Journal Notes

The “Coming Soon” attractions on this site has been updated. I’m pleased with the trailer for Thunder Over the Prairie. The promotional idea came from the most recent edition of the Author’s Guild. It’s a new way of getting the word out about a new release. Hope it’s effective. Visitors to the site can let me know what they think of the trailer via email at gvcenss@aol.com. The men and women at the medical museum where I spoke this week were great. I was very nervous because the audience was made up of healthcare professionals and I wanted to make sure I got all the facts straight that were in the book The Doctor Wore Petticoats. Everyone seemed quite interested in the material and I was invited to submit an article to the medical magazine USC publishes. Wish I had the time to contribute, but I’m swamped with the Buffalo Bill Cody book, writing The Deadliest Accusation, promoting the Frontier Teachers book due out next month and the children’s book being released in December. During my lunch hour today I worked on press releases for a book that’s due out in June of 2009. 2009! There’s too much going on. My life seems to be running me. I started doing a hundred and one things shortly after my brother was hurt. I kept myself over scheduled to keep me from thinking about all the bad. Now I don’t know how to stop. I’d love to be on a beach somewhere with nothing on my mind but better times, the view of the surf and an impossible blue sky. If things don’t go as well as I hope for Thunder Over the Prairie I am going to consider another line of work. Maybe I’ll move to a ranch in Montana and ride off into the sunset. Of course I’d have to learn how to ride?.

Shirley Worley died this week. She was a delightful human being and my aunt. I spent a lot of time at her house when I was a little girl. I remember her as a kind lady with a big heart. She was always ready with a smile and a hug. I didn’t see much of her after my biological father ran out on my brothers and I and that’s unfortunate. Not too long ago I became reacquainted with her and enjoyed speaking with her on the phone from time to time. I’m sorry she’s gone and sorry for her daughters. She’ll be missed. On the business front, new postcards announcing the upcoming release of the book Frontier Teachers were sent out last week. Some of postcards have arrived at the homes and businesses of readers who have been added to the mailing list. The book celebrates the schoolmarms of the Old West and their dedication to education in harsh, unsettled territories west of the Mississippi. David Sanchez, President of the California Teacher’s Association wrote the foreword for the book.
I got a look at the trailer graphic artist, Jeff Galpin made up for Thunder Over the Prairie. He did a great job. I can’t wait to get it on the website and out to my publisher. Thunder Over the Prairie will ride into bookstores in June 2009. The cover art for the book The Deadliest Accusation is reaching the final stages of design. It’s taken some time to complete the manuscript because the subject matter is so difficult. Hope it makes a difference.

While reading through the transcripts of Buffalo Bill Cody’s divorce records I found an interesting quote from his wife. “I still love my husband just as I always did,” she told the press. “We were always happy until he went into show business, and met other people – other women. I always hoped he would settle down with me someday at our home in North Platte.” I find it interesting that she could make such a statement after accusing him of a variety of vile acts. What was it about him that she loved? She was an extremely jealous woman. She was most particularly jealous of his sisters. Her drive to destroy him for not making her his whole world is reminiscent of Gene Tierney’s character in the movie Leave Her to Heaven. Leave Her to Heaven is a chilling film. If I hadn’t have seen with my own eyes the length some people will go to possess another human being and/or bring them down in the process, the movie would not have scared me so. It’s on to chapter seven now.

I’ve been digging through mounds of paperwork from Buffalo Bill Cody’s divorce hearing. His wife accused him of a variety of horrible things, most of which were not true. Some of the accusation were so heinous that had they been made in this day and age, Cody would have been jailed. The subject matter is all too familiar to me and I thought about my brother, Rick. Just as those same old demons threatened to rear their ugly head and pull me down to the depths of sadness again I heard a song that snapped me out of it. Like a voice from heaven the lyrics of the song “Held” by Natalie Grant pricked my soul. “This hand is bitterness. We want to taste it and let the hatred numb our sorrows. The wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow. This is what it means to be held, how it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive. This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was that when everything fell we’d be held.” When everything falls we are held by a Creator who cares deeply for His children. I’ve been thinking about that song and the message within all day as I worked on chapter six of Cody’s story. It’s made a difference.

