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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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

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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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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.

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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

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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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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

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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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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

Universal Buy Link

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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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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?

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

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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

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On being 70

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Yesterday, I turned 70. And I couldn’t be more surprised. I was reminded of the time my 95-year-old mother said, “I never thought it would go so fast!” Which sent a chill down my spine.

I have never been one of those women who wanted to hide my age. And I still don’t, but for some reason 70 has me pensive. Up until now, I didn’t feel like a senior citizen, even considering the day my sweetie pie signed me up for AARP. “Here’s your card!” Ryan smiled and handed me that bright red-and-white confirmtion that I’m old.

I wondered what my 7th decade might have in store, and it turns out that AARP had the answers. The article “What to expect in your 70s and beyond,” was enlightening. There were things I already knew, of course, like one’s skin gets drier and wrinkles appear. Note that I have made my peace with wrinkles, as they are a sign, I think, of one’s life experiences. Apparently one-in-three women will get osteoporosis, though if we get some regular exercise we might be able to keep that particular scourge at bay. Our eyesight will become less acute. Our hearing will diminish and we are encouraged to get over our pride and acquire hearing aids. Our sense of smell will fade, so we are urged to try ethnic cuisines like Indian and Thai foods with their yummy spices and flavors.

I know what you’re thinking, being in one’s 70s sounds a bit dreary, but it’s not all doom and gloom. It seems that people in this age range kick butt in one particular category. According to AARP, “The 70s tend to be some of the happiest years of your life. One explanation for the trend: years of experience. ‘As you get older, you know that bad times are going to pass,’ says Laura Carstensen, Ph.D., director of the Stanford Center on Longevity. ‘You also know that good times will pass, which makes those good times even more precious.’”

Many of us are concerned about losing our mental acuity, and while it’s true that some of our brain circuitry starts to burn out as we age, the good news is other parts of our brain can pick up the slack, especially when we keep our gray matter stimulated. Social interaction, reading, doing puzzles, dancing, learning a new language, and taking music lessons can all keep our brains healthy. And don’t forget regular exercise, which can help our brain and body age more gracefully.

Here’s what I didn’t see coming: It seems that once we’re in our 70s our ears and noses get bigger. I’ll let AARP explain. “Non-articular cartilage, the type that gives ears and noses their shape, continues to grow with age, making these appendages larger. But look on the bright side: Such cartilage growth may have evolved to enable people to track and funnel sounds and smells as they age” Doesn’t that sound like nature is looking out for us older folks? I think so.

Maybe happy aging is all about mindset. I remember when I was home for the summer after my freshman year in college. My mother had arranged for me to be the caretaker for an elderly man, Mr. Frank Towey, who’d been a lawyer and a congressman who represented New Jersey in the U.S. House of Representatives. He was in his late 70s, going blind, and would sometimes, rather annoyingly, strike his cane on the floor to get my attention. As he was demanding and persnickety, we didn’t hit it off, at first. He constantly referred to me as Dizzy—Diz for short. In retaliation, I called him Commander. Very quickly however, we became friends. One of my fondest memories is chauffeuring him around in his 1955 black Cadillac convertible which boasted red leather interior. He would don a canary-yellow blazer and straw fedora and say, “Take me for a drive, Diz!” Then he’d grin.

I mention the Commander because one day he looked at me and said, “Do you know what the strangest thing about aging is?”

I stared into his watery-blue eyes. “No.”

“It’s that your body ages, but your mind still thinks you’re 30.”

I didn’t understand what he meant back then. Now I do. And maybe that’s the key. Even though our bodies might be growing older, our brains don’t have to.

Here’s the thing. If we’re lucky, we’re going to age. And we can live our lives in ways that make the aging process a whole lot more comfortable. And that’s exactly what we should shoot for. So exercise. Try new things. Give your brain a daily workout. Eat healthy food, but sometimes have a piece of cake. And perhaps, most importantly, stay in touch with friends and loved ones. Get out there and be social, because that, above all things, will make us happy as we age.

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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Old dogs: They’re our responsibility

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I have written before about my aging cattle dog Bella, now a 14-year-old with bright blue eyes, a black and white coat, and a very grey face. She’s always been a gentle girl, pretty much as far from an alpha dog as one can get.

My girl Bella is now 14, and it’s my job to make her comfortable.

She wasn’t feeling well recently, and the vet determined she had ear infections, a slight lung infection, and perhaps some abscessed teeth.

‘We need to check her mouth,” he said, something Bella wouldn’t allow while awake. (She feels the same way about the rectal thermometer, which seems perfectly understandable.) So, we scheduled the surgery, even though I fretted about putting her under anesthesia at her age.

Everything went well, and the vet seemed surprise that all of Bella’s teeth were fine, though she needed a deep cleaning.

“She’ll feel better now,” he said.

“Would you like an itemized receipt?” the vet tech said. I considered the $820 I’d spent on her initial visit and shook my head, though I couldn’t help glancing at the bottom line: $659. I handed over my credit card.

And it was all worth it, because in a couple of days my old girl was bright-eyed and dancing when we took out the leash for her daily walk around the neighborhood.

But then, for no apparent reason, she started limping. We hurried back to the vet for another exam. They checked Bella for tick-borne diseases and took some X-rays. As I waited for the results, I couldn’t help thinking of the time a few years back when I got a call from worried friends informing me that Bella had a broken leg. However, the tests proved otherwise. “Bella is just a drama queen,” the vet had pointed out that day, just before handing me a bill for $624.

“There are no breaks and no apparent damage,” the vet explained when she returned. “But we’ll have a tech read the X-rays and get back to you,”

“I squinted at my dog, wondering if she’d gone all drama queen on me again, then handed over my credit card without looking this time.

The next day, I received a call. “I’ve read the X-rays and there’s nothing remarkable.”

Bella seems to be on the mend. And she has her little sister Mousey looking out for her.

“You’re just average.” I mouthed at Bella who was sitting at my feet.

“She probably has some arthritis. She is… um…old.”

I scratched Bella behind the ear. “I know how she feels.”

“No walks for two weeks,” the woman explained, then reminded me that Bella had been given a shot to reduce inflammation and has some pain meds she should take twice a day.

I know what’s coming. I’ve been in that special room at the clinic more times than I can count. “We don’t do suffering,” I told the vet. “It’s about her quality of life.”

But Bella’s not there yet. I know it’s my job—and that of all pet owners—to be vigilent, pay the bills, and know when the time is right to let our babies go.

For now, Bella’s life has slowed down. She spends her days with her little sister Mousey and is always happy to be curled up near her people.

I’ll keep you posted.

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?

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