tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51642339060743988512024-03-12T18:27:06.036-07:00 Barbara Eppich Struna BEST-SELLING AUTHOR * WELL-KNOWN SPEAKER * AVAILABLE FOR CONFERENCES AND VIRTUAL BOOK CLUBS
Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-14100652489676473822023-12-05T08:23:00.000-08:002023-12-05T08:23:00.955-08:00One of my favorite blog posts...Who was St. Nicholas?<p> </p><div><div><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8PqtmK7vLa6UEGNEOR6sHsLC-cP0NsW1AfRj41ymeGX9GNNdP2ovIhZhu2WHghu1ib8zjE7v0OROOmZv6NCxWMPjARLb3NOPBhKf086vR8qn5MQy_sfilOm0Mq5u6EXfW6J2YJFhGD5_cFyElCTrtBVWl-5_48OW8QuWDbbJYHq3MDLw6ElX5XEJ/s784/st-nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8PqtmK7vLa6UEGNEOR6sHsLC-cP0NsW1AfRj41ymeGX9GNNdP2ovIhZhu2WHghu1ib8zjE7v0OROOmZv6NCxWMPjARLb3NOPBhKf086vR8qn5MQy_sfilOm0Mq5u6EXfW6J2YJFhGD5_cFyElCTrtBVWl-5_48OW8QuWDbbJYHq3MDLw6ElX5XEJ/s320/st-nicholas.jpg" width="194" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <br /></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">When
I was a little girl, on the eve of December 6, my mother would always
tell the family to put their shoes in front of the fireplace. If we'd
been behaving, there would be an orange and some candy the next morning.
If not, we'd receive a piece of coal or maybe nothing...but that never
happened. Mom said these gifts came from Saint Nicholas. It was a test,
to see if we needed to improve by the time Christmas morning came. I
guess it was similar to the current 'elf on a shelf' craze.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDWDkCua2oTgUUBDaIoojlpqTuKL6E4qrUju6kAh9ja9AkvNtqgLAEOAD2tmGQBt1Plgt6nWPx-cYKkuKnWphgyvEinrRi8nURjv7K9W5agVbUO8sO_yrjLpvqBrLiymXPLpYeSfWqbo/s1600/Saint_Nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDWDkCua2oTgUUBDaIoojlpqTuKL6E4qrUju6kAh9ja9AkvNtqgLAEOAD2tmGQBt1Plgt6nWPx-cYKkuKnWphgyvEinrRi8nURjv7K9W5agVbUO8sO_yrjLpvqBrLiymXPLpYeSfWqbo/s1600/Saint_Nicholas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Here's an image of Saint Nicholas. Notice the oranges and his red/green robe. Look familiar?</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's what I found in my research.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Saint
Nicholas died on December 6, 343 C.E. He came from a wealthy family,
always giving away his money to the poor. He soon became a priest. After
his parents died, he used his inheritance to help even more people but
only traveled in the night, in secret. By the time he was made the
Bishop of Myra, in the city of Denre in present day Turkey, his good
deeds and saintly work had spread far and wide. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">
<br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As
centuries came and went, his reputation became almost mythical. Over
400 churches in the Middle Ages were dedicated in his honor. Because of
his gift giving and evidence of miracles, people began celebrating and
giving gifts to each other on his feast day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Martin
Luther, in the early 1500s, replaced the name Nicholas with Christ
Child, or in German, Christkindl, eventually evolving into Kris
Kringle. </span></span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhO_9xRg5gBeKbomjgTirSsCyEafB_A4pA7g5vFdK2KNg1-oW9LlJhogKqm_R7u36hA4bgZtQIqAOfBajflAI5kIoOnTXwcvQ31qmYKNzUWomR2qnuzrYmM9k7dOX6kUUdDheHCpoS4o/s1600/real-saint-nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhO_9xRg5gBeKbomjgTirSsCyEafB_A4pA7g5vFdK2KNg1-oW9LlJhogKqm_R7u36hA4bgZtQIqAOfBajflAI5kIoOnTXwcvQ31qmYKNzUWomR2qnuzrYmM9k7dOX6kUUdDheHCpoS4o/s1600/real-saint-nicholas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">More legends sprang up, and in the late 1500s there was another name change–Father Christmas.</span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7En_f0jBRWcLHuvB7OP3U9-LA-s8SvNpWb_V5Iw9ItngY-NRrHYyj6PVr6w8bpptY69sJmOgjT3xCEdRM8xPXBbQ_PuzgmmCv6vAxBd9DHISnjXrPUtT91lMppAAHwl_2B0_EzoBbQA/s1600/VIC4508_white+St.+Nick.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7En_f0jBRWcLHuvB7OP3U9-LA-s8SvNpWb_V5Iw9ItngY-NRrHYyj6PVr6w8bpptY69sJmOgjT3xCEdRM8xPXBbQ_PuzgmmCv6vAxBd9DHISnjXrPUtT91lMppAAHwl_2B0_EzoBbQA/s320/VIC4508_white+St.+Nick.JPG" width="202" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Along
the way, the tradition developed guidelines. On the eve of December 6,
parents instructed their children to hang their stockings by the
fireplace or put their shoes out and they would be filled if they were
good. They also had to go to bed early if they wanted anything because
St. Nick only came at night to deliver his gifts.</span><br /></div><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The
Dutch pronunciation for Saint Nicholas was Sinter Klass. When the Dutch
settlers came to the New World and settled in New York, known then as
New Amsterdam, they brought their St. Nick traditions. The name changed
again from Sinter Klass to Santa Klass to Santa Claus. Which brings us
to today.</span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeE_IqjF8Ib4ALdaTUA6JujMeAbgVvl_CJTDa4GK17-5OA6FT0CyT8JRiyYy0kN5TgRmbIxT0YL8CHZ-FI4aTZeUFIUMD4r-VT-9pt00ngGSAgR1HK6QDD6yA0ru_tjof3-TqV3W8t_w/s1600/santa_claus_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeE_IqjF8Ib4ALdaTUA6JujMeAbgVvl_CJTDa4GK17-5OA6FT0CyT8JRiyYy0kN5TgRmbIxT0YL8CHZ-FI4aTZeUFIUMD4r-VT-9pt00ngGSAgR1HK6QDD6yA0ru_tjof3-TqV3W8t_w/s320/santa_claus_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span>We all know who this is!</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span>On a side-note:</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>I
still remember my brother and I coming down the stairs, dressed in our
school uniforms, anticipating what was in our shoes for St. Nicholas
Day. Then on the bus to school, we dreamed about what we would be
receiving on the coming Christmas Day because our shoes were filled,
signifying that we were being very good. My Mom collaborated with St.
Nicholas through high school, college, and even when we all moved away
with our own families. What a treat it was when a St. Nicholas card
arrived in the mail with a little money inside. </span></span><br />
</span></div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBmKnWhYQfx752Rvawrwb_1tgipYWhG2Y4n1OUi80dOcorS_E281MtbGZDOSVjLj0brYWPiswkM8-RGEmsfE-FRFmxGBUe19zG_05bkqiFNICUY196DvWzpmBn_ODoO16QrGEF_nsGyQ/s1600/shoes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBmKnWhYQfx752Rvawrwb_1tgipYWhG2Y4n1OUi80dOcorS_E281MtbGZDOSVjLj0brYWPiswkM8-RGEmsfE-FRFmxGBUe19zG_05bkqiFNICUY196DvWzpmBn_ODoO16QrGEF_nsGyQ/s320/shoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Struna's St. Nicholas Day 1976 </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
continued the family custom for my own children and so did my brother
and sisters with their children. When my Mom passed and I moved further
away from everyone to Cape Cod, I wanted to keep the observance of St.