Sometimes there’s noting really exciting on the writing front to report. I’ve just been working on Chapter 6 of the Buffalo Bill book since I returned from Cody. I feel bad for Bill. I’ve been reading over the transcripts from his divorce proceeding and his wife was a shrew. He tried to get out of the marriage a number of times, but the divorce wasn’t granted. The judge did not find any grounds for the marriage to be dissolved. Times sure have changed. The Codys were married for more than 38 years and were never really happy with one another. I feel for Louisa Cody too. Just like Buffalo Bill, my first husband thought monogamy was a type of wood. Louisa didn’t want to let Bill go, but she didn’t want anyone else to have him either. That’s a miserable place to be. I received the latest edition of True West magazine today. The full page ad featuring the cover of the book on frontier teachers is on page 72. It turned out well. I hope it brings more visitors to the website and readers to the bookstores.

I need to spend some time today working on promotions for the frontier schoolmarm book due out next month, the Thunder Over the Prairie book and the annual Christmas in Bethlehem program, but I am having a hard time tearing myself away from all the historical information I picked up at the Buffalo Bill Cody Museum. I’ve been reviewing testimony from Buffalo Bill’s valet about a woman named Bessie Isabelle who he had seen on more than one occasion in Cody’s hotel rooms across the country. It’s amazing how much private life is made public. Although, I think Cody wouldn’t have minded the sorted details being brought to the forefront of thought if it meant increased ticket sales to the Wild West Show. I was eating lunch at a great Mexican restaurant in Cody and trying not to feel sorry for myself because I was dining alone, when I got to thinking about all the times I had meals with my grandparents when I was a girl. And with a certain pristine rush many wonderful childhood memories flooded into consciousness. I took out a pad of paper and started jotting down what was running through my mind. It’s the smell of freshly mowed grass, fried chicken and Avon’s Occur bath powder. It’s the distant sound of a marching band, meal-time conversation and my grandmother loudly sipping her ice tea. It’s the anticipation of a high school football game and selecting just the right something to wear in case just the right someone sees you. It’s dust from a plowed field and a cold bite in the air to remind you that winter will be again. It’s popcorn, funnel cakes and tightly swirled ice cream cones. It’s crawling into your summer pajamas and curling up on the couch next to your grandmother, while your grandfather sits in his chair under a pole of ridiculous round lights, reading a newspaper. It’s laying your head in your grandmother’s lap and then falling asleep in the middle of the Johnny Carson Show. It’s comfort and home, infatuation and youth. You return for that moment, that memory, that hope. What you see with 14 year-old eyes cannot be recaptured with 47 year-old vision. It’s lost, but remembered. Longed for, but never realized again. Still you go back on the off chance you can catch a glimpse of what was and savor the experience as children rarely can.

The Buffalo Bill Historical Museum was naturally rich with information about Bill Cody. I was able to go through documents that had rarely been viewed. I read letters written to Cody from Elizabeth Custer, (the actual letters, not a photocopies) examined numerous transcripts of his highly publicized divorce, and studied hundreds letters the famed scout penned to his sister. Cody was very close to his sister Julia. He confided in her and she adored him. I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own brother, Rick. Cody, Wyoming was a wonderful place to visit. It’s beautiful and wild. Some of the nicest folks I encountered were the hundreds of Harley Davidson riders that were staying in the scenic area. The staff at the museum were some of the most accommodating people I’ve ever worked with. They are anxious to help anyone who walks in with research questions. While en route to my various destinations (I was in Helena, Montana before I went on to Wyoming) I read a book entitled The Shack. I thought it was exceptional. I hadn’t read a book that stirred my soul like this one since Hannah Hunards’ Hinds Feet on High Places. I particularly keyed into the section on forgiveness. The lead character in the book has been grieving for years over the loss of his daughter. Again, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my brother, Rick. The main character in The Shack has a conversation with God about the notion of forgiving and tells him that forgiveness is first for you, the forgiver, to release you from something that will eat you alive; that will destroy your joy and your ability to love fully and openly. The Lord asks him if he thought the protagonist in the book “cared about the pain and torment they had caused?” “If anything,” the Lord tells him, “they feed on that knowledge. Don’t you want to cut that off? And in doing so, you’ll release them from a burden that they carry whether they know it or not -acknowledges it or not.” When I finished reading the book I was willing to really ask God to help me to forgive the people who harmed my family and I. I’ve only given it lip service to this point. Forgiveness does not excuse the false accusations made against my brother. I think the last thing the people who made the false claims are is free. According to the web service tracking program I subscribe to they continue to search my site – so no, they aren’t free. But neither am I until I truly forgive. I have no duty to justice in this matter. God will handle it.

I’m a huge fan of Doris Day. I’ve seen all of her movies two and three times. I’ve sent her copies of my books as they have been released with a note of appreciation for her contribution to the film business. When one of my first books came out I received a card from Ms. Day wishing me well. I had the card framed and it’s in my office now. Wednesday evening I watched one her movies entitled Romance on the High Seas. What fun! I checked my email later that same night and was thrilled to read an email Ms. Day had sent.

