Journal Notes

Family members visiting loved ones at a Federal Prison endure heartache the moment they enter the facility. After surrendering their driver’s license, filling out a barrage of forms, and answering a series of personal questions, they are subjected to a search and locked in a holding unit while waiting to see their relative. They’re stamped, processed and escorted by a surly, armed guard to a visiting room. The procedure is grueling, intimidating and difficult. There are numerous senior citizens that come through – dazed parents, handicapped grandparents, broken siblings, discouraged wives and confused children. The children are the most amazing visitors. Regardless of their age, they have to adhere to the same rules as everyone else. It’s moving to see them sit so still and behave so well. They greet their fathers with an eager smile. They’re dedicated, gracious, loyal and inspiring. It’s unfortunate my brother could not have been so blessed. His ex-wife and her daughter killed him. They are nothing less than murderers. I’ll never forget Rick or what they did to destroy him. The children I met at Terminal Island know exactly how I feel, but forgiveness overtakes their heart and that’s all you see. They are true heroes to me and I’m glad to be involved with the Angel Tree project this year. In some small way I can help give back to them what they’ve given to me. These children stand by their families and bring pure light to a dark situation. I hope to do them justice in the book The Deadliest Accusation due to be released in December 2010. Now that I’m home I’ll complete the work I started on the Buffalo Bill Cody book. Can’t wait to get back into it.

I generally divide my days into thirds and work on various writing projects or promotions in the time frame. I get to my desk about 8:30 in the morning and after a prayer and a Bible study, get busy writing. About an hour into my job I find I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. I know a part of the problem is my diet. You know you’ve got bad eating habits if you use a grocery cart in 7-Eleven. I’m one of those people who believe that red meat is not bad for you. I particularly believe that red meat on a slice of pizza is not bad for you. Now, blue-green meat. That’s bad for you. There’s only one food I won’t eat, which is hot dogs at a movie theatre, because I feel like there’s no USDA preparation guidelines for this meat. They used to be impaled on spears rotating inside a Timex case. Suddenly that’s gone and replaced by the foot massage-log roll jamboree. And they never look like they’re cooking; they just look like they’re sweating. Anyway, after jolting myself awake with a cherry pop-tart, because I know I need that daily requirement of fruit, I was able to write a few more pages on the last chapter of the Cody book. I’ll have the manuscript to the publisher before the deadline. I participated in a writing workshop this weekend at the North Star House in Grass Valley. Respected architect, Julia Morgan built the home for author Mary Hallock Foote in 1905 and a group of concerned citizens are trying to preserve the Old West structure. The class of aspiring authors that participated in the talk were enthusiastic and entertaining. I enjoyed my time with them and look forward to a repeat performance in the spring. Visit www.northstarhouse.org for more information. I do believe that’s the last speaking engagement I have this year. Which is good. I need a nap. But first a piece of pepperoni pizza!

Much of what you do as a writer is trying to figure out how to best promote what you’ve already written. A good portion of my day was spent working on that very thing. I met with a couple of internet experts who are going to help bring more visitors to my website and hopefully more readers to my books. I’m very behind when it comes to technology. The whole world seems to be up to speed on this, but I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I just now got a cotton gin and I can’t figure out how to work that either. I’m on the phone every day with tech support, “Do I keep the seeds, or the fuzzy stuff?” I know I’ll be investing in more magazine ads in the coming months in order to promote Thunder Over the Prairie, but I would sure like to get more hits on the website from people interested in Old West history. I think the only way I’ll be able to master this technology is when produces food on demand. I’m waiting for the kind of computer where I can look at the screen and say, “Hey, I need a pizza,” and one comes out and hits me in the eyebrows. My brother’s birthday is Saturday. I miss him. I can be writing for hours about Buffalo Bill Cody, deeply entrenched in that story and suddenly a thought of Rick flashes in my mind and I miss him all over again. I blame myself for what happened. He didn’t do anything and I asked him to plead guilty. He was so distraught, unable to speak, and looking to me for help and I didn’t know the best thing to do after a while. Worse yet, I trusted our attorney. Things will get better. Guess I’m suffering from post-traumatic syndrome, and I’m going to keep talking about it until Daniel Craig comes and holds me. Maybe if I email Mr. Bond and tell him?. How do you do that again?

