The youth sports landscape is crumbling

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We have forgotten the point of youth sports, and if we don’t alter our behvior someday there may be no youth sports at all.

Recently, I found out that a long-time sports reporter friend is, for now, hanging up his microphone.

“Lately the landscape has had its share of toxicity, with overzealous parents and poor leadership coupled with unsavory social media standards, which has now led to me taking some time away from broadcasting! My decision,” he said in a Facebook post.

This man spent 45 years covering sports, especially high school sports.

While I am saddened that he’s stepping down, I understand his frustration. Amateur sports, especially youth sports, has become a mess in the last decade or so. Why? There are a number of reasons.

First, I’ll blame parents who have ridiculous expectations. The number of adults who believe their child will earn a DI scholarship and go onto the pros borders on the bizarre. Less than two-percent of high school athletes will play at NCAA Division I schools, and just one percent receive full-ride scholarships, funds that are awarded for just one year, so if a kid breaks a leg or struggles in the classroom, bye-bye sports dreams.

And then what? Parents who put their kids on the year-long, one-sport merry-go-round, spending what could amount to college tuition on personal coaches, deny their children the chance to branch out and grow. Maybe play an instrument, or perform in a play, or even participate in a different sport, things they should be doing throughout high school. This single-mindedness will doom their children when they can no longer participate in the single thing that occupied their lives. Every athlete has to stop playing at some point. Something that tends to happen when we’re young. As I often mentioned to my students who insisted they would one day be professional athletes, “What happens after that? The average professional career lasts between three and six years. What will you do then?”

Before I go on, note that I spent 40 years officiating amateur sports. I called ice hockey, soccer, and basketball games, but spent the vast majority of my time on football and baseball fields. I realize today how lucky I was that much of my career came before the advent of social media, which has made calling games a nightmare. It used to be that when I made a mistake—Yes, all officials do, just like players and coaches.—the hysteria and verbal assaults were pretty much over when I left the field. Today, however, fans splash video and photos of calls they dislike all over the Internet, often implying the official made the errant call intentionally to benefit a team. Trust me. No official wants to make a bad call. We just do. Sometimes we’re tired from working our day jobs, or we’re hungry, or we just blink. Those of us in the amateur ranks only get one look at a play. There aren’t replay officials or nine-camera angles to check. And yet, we are required to be perfect, which is simply impossible.

Recent studies show that approximately 45% of officials say they have feared for their safety because of the behavior of administrators, players, and fans. One in three officials have received threats or felt unsafe at a game, something I understand since I have, on occassion, required a police escort to my car. So, is it any wonder that roughly 50% of new officials quit within their first two years? Myriad games are being cancelled at youth levels because of a dearth of officials. And this trend will get worse.

Here’s what needs to happen, though I won’t hold my breath. We need to remember the real purpose of kids sports. Children learning teamwork and punctuality, how to follow rules, goal-setting, social skills, and resilience. And, perhaps, most importantly, leadership skills. All of which will make them better human beings.

Maybe, if we adults adjust our expectations the miasma surrounding youth sports will clear. And then my friend will once again pick up his microphone and go back to the thing he loves.

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

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An adventure with kale

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I plucked a salad from a food bar in the airport, my first adventure with kale.

I don’t know about you, but whenever I get off an airplane, I feel unhealthy. Perhaps it’s because the humidity in the cabin is generally kept between 10-20% so I’m dehydrated. Or I’ve been squished in my seat like a sad little sardine and feel an urgent need to shower. Or maybe it’s because I might have munched on things that really aren’t good for me as I sped along the skyway in that metal can.

In any case, I often feel the need to restart my immune system with something healthy, hence the reason I recently found myself in Miami Airport standing before a shelf filled with plastic-enclosed salads, one of which boasted kale.

I will admit here that I didn’t recall ever tasting kale before. It’s not that I avoid greens. Gosh no! I was a long-time gardener and loved trimming fresh young leaves into yummy salads. And it’s not because I didn’t know kale existed. It’s just that somehow the plant never sang to me, which is strange since people have been chomping on those lumpy leaves for about 4,500 years.