Nick alive, along with the goodness of my Mom. So every year I mail a
St. Nicholas card to my nieces and nephews, filling it with a dollar
bill for each member of their family. Over the years, I hope they have
enjoyed it as much I have. It's a simple reminder to be good and never
lose the magic of the season.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I wish the same to you.</span></span><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram barbara_struna</span><br /></div>
<br />
Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-69871670015045727172023-05-22T18:22:00.004-07:002023-05-25T16:28:45.187-07:00Something New is Coming!<div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjcer9cYjUdRzDpIGRn0u4YViY3LnFEtRd3OWDdwHfvX2KHvza2SwjxO1-0k4ojFGGrYQbeS1PF74bgcs2kX6WMaHpcxQZhW8wXiHulFVuRN8D_B7h-o1q8a-fSsKfiDj-zZApAqeMi4HPhh4NYpnXHq6pww8wqlkofq80TcYoN9T9hSxAKRH2Kkd/s630/IMG_2654.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="630" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjcer9cYjUdRzDpIGRn0u4YViY3LnFEtRd3OWDdwHfvX2KHvza2SwjxO1-0k4ojFGGrYQbeS1PF74bgcs2kX6WMaHpcxQZhW8wXiHulFVuRN8D_B7h-o1q8a-fSsKfiDj-zZApAqeMi4HPhh4NYpnXHq6pww8wqlkofq80TcYoN9T9hSxAKRH2Kkd/s320/IMG_2654.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is our house. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This 1890 historical home sits on two plus acres and is surrounded by woods on three sides. It was the inspiration for my first novel, </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Old Cape House</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAh5QE53WIfIdMCzqjLyQ3dtV9hLkRTwHHWIVIqT_bEWtrzJF6gCQTSV7VV7kF63ckGwRvJ3_n3ywN-s3sx58vUR1KPd7nRNMbtGxc2wOfZBHp4TG47gGKg3ejmdHOd0FPGDas3j2R82pKM_2fUF2pga6OsJqmuPjej3P5Rexb0yaamn8FJQOaXk9/s1600/cover%20small%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAh5QE53WIfIdMCzqjLyQ3dtV9hLkRTwHHWIVIqT_bEWtrzJF6gCQTSV7VV7kF63ckGwRvJ3_n3ywN-s3sx58vUR1KPd7nRNMbtGxc2wOfZBHp4TG47gGKg3ejmdHOd0FPGDas3j2R82pKM_2fUF2pga6OsJqmuPjej3P5Rexb0yaamn8FJQOaXk9/s320/cover%20small%20copy.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">And now, it is the inspiration, once again, for my fifth novel in </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Old Cape Series </b> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to share some thoughts about </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-large;"><b>"The Old Cape Map</b></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we first moved in, thirty five years ago, on our western side, was a large empty parcel. There were wild flowers in the spring like aconite and snow drops that covered the forest floor. On occasion, I admit, I shouldn't have crossed the property line but couldn't resist transplanting some of the flowers to our yard, thinking someone was going to clear cut and build. I wanted to save as much as I could.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBu1zWXI0vLnxdSwMLpf60LydHXlkZZI53kzgj9yr4pkx4G_2VUiy2tEzKd2cGd6pKVqWDQKVy52PV8x9ZpCclFAxbK91PlrpUWdSls3ic7AwBre4JwRlqrP2B4dSDtX7P2LvqaZARx6gzsLiVLd0-Tpn1hKbnrpbGKZDkVEUKA5ZBk-9W3l28fY_/s4032/IMG_2021.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBu1zWXI0vLnxdSwMLpf60LydHXlkZZI53kzgj9yr4pkx4G_2VUiy2tEzKd2cGd6pKVqWDQKVy52PV8x9ZpCclFAxbK91PlrpUWdSls3ic7AwBre4JwRlqrP2B4dSDtX7P2LvqaZARx6gzsLiVLd0-Tpn1hKbnrpbGKZDkVEUKA5ZBk-9W3l28fY_/s320/IMG_2021.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love my yellow aconite.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">In my fictional novel, The Old Cape Map, Nancy Caldwell is visited by her two nieces from Ohio. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwK2ZvzCT-_mwttjVCyA_y1fz1k5cCv8LuwvGPMLtA9D9bd0t6RHhvgEnlTm5NEGPhAkQzWinfxHqI-9Y4_or9e55BMfp-nRe1DaF1Qq_jJalRBHKEN7SLITlohuxz7kVp6ix_A_r4RIw8voJlRMsLGpnUTK6eLp7E8gcW-DZ0LP2eVFyosbTcy7I/s3150/brewster%202.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1818" data-original-width="3150" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwK2ZvzCT-_mwttjVCyA_y1fz1k5cCv8LuwvGPMLtA9D9bd0t6RHhvgEnlTm5NEGPhAkQzWinfxHqI-9Y4_or9e55BMfp-nRe1DaF1Qq_jJalRBHKEN7SLITlohuxz7kVp6ix_A_r4RIw8voJlRMsLGpnUTK6eLp7E8gcW-DZ0LP2eVFyosbTcy7I/w525-h303/brewster%202.png" width="525" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's a drone view of the Caldwell property in my fictional world.<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Caldwell Gallery is on the right. The story is all about the land between the Caldwell Gallery and a curmudgeon neighbor, Mrs. McPhee on the left.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6bp3YoIMG0Jg99sL2qC9FIcE7tRGOr4xsyJAleQ9aPyc9BvP6QdZAurhj61OvbC7rvzH-lJLwL4ot9p6-hkykYlX2MiDBjqy0PaCJJ6esqD2bozMkKTHU5VQj9yJV8aeQFKyfmt5RJmL52S1vi7KN7PzH151o_laDoC8FvIBVlgwEA8UjN1IvkqJ/s3150/brewster%20before.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1818" data-original-width="3150" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6bp3YoIMG0Jg99sL2qC9FIcE7tRGOr4xsyJAleQ9aPyc9BvP6QdZAurhj61OvbC7rvzH-lJLwL4ot9p6-hkykYlX2MiDBjqy0PaCJJ6esqD2bozMkKTHU5VQj9yJV8aeQFKyfmt5RJmL52S1vi7KN7PzH151o_laDoC8FvIBVlgwEA8UjN1IvkqJ/w520-h301/brewster%20before.png" width="520" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the view in present day.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">As you can see, my stories are always inspired by what I see around me. Once I get an idea in my head, I begin to weave my characters around historical facts and the scenario of, <i>it could happen</i>.</span></p><br /><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnDoAu-cEbIF1MeR26eGCwIs5OwLAdGJyoUxuWD-VWVZFyA7kJdgFISqhSZ3I0ygppupaSRe2pdxwzGqjwBmcgWrY87Ezf-eosZ5ok3-HeWuDhP7yVI-OHgMcCh83bs-N9Pmvd3rI8Bq0dmkkYmnaxgG0kjWme_3EH3cVTI-wX7tMzA5HtAVKGRvF/s1317/Screen%20Shot%202023-05-20%20at%203.00.13%20PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="1317" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnDoAu-cEbIF1MeR26eGCwIs5OwLAdGJyoUxuWD-VWVZFyA7kJdgFISqhSZ3I0ygppupaSRe2pdxwzGqjwBmcgWrY87Ezf-eosZ5ok3-HeWuDhP7yVI-OHgMcCh83bs-N9Pmvd3rI8Bq0dmkkYmnaxgG0kjWme_3EH3cVTI-wX7tMzA5HtAVKGRvF/w492-h257/Screen%20Shot%202023-05-20%20at%203.00.13%20PM.jpeg" width="492" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The second location that is woven through the story is Millbury, MA.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Why did I choose Millbury MA? My youngest daughter lives in Millbury with her husband on Burbank Street. On the top left is the old Mayo Woolen Mill and you can see Burbank street as it winds and climbs to all the many houses along the road.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My novels are written using dueling storylines and timelines.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Old Cape Map begins in present day Cape Cod with Nancy Caldwell and one
of her nieces finding clues. In the following chapters you'll
travel back to 1900 and meet the characters connected with the found
items. As chapters unfold, two stories develop across different time
