The Many Colors of US
August 22, 2021 by Veronica Jorge in category Write From the Heart by Veronica Jorge tagged as ancestors, complexity, cultures, Diversity
A Reflection On Diversity
by Veronica Jorge
Most people are a combination of various cultures, though I think their ancestors tended to confine their marriages to one continent. Mine didn’t.
I am a potpourri of Nicaraguan, Dominican, Middle-Eastern, French, Chinese, and African cultures, (hope I didn’t miss anyone); and born in Brooklyn, New York.
Often pressured to take sides and answer, ‘So what are you?’ I comprehended the complexity of diversity. But how could I choose which part of me is the most important? The combination of each nationality made me who I am, makes me whole.
Considering the current challenges that threaten to divide our country, memories carry me back to my childhood and to that pivotal moment of September 11, 2001.
Growing up in New York City my life revolved around a kaleidoscope of colors and nationalities. I was present each year at the Irish St. Patrick’s Day Parade. At age twelve I learned my first Israeli folk dance. I never missed the West Indian Day Parade. The glittery costumes of performers on stilts and musicians danced the length of Eastern Parkway, home to one of Brooklyn’s largest Caribbean and Orthodox Jewish communities.
During the holidays we baked cookies for the police officers and firefighters.
The neighborhood pizzeria was our favorite hangout. I can still see Tony’s can of Medaglia D’Oro coffee on the shelf. The best desserts were from Sinclair’s German bakery where I feasted on cinnamon-raisin rugelach. For newspapers and comic books, (yes, I know, I’m dating myself), we went to Kasim’s candy store, a Yemenite, who also made the best ice cream soda. Hungry? Tom’s Greek diner for a hamburger deluxe. Need a little bling bling? The Armenian jewelry store located two doors down near the Cuban dress shop. Then stop in at the Haitian photo studio where Roland would snap your picture and let you practice your high school French. Puerto Rican bodegas, Chinese, Dominican, Indian, Pakistani, Polish restaurants, and exquisite Russian delicacies; the list goes on. We had it all.
We were so many different faces from so many different places, but we were neighbors, friends, classmates, co-workers. We were a community. We were…we are Americans.
After the attack on the World Trade Center, we felt an emptiness of something lost, and unsure if the wound would heal. Our eyes watered. Strangers held hands. Our voices cracked singing the national anthem. A palpable patriotism enveloped us as we reached out to embrace and encourage one another and ourselves. Gratitude for our peace and freedom, and thanksgiving for the abundance America has provided for us filled our hearts.
Yet uncertainty clouded our vision. In a city where everyone carries backpacks, tote bags, over-size purses, and shopping bags, we feared the contents they might contain within while the slogan warned in our ears. ‘See something, say something.’
We stepped back from colleagues and classmates measuring the people we smiled at and lunched with every day. Do I truly know him? Can I trust her? How do they really feel about me?
My brown face worried I would be mistaken for a terrorist, yet my eyes doubted the integrity of the brown face from whom I had bought my daily paper for ten years.
These unplanned thoughts and fears that arose within us revealed the inconsistencies of our human nature. On the one hand; quick to help, befriend and love, yet so easily prone to judge, accuse, and look the other way.
Our nation has known its full share of prejudice and discrimination. We have all experienced it. Throughout our history each religious and ethnic group has skillfully practiced hostility against another. And yet, somehow, we have succeeded in overcoming many of these divisions. Our collective love of freedom always forces us to cry out against inequality and injustice wherever we see it, and especially when we discover it in ourselves. It is to our credit that despite the many conflicts our country has endured, race and ethnicity have not prevailed to divide us. At every level of society, from friendships, neighbors, and marriages to work, sports, and blended families, we find strength and unity in the shared values that make us unique. This unity, forged in the fires of adversity, cannot easily be dissolved.
Just as I cannot remove any of the cultures within me, for they are part of me and make me who I am, we as a nation, cannot separate ourselves from each other. We are joined together. It is who we are. Like the colorful and oddly shaped pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, we make a perfect fit that forms and reveals a magnificent creation.