Kale was sort of ignored in recent times, serving mostly as decoration on buffet spreads, but then, in the early 2000s, kale had a resurgence. Rich and famous folks like Dr. Oz and Gwyneth Paltrow began publicly proclaiming the magical benefits of kale. Bon Appétit declared 2010 the year of kale. Time magazine listed kale as one of the top 10 food trends of 2012. Fancy restaurants started showcasing kale recipes. And today you can scarf down kale at fast-food places like McDonalds, Starbucks and Chick-fil-A.

I recall staring at the salad as my sweetie pie waited in line at the airport Subway. I knew what he would order. An Italian sub with spicy pepperoni, cheese, and salami with onions, lettuce, and oil and vinegar.

A short time later, we placed our feast out on a desk in the hotel.

Ryan stared at my salad. “Do you want some of my sandwich?”

“No, I’m good,” I said feeling rather smug as I dug a plastic spoon into my greens.

Kale is said to have a sharp, complex taste, somewhat like arugula or radish but mixed with an earthy, grass-like flavor. I found those fat wrinkled greens quite chewy and similar to spinach that had been picked a bit too late. But I was determined. Kale was good for me! Afterall, it contains big doses of vitamin K, vitamin A, vitamin C, and manganese, fiber, copper, tryptophan, calcium, potassium and a whole bunch of other healthy nutrients.

I tried but could not avoid the pull of an Italian sub.

Still, as I shoveled that miracle food into my mouth and did my best to chew those thick leaves, I couldn’t help staring at Ry’s sub sandwich.

He caught me looking. “Are you sure you don’t want a piece?”

I glanced at my half-eaten kale salad, then back at his Italian sub, filled mostly with things that are bad for me and were unlikely to revive my airplane-stunted immune system. Still, the sandwich smelled like warm bread and vinegar, cheese and onions.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “Don’t do it, Anne! Stick to your guns!”

Please know that I tried.

“Is that wheat bread?”

Ry nodded and I felt a little bit better.

Okay,” I sighed. “Just one small piece.”

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

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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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Memorial Day: A time for quiet contemplation

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Memorial Day is different from other holidays, though it seems many of us have forgotten the point of the celebration. I ran into this issue back when I was a print reporter when my editor asked me to write a story about Memorial Day.

“Go find out about all the events people can attend,” he said. “Parties, big sales, parades. Things like that.”

I frowned, which caught him off guard. “What?” He held out his hands palms up.

I had never refused an assignment before, still I couldn’t help myself. “Memorial Day isn’t about shopping and drinking beer. It’s about remembering.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Write whatever you want.”

So, I contacted the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post and interviewed a number of aging veterans, men who despite their advanced years, recalled vividly those who were left behind. 

“I was a foot soldier in the 59th Field Hospital. My brother was in the 7th Armored Division. He chased me and I chased him, but he was killed before I got to him.”

“The pilot of the helicopter was going to lower me down into the water and I leaned out and took a look. Here was these huge fishes going around eating pieces of bodies. Sharks. And you know they couldn’t declare that person dead because they didn’t know if it was one person or two. I thought about it ever since.”

“A buddy of mine…we went all the way through the war right to the end. Just outside of Cheb, Czechoslovakia he got captured and they stuck a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He was…22.”

I have over the years spent Memorial Day thinking about the veterans in my life who are no longer with us. My father who faced kamikazes and rode a destroyer escort into Tokyo Bay at the end of World War II. My dear friend Don Clarkson, a decorated hero of the Vietnam War who spent the rest of his life struggling with the demons he brought home. And now, I also remember Bud.

Sergeant Bud Richardville served in the 606th Graves Registration Service in the European Theatre during World War II. His job? Locate, identify, and bury the dead. Think about that.