periods in an adventure filled with suspense, history, and treasure.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;"> THE OLD CAPE MAP </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">Coming Soon - late summer 2023<br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram - barbara_struna</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on TikTok - @beswrites24_7<br /></span></div><p></p><p></p></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-21399957530252951042022-12-08T10:06:00.003-08:002022-12-08T11:24:34.805-08:00Christmas 1946 and Perry Como<div><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhzQAcwZBQa-p8WGtpO6QW4qA4D46jyM0wHYWrvgMSm9Fnyeckqcdv4esQhCCyQY9BPsXz02foK_OgYubNTrONDDltFVUqJZeglSZ2g0K-2tBx9NL1M_AyO-d_LdwPfTSi5pMLJXJrmzctgf88eUZFrkiE16mJRkuvlu9LsV1OcsYdvawW1nRWtTP/s3016/IMG_3430%20copy.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2813" data-original-width="3016" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhzQAcwZBQa-p8WGtpO6QW4qA4D46jyM0wHYWrvgMSm9Fnyeckqcdv4esQhCCyQY9BPsXz02foK_OgYubNTrONDDltFVUqJZeglSZ2g0K-2tBx9NL1M_AyO-d_LdwPfTSi5pMLJXJrmzctgf88eUZFrkiE16mJRkuvlu9LsV1OcsYdvawW1nRWtTP/s320/IMG_3430%20copy.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Traditions are important. They remind you of where you came from and oftentimes make you happy or sad, depending on you.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm fortunate that my family traditions were always memorable and now bring a smile to my face and heart whenever they drift into my memory.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> My husband Tim also experienced wonderful years as he grew. This Victor Victrola came from his grandparents farm back in Ohio. Before the farm was sold, the Victrola was found in the barn and brought to his Mother's house. As a child, Tim and his siblings played with it in their garage and put on musicals to the delight of his parents and neighbors. Years went by and Tim eventually brought it to our house. He cleaned and repaired it, eventually entertaining our own children. Since then we have been fortunate to keep it with us and care for it, even when we moved to Cape Cod.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrNBNQFGerPUK-PXXIUJ3ROZenILq6Cn1TisSApNeIXS-3iFfl1X0xWwrirZkrxRCU2mvyzxXVQCbZd9lXhT4r012SifRUhpgwxHTQg_w_kM3cPznVTHJr1Wfr8Q-5GkptzJY4IF98Hwgx_CNppuyqbCQ-yo-2GpUi4wRGdDdRK6hf_C51yObFSAk/s686/xmas_smart_set_78_600pix.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="686" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrNBNQFGerPUK-PXXIUJ3ROZenILq6Cn1TisSApNeIXS-3iFfl1X0xWwrirZkrxRCU2mvyzxXVQCbZd9lXhT4r012SifRUhpgwxHTQg_w_kM3cPznVTHJr1Wfr8Q-5GkptzJY4IF98Hwgx_CNppuyqbCQ-yo-2GpUi4wRGdDdRK6hf_C51yObFSAk/s320/xmas_smart_set_78_600pix.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><span style="font-size: large;">My parents loved listening to Perry Como when I was growing up. So, I was delighted when we found this Victor RCA 78rpm record album set by Perry Como among his mother's things when she settled into our home on Cape Cod.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">We listen to the songs every Christmas.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Some fun facts</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Victor Victrola company produced external horn Victors between 1901-1920. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDeDjd_M-sJu3zEj1G4uAMc82KegemJUtMol_3EIx1-MDgRQHL7-BqPePSn18qYcmRog5aJIcCT0X9d51EkMNZQvEhj7ioB16VqEQbU3j_5KNmaU9s5nTc0GXaFjI5Wg0l4z2UiExXIorhe-4VQ08AeFrFHpo4LS6MV2VP5ql08EPG6G9FkjHAwhd/s300/type3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="243" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDeDjd_M-sJu3zEj1G4uAMc82KegemJUtMol_3EIx1-MDgRQHL7-BqPePSn18qYcmRog5aJIcCT0X9d51EkMNZQvEhj7ioB16VqEQbU3j_5KNmaU9s5nTc0GXaFjI5Wg0l4z2UiExXIorhe-4VQ08AeFrFHpo4LS6MV2VP5ql08EPG6G9FkjHAwhd/s1600/type3.jpg" width="243" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Internal horn Victors were manufactured between 1906 - 1929</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqShq0i5oDVu8qyrW1XXAKPAxvBSM-GjSYluhMwUaNz0oo_xMBVDpzZ3ADTDtcGgXiqCJPTwr_Q_zjS92M0SCTdC71wyLM8_49s4C4mol9ByRjxj6ff1-nSFOT1Ahk_3fe07G2Ed6PWFmQOVcA44g2cx_xWrlAvqI2D5sYSIO2Cw9m0bYExzU0xrhV/s1503/victrola-victor-talking-machine-oak-case-record-player-model-vv-ix-252347g-5326.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1503" data-original-width="1503" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqShq0i5oDVu8qyrW1XXAKPAxvBSM-GjSYluhMwUaNz0oo_xMBVDpzZ3ADTDtcGgXiqCJPTwr_Q_zjS92M0SCTdC71wyLM8_49s4C4mol9ByRjxj6ff1-nSFOT1Ahk_3fe07G2Ed6PWFmQOVcA44g2cx_xWrlAvqI2D5sYSIO2Cw9m0bYExzU0xrhV/s320/victrola-victor-talking-machine-oak-case-record-player-model-vv-ix-252347g-5326.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKR4hMGbD1WcxMx49wLT1T_5DTtneiScKzp498lfwhuDB-4ev0vQgPbXsmj9ZgBUI0xnPAdy_BaSF_7pRgI4IL22VU49MA6L9R-p9o9FlB9Twc0q6YepiowavBYkbve_xP93qTlO9Vx-eVwIdlhtxJky1wNozhtIDTcA109hk-pHgdm92Yjhw8ubC/s4032/IMG_3431.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKR4hMGbD1WcxMx49wLT1T_5DTtneiScKzp498lfwhuDB-4ev0vQgPbXsmj9ZgBUI0xnPAdy_BaSF_7pRgI4IL22VU49MA6L9R-p9o9FlB9Twc0q6YepiowavBYkbve_xP93qTlO9Vx-eVwIdlhtxJky1wNozhtIDTcA109hk-pHgdm92Yjhw8ubC/s320/IMG_3431.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Struna Family's Victor Victrola</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpdtkO4uAWvGiKyvHhLWk4qsHaunsZ0KXiJ4i1EH_XhGEQwVO2DQvRJNBSJice8ZPaxe2W3OXsXN5V8TdgEJ5SQkDCudLHUX4eAYZ_22wC1injI9RNGBcIo9s8XOf5X2kpdQqlEw9l7isIzxQHKEWdIQag9ERTxp9om3dSPY7CLPPxO8lbhxYGkn7/s2856/IMG_3427.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2724" data-original-width="2856" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpdtkO4uAWvGiKyvHhLWk4qsHaunsZ0KXiJ4i1EH_XhGEQwVO2DQvRJNBSJice8ZPaxe2W3OXsXN5V8TdgEJ5SQkDCudLHUX4eAYZ_22wC1injI9RNGBcIo9s8XOf5X2kpdQqlEw9l7isIzxQHKEWdIQag9ERTxp9om3dSPY7CLPPxO8lbhxYGkn7/s320/IMG_3427.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzM-YzZEmZyuOOhEi4r-BW5tWZ0FR_sEfek2NV5jQw-StOg92yMk6H1arFknjNH8LP4sjzLDeIFXqoWYRLS5sIPwsDXWlZ3-zzogxYbyRE3ddDSeRFVGOLvCXbCM-OTxrZ_FCzYdw7e8YquM0JEzy7TA5GRk5UDkCVggcfPtamE6dYGgp0zEPHiyt/s2961/IMG_3429.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2571" data-original-width="2961" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzM-YzZEmZyuOOhEi4r-BW5tWZ0FR_sEfek2NV5jQw-StOg92yMk6H1arFknjNH8LP4sjzLDeIFXqoWYRLS5sIPwsDXWlZ3-zzogxYbyRE3ddDSeRFVGOLvCXbCM-OTxrZ_FCzYdw7e8YquM0JEzy7TA5GRk5UDkCVggcfPtamE6dYGgp0zEPHiyt/s320/IMG_3429.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">The serial number tells the Victor's story.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was manufactured in 1916 and designated with a 'G' denoting the addition of feet on the bottom of the cabinet.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-wvPmBAxDEhFvY7jHcPtE7YCvNJkO9gLu8qY78pFGXt4A6HjEBUTtH3ortrSXqS4pgyl_8ZauU4QtW2D3Mg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's hoping you have lovely memories of your family Christmas traditions!<br /></span></p><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram barbara_struna</span><br /></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-85611130954931023442022-11-30T08:31:00.003-08:002023-12-05T08:18:15.054-08:00One of my favorite's...Who was Saint Nicholas? <div><div><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8PqtmK7vLa6UEGNEOR6sHsLC-cP0NsW1AfRj41ymeGX9GNNdP2ovIhZhu2WHghu1ib8zjE7v0OROOmZv6NCxWMPjARLb3NOPBhKf086vR8qn5MQy_sfilOm0Mq5u6EXfW6J2YJFhGD5_cFyElCTrtBVWl-5_48OW8QuWDbbJYHq3MDLw6ElX5XEJ/s784/st-nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8PqtmK7vLa6UEGNEOR6sHsLC-cP0NsW1AfRj41ymeGX9GNNdP2ovIhZhu2WHghu1ib8zjE7v0OROOmZv6NCxWMPjARLb3NOPBhKf086vR8qn5MQy_sfilOm0Mq5u6EXfW6J2YJFhGD5_cFyElCTrtBVWl-5_48OW8QuWDbbJYHq3MDLw6ElX5XEJ/s320/st-nicholas.jpg" width="194" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <br /></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">When I was a little girl, on the eve of December 6, my mother would always tell the family to put their shoes in front of the fireplace. If we'd been behaving, there would be an orange and some candy the next morning. If not, we'd receive a piece of coal or maybe nothing...but that never happened. Mom said these gifts came from Saint Nicholas. It was a test, to see if we needed to improve by the time Christmas morning came. I guess it was similar to the current 'elf on a shelf' craze.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDWDkCua2oTgUUBDaIoojlpqTuKL6E4qrUju6kAh9ja9AkvNtqgLAEOAD2tmGQBt1Plgt6nWPx-cYKkuKnWphgyvEinrRi8nURjv7K9W5agVbUO8sO_yrjLpvqBrLiymXPLpYeSfWqbo/s1600/Saint_Nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtDWDkCua2oTgUUBDaIoojlpqTuKL6E4qrUju6kAh9ja9AkvNtqgLAEOAD2tmGQBt1Plgt6nWPx-cYKkuKnWphgyvEinrRi8nURjv7K9W5agVbUO8sO_yrjLpvqBrLiymXPLpYeSfWqbo/s1600/Saint_Nicholas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Here's an image of Saint Nicholas. Notice the oranges and his red/green robe. Look familiar?</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's what I found in my research.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Saint Nicholas died on December 6, 343 C.E. He came from a wealthy family, always giving away his money to the poor. He soon became a priest. After his parents died, he used his inheritance to help even more people but only traveled in the night, in secret. By the time he was made the Bishop of Myra, in the city of Denre in present day Turkey, his good deeds and saintly work had spread far and wide. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">
