Daniel's Esperanza

Daniel's Esperanza

Monday, February 6, 2017

New Work on Fine Art America

I have some new photographs on Fine Art America that were taken in December 2016 during a visit to the Memphis Zoo.  Below are a few screen shots; the higher resolution images can be viewed at  www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com.

Over the last few years, I've added over three hundred photos, which can be purchased in various formats.  From wall art in canvas, acrylic, metal, wood, posters and framed and unframed prints, to home decor which includes throw pillows, duvets, shower curtains, hand towels, bath towels, bath sheets, and beach towels...all can be created from the images on Fine Art America and through Pixels' site. Also available are tote bags, carry-all pouches, portable batteries, greeting cards, phone cases, t-shirts, and coffee mugs. Fine Art America offers a 100% guarantee on all purchases.

Please check it out, and a reminder: these images are copyright protected. Downloading without permission is, well, not permitted, not kind, and something you shouldn't do (especially if you crop and remove copyright/watermark--very wrong!).  Plus, taking a low resolution image doesn't hold a key to buying a top quality one anyway. I do, however, appreciate anyone wishing to share the images on social media, giving me the required credit. The Fine Art America watermark will not appear on any items purchased. Thanks for looking and let me know if you make any purchases. It's appreciated.


Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Five Years and Counting

Universal Symbol of Compassion
On January 10, 2012, this blog was introduced as “The Reluctant Blogger” and I thought the name summed up its existence rather well.  I was reluctant.  I had been encouraged to start blogging as a way of marketing myself and my books, but it wasn’t appealing to me because I never thought anyone would care to read what I had to say.  In a sea of bloggers with a multitude of opinions on just about everything, how could I compete?  I felt I’d probably sink, not swim, because content was more important than simply saying you had a blog.  You needed readers.  Plus, consistency was relevant, too.  So reluctantly I waded in, setting a goal of at least one post per month and never believing it would last past the first year.
Sometimes I surprise myself.  Here I am five years later, still hanging around with things to say.  I’ve met and in some months surpassed the monthly posting minimum; finding topics to write about has gotten a little easier.  Being able to share the posts on social media has garnered a nice amount of readers, and I’m very happy I didn’t give up.  “The Reluctant Blogger” ceased to exist some time ago, and the title is simply my name.
I’m also happy that I didn’t take the blog into the direction I was considering.  I have strong opinions about things, and there were times that I felt sharing them on a blog would be the perfect outlet.  Given the current climate of opinions that are expressed on Facebook alone, I’m glad I didn’t take that route.  Eclectic, varied, and safe are good ways to describe this place and that’s how I intend for it to remain.  No themes are in the works either.
Speaking of that current climate, however, I will say this: words are important.  How and how often they are used are relevant, too.  We benefit from utilizing such words as ‘Thank you’, ‘Please’, ‘Excuse me’, and ‘I’m sorry’.  Use them and use them often.  I remember once being told by a server in a restaurant that I was the most grateful person she had ever encountered.  This came after about the fifth ‘thank you’ I had given her for simply bringing something to the table.  “Thank you,” I replied.  That made her laugh, but I was serious.  These basic responses are key to building values; and values allow for kindness, compassion, and courtesy. And we need these things now more than ever.
So be kind. Be thoughtful. Stop categorizing and judging. We’re a complicated lot, with many shades and backgrounds that make us tick.  Respect that.  And if you want respect, you have to give it.  Treat others the way you want to be treated, and hold yourself to the same standards you expect in others.  Be accountable.  It’s important to have opinions; it’s not okay to express them by hurting others or justifying them by being contradictory.  And while I don’t think any of us should feel entitled, I do believe everyone is deserving of the basic necessities of life.  Know the difference.  Work hard and set goals.  Humility is a strength, not a weakness.
Finally, I didn’t know where I was going with this blog post.  Usually I’ll work on a piece for a few days before posting it, but I realized last night that today was the fifth anniversary.  If what you’re reading sounds a little convoluted or “preachy”, it’s because the post was written quickly to make the date.  It really is a moment of musings.  My apologies.
Thank you (there are those words again) for reading what I have to say here.  It isn’t much, but I try to make it a little interesting. 
Onward and peace to all.
  