With the help of a packet of letters now 80 years old, I tracked Bud through the landing on the beaches of Normandy, the frigid forests of the Battle of the Bulge, and General George Patton’s drive to free Czechoslovakia from the Nazis. All the while soldiers died by the hundreds of thousands on both sides of the conflict and Bud and his men were tasked with recovering whatever was left. Then they buried the remains in the graceful cemeteries they built, hollowed peaceful grounds today, spread across what were once miserable killing fields.

My historical fiction novel Your Forgotten Sons tells not only Bud’s story, but those of the men who labored alongside him. Soldiers who have rarely appeared in books or films, but who toiled to give the fallen the respect and dignity they deserved.

So, on this Memorial Day, I will remember my soft-spoken father, and my dear friend Don. But I will also remember Bud and those who served with him.

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

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Amazon

Apple Books

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Kobo

Review a copy early by going to NetGalley. Sign in here.

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 teacher’s tale: Foster care gave me a family I never expected

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Thanks to the foster care system, I became a mom at 55. Today my son Brandon has also given me a grandson, Adrian.

Fifteen years ago, a small frightened boy called me. “I’m hungry,” he said.

Now let me backtrack a bit.

I taught in a Title I high school for 20 years, a designation signifying that a large segment of the student population lives below the poverty line. As you might expect, the hardships are many and can have life-long ramifications. Consider substandard housing, lack of child care, homelessness, gangs, hunger, neglect, addiction, unsafe neighborhoods, and underfunded schools.

As a teacher, I learned to consider what might be happening in the lives of the children I served. I and many of my fellow educators understood that a student who hadn’t slept or eaten or bathed might put the idea of completing homework on time way down the list of important things to do. So, we addressed those issues when we could.

Understandably, we worried about our students, especially as summer break approached. Some of our kids had little food at home, which during the school year we supplemented with free breakfast and lunch and a pantry where they could get food boxes, when needed. I also struggled with the idea that ten weeks of unstructured living might lead children to take risky chances. With that in mind, I always put my phone number on the board on the last day of school.

“If you find yourself in a tough situation and don’t know what to do, call me,” I told my students. “I’ll help you if I can.”

When Brandon phoned that day, he started me on a journey I could have never anticipated. He’d been placed in foster care and was living in a group home. Note here that few people want to take in teenagers, especially boys. As you might expect, many are only interested in babies and toddlers, so older kids often languish in the system.

Here is where I’ll mention that I was never able to have biological children, an issue that plagued me for a decade or so, but by my mid-fifties when I got that call I had long given up on ever being a mom. Then, in what felt like an instant, a hungry child had me considering the empty bedrooms in my home. I called foster care, was directed to Foster Mom School—Yep it’s a thing.—and two weeks later that frightened boy was delivered to my doorstep.

The foster care system gave me a family I never expected. Here are my grandson Adrian and my boys Brandon and Troy.

Was it easy? No! The trauma that puts a child into foster care, as well as a system that pushes kids from home-to-home, leave an indelible mark. I often hear people say that if you love a child enough everything will be fine, but that is simply not the case. That said, I am eternally grateful for the the heroes who taught those foster-parent classes, the social workers who kept tabs on me and Brandon, and the psychologists who helped us sort out our differences.

Fifteen years ago a frightened child moved into my home. Now, Brandon will soon be 30 and is a father himself. A grown man who continually makes me proud. I must mention here that Brandon started me on a track that would eventually have seven young people live in my home. Though they were not all legal foster children, every one of them was in need of a spot to tread water, a place to calmly figure out where they were going, and then make that jump into the world.

Today, I am immensely grateful for the opportunity I’ve had to participate in these young lives. Like any parent, I watch them from a front row seat and marvel at their sucesses. And I have assured them that no matter how grown up they become, I’ll be here for them.

I must admit that I never expected to find such joy in being called “Mom”. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

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

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

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

A trip into the Australian Outback and the best bed ever

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Rocks are quite lovely, unless you have to sleep on them.

It’s just about time for those big bed sales, so today we’ll talk about beds. As in the best bed ever! Where I found it just might surprise you.