<br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As centuries came and went, his reputation became almost mythical. Over 400 churches in the Middle Ages were dedicated in his honor. Because of his gift giving and evidence of miracles, people began celebrating and giving gifts to each other on his feast day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Martin Luther, in the early 1500s, replaced the name Nicholas with Christ Child, or in German, Christkindl, eventually evolving into Kris Kringle. </span></span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhO_9xRg5gBeKbomjgTirSsCyEafB_A4pA7g5vFdK2KNg1-oW9LlJhogKqm_R7u36hA4bgZtQIqAOfBajflAI5kIoOnTXwcvQ31qmYKNzUWomR2qnuzrYmM9k7dOX6kUUdDheHCpoS4o/s1600/real-saint-nicholas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhO_9xRg5gBeKbomjgTirSsCyEafB_A4pA7g5vFdK2KNg1-oW9LlJhogKqm_R7u36hA4bgZtQIqAOfBajflAI5kIoOnTXwcvQ31qmYKNzUWomR2qnuzrYmM9k7dOX6kUUdDheHCpoS4o/s1600/real-saint-nicholas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">More legends sprang up, and in the late 1500s there was another name change–Father Christmas.</span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7En_f0jBRWcLHuvB7OP3U9-LA-s8SvNpWb_V5Iw9ItngY-NRrHYyj6PVr6w8bpptY69sJmOgjT3xCEdRM8xPXBbQ_PuzgmmCv6vAxBd9DHISnjXrPUtT91lMppAAHwl_2B0_EzoBbQA/s1600/VIC4508_white+St.+Nick.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7En_f0jBRWcLHuvB7OP3U9-LA-s8SvNpWb_V5Iw9ItngY-NRrHYyj6PVr6w8bpptY69sJmOgjT3xCEdRM8xPXBbQ_PuzgmmCv6vAxBd9DHISnjXrPUtT91lMppAAHwl_2B0_EzoBbQA/s320/VIC4508_white+St.+Nick.JPG" width="202" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Along the way, the tradition developed guidelines. On the eve of December 6, parents instructed their children to hang their stockings by the fireplace or put their shoes out and they would be filled if they were good. They also had to go to bed early if they wanted anything because St. Nick only came at night to deliver his gifts.</span><br /></div><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The Dutch pronunciation for Saint Nicholas was Sinter Klass. When the Dutch settlers came to the New World and settled in New York, known then as New Amsterdam, they brought their St. Nick traditions. The name changed again from Sinter Klass to Santa Klass to Santa Claus. Which brings us to today.</span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeE_IqjF8Ib4ALdaTUA6JujMeAbgVvl_CJTDa4GK17-5OA6FT0CyT8JRiyYy0kN5TgRmbIxT0YL8CHZ-FI4aTZeUFIUMD4r-VT-9pt00ngGSAgR1HK6QDD6yA0ru_tjof3-TqV3W8t_w/s1600/santa_claus_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeE_IqjF8Ib4ALdaTUA6JujMeAbgVvl_CJTDa4GK17-5OA6FT0CyT8JRiyYy0kN5TgRmbIxT0YL8CHZ-FI4aTZeUFIUMD4r-VT-9pt00ngGSAgR1HK6QDD6yA0ru_tjof3-TqV3W8t_w/s320/santa_claus_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span>We all know who this is!</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span>On a side-note:</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>I still remember my brother and I coming down the stairs, dressed in our school uniforms, anticipating what was in our shoes for St. Nicholas Day. Then on the bus to school, we dreamed about what we would be receiving on the coming Christmas Day because our shoes were filled, signifying that we were being very good. My Mom collaborated with St. Nicholas through high school, college, and even when we all moved away with our own families. What a treat it was when a St. Nicholas card arrived in the mail with a little money inside. </span></span><br />
</span></div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBmKnWhYQfx752Rvawrwb_1tgipYWhG2Y4n1OUi80dOcorS_E281MtbGZDOSVjLj0brYWPiswkM8-RGEmsfE-FRFmxGBUe19zG_05bkqiFNICUY196DvWzpmBn_ODoO16QrGEF_nsGyQ/s1600/shoes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBmKnWhYQfx752Rvawrwb_1tgipYWhG2Y4n1OUi80dOcorS_E281MtbGZDOSVjLj0brYWPiswkM8-RGEmsfE-FRFmxGBUe19zG_05bkqiFNICUY196DvWzpmBn_ODoO16QrGEF_nsGyQ/s320/shoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Struna's St. Nicholas Day 1976 </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I continued the family custom for my own children and so did my brother and sisters with their children. When my Mom passed and I moved further away from everyone to Cape Cod, I wanted to keep the observance of St. Nick alive, along with the goodness of my Mom. So every year I mail a St. Nicholas card to my nieces and nephews, filling it with a dollar bill for each member of their family. Over the years, I hope they have enjoyed it as much I have. It's a simple reminder to be good and never lose the magic of the season.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I wish the same to you.</span></span><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram barbara_struna</span><br /></div><div>
<br />
<br /></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-35751437812390099372022-11-16T09:02:00.000-08:002022-11-16T09:02:44.570-08:00The Green Flash<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuToyTHciXxws9ymT-uY2vU90Tjow8PDtm3h8vjckscPdVEWzODr-oAkRehhpwB8kdZRSBKCkTA2hjtaAgBcWhcXFzco8N0M9_hVjCUrrkAdUmSmeRY9pPeIeeRr1Re5QoDO4u9XUo7wukgbBVBKAwPtsdmg32Ftp9B89ueWYlMYqkoLFl_J4Yg9q/s4032/IMG_3144.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuToyTHciXxws9ymT-uY2vU90Tjow8PDtm3h8vjckscPdVEWzODr-oAkRehhpwB8kdZRSBKCkTA2hjtaAgBcWhcXFzco8N0M9_hVjCUrrkAdUmSmeRY9pPeIeeRr1Re5QoDO4u9XUo7wukgbBVBKAwPtsdmg32Ftp9B89ueWYlMYqkoLFl_J4Yg9q/s320/IMG_3144.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sunset</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Green Flash is a real phenomenon that occurs at the moment the sun disappears from the horizon at sunset. When the conditions are just right, a distinct green spot is visible above the upper rim of the setting sun. It lasts no more than two seconds.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzaX5l7v1pLLXOtdDfrOyK5SjBQwMrALf46qbzd7j92-Cjq8KhOmroslc4ybpMsGf_K7iLEXMA5r52c7Wip4mXP1nTjRvNezmWum7BPMSJVxdqiXpd2u2wRylFmh12yFwyBwKkCi2oqo8ABSQwTvI-zo8uTPXINogewMGQbifakT5jswk-pmxp8c6/s1024/1024px-Big_green_flash.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzaX5l7v1pLLXOtdDfrOyK5SjBQwMrALf46qbzd7j92-Cjq8KhOmroslc4ybpMsGf_K7iLEXMA5r52c7Wip4mXP1nTjRvNezmWum7BPMSJVxdqiXpd2u2wRylFmh12yFwyBwKkCi2oqo8ABSQwTvI-zo8uTPXINogewMGQbifakT5jswk-pmxp8c6/s320/1024px-Big_green_flash.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">The green flash at Santa Cruz, California.