Dear Ms. Enss,

Doris does not have a computer — so she asked me to send you this e-mail to let you know that she appreciates the books you sent and she’s looking forward to reading them because they remind her of “Calamity Jane.”

Many thanks!

Sincerely,
Judy Ruby
for Doris Day.

Wednesday was a good day! I’m off to Wyoming on Monday and I’m taking my portable DVD player with me and a handful of Doris Day movies.

There have been times when I’ve considered my devotion to my brothers to be a bit unusual. I continue to grieve over my brother Rick and worry all the time about Scott and Corey. Both are grown men, one is the director of 911 services in the Ray County, Missouri area and the other is in the Navy. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them. Buffalo Bill Cody’s sister felt the same way about him. The book I’ve been writing about his life would not be complete without touching on the relationship he had with his sisters. His older sisters, Julia and middle sister, Helen both wrote books about him. They were proud of him and helped manage his ranch and hotel. His little sisters, May and Eliza were equally dedicated to him. Cody made sure they were taken care of too. He had homes built for them and supported them monetarily. When it became clear that their brother had married badly and wanted a divorce, all of Cody’s sister championed him in court and to the press. I have a great picture of Buffalo Bill flanked on either side by his sisters. It’s an endearing photograph. His sister did everything they could to keep their brother from being physically or emotionally harmed, but were unsuccessful. If only they’d been able to convince him that the woman he was marrying was a shrew. But just like my brother Rick, Cody wouldn’t have listened. Helen Cody said of her brother, “We regarded him as a superior being&it seemed so fit and proper that the promise of the stars concerning his future should be fulfilled that never for a moment did we weaken in our belief that great things were in store for our brother.” I admire the Cody sisters loyalty to their brother. Maybe what I feel for my brothers isn’t that unusual after all.

At one time I had hoped to get the okay to write a biography about Mary Jo Kopechne. The story of her life and untimely death fascinated me and I wanted to write about all the wonderful things she managed to do in her short time on earth. It seems that most only know about her accident with Senator Ted Kenedy, but she was much more than that. I’ve included a bit of the sample chapter in my notes today. Let me know if it catches your interest. If the response if favorable I might be able to convince my publisher to give me another shot at the manuscript. “I guess those girls just aren’t going to talk. It would ease the heartache so much if they would give some answers.”
Mrs. Joseph Kopechne – September 26, 1969. A determined diver dressed in full scuba gear carefully lifted a bent, stiff body with gritted teeth and clawed hands out of a murky pond. A company of police officers, fireman and medical examiners all wearing doleful expressions watched as the lifeless figure was placed on a white tarp stretched out on the ground. Few spoke as a cursory examination of the twenty-eight year-old woman laying before them begun. The process took only ten minutes.
It was 9:30 a.m. on July 19, 1969, and most of the residents at Chappaquiddick Island had no idea their tiny community had played host to a tragedy. News that a car had plummeted off Dike Bridge claiming a life in the process had not reached them yet. From the standpoint of Massachusetts law enforcement this meant there would be no curious crowds to control or usher away from the wreckage. They were free to investigate the scene without distraction. Doctor Donald Mills, Associate County Medical Examiner, squeezed his fat hand into a pair of surgical gloves and stared down at the woman’s face. “This is Mary Jo Kopechne, gentlemen,” he announced in a business like manner. “Looks like she fought hard to stay alive,” he added. In Doctor Millss initial inspection of the body he noted that Mary Jo was wearing a blouse, a bra and slacks, but no panties. “Maybe she forgot them,” he offered to no one in particular. With mortician Eugene Frieh and his assistant, David Guay, looking on, Doctor Mills loosened the front of Mary Jo’s blouse and pressed his stethoscope over her chest and abdomen. The physician inspected the body for ten minutes then turned to the examiners on either side of him and confessed, “This is the most drowned person I’ve ever seen &any light pressure on the chest wall&water would simply pour out of the nose and mouth.” The mortician nodded, “We need to be sure, though,” he insisted. Doctor Mills stood up, his hand on his chin. He squinted into the sunlight as he pondered the comment. At that moment a black Oldsmobile arrived at the scene and stopped next to an awaiting ambulance. Senator Ted Kennedy, dressed in a neatly pressed pair of trousers and a white shirt, emerged from the back of the vehicle. His attorneys climbed out after him, flanking him on either side.