Our family portrait called America.
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on September 22nd!
Originally published in The Morning Call Newspaper, August 13, 2021
Tari Lynn Jewett: August Featured Author
August 21, 2021 by Tari Jewett in category Featured Author of the Month tagged as #Charmed Writers, #FireworksintheFog, #HeromsaForTheHolidays, #PleaseSayYes, romantic comedy, Tari Lynn Jewett
Tari Lynn Jewett lives in Southern California with her husband of nearly thirty years (also known as Hunky Hubby). They have three amazing sons, a board game designer, a sound engineer and a musician, all who live nearby. For more than fifteen years she wrote freelance for magazines and newspapers, wrote television commercials, radio spots, numerous press releases, and many, MANY PTA newsletters. As much as she loved writing those things, she always wanted to write fiction…and now she is.
She also believes in happily ever afters…because she’s living hers.
Tari’s Books
Make Mine Slang by Jenny Jensen
August 19, 2021 by Jenny Jensen in category On writing . . . by Jenny Jensen tagged as characterization, language, Planning, research, Slang, Writer's Toolbox
This character, Tall T Reynolds, is growing in my mind. I can see him tanned and raw and a bit dusty. I know his world is the 1940’s rural west and I know he’s going to briefly meet Lottie, a beautiful girl in a gleaming open topped coupe. Their brief exchange will never leave his mind. Soon after, Tall T will go off to war in Europe. He and Lottie will meet again in a most unexpected way.
I want these two MCs to be drawn as very different in all ways but the heart. I want to show those differences subtly and naturally. I want to tell the story mostly in dialog, no long narratives, no narrative tells. I know that means voice and tone will have to be pitch perfect so it’s language that shows their differences, that makes each wholly human and credible. I thought about using dialect but rejected the idea. I don’t trust my skills to pull that off successfully. Besides, they are both smart and fairly well educated. This is not a rustic pauper gets the princess story. Still, they are from very different worlds – until they’re not.
After rummaging about a bit in the writer’s toolbox, I’m thinking slang as a way to initially set them apart and ultimately bring them together. Slang is an interesting critter. It’s a very flexible tool. It’s hard to pin down what is slang and what isn’t. Slang changes so fast. Yesterday’s ‘far out’ is today’s ‘snatched’, but it’s pretty clear what slang does for us. The casual use of slang terms show we’re in the know, we belong to that group who understands what it is to ‘I oop’. More to my purposes, slang is a shared affinity of age and disposition and attitude.
Slang can be subversive, playful, derisive, affectionate, even endearing – all such very human qualities – and human is what I want to show in circumstances that aren’t all that humane. Ever changing, almost updating itself to fit shifting circumstances slang morphs from common terms to become familiar to a community who is living and sharing shifting circumstances. How else explain today’s use of ‘ghost’? Slang can turn meaning topsy turvy, assigning an opposite meaning to words – an effective response to a world that feels turned upside down. To say you ‘destroyed’ something today certainly doesn’t mean to me what it means to a teen.
Because slang is a hallmark of a shared, exclusive world it’s the perfect devise to reinforce the journey of Tall T and Lottie through the chaos of a world war to a shared reality. They will be tested in ways they’ve never imagined in a world where familiar conventions don’t always apply and time can be frightfully short. At their first meeting, Lottie’s language will baffle Tall T; he will know from that brief exchange that they are from very different worlds. By the end, they will share an unspoken understanding of how fubar life can be. They’ll both know the world is cockeyed and with one exchange of peepers they’ll know where to meet because they have all the dope on the good places. They are people with plenty of moxie who become each other’s killer diller.
I will be careful though. I don’t want them to sound like they’re trying too hard to be cool, or are too stupid to express themselves in any other way. I want to salt the slang effectively, add just that kick of heat a touch of chili adds to a good stew. Like seasoning, I’m going to need a deft hand. I can imagine how clumsy a slang word could feel, or how tiresome the overuse could become. There’s a lot of revision ahead for me if I’m going to Keep it 100. Forewarned is forearmed. I’ll stop beating my gums now and immerse myself in the slang of The Greatest Generation. Roger. Wilco.