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

A Time of Reflection

A year ago, I wasn’t feeling much Christmas cheer.  It was the shadow of upcoming change that darkened the season and prevented me from enjoying the holiday.  For weeks, my focus had involved sorting through boxes that contained memories from our lives, deciding what needed donating, tossing or saving.  Packing and getting things in order overshadowed decorating, shopping, gift wrapping and cooking.  Christmas was hastily put together, an afterthought for me, because a bigger event loomed soon afterward.  And for the first time in my life, the decorations came down and were packed away as soon as December 25th was history.  It was as if a light switch had suddenly been flipped, and the holiday was forgotten and over.  Time to move on.  Time to face big change once again.  And on December 30, 2015, I said goodbye to a house in Chicagoland that had been home to me for twelve years; a new place waited in Memphis, a new job for my husband. 
It’s difficult to explain the emotions that get attached to a house.  It is just a building, after all, and a dozen years don’t seem like many to some people.  However, it’s the level of living and the significant events that made those years full and meaningful for me, and that’s what makes a house a home.  The house saw both of our daughters graduate from high school and college; it was our home when one got married, and the other became engaged.  Within those walls, I wrote books and saw three of them published; anniversaries and birthdays were planned and celebrated, holidays passed and parties were held, vacations enjoyed.  The golden retriever that moved into that house with us lost her life to illness during those years; the sweet angel with fur that just moved south with us entered our lives as a puppy there, too.  The tenure might have been short, but the content was full. 
It was tough putting the house on the market.  The “For Sale” sign was placed in the yard on January 2nd and five months later it sold.  During that time, I never lost the emotional attachment but I could only endure one visit in order to check on it.  Walking into that empty shell which had meant so much to me and seeing the condition it was in due to viewings was too much.  It was a disappointing list of things that hit me full in the face when I opened the front door, and it looked tired; the disrespect shown by strangers for something that had been part of my life took its toll.  I never went back.  The day our house sold was bittersweet, but I know the new owners are making their own memories in it.
Those who have gone through it know this: moving is hard.  Doing so across country means uprooting and leaving everything you’ve come to rely on behind you.  The day to day things taken for granted have to be rethought anew, with much of it trial and error until the fit is right.  In the past, the kids moved with us, easing the difficulty of that unknown, but this time was different.  One daughter remains in Chicago, while the other lives in Colorado.  Plans now have to be made to see both of them, and that’s tough on a parent.
And when the family moves because of one spouse’s job, that spouse has an immediate source of interaction to help with adjusting to a new place.  While moving is usually difficult for children, they too have support from schools and new friends.  It’s the other tag-along spouse/parent who is left dangling, trying to make things work while struggling to figure out his/her purpose that moving affects the most.  You feel lost while trying to establish yourself; planting seeds to initiate new roots is timely and they don’t always take right away.  It’s easy to feel like a failure.
The year has passed quickly, as they all seem to do nowadays.  It saw our oldest get married in May; we took a trip to Scotland and England in October, and spent Thanksgiving with the youngest in Colorado.  Family will arrive in a couple of days to share Christmas, which will be celebrated as usual.  No rushing and the decorations won’t be taken down on the 26th.  The latest manuscript is now in the hands of literary agents, and there are thoughts of the next book.  I just organized a food drive that I hope becomes an annual event, and I’ve already participated in an author fair.  My new house is starting to feel like home.  You see those seeds are sprouting.
Take the time to reflect, and if you have the time, don’t rush.  Enjoy the season with friends and family.  I wish all of you the happiest of holidays; Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Thank you for taking the time to read this blog.

Thursday, November 3, 2016

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

SS Edmund Fitzgerald 
A memorable and surreal moment of my life came in November of 1994, several months after we moved to Detroit, Michigan.  My husband had taken a job downtown and we lived in the suburban area of Grosse Pointe; the most convenient access to and from the city for us came via Jefferson Avenue.
Driving this route provided a startling contrast in scenery.  Beauty and blight.  Manicured lawns and vacant, overgrown lots.  Occupied, historic buildings and abandoned, vandalized ruins.  One structure that consistently caught my attention was a particular church; in fact, whenever we were within a couple of blocks, I found myself looking for it as if making sure it hadn’t disappeared. It never did.  The building stood at the corner of the entrance for border crossing to the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel.  Perhaps that was why it was more noticeable to me at the time.  We’d often take the tunnel, crossing under the Detroit River to simply go to dinner or to do things in Windsor, Canada.  Its location made it a building that couldn’t be missed.  But I like to think learning the history of the building is what appealed to me, how it stood stoically, and had withstood what too many other historical buildings in the city of Detroit had been unable to do.  It had survived. 
So it was one Sunday in November that we decided to attend a service at this church.  The Mariners’ Church of Detroit held a surprise for us.  Inadvertently, the day we chose to attend was the very day its bell “chimed till it rang twenty-nine times for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald”.  It isn’t an exaggeration when I say the gooseflesh ran down my arms once I realized what was happening.  I remember glancing at my husband, and thinking, “No way!” and thanking whatever force that had guided us there for that annual event.  Not only did they ring the bell, but each crew member’s name was read, too.  Then the choir performed, singing that famous Gordon Lightfoot song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which notably mentions the church in the lyrics: 

The Legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well-seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing'
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya
At 7 pm a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And far below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early

Lightfoot released the song in 1976 as a tribute to the twenty-nine men who lost their lives in the shipwreck of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior, November 10, 1975.  Launched in 1958, the freighter was considered the largest carrier on the Great Lakes at the time, but was no match for hurricane-force winds and thirty-five foot waves seventeen years later.  On November 9, 1975, the ship departed Superior, Wisconsin with 26,000 tons of ore bound for Detroit (not Cleveland, as in Lightfoot's lyrics).  That evening the National Weather Service issued a gale warning for Lake Superior, upgrading it to a storm warning at 2:00 a.m. the next morning.  The captain of the Mighty Fitz made radio contact that afternoon:  "I have a bad list, lost both radars, and am taking heavy seas over the deck. One of the worst seas I've ever seen."  At 7:00 p.m., the freighter, SS Arthur M Anderson made contact with the doomed ship and had her on radar, but approximately twenty minutes later she disappeared.  Every crew member perished and no bodies were recovered.  An excellent website that provides bios of these brave men is www.ssedmundfitzgerald.org.
Creative and artistic liberties were taken by the singer/songwriter with respect to the song, such as the name of the church, mentioning what the cook said when there was no way of knowing this, saying the ship was bound for a city it wasn't.  All of this was to make a wonderful song that works.  Lightfoot eventually changed some lyrics for performances, including the reference to a "musty old hall" when one of the parishioners of the Mariners' Church complained to him that the hall wasn't musty.  I would agree with this statement.  It is now performed with the lyrics "rustic old hall" instead, although I think "classic" is a better adjective.  
The Mariners' Church of Detroit 
The Mariners' Church of Detroit, built in 1849, was established according to the will of Julia Anderson in 1842, who saw it as a Maritime Mission for maritime travelers on the Great Lakes.  Today it is listed in the National Register of Historic Places, considered an Independent Church adhering to Anglican traditions, and was once a stop on the Underground Railroad.  It began the annual remembrances of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald in 1975 that continued until 2006.  It then extended the event by remembering all of the lives lost on the Great Lakes.  Today the church holds a Blessing of the Fleet every March for those going to sea, and a Great Lakes Memorial Service every November for those who have lost their lives at sea (this also includes military personnel who have given the ultimate sacrifice in service).
That day twenty-two years ago was pretty special to me.  It was one that came with such surprise because of the obvious unplanned timing, but more so because I'm not sure I ever realized the church in that song actually existed.  I think I assumed it was simply part of a special homage from a great songwriter who created one of the most memorable songs of my youth, one that has withstood time.  In fact, the song's longevity is much like the church that's mentioned in it.
November 10, 2016.  Forty-one years later.  For more information on the wonderful church that hasn't forgotten, continues to remember, and stands proudly, visit www.marinerschurchofdetroit.org.





     

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

New Photographs on Fine Art America from Scotland and England

I returned from a trip to the UK a couple of weeks ago, and it seems all I've done since is relive the wonderful vacation through photographs.  The better ones are being added to my Fine Art America account and I'd like to share the link and a few samples here (higher resolution images are available on the site only).

The new web address is www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com and the latest images were taken in Scotland, including Edinburgh, the Highlands, St. Andrews, Loch Ness and a few small coastal towns; a few have been added from a visit to London, England, as well.  More will be added as I can get to them, but I hope visitors like what is there now.  Fine Art America offers so many items to purchase: from prints (in various formats, framed or unframed), duvets, pillows, t-shirts, tote bags, shower curtains, towels, to cell phone covers and more.  They offer full returns, too, if a buyer isn't satisfied with his/her purchase.

Please take a look, and if you make a purchase, let me know. Thanks to all who have already done so.  I appreciate it.  Now it's time to finish that final round of edits on my book, Williamsburg Hill.













Tuesday, September 20, 2016

That Quote is Attributed to...