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My husband Tim, and I became aware of this unique event back in 1990. A dear friend visiting from Ohio told us all about it. We didn't believe him at first, but then we began occasionally catching a view of it at sunset. Each time we ended our day at the beach in the warm months, we'd gather the kids and go to the beach in pursuit of the Green Flash. We'd patiently wait, all the while staring at the horizon for the lovely green glow to appear. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Certain conditions needed to be all in sync for success.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A clear day with no haze or clouds</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">An unobstructed view of the horizon with a distinct edge.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes we were lucky. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hint: Cape Cod is a good location to see it.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's a link to a wonderful video of the Green Flash at sunset. Thanks to Juan Guerra <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/lwus2nqU0SY" target="_blank">Video of Green Flash At Sunset </a><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are myths and legends that surround this magical happening.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is said that once you have seen a green flash, you will never again
go wrong in matters of the heart. But if you’re a fan of the “Pirates of
the Caribbean” movies, you know that the green flash signifies “a soul
[that] comes back to this world from the dead.” </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram to see a reel (video) about the green flash.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">barbara_struna<br /></span></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-50411553773820646272022-11-09T17:28:00.000-08:002022-11-09T17:28:36.021-08:00Scargo Tower<div><p></p> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkGDp4KvGh23p_vI1SXoMFlMWp852tppFn1cClQM99VYVu-iAPtyqpVEFuXP9y3eFqbPR4-LEhnddrrNS6rRpdkphoQLz4epQMhtt_XVCejMG9lq9TTXICCYoBZ2wPqY2MpmdcxH5mh2gJjt10aWE9rS1ot63hjert3p6m1r6mEW_dTH9O4pZoosn/s2048/IMG_1615.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="2048" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkGDp4KvGh23p_vI1SXoMFlMWp852tppFn1cClQM99VYVu-iAPtyqpVEFuXP9y3eFqbPR4-LEhnddrrNS6rRpdkphoQLz4epQMhtt_XVCejMG9lq9TTXICCYoBZ2wPqY2MpmdcxH5mh2gJjt10aWE9rS1ot63hjert3p6m1r6mEW_dTH9O4pZoosn/w454-h331/IMG_1615.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Cape Cod Bay can be dangerous as evidenced by the destruction of two Scargo Towers.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">The first Scargo Tower was wooden and built in 1874 by
the pioneering Tobey family. They built the wooden tower in an attempt to draw tourists to their nearby Nobscussett Hotel, one of the early “luxury” hotels of Cape Cod.</span></span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-YnHOFURzx0kEsHd_cMJ-0Yrkjd-lZKwOlHloxdVW3QB6qZpO1CJHFRarI8SrpgRwk879P5VE0l23mXL6vBxObwPlVw2XdIllZ5pjdDj9e6uZHR3nI6aT-SHR9tr9_HugcmHjTWuAxh2ZGwbHaAxCdUSkAVR8WodmZAVSEwgqV8b5Y3x3BpKxvyi/s256/images-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="256" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-YnHOFURzx0kEsHd_cMJ-0Yrkjd-lZKwOlHloxdVW3QB6qZpO1CJHFRarI8SrpgRwk879P5VE0l23mXL6vBxObwPlVw2XdIllZ5pjdDj9e6uZHR3nI6aT-SHR9tr9_HugcmHjTWuAxh2ZGwbHaAxCdUSkAVR8WodmZAVSEwgqV8b5Y3x3BpKxvyi/w429-h330/images-1.jpg" width="429" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Nobscussett Hotel</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;">The</span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-size: large;"> wooden tower was destroyed in a gale two years later. The family rebuilt it again
of wood, but it burned in 1900. The present cobblestone tower was completed in
1901.</span></span></span></p><p><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></p><p><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqyCJWXxhX9QAEtZMUiz7-gX2eWvcfq5B4YbJEIhA34l70evy_WUkoWkZ5Behz7_GrLQxXjhoYYR69VYNhKtNsPZBUpSW8IHKIQRXjaIM-7bvZyIOVajuqfJmf-7AUXL8NFF4oBVXkIqmvcIu4dTE9dWRPrOBQkbxoMi1lXQFSuBAks3OFLfyvJXCh/s4032/IMG_3307.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqyCJWXxhX9QAEtZMUiz7-gX2eWvcfq5B4YbJEIhA34l70evy_WUkoWkZ5Behz7_GrLQxXjhoYYR69VYNhKtNsPZBUpSW8IHKIQRXjaIM-7bvZyIOVajuqfJmf-7AUXL8NFF4oBVXkIqmvcIu4dTE9dWRPrOBQkbxoMi1lXQFSuBAks3OFLfyvJXCh/w297-h396/IMG_3307.jpeg" width="297" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Built in 1901</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Where did the tower get its name?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Legend tells of a young warrior who leaves for war but gives three fish in a pumpkin to Princess Scargo of the Native American Nabscussett Tribe. He asks her to keep them alive until he returns. The fish outgrow the pumpkin and the Princess asks the women of the village to dig a lake for the fish using clam shells. The resulting excess dirt formed the hill where the tower rests.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEP6iQhJQqjwKP3dA82FAeMPy0QxzXh7rePnVDZcyciP2tp8k5kZW3vA4o97DtA52pDQZA23rZqFuBUL_A7w73Z9MIWkDqNdep2ImMb6-etxa_UEe30kVc3uRJyo4GFc5jAldIMxeCUZUL-dBvYTiUoCw-Da9LZeTKhAOU2RPZgiLsrtH_O0CGU4Kx/s300/fishshape.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEP6iQhJQqjwKP3dA82FAeMPy0QxzXh7rePnVDZcyciP2tp8k5kZW3vA4o97DtA52pDQZA23rZqFuBUL_A7w73Z9MIWkDqNdep2ImMb6-etxa_UEe30kVc3uRJyo4GFc5jAldIMxeCUZUL-dBvYTiUoCw-Da9LZeTKhAOU2RPZgiLsrtH_O0CGU4Kx/w416-h233/fishshape.jpg" width="416" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Overlooking Scargo Lake, the lake resembles a fish.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwBcB1ok5KYhJw10zdR-cVED0geYD5XtZI8OucLDKhCbPEVmo44v0hodd1sqvrK5fo8uQoyGrOIPoTaGD6_g6znG0TS117_wOElTonpeeoZW6jOdl0wTD-5Z612P1dEDvsl2Wr6CmHTOvxQxy6qsWq1T9SEgh5G2qmE_AOLoJK9bs1rSpKlg_qE_x/s1255/image_access_800.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1255" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwBcB1ok5KYhJw10zdR-cVED0geYD5XtZI8OucLDKhCbPEVmo44v0hodd1sqvrK5fo8uQoyGrOIPoTaGD6_g6znG0TS117_wOElTonpeeoZW6jOdl0wTD-5Z612P1dEDvsl2Wr6CmHTOvxQxy6qsWq1T9SEgh5G2qmE_AOLoJK9bs1rSpKlg_qE_x/w451-h287/image_access_800.jpg" width="451" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Postcard from 1930 - 1940</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">At first glance, the inside of the tower looks ominous but then you realize the bars and chain link fencing are there for your protection.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrhqVa7exV7KkxA7BcGtNczCN3XcKVYo7RSG1JzF07LVLgOd9dCnVlwGe1xCei3vMTXQyxElm-8tA2-20B4mI0DufAYX0MCtjmkPMfA1CtNebBsXaYpl2JipI1rDBtTRzJUjqDm5a7Jgf48cRSjqJWV9N_204qzS_UAv2x2ZF8mKMVrw-JguP7xaJ/s4032/IMG_3309.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrhqVa7exV7KkxA7BcGtNczCN3XcKVYo7RSG1JzF07LVLgOd9dCnVlwGe1xCei3vMTXQyxElm-8tA2-20B4mI0DufAYX0MCtjmkPMfA1CtNebBsXaYpl2JipI1rDBtTRzJUjqDm5a7Jgf48cRSjqJWV9N_204qzS_UAv2x2ZF8mKMVrw-JguP7xaJ/s320/IMG_3309.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7tkT_rmNmdaJW3UWWjR3Ro4bXTSwpC_3_s1RYljOolOSCngQGY1KoHg8ytWXu50wAyyGTSEb2qI3IsMU1JWOPGImM9_iyJPwuQ5wPa2cVPnMV-MTN5DqHrm0y3sLwhz4QxlqLLZ_GfVor08UHSzFaitOB71UBbnWdCWEdSP-09kxXy_KaC1I5Djg/s4032/IMG_3308.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7tkT_rmNmdaJW3UWWjR3Ro4bXTSwpC_3_s1RYljOolOSCngQGY1KoHg8ytWXu50wAyyGTSEb2qI3IsMU1JWOPGImM9_iyJPwuQ5wPa2cVPnMV-MTN5DqHrm0y3sLwhz4QxlqLLZ_GfVor08UHSzFaitOB71UBbnWdCWEdSP-09kxXy_KaC1I5Djg/s320/IMG_3308.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqkl7FPBQCb0MaJwhNfDc68mdIvfqCfAOxxHBByIW98gz73E9EzNMlO4e155l9xNYkM0aZSPDLQfdytFFNtz09XVi_Vu0O9c-mdNrl7YbycWlZf7H3582SkX6Aaxq0HGEH0e2f_wVbQiK26NHylITxPindv0jXHJZox-j1ishWme2S6EFfYJblkOY/s4032/IMG_3310.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqkl7FPBQCb0MaJwhNfDc68mdIvfqCfAOxxHBByIW98gz73E9EzNMlO4e155l9xNYkM0aZSPDLQfdytFFNtz09XVi_Vu0O9c-mdNrl7YbycWlZf7H3582SkX6Aaxq0HGEH0e2f_wVbQiK26NHylITxPindv0jXHJZox-j1ishWme2S6EFfYJblkOY/s320/IMG_3310.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This
