top Artisan Jerky Creations of the Year contest—Who knew?—still I doubt the guy who painted the sign in the backwoods of Washington state had been a participant.)

The point is “award-winning” implies something big. At least it does to me. So, though I’ve earned a couple of literary awards, I don’t generally mention myself as being an award-winning author. Somehow, though it’s technically true, it seems a bit pretentious.

I’m going to guess that I have now annoyed some authors who proudly display their medals, ribbons, and stickers. And I’m certainly not saying they shouldn’t. It’s just that, in the long run, almost all of those contest submission fees go to waste. Authors might be better served spending on book promotions, hiring a publicist, or sprucing up their website, for example.

Now I understand the draw. We authors are all pretty sure we’ve written the best book in the history of the world. (I have six traditionally published novels and I believed every one of them was worthy of a Pulitzer. Sigh…) So if you feel compelled to enter literary competitions, maybe give yourself a contest-entering budget. Some small amount that won’t affect other areas of book promotion where you’ll get a bigger bang for your buck. Though I know it’s tempting to zip out one’s credit card and pay those submission fees, think before you do.

And here is where I’ll admit that despite what I know I couldn’t avoid the pull of winning a competition. I sent my World War II historical fiction novel Your Forgotten Sons to the Independent Publishers Book Awards. It’s tantamount to the excitement of buying a lottery ticket and like the lottery the chances are exceedingly slim. Still, a girl can dream.

Because I understand that you might also need a thrill, find a link to hundreds of literary contests here. Just carefully read the submission guidelines, consider what you might actually win, and think hard about clicking that payment key.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

Goodreads

Amazon

If something doesn’t change, I may have to say goodbye

April 5, 20256 Comments

I know we’ve been here before, but I really need to make a point.

I have noticed lately that I spend a great deal of time sorting through my social media and shaking my head. There are a couple of problems and I’m hoping you can help me out.

First, people hit that send button before giving any thought to the veracity of what they’re sharing. Now, before you go jumping to conclusions, I care not on which side of the political aisle you reside. Here in America we have a right to our opinions and beliefs. Free speech and all. Still, I wish there was a tiny little clause in our Constitution that said lying is just not acceptable.

Lying and/or disinformation comes in many forms. The first is outright falsehoods. It is rather frightening that in this day and age when the answers to just about every question one might ask are at our fingertips, we still can’t manage to tell the truth. The problem is way too many of us simply repeat what were told because we agree with what’s being said. Come on. Aren’t we better than that? What’s wrong with checking facts and sources? It’s really easy. Where did the information originate. Is it a reputable source or some troll living in mommy’s basement. Can reliable sources corroborate the information? Does the writer have an agenda? Does the writer actually exist? Sometimes, false information comes in the form of a blurb from someone on social media and a quick check often shows that person has no posts or friends. That’s a hint, yes? A tipoff that should makes us consider, “Gosh! Why would some non-person want me to share this? Hummmm?”

Also, let’s talk about photographs. I’m extremely concerned about all the “cute” pictures that show wild animals nose-to-nose with human beings. The recent shot of a firefighter crouched down in front of a full-grown mountain lion was especially disturbing. A frightened wild animal would never behave in this manner. These creatures will run from people, not to them to be cuddled like a kitten or a stuffed animal.

Now, you’re probably thinking, “Gee, Anne. What’s the harm in passing around these darling AI- generated photos?” My answer? It’s the message they send. You know, like it’s okay to walk up to a wild bear, reach out, and give it a pat on the head. Or to handle those cute baby animals while mommy looks on. Or to grab that shark as it glides by. Please! In most of these cases, you’re looking at getting your face rearranged. Wild animals are not like those in a petting zoo. The term “wild” should be a clue.

Another issue is what these photos say to young people who are not yet discerning enough to question what they see. All the pictures of “mermaids” washed up on beaches are particularly disturbing. I was appalled when so many of my high school students looked at me like I was crazy when I pointed out that mermaids are just mythical creatures. Really.

What is truly sad is the doctoring of pictures to give animals fake traits. No, owls do not fly around with their babies on their backs. Baby peacocks do not flaunt the lovely feathers adult birds do, because if they did they’d just be advertising their existence and end up as somebody’s lunch. And that seahorse picture you just shared shows the animal with a bird’s head. And yet, thousands of people pass these images around. Which makes me ask, “Why?” Isn’t Mother Nature magnificent enough without our help?

So I’ve come to a tough conclusion. I have tried to gently inform people that they have perhaps, accidentally, shared faulty information. I’ve provided the truth for them to see. But some of my social-media friends don’t seem to be learning. As a former teacher, this makes me sad. And, gosh, there is so much misinformation that I just can’t keep up. So, from here on out, I will just have to say goodbye to some people. And please don’t pretend it’s because I disagree with your politics or beliefs. As long as you have truth to back you up, I’m happy to see your side of the story. If not, we’re breaking up. Please don’t take it personally.

I wish you well, but you’re giving me a headache.