Here’s my story.

So you know, I’m a life-long rock collector—there are home movies of me in diapers putting rocks in cups—and if you visit my house, the first thing you’ll see is a huge, glass case with about 400 specimens dominating my living room. If I’ve had enough wine, I’ll tell you where each and every one of them came from, whether you want to know or not, so frequent visitors make sure to steer clear of my collection if they want to avoid an earful.

A number of years ago, my sweetie pie and I traveled half way around the world to Perth, Australia, where we participated in the Australian Mineral Symposium. There we met about 40 enthusiasts—geology professors, miners, and hobbyists—who, like me, are fascinated by the rock world.

The Aussie rockers immediately took us under their wings. After a few days of speakers discussing gold—the featured mineral of the year, talks punctuated by periodic tea breaks, which for an avid tea drinker like me seemed almost heavenly—we formed a caravan and set off for the wilds of Western Australia.

Our trek took us through the towns of Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie, both centered in the area where the great gold rush of 1892 began, and another called Widgiemooltha. No, the names don’t roll easily off an American tongue, but they were fascinating places nonetheless.

While we stayed in small hotels early on, eventually we made camp under the stars. Since Ryan and I live in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, the landscape seemed familiar, though the kangaroos and emus bouncing about made it clear we were far from home. Following dinner, we sat around a beautiful campfire that sent sparkling embers into the star-splashed night sky.

My love of rocks sent me and my sweetie pie half way around the world to Australia.

Later that night, Ryan wrestled my air mattresses from the car, an embarrassing accommodation for me as I’d spent quite a bit of time camping in my youth when sleeping directly on the ground posed no adverse reactions. But—in a concession to age and myriad broken body parts—we had both brought along air mattresses, even though the 90-something man who’d joined us seemed just fine sleeping on the ground.

Finally, we adjusted ourselves in our little tent and snuggled down in our sleeping bags, but a few hours later I awoke. Something wasn’t right. A rock was sticking in my back. My air mattress had failed.

“Ry,” I whispered, even though the other campers were too far away to hear.

He lifted his head, groggy with sleep and blinked. “What?”

“There’s no air in my air mattress.”

He huffed and sat up, then squinted at me. “Okay, take mine.”

Wasn’t that sweet? There was a time in my life when I would have never admitted weakness, but I was cold and tired and didn’t miss a beat. “Thank you!”

I couldn’t bring myself to say that even with the air mattress, I was uncomfortable, especially with Ryan tossing and turning, trying to find some modicum of comfort on the cold, rocky ground.

We emerged from our tent blurry-eyed and cranky the next morning, though all the other members of our group were extraordinarily chipper, so we kept our misery to ourselves. Ryan and I did our best to buck up, and while a visit to a fantastic chrysoprase mine did the trick for a while, by dusk we were exhausted.

“Now, you two be careful,” one of our leaders said as we prepared to hit the road. “The roos are out. Keep a watch.”

We’d seen the iconic Australian animals hopping about in the distance every day, but had viewed none up close.

“You scan the road while I drive,” Ryan said.

We’d been warned that the kangaroos were out, still we couldn’t avoid hitting one with our rental car.

I nodded and focused on the blacktop ahead.

A short time later, a red-eyed head appeared in the roadway. “Kanga…” But it was too late. We slammed into Skippy and the big marsupial went flying off into the brush. Ry got out to inspect the damage and I peered around the roadside, hoping I didn’t see the poor kangaroo lying in anguish, but he’d disappeared.

“Do you think he’s okay?” I asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” Ry said as he inspected the front end of the rental car.

“Can we drive?” I looked up and down the empty road as dusk settled. Our friends had gone ahead, unaware that we’d had an accident. By this time we were so tired we could barely see. Luckily, the damage appeared to be mostly cosmetic. (Later, when we tried to explain to our insurance agent that we’d hit a kangaroo with a rental car, he didn’t seem to believe us. Go figure.)