unique tower and its breathtaking views has mysterious elements but
also, on a clear day, you can see the whole of Cape Cod Bay from Plymouth to Sandy
Neck in Barnstable to the Pilgrim Monument in Provincetown. </span><br /><p><br /><br /></p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">On a side note:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I found a weird event chronicled in the Cape Cod local papers from 1971.</span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">In January, 1971 evidence of a large hole in the frozen Scargo lake proved suspicious. Two boys waiting for the school bus said they saw a large object crash and then pulsing orange lights in the water. The police, newspapers, and Air Force were called in, but because the water was too cold to continue searching for the object that made the hole, the matter was dropped. Divers tried again in vain to find anything in February, March, and in April. The murky waters of Scargo Lake proved any further searches futile, prompting the sighting to be lost in history. Since then, people talk of an odd humming noise coming from the lake.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Interesting!? <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Follow me on Instagram - barbara_struna</span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-41124253537801520162022-11-03T07:19:00.000-07:002022-11-03T07:19:39.178-07:00Time and Tides <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A few years ago, on a cold brisk day in February, the newspaper said that something interesting had been uncovered at Nauset Beach. Tim and I bundled up, grabbed some coffee, a few cookies, and headed to the beach only to discover and find the remains of one of the Three Sisters Lighthouses in Eastham, Massachusetts - Cape Cod.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">These photos depict whats left of one of the brick foundations built either in 1838 or 1892.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"></span></span></span></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yJheH77t5hBCh1ZOC-mI9ty4q9X5clt9mUCkZH8VZmLAZVyYvIpjfvmzCapyp1O0l7QVhyrkrGnkXmhAbj6j2YeSgcb6Q22D_xFWSdSU2GlrMiqyRZx0X-Z5CQ_gix8p2f-4HhCMYpbyciaWm68J-bC46dt6o88dmhVjg1nNxuwabfecN2EcdUTq/s3264/IMG_2892.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yJheH77t5hBCh1ZOC-mI9ty4q9X5clt9mUCkZH8VZmLAZVyYvIpjfvmzCapyp1O0l7QVhyrkrGnkXmhAbj6j2YeSgcb6Q22D_xFWSdSU2GlrMiqyRZx0X-Z5CQ_gix8p2f-4HhCMYpbyciaWm68J-bC46dt6o88dmhVjg1nNxuwabfecN2EcdUTq/w292-h389/IMG_2892.JPG" width="292" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Waiting for what the tides will uncover.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AZ_fv8Nr8qaQkRDfNQ61b8ZJkU3ct0NysKtpIhufkqz21iZbwcqp_4GohP3JNUOMJ5qr-EBtfRHV7xyI3iQZaQNTU7gHlPzxc04_s5g1jarW2oFcJEFdj79hq3PCblQwbaekwsjsIajEhMqO-U6bWHIvzfLWLCzI6T_FQmdZ2ak2uSQdVrS5rHJ1/s3264/IMG_2900.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AZ_fv8Nr8qaQkRDfNQ61b8ZJkU3ct0NysKtpIhufkqz21iZbwcqp_4GohP3JNUOMJ5qr-EBtfRHV7xyI3iQZaQNTU7gHlPzxc04_s5g1jarW2oFcJEFdj79hq3PCblQwbaekwsjsIajEhMqO-U6bWHIvzfLWLCzI6T_FQmdZ2ak2uSQdVrS5rHJ1/w290-h386/IMG_2900.JPG" width="290" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A little clearer.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9yYBxAeXgjx-AFUZCiEf_PcSBC4rAAKu_4GBVMXSo-BmXt7oNybkMjCeJr0UstenZyP4KQPpoblIbWCO8h-B_PavEJrNr4GmlAAPA3q1Q_tbxXrvAAM15CeoMxVA7PnG0Y0TZZM6UQCpG7rCJzpO59lkliDm41-q6U_nb5gI0cpKEEd40uFy0U5Z/s3264/IMG_2904.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9yYBxAeXgjx-AFUZCiEf_PcSBC4rAAKu_4GBVMXSo-BmXt7oNybkMjCeJr0UstenZyP4KQPpoblIbWCO8h-B_PavEJrNr4GmlAAPA3q1Q_tbxXrvAAM15CeoMxVA7PnG0Y0TZZM6UQCpG7rCJzpO59lkliDm41-q6U_nb5gI0cpKEEd40uFy0U5Z/w270-h360/IMG_2904.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ahaa! A brick foundation.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMkNVtkhGB44RnEtqUC1xhKjbRaLSrKRoPO8NLwpELU-1HVItbcnxnUYYMqP3fOV0og8d56YFD3-Q23z3Hir6j90wv2Ui62VIE1BWKmkEp3I1n0ldVZMF6SulDhRLW3bF8XriEe-uOdtzvBk4FfGrRhnQZ8HP1YEZ7sEJm3MJNmwx4y4KsUKfm_Mp/s700/Nauset_ThreeSisters_old_cg.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="700" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMkNVtkhGB44RnEtqUC1xhKjbRaLSrKRoPO8NLwpELU-1HVItbcnxnUYYMqP3fOV0og8d56YFD3-Q23z3Hir6j90wv2Ui62VIE1BWKmkEp3I1n0ldVZMF6SulDhRLW3bF8XriEe-uOdtzvBk4FfGrRhnQZ8HP1YEZ7sEJm3MJNmwx4y4KsUKfm_Mp/w542-h242/Nauset_ThreeSisters_old_cg.jpg" width="542" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Original Three Sisters Lighthouses with dwelling.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">The Three Sisters of
Nauset are a trio of historic lighthouses off Cable Road in Eastham,
Massachusetts. In 1836, the people of Eastham petitioned Congress for more lighthouses. In the north of Cape Cod in Truro was Highland Light with one light, the second Lighthouse was located South in Chatham with a tower flanking either end of the light keepers house</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">, from a distance the 'twin' towers signaled two lights</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Eastham needed to distinguish itself from these lighthouses along the coastline, so, the Three Sisters were built in 1838 and set 150 feet apart in a straight line, these three fifteen foot brick towers were built on Nauset Beach.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><br /></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRy14lkuVWgyATb9Co25SAUUw4oLAydDbm5EFPlA9hf0jqvdJ_NpUsVZ9Q8XTNoTPMRc9O96bHC_U31Cpi3ewNTmKyhwymlZmxxf0nTUY4VJNDTPUBsiSC1thKceRI5yGjG4_Pj8hUKf9YICJgAMS-ML2z3ehOcygUh7tDnBg136VDrj26HLkOk79r/s425/3-sisters.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="425" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRy14lkuVWgyATb9Co25SAUUw4oLAydDbm5EFPlA9hf0jqvdJ_NpUsVZ9Q8XTNoTPMRc9O96bHC_U31Cpi3ewNTmKyhwymlZmxxf0nTUY4VJNDTPUBsiSC1thKceRI5yGjG4_Pj8hUKf9YICJgAMS-ML2z3ehOcygUh7tDnBg136VDrj26HLkOk79r/w484-h239/3-sisters.jpg" width="484" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Three Sisters Lighthouses circa.1892<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> Falling prey to coastal erosion and decay brought by time
and poor maintenance, the original lights fell into the sea in 1890 and were replaced in 1892 by wooden towers on brick foundations that stood twenty-two feet tall.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLKECkIn0klzz5PN0VjGFoRlNAbbXfDNlbFzMOoBa5PltgZlqg97EYNXmWHDI9-R_2InTLHzRRHIeePGC5QE9bj_jkPY-nBjCmh48uBlCvfYSs7ybn-4oC3E9iV7fAgle9IB_yJQZISYeGsdJeDa6Svnd8jPcwoWNCiKr4FT2NuVkckAqUgn8mOAG/s700/Nauset_ThreeSisters_na.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="700" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLKECkIn0klzz5PN0VjGFoRlNAbbXfDNlbFzMOoBa5PltgZlqg97EYNXmWHDI9-R_2InTLHzRRHIeePGC5QE9bj_jkPY-nBjCmh48uBlCvfYSs7ybn-4oC3E9iV7fAgle9IB_yJQZISYeGsdJeDa6Svnd8jPcwoWNCiKr4FT2NuVkckAqUgn8mOAG/w488-h256/Nauset_ThreeSisters_na.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Another view of the Three Sisters</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span class="hgKElc"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRp_tBbsdRCtkXiQcJwWSJfXozO8ITh6kFtLA-Q2mB1lZ6MemuXposGufZ7FCHzV5M7uqMg5UVeRqhbFhvLbBSsEfxcTefDrQjygHB-wcHvtVMRhe0uwcD2KIv4A4fdUau6xYbihOAhP-zK5Phjgg3Nq7mzSgk_uEAQ8mTH67fnFE97Tz7kK79wdjZ/s450/threesisters_lhb.