“When you turn around, you’ll see something I bet you’ve never seen before. If it takes your breath away, then you’ll fit in nicely. If you don’t feel anything, then maybe you don’t belong here.”  - Veronica Randolph Batterson, Daniel’s Esperanza

If you write books, you hope people will read them.  In fact, you remind them, beg them, bug them, post on social media about your work until everyone ignores your pleas (or unfollows/unfriends you, or whatever ‘un’ of the moment happens to be that I’ve never heard before).  It’s wonderful when folks buy your books, and even better when you receive a positive review and shout-out from someone.  Recommendations are priceless because they rarely come, and I love them when they do.
Recognition and referral usually happen after someone reads the book, and I’ve received both.  But I have to say I’m very surprised as to how my book, Daniel’s Esperanza, has gotten attention lately.  It’s through the above quote, and I have no idea how it happened.  It’s being used on various sites by individuals I don’t know, and is being attached to personal photographs that have meaning to the people using it.  I’m told when something appears on Pinterest, it spreads like wildfire (the same with Instagram). I’m not on either one of the sites but my quote is, and it appears to be true.  It’s also being shared on Twitter, and other places I’m not even familiar with.  I guess hashtags are amazing. 
Daniel's Esperanza
Most of the people who use the quote attribute it to me and to the book, and I’m okay with this.  I appreciate it, and it's pretty special that people get something from it.  However, there are some who don’t give me credit, and that’s a problem for me.  It took over three years of work to get the book published, and the quote is actually a piece of dialogue in the book about seeing a band of wild horses for the first time.  Using it as your own by deleting my name and from where it came is essentially stealing.
Hey, I like it that other folks like it.  I like it that it’s being used in the way it has been.  Just give me that byline for it.  It’s deserved, it’s right, it’s cool…it’s what you’re supposed to do.  I’ve even included a photograph here of the book page where it’s published in paperback (about the fifth paragraph), in case someone wants proof that it’s mine.  Also, I’m sharing a screenshot of one person’s use of it (and she attributed it to me and my book – thanks!).
The quote finds itself here
By the way, I just became aware of how this quote has gone viral as I was preparing a blog post on Intellectual Property and Copyright.  I guess I’ll be sharing that next time, but this is certainly an introduction for it, and coincidental. And for those who think I'm being a little goofy about this, I'm not.  It's my work.  Finally, to all those people who like the quote so much:  there’s a whole book waiting to be read that I’m sure you’ll like even better.  Daniel’s Esperanza.  On Amazon. $12.95 paperback. $3.99 Kindle.  And sharing that is even better.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Historic Ridge Cemetery, Williamsburg Hill, IL - Deserving of Respect

Ridge Cemetery - Williamsburg Hill, Illinois
Nearly two years ago, I wrote a blog post about visiting an area in Illinois that was once known as Williamsburg Hill.  When the railroad bypassed the town in the late 1880s and the stagecoach line ceased to exist, residents deserted the village out of necessity.  The only thing remaining from that era rests on the hill itself:  Ridge Cemetery.
After viewing that beautiful and, yes, strange place, I decided I’d found the perfect setting for my next book.  Fictional townspeople have come alive in Williamsburg and Ridge Cemetery plays a prominent role in my story.  The first draft is finished and is now undergoing rewrites.  While I’m happy to share the status of my book, which is titled Williamsburg Hill, I’d also like to share something else.
In March of this year, vandals struck Ridge Cemetery.  Three adults and one juvenile from nearby towns were eventually arrested and face felony counts of unlawful vandalism of a gravestone.  According to a Go Fund Me Page that was started to cover the cost of repairs to the cemetery, approximately 122 headstones were knocked over and damaged.  The news reported destruction was done to some tombstones weighing more than a thousand pounds. 
Only road to Ridge Cemetery
Fortunately, enough money was raised to reset the stones, the brush was cleared, and the grounds were cleaned.  I visited the area again in May of this year for a bit of last minute research, and wasn’t aware of the destruction that had occurred just two months prior.  It was only a few weeks ago that I was informed of what had happened.  Kudos to the special volunteers who worked diligently in a short amount of time to restore the grounds to a place deserving of respect and honor, not one of contempt.
While the cemetery is isolated and difficult to find if you don’t know the area, it is open for anyone to visit.  There have been stories of odd events that supposedly occurred there over the decades, which more than likely attract the strange and curious sorts.  For all of the tales that might scare or intrigue about this nineteenth century place, it seems the only thing to fear are those living and breathing folks who wish to do damage.
Surname used in my book
Ridge Cemetery and Williamsburg Hill spoke to me of a rich background that didn’t evolve into anything greater, but simply ended.  The idea to visit took root as a story to write and I love history.  So seeing the cemetery appealed to me, especially because I thought it had something to say.  And it does.  One doesn’t have to write a book to hear it.  It speaks of families, hardships, lives lost suddenly, prosperity, tragedy, long years of existence, illness, stillbirth and disease.  It whispers of differences during life, but shouts that in the end everyone ends up in the same place together.  It exists as a reminder of those who came before us, and a place all of us will eventually face.  We should listen because it has a lot to say.
The volunteers who worked hard to restore it after the recent destruction know this.  It’s unfortunate that some with nothing but anger inside of them do not.