When we finally arrived at our destination we were ushered across a small, rickety walkway that boasted numerous holes. The room was constructed of bare boards and held a small bed and not much else. We were to share a bathroom with another couple. The accommodations could be gently described as spartan. And yet, after a communal meal that warmed our bellies and a few rounds of wine and beer, we fell into that unassuming, lumpy-looking bed only to discover that it was the most comfortable bed we’d ever been in.

How is that possible? I guess we could only compare it to the previous evening when we’d slept on rocks in the cold.

“Ain’t this grand?” I said as I snuggled under the covers.

But Ry was already fast asleep.

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

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

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

Authors need to polish their interviewing skills if they want authentic characters

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Authors need lots of skills. And while writing is clearly at the top of the list, interviewing chops might be a close second, especially when one is writing fiction.

While many of us are quite comfortable writing about careers with which we are familiar, good novels are often filled with people who do a variety of different things. So, in order to create believable and interesting characters, we need to talk with real people who live in those realms. Hence the need for interviewing skills.

Before heading out to talk with people, authors should sketch an outline of a character. Perhaps you’re writing about a thirty-something police officer, a woman who’s been working in a small town for five years. She will need a backstory. Is she from the town or did she relocate? What kept her from leaving or what induced her to take a job there? Describe her physical characteristics. What are her quirks or flaws? On the latter, never make a character seem perfect. No one is and stories about unflawed characters are often boring and unrealistic.

Once you have an idea of who your character is, see if you can find a real person to talk to, in this case a woman who’s a small town police officer. The Internet makes this easy. But also think of family, friends, and acquaintances who might be able to help. Now pick up the phone or send an email. I may be old fashioned but I don’t think a text is appropriate at this point, because you will need to explain who you are and why you’d like to do an interview, and an email looks more professional.

I know what you’re thinking. Why would a complete stranger want to talk with me? But fear not! In my experience—I was a reporter for about 15 years, so I did this a lot.—people love to talk about themselves. Simply explain you’re doing research for a book and would love to speak with them. And, on the off chance they say no, do not be deterred. Just find someone else.

If you can, meet with your interviewee in person on their turf. You will get a better picture of who they are. Make sure you have a list of questions prepared, especially in regard to the day-to-day requirements of their job. Note this is especially important if you’re writing about someone, for example, in law enforcement, medicine, or the military. You don’t want to have your characters saying or doing things that real cops, doctors, or soldiers wouldn’t do.

In regard to your questions, there is no reason to religiously stick to them. I often recall the student I sent to interview a new teacher. The prepared questions were not very interesting: What brought the teacher to our school. Where did he come from? Why did he want to teach math? Then the teacher casually mentioned that he’d been an acrobat in the circus and toured the world for 20 years. Still, my student never followed up. I had to send the kid back to ask some more interesting questions.

The point is relax your ideas about your character. Note that I needed to write about a cattle rancher for my book Wild Horses on the Salt. I called one and he invited me to his ranch. While I was there, he mentioned he was a beekeeper and I ended up making my character a beekeeper, as well. In another case, the National Park ranger I interviewed for The Castle had served in the Coast Guard and was a plant specialist who spoke to tourists about the flora where she worked. My character shared those similarities. In another case, I interviewed a deputy sheriff who was a first responder to a deadly train wreck. When I went to his house, I was surprised to see that this “tough guy” collected fine glass objects. And you guessed it, my character also liked objects made of cut glass. So be open-minded.

I always record my interviews, but take notes, as well. I have often gotten more from my written notes than the actual recording, which I use to check for details I might have missed.

Many authors admit to being shy and the idea of interviewing someone makes them a bit nervous. But all you need to do is think of your interaction as a simple conversation with you leading the way. After the initial jitters, you’ll calm down. And, in the end, your characters will be more interesting and well-rounded.

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

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

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

Summer Camp: Sign your kids up and let them go

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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

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

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A place for everything

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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

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

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Literary contests: Think hard before grabbing your credit card

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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

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?

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

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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.

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

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

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