For several months now I’ve been working on a book about the life and loves of Buffalo Bill Cody. I received a final piece of information this past week that will make it possible to finish the last chapter. The book will include details about the many extramarital affairs Cody had and how these relationships naturally hurt his marriage. The research has been fascinating. Cody was not loyal and his wife, Louisa, was not kind. Prior to him becoming involved with other women, Louisa berated him in public over his overly generous nature and attachment to his sisters. The Codys had four children together. Louisa outlived all her children and Buffalo Bill. When their daughter, Arta, died in 1904, she left two children behind. Louisa offered to raise Arta’s son, but sent her daughter away to be raised by other family members. Louisa was never as close to her granddaughter, Arta Clara, as she was her grandson, Cody Boal. I suppose that’s understandable given the circumstances, but what I find distasteful is that when Louisa died, she left $5,000 to Cody and $1 to Arta. I don’t have any information that can shed light on why Louisa would do that. As I mentioned, she wasn’t a kind woman, but that seems vindictive and I’d like to know what the motive was. It’s not really relevant to the book, I’m just curious. Toward the end of his life Cody told a biographer that “no man was more blessed in his wedlock” than he was and that he had “only the fondest regard for Lulu.” I guess he wanted to leave this world in peace. The bulk of their married life had told people about how horrible Louisa was to him. He never retracted any of the harsh statements he made in court about her during their divorce case. Whenever he was asked about Louisa behavior he simply said that she was “much misunderstood.” The Codys were married more than 50 years to each other. They slept in separate houses, had separate dinner parties, took separate vacations and in the end Louisa said they were doing everything they could to keep their marriage together. The Life and Loves of Buffalo Bill Cody will be in bookstores this time next year.

It’s been a gloomy few days. I think about my brother a lot and want to give pause to the life that was for fear that he will be forgotten all together. I guess I do that too much. And then there’s concerns about my job, the current economy, my inability to commit to any kind of exercise. I hate to exercise. I need more than my life to get me on a Stairmaster for an hour. I view my body as a way of getting my head from one place to the other. I was talking about that very thing a couple of weeks ago at a Barnes & Noble signing. Most people were in complete agreement. I met some wonderful, fellow non-exercisers there that day. One of whom sent a package to me today. Christy Udall, a lovely woman who graciously purchased a couple of my books, sent a box of antique jewelry. It was a thoughtful gesture and the items are great! Kindness like that helps me to realize all is not lost yet. That kind of generosity does more for the heart than anytime I ever spent at a gym. Not that I’ve been in a gym?but I’ve watched people go into those establishments. I’d rather be writing.

November – a new month rich with possibilities. I hope this month to learn to better breathe through the punches in the gut I received professionally and personally in October and seize the moment. I’m going to do that by remembering all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart. First, I feel compelled to mention a story a gentlemen from church shared with me this weekend about employing a high school teenager to work at his store. After hearing about what happened to my brother and other men across the nation who have been falsely accused of sexual assault, he decided to let the teenager go. His wife reminded him that if the teenager felt like it she could ruin his life and reputation. If she wanted a raise and didn’t get it or a day off and was denied it, she could say she was touched inappropriately and it would be all over for him. It’s amazing how often this happens. I have to believe that evil will return to the evil doers who leveled my family and as long as I live I’ll warn people about such individuals. The work continues on the Buffalo Bill book. I hope to have chapter nine finished by the end of the week. My parents are coming to visit soon and will take part in the 6th annual Christmas in Bethlehem program at my church. They seemed to enjoy themselves last year and hope they have a good time again this year as well. I’ve got to start placing ads soon in the western magazines to publicize Thunder Over the Prairie. Bob Bell, editor of True West Magazine, had a great idea to publicize his western. The entire November/December issue is dedicated to telling the story of Mickey Free and the Apache Kid. It’s a graphic novel and it’s brilliant! The whole idea is brilliant! I think I’m going to need more than a great looking postcard to compete with that kind of marketing. I think Bell’s story is going to be a huge success.

Some days it seems Abe Lincoln has a brighter future than I do. After weeks of waiting and hoping, AMC has passed on making a film of Thunder Over the Prairie. They could be persuaded to change their minds if there was a prominent actor or director attached to the film project. I phoned Robert Duvall’s company about the material. I sent it to them about four months ago. As luck would have it, Duvall’s project about the Pony Express was just approved by AMC yesterday. So, he’s not interested in working on Thunder. I’m convinced the road to success is under construction. Okay, so I’ll never be a ballerina. I get it. At 47 I’m more convinced of that than ever, but I did have hope and some self-esteem. Now my self-esteem is so low I’m going to keep my keys on me when I walk through airport security just so I can get some acknowledgment. It’s not the end of the world and I know that?I just don’t know where to go from here. I like a plan, a goal. I’ve got book writing projects and I’m thankful for that, but it seems like there should be something more. I know what I want to do for a living I’m just not going to get the chance to do that. There’s no business like show business, but there are several businesses like accounting. If only I wanted to be an accountant. Perhaps I’m suited for a job as a coroner – performing surgery on dead people. What’s the worst that could happen? If everything went wrong, maybe I’d get a pulse. Well, back to the laptop.