Yankee Thunder: The Legendary Life of Davy Crockett
August 17, 2021 by marianne h donley in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley tagged as Davy Crockett, Legends, lessons
Today is Davy Crockett’s birthday.
Almost everyone over a certain age will now start singing the Disney Theme song and imagining Fess Parker in a coonskin cap, but not me. Oh, I pass the age test, but I have a book that belonged to my mother, titled YANKEE THUNDER: The Legendary Life of Davy Crockett. That depiction of Davy Crockett wins out over the TV show for me, but not without a bit of sadness.
Written by Irwin Shapiro with pictures by James Daugherty, it was a fixture of my childhood. In the book Davy is born man-sized, weighing in at two hundred pounds and fourteen ounces. To feed him, his parents plant him in the ground and water him with wild buffalo’s milk mixed with boiled corn cobs and tobacco leaves.
He grows so big that by chapter four his family must whittle him down to man-size. Out on adventures, Davy finds two unusual pets, a bear named Death Hug, and a buffalo called Mississip.
As much fun as all this is, unfortunately, I would never recommend the book today, especially not for children. While the book shows Davy Crockett as sympathetic towards native people, native people themselves are characterized in the most bigoted and stereotypical way.
I hope we have learned in the 78 years since Yankee Thunder was published not to use negative and hurtful stereotypes in our writing. I’d like to think our stories can be recommended without reservation.
Whittling down to man-size 
Be sure you’re right, then go ahead. 
Title page
Trapped in Sin Book Blitz and Giveaway
August 16, 2021 by marianne h donley in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Rabt Book Tours tagged as #LyndellWilliams, #RABTBookTours, #RomanticSuspense, #TrappedinSin, @RABTBookTours
Romantic Suspense
Date Published: August 7, 2021
Whoever tore him from her is dead!
Baaz Hamdi might be a criminal, but nothing means more to him than his wife Rahmah. So when someone sets him up, and he lands in jail, his top priority is getting out and having her back in his arms. But he can’t tell anyone where he is – not even his beloved. Both their families already think he’s a thug. He can’t afford to confirm their suspicions, and there are too many people on the inside who would use his family against him.
Alone, with no money and an inconsolable baby, Rahmah agonizes over Baaz’s disappearance. All seems lost, until she meets a handsome stranger, who helps her get her life in order and convinces her to think about divorce. Without a clue if Baaz is dead, alive, or ever coming back, she decides to end her marriage and move on with her life.
Then Baaz returns . . .
Excerpt
Baaz slammed the door before Saeed could finish his sentence and stormed through the house. Saeed was hanging around Rahmah? Some strange stuff went on while he was away. He had to find out what.
He stood in the entryway between the dining room and kitchen, clenching his teeth and waiting for the fury inside his freezing body to calm. It didn’t. “You know Saeed Mendez?”
Rahmah held a scoop of coffee grounds over the maker and met his gaze. “Oh, was that Saeed?” She smiled and dropped them into the machine.
Every nerve fired through him. He got into her face. “Yes, and I asked you how the fuck you know him?”
Rahmah backed up, her eyes wide. “I—I work for him.”
He grabbed her arm. “You work for him?! Doing what?” He squeezed.
She squirmed. “Why are you so upset?”
He tightened his grip. Flashes of Rahmah dancing half-naked with a bunch of men salivating below flashed through his mind and fueled his fury. Her head jerked as he shook her. “Tell me,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “If he has you on a pole or beating some loser in a fetish den, I’ll break his neck.”
About the Author
Lyndell Williams is an award-winning writer and bestselling author. She is a cultural critic with a background in literary criticism specializing in romance. She is an editor, writing coach and mentor. She has been published in peer-reviewed journals and writes for multiple online publications.
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