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Southern born, Southern reared. It's a quirky place and we are unique folk... These are my people and these are my stories.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Thursday's Musings About the Books

Daddy & Me, 1957
I'm working away on Book Three of the Cedar Key series. I'm calling this one Slow Moon Rising, but the pub house, Baker, may change that. I like the title. It fits. Maybe they'll think so too. Maybe not. Doesn't matter to me right now because what's important is getting the inside words done, not the outside title.

Daddy & Me, 1959
I love this story so far. I'm taking a look, first, at the dynamics of the relationships between Ross Claybourne (Kimberly's father) and his new wife, each of his daughters, and then ... well, I can't tell you what happens, but something does happen that makes each one of his girls re-exam their relationship to their dad.

Ami has misunderstood him. Heather has used him financially. Kimberly, when her marriage to Charlie was falling apart. And Jayme-Leigh during a health crisis. Each girl knew she could depend on Daddy. Now, Daddy needs to depend on them.

Daddy & Me, 1972
I keep thinking back to when my father first told me he had multiple myeloma. I thought of every wonderful thing he'd ever done and then I thought of every moment I'd been a stinker.

Daddy & Me, 2001
I was Daddy's girl all the way up to the end of his life. I didn't think twice about sitting in his lap, throwing my legs over the arms of his recliner, laying my head against his shoulder and together we'd rock ... we'd rock ... we'd rock ....

Daddy is buried in a cemetery next to an unmarked but owned grave. Every time I to "pay my respects" I stand on the opposite side of that particular plot of ground. Which I own. That will be my final resting place. Next to Daddy. Right where I've always loved to be.

What about you? Do you have a favorite Daddy story? Share it here, why don't you ... I'd love to read it!

Eva Marie


  1. This sounds like a wonderful book. The father/daughter relationship is a powerful one. Whether it brings you joy or pain, the emotions are so intense.

    Happy to have discovered your blog. I look forward to following along.

    Kind regards,
    Dayle (fellow AWSA member)

  2. Thank you Dayle! Yes, he was a special man.

  3. When I was a little girl, I was a thumb-sucker. I remember in the evenings, I would sit on my Daddy's lap and lay my head on his chest while sucking my thumb with my index finger crooked over the top of my nose and he and I would "argue" about who loved each other the most. I recently saw the children's book with a young rabbit and his father doing the same thing. It was precious! I immediately had to buy it and send it to my father, who I only see once a year, and is in failing health now. Shortly after that he had the opportunity to read to a group of young school children, and he anxiously read them that book. It is so meaningful to both of us!

  4. I was a Daddy's girl too. My Mom passed away when I was eight so my Daddy reared me until I was 14 and then he too passed on. One of my favorite memories was the time he built a half table to fit inside his Ford truck and he perpared hot lunches for me and my brother so we didn't have to eat cold sandwiches at school. To appreciate this, my Daddys was 62 when I was born, so he had to be about 72 when he took on this most amazing task, just for me and my brother.I think he tried to make up for our Mom being gone, I never realized how amazing this was at the time because you just don't think of things like this when you're young, one day I plan to thank him for all his specials efforts and hard work in not only preparing the meal, but drving to school and sitting there with us while we enjoyed a hot lunch!! Thank you Daddy, miss you so much!!

  5. Wow! What a story! We don't appreciate their efforts, especially at that age, until we NEAR that age and think: I am so tired. HOW did my parents ever do thus and such!

    I cannot imagine ... what a story!


  6. My dad is an amazing man. I grew up with him doing everything for my sister and me. My mother has always been distant not physically but emotionally mu h like Patsy was to her children when she was dealing with her emotional break down. Ironically my mother's name is Patricia nicknamed Patsy. When I read Patsy's story it gave me an insight of my mother's life. An understanding if you will. My father has always been there for me. He's the strongest Christian man I know and the most loving and caring husband father and grandpa you'll ever know. I grew up hearing my extended family on his side and my mother's calling him Saint Ray....after reading your book and through my life experiences I now completely understand the meaning be hind the nickname Saint Ray.