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="172" data-original-width="450" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRp_tBbsdRCtkXiQcJwWSJfXozO8ITh6kFtLA-Q2mB1lZ6MemuXposGufZ7FCHzV5M7uqMg5UVeRqhbFhvLbBSsEfxcTefDrQjygHB-wcHvtVMRhe0uwcD2KIv4A4fdUau6xYbihOAhP-zK5Phjgg3Nq7mzSgk_uEAQ8mTH67fnFE97Tz7kK79wdjZ/w500-h191/threesisters_lhb.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Three Sisters Lighthouses viewed from the sea.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">These lighthouses gained the nickname of 'Three Sisters' because sailors thought they looked like three women wearing white dresses and black hats. <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdp3Q__VGUEs2E1QVYnVdyXt_fa_leyyU8nMOoEOtBTrGc_YuES9CRP_55NOBlaXsGN3cY2tVpjt2WV4qMSfyiq9Nlq-frpkHODB2aJti-febqSMKiITpYqqflhpYROMT03yvt_eXiQRUZmFT92hfGeIY1DNwzlCMMyFNqzLRhoLGPWiEBUFe4gDJ/s800/three_sisters_lighthouses_eastham.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdp3Q__VGUEs2E1QVYnVdyXt_fa_leyyU8nMOoEOtBTrGc_YuES9CRP_55NOBlaXsGN3cY2tVpjt2WV4qMSfyiq9Nlq-frpkHODB2aJti-febqSMKiITpYqqflhpYROMT03yvt_eXiQRUZmFT92hfGeIY1DNwzlCMMyFNqzLRhoLGPWiEBUFe4gDJ/w455-h341/three_sisters_lighthouses_eastham.jpg" width="455" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Today, on Cable Road close to Nauset Beach, you can view
the three wooden sisters that were repurposed into private cottages upon their
decommission, and finally reunited and preserved in 1983. They stand as they stood
generations ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Follow me on Instagram - <b>barbara_struna</b></span><br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-69224020144653552382022-10-20T06:12:00.001-07:002022-10-20T06:12:38.139-07:00Strange things in Brewster...<p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwcIIRjDK7YEEkJLTshI8rgSa3JsasX8SG7ilaykXNM0VbTX3sXfM0Dnuhb1b1yt27ovixdDkk33rJSJIDfmBgD1NMmCkuRDukgn5fdp9VigIlj4zEmwXnnI3HHxaS--FtVGPoClE7E0_BDz6r6f9qbe_Letx5qbogv1Uzdajm-kqp86mDQbUwOm13/s4032/IMG_3237.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwcIIRjDK7YEEkJLTshI8rgSa3JsasX8SG7ilaykXNM0VbTX3sXfM0Dnuhb1b1yt27ovixdDkk33rJSJIDfmBgD1NMmCkuRDukgn5fdp9VigIlj4zEmwXnnI3HHxaS--FtVGPoClE7E0_BDz6r6f9qbe_Letx5qbogv1Uzdajm-kqp86mDQbUwOm13/s320/IMG_3237.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A Holding Tomb</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last week I went exploring in an old Brewster Cemetery. I found this wooden doorway by accident. It's called a Holding Tomb and was built around 1840.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Holding tombs were necessary before the backhoe came along. Inclement, frigid weather made the ground difficult to hand-dig and the body needed to be stored somewhere, at least until spring or the first thaw. Oftentimes this tomb was used to temporarily store the body until a burial location was decided, or if the family lacked sufficient funds to bury their loved one.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was renovated in 2015 by the Brewster Cemetery Association.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I walked up and down the rows of stones, I found the gravestone of Sadie Hassard.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkH7JiX065l1hKk8wwCqsRGjlsFVhtMEUK74ZXYt1sqDLDOwGz7gQioIj0r26WCGXi1cN03nDlhjKJjGN1tJnj3ocpf9hVVCJnV1nfcmD_RgBa7AJy_d2w8K3la9_zhEqJ5hYRncyN47twbouhsT5S8JwhZwgJQ9mHK_2xSiwlqwiYk40a_7wXh7g/s250/Sadies-gravestone-150x150.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkH7JiX065l1hKk8wwCqsRGjlsFVhtMEUK74ZXYt1sqDLDOwGz7gQioIj0r26WCGXi1cN03nDlhjKJjGN1tJnj3ocpf9hVVCJnV1nfcmD_RgBa7AJy_d2w8K3la9_zhEqJ5hYRncyN47twbouhsT5S8JwhZwgJQ9mHK_2xSiwlqwiYk40a_7wXh7g/s1600/Sadies-gravestone-150x150.jpg" width="250" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Young Sadie Hassard was being courted by Frederick Alexander Brewster 1896.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Sadie grew tired of him and wanted to move on. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>It
was a Sunday. Pastor Dawes began reading the opening prayer at the
Brewster Unitarian church. The sound of gunshots drew the congregation
outside. They found poor Sadie dead on the sidewalk from a gunshot wound
behind her right ear. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>The
young girl had been living with Pastor Dawes out of fear from
Alexander. Sadie's father knew about Alexander's jealous and desperate
heart. He hoped Sadie would be safer with the Pastor.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from The Barnstable Patriot, May 18, 1896, <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8_iUuSwHDPo0dEjHs97fps0Hz8280wNfcEEMAqt2YH5RztzJ319rFXhnHJVkg-PvmS_IM31GG3mYEYlXcz9wih9zELBGEDnwpkF3iQPgscnJfayr233ckMVtjI60-yqxo0nvTxdok7bYyP8SljuLFvEaaa1RO9CBAZtbEqjLyLP1vHeqj8EGy6uf/s492/sadie%20article.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="374" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8_iUuSwHDPo0dEjHs97fps0Hz8280wNfcEEMAqt2YH5RztzJ319rFXhnHJVkg-PvmS_IM31GG3mYEYlXcz9wih9zELBGEDnwpkF3iQPgscnJfayr233ckMVtjI60-yqxo0nvTxdok7bYyP8SljuLFvEaaa1RO9CBAZtbEqjLyLP1vHeqj8EGy6uf/w298-h392/sadie%20article.png" width="298" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another strange glimpse into Brewster's history happened in 1873. The accounting of this event appeared in an Irish newspaper of the same year.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>A supposed mermaid was seen upon the beach at Brewster last Thursday by
Mrs. Young and several children. The head of this object, or mermaid,
resembled exactly that of a child, while the rest of the body was of
fish form. When first seen, the lady became frightened, but the children Less timid, approached it, and, wishing to determine whether it was
dead or alive, threw some sand in its eyes, whereupon it uttered cries
like that of a child, and commenced rolling over and over down to the
water, and darted off into the sea, keeping the head above the surface,
and resembling in every manner that of a child swimming. How this
creature came here is yet a mystery, but it is thought it was left here
by the tide, or rolled upon the shore in the night of its own accord’,
(Anon 1873).</i></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mermaids appear in history beginning in 1000 BC. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62toVz40VZgigA-Uf2-vTZlZdG7-GundjPwHfzNLmk6jAxaXDvNpcEZmGPZNQU48OfbtgfTk4nfc_5htmMt0f93y9HAbGJqyZU5xa5gZqaBwiKsa1PNz8WgcaOxE3C7v16kfwlJ2MaMUctTR6csZHX9eW9a44tf1d0wwWQSasTerTof5KBCn44F6Q/s602/main-qimg-4c0d656d72103e085ee82f40a0893a62-lq.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="602" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62toVz40VZgigA-Uf2-vTZlZdG7-GundjPwHfzNLmk6jAxaXDvNpcEZmGPZNQU48OfbtgfTk4nfc_5htmMt0f93y9HAbGJqyZU5xa5gZqaBwiKsa1PNz8WgcaOxE3C7v16kfwlJ2MaMUctTR6csZHX9eW9a44tf1d0wwWQSasTerTof5KBCn44F6Q/s320/main-qimg-4c0d656d72103e085ee82f40a0893a62-lq.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">One of the
earliest mermaid legends appeared in Syria around 1000 BC when the
goddess Atargatis dove into a lake to take the form of a fish. As
the gods there would not allow her to give up her great beauty, only her
bottom half became a fish, and she kept her top half in human form.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Follow me on Instagram to enjoy my reels.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/barbara_struna/" target="_blank">barbara_struna </a></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span class="hgKElc"><br /></span></span><p></p><p></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-25535177328128935092022-03-24T08:45:00.003-07:002022-03-24T13:04:18.726-07:00Geocaching continued... What is it?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUYqbfhShlIFQjPRmnuOmAGW7MXvIwt4rmEFNSj_peYsy5a_RIQd_IWuhIoHpK1ayAEW4W9OW5AnkakpvsWjq23GFI7uua1Hzd9gEmh9ALRf04ClP-mHLfeioZyBejk15J7y4o2ZOJD4/s1600/eye.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1523" data-original-width="1600" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUYqbfhShlIFQjPRmnuOmAGW7MXvIwt4rmEFNSj_peYsy5a_RIQd_IWuhIoHpK1ayAEW4W9OW5AnkakpvsWjq23GFI7uua1Hzd9gEmh9ALRf04ClP-mHLfeioZyBejk15J7y4o2ZOJD4/s320/eye.jpg" title="geocache" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The above picture depicts the bottom of a geocache found in Millbury, MA<br />