I’ve been working with the prison fellowship ministry for three years now and I enjoy getting information about the men and women inside who have changed their lives for the better. In spite of the horrific setting, these individuals have managed to turn it around. One man I read about yesterday was in jail for more than 10 years when a benevolent minister dared to spend time with him. The minister gave the man a dictionary and a thesaurus and challenged him to learn. With a new focus on education, the man threw himself into college classes offered at the prison. He gave his life to God and began working with PFM. He taught himself how to play piano using a keyboard made of cardboard! It’s an amazing transformation and an example of how only God could have conquered his heart and made things better. After 20 years in prison the man is out now and a productive member of society. There is hope. With memories of my visit to Tombstone still fresh in my mind, I got back to work on the Buffalo Bill Cody piece today. Think I found the perfect person to write the forward. He was actually in the movie Tombstone and has portrayed Cody on film. I got to visit with a friend from high school while I was in Tombstone. I had lunch with him and his wife at Big Nose Kate’s. It was fun! I don’t miss high school. It’s interesting to find out what some of the people you knew grew up to be though. My 30 year reunion is coming up. I guess I’ll know more about those people then. I’d like to know what my ex-husband grew up to be. I was so naïve in high school. Nothing I learned in school prepared me for life on any level. My first book should have read, “See Dick balance his checkbook. See Jane leave an unhealthy relationship. Run, Jane, run!”

It’s so good to finally be home. It feels like I’ve been away a long time. I guess travel will do that to you. Tombstone was great! Linda and Nancy at Old West Books are the kind of people every author hopes to work with. They did a wonderful job of staging the store event. There’s no time to rest now. There’s a big book event at the Nevada County library tomorrow I’ll be attending. I’m grateful for the opportunity to promote the books locally. I thought I’d post a review of Frontier Teachers on the site today. As soon as I collect my thoughts I’ll write more about my journey. Till then?. Book review: ‘Frontier Teachers,’ by Chris Enss By Alicia Funk, “Frontier Teachers-Stories of Heroic Women of the Old West” offers an intimate glimpse into the lives of twelve of the 600 women adventurous women who dedicated themselves to teaching in the west between 1847 and 1858. During this time, the only respectable job choices for women were working as a seamstress, nurse or teacher. Prepared and determined, typically single women traveled west in rough wagon trains to build schools, raise money for school supplies and construction, and teach pioneer children and orphans of parents desperately seeking gold. Grass Valley author Chris Enss uses a light, direct tone and easy-to-read language to explore the minds and hearts of these pioneering women, in some cases using their own words through excerpts from their journals. A gun-slinging 22-year-old teacher, Olive Mann Isbell, protected her mission school from the Mexican Army. Her thoughts on life in California on November 14, 1849: “I have all that I want here, and what more could I have elsewhere? I have tried luxury without health, and a wild mountain life with it. Give me the latter, with the free air, the dashing streams, the swinging woods, the laughing flowers and the exulting birds.”The “grandmother teacher,” 66-year-old Tabitha Brown, embarked on the 9-month journey across the plains from Missouri to Oregon to establish and run for ten years the school that became Pacific University, while saving $1,000 from her efforts. The journal entries of Mary Graves Clarke, offer an intimate retelling of the infamous Donner Party. Mary was a beautiful, fearless 19-year-old girl in 1846, when she left Indiana with her family to join the Donner Party and headed for California. By mid-December of 1856, Mary was in the rescue party of 15 who left the camp to get help for the starving party trapped at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Her father died on the way, calling her to his side, “You have to do whatever you can to stay alive. Think of your mother and brothers and sisters in the cabin at the lake. If you don’t make it to Sutter’s Fort, and send help, everyone at the lake will die. I want you to do what you have to …Use my flesh to stay alive.”She later became a teacher in San Jose, but her past cheerful disposition was forever replaced with sorrow. The stories of dedication and personal sacrifice help deepen our understanding of the importance of women in the days of the Wild West. The commitment of frontier teachers to do whatever it takes to educate America’s children remind us to keep their promise alive today. Chris Enss has written more than a dozen books on women in the Old West. She will be a presenter Oct. 24 at “A Moveable Feast” at the Madelyn Helling Library Reading Room, Nevada City. Call 265-1407 for more information. Alicia Funk is a Nevada City author with a Bachelor of Arts in history and a passion for reading.

One last thing for today. Let me say how very much I miss my brother and how I wish he was still here.