<br />
In my opinion, it's an adventure with a side of suspense and fun.<br />
<br />
Officially, <b>geocaching</b> is a real-world, outdoor treasure hunting game using
GPS-enabled devices. Participants navigate to a specific set of GPS
coordinates and then attempt to find the geocache (container) hidden at
that location. Geocaching was founded by Matt Stum on May 30, 2000. Today there are over three million+ geocaches hidden in 190 countries.<br />
<br />
Sounds technical and yet, people of all ages and education are geocaching. My youngest daughter introduced me to it a few years ago but I never followed through with her suggestions of, "Try it. You'll like it!"<br />
<br />
I should have listened to her back in 2016 because a few years after, I became hooked and so did my husband, Tim. <br />
<br />
We've been adventuring almost every day. Sometimes we find a cache that is less than an inch long and inside is a small paper log to record your name and the date of when you found it.<br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63tTMtptxHMPBn5nuinI98s-hVbXCKmg8rw0zZWbHwZcr3yJFj-ngQ73YL5n4FszsCsPz0Fhgdm4ntBu54AIaoBzcBPeoabb8wDwP_UDMHCcE3pJ7OJ50p0Y7mMcEfAqB5XGH8AJAWuI/s1600/IMG_4360.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63tTMtptxHMPBn5nuinI98s-hVbXCKmg8rw0zZWbHwZcr3yJFj-ngQ73YL5n4FszsCsPz0Fhgdm4ntBu54AIaoBzcBPeoabb8wDwP_UDMHCcE3pJ7OJ50p0Y7mMcEfAqB5XGH8AJAWuI/s320/IMG_4360.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mini-cache</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YVLdbTygpsexTvSSldYU8BEw8LPPpvQM9zGXQVs90SyHngbIjPJv0dApg5bPw-ZwCOC3tUGnGiG0oULXWdCbZFja-o66Yw9ScvdKqAEV77slsljoSN09sTmBqc0KOqEvfPaixVXq7gY/s1600/IMG_4325.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YVLdbTygpsexTvSSldYU8BEw8LPPpvQM9zGXQVs90SyHngbIjPJv0dApg5bPw-ZwCOC3tUGnGiG0oULXWdCbZFja-o66Yw9ScvdKqAEV77slsljoSN09sTmBqc0KOqEvfPaixVXq7gY/s320/IMG_4325.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mid-size cache wrapped with a magnet and hidden, but we found it.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I tell people about our outings, they ask, "What did you find? What kind of treasure?"<br />
I answer, "I didn't find anything that's worth anything!" Everyone laughs and I explain.<br />
<br />
It's not about the treasure, it's about the thrill of the journey. It's the suspenseful searching through the woods, old paths, and back roads of where you live or visit. It's about using your observation skills and problem solving, following GPS co-ordinates and solving a puzzle.<br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jFkoD6trSLzie08wYCY1ocrx-03gQB_30Gn76MURxIkMeF4reQpwH0VVKvjGhczKglEFcfhQXDVTQXW-_XjNPU_h1YqgVY_AwevHJphH8PMd0Vqs9xRUkdxbR6mZG4sq2C8zPwM4PTk/s1600/IMG_4049.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jFkoD6trSLzie08wYCY1ocrx-03gQB_30Gn76MURxIkMeF4reQpwH0VVKvjGhczKglEFcfhQXDVTQXW-_XjNPU_h1YqgVY_AwevHJphH8PMd0Vqs9xRUkdxbR6mZG4sq2C8zPwM4PTk/s320/IMG_4049.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">GPS leads us into the woods.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQgj2lclH5wuWIy8iCNS1UhXxgWX42FZeA9_26N2H9ANL_y6vrUuahKixAUSf3cOTYHn6zfSTXDDmy6n-Bl9wvX6v_LiG2qwYHm9YulEyOH65riQw_xyllOuBzbHfoBI-nJYQd8G2CVw/s1600/IMG_4038.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQgj2lclH5wuWIy8iCNS1UhXxgWX42FZeA9_26N2H9ANL_y6vrUuahKixAUSf3cOTYHn6zfSTXDDmy6n-Bl9wvX6v_LiG2qwYHm9YulEyOH65riQw_xyllOuBzbHfoBI-nJYQd8G2CVw/s320/IMG_4038.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Searching with some help from a friend visiting Cape Cod.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><p> <span style="font-size: large;">Recently, Tim and I have returned to the woods to search. Local Nickerson Park is full of geocaches. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/reel/CbaVJM5l9oF/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet" target="_blank"><b>My latest explore</b></a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">You need to be curious, adventuresome, and determined. Just like Nancy Caldwell, modern day amateur sleuth, who is the main character in all my historical novels.<br />
<br />
As you read the stories, Nancy Caldwell finds something in present day and then in the next chapter, you'll meet the person and the 'who' or 'what' behind what Nancy found. The story unfolds in alternating chapters between time periods.<br />
<br />
If you love a suspenseful adventure with touches of romance about Cape Cod, 18th century pirates, 1947 Hollywood starlets, serial killers, and the Alaska Gold Rush, choose <i>The Old Cape Series</i>.</span><br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjFdzB3NpAqJqif9Z8mtnn6swepriZmhSgFLVZa81nr4znvg3v3A1dmccjb_0BTzN2m4qbc2Q7nkK45OAm6FrvFqvo8vopbRrB99PrniB0Nj8DyFmQUqfbfzfrUYJr-b3n1-01H7DlTY/s1600/strunathumbnail+image+.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjFdzB3NpAqJqif9Z8mtnn6swepriZmhSgFLVZa81nr4znvg3v3A1dmccjb_0BTzN2m4qbc2Q7nkK45OAm6FrvFqvo8vopbRrB99PrniB0Nj8DyFmQUqfbfzfrUYJr-b3n1-01H7DlTY/s1600/strunathumbnail+image+.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/CAPE-HOUSE-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLBWA?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20house&qid=1465094656&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">BUY</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtA5g88hETcL8LbZ_Jtq2YR4XrvlXj2-p2Ahei1DpiN7x7355YdNJJDnSB-tH0rmkwW6akkrMZdG2iq-ZZAAvPR_ntgmZnHWT9cxomRBcIL5px4cuyesZg3WYZSnrKqYztnVKyaa9EK50/s1600/coverteapot+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtA5g88hETcL8LbZ_Jtq2YR4XrvlXj2-p2Ahei1DpiN7x7355YdNJJDnSB-tH0rmkwW6akkrMZdG2iq-ZZAAvPR_ntgmZnHWT9cxomRBcIL5px4cuyesZg3WYZSnrKqYztnVKyaa9EK50/s1600/coverteapot+copy.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cape-Teapot-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLB9S?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20teapot&qid=1465094772&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">BUY</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9q9FrvQIqy9D6fYhRJP1vPL6y6257CmEeST63TP7odWMQJ524SCw8JgNmItRMUBn5A0xbgeb06FgnI1UGf7yuTsTghogyYb9UGE8iEOpRDvE1mGBeZFx-B3zupN9wC95J1-Fc4DZ7XY/s1600/200x300.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9q9FrvQIqy9D6fYhRJP1vPL6y6257CmEeST63TP7odWMQJ524SCw8JgNmItRMUBn5A0xbgeb06FgnI1UGf7yuTsTghogyYb9UGE8iEOpRDvE1mGBeZFx-B3zupN9wC95J1-Fc4DZ7XY/s1600/200x300.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071CZN814/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1492118188&sr=1-1&keywords=the+old+cape+hollywood+secret" target="_blank">BUY</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><p> </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetCFeDerH7kzz26Y86oJgfEljbBSsfdd2xKFMeu_jgv1oVUK4zQ9TT32qDjG2URx-BKVssMjUcNacRa2ezjGoo0fRcOCDtlhPbot7x27Y_jEiNi73vvkUmM0N82gYvLyQMk-g9TDUTiAZLZeCumXeyNoYsEWPrWaCB3hRhGULlqvvJI8QkHzCxY1z/s500/328Blood%20Ruby%20Cover%20Thumbnail%20%20B&W%20.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetCFeDerH7kzz26Y86oJgfEljbBSsfdd2xKFMeu_jgv1oVUK4zQ9TT32qDjG2URx-BKVssMjUcNacRa2ezjGoo0fRcOCDtlhPbot7x27Y_jEiNi73vvkUmM0N82gYvLyQMk-g9TDUTiAZLZeCumXeyNoYsEWPrWaCB3hRhGULlqvvJI8QkHzCxY1z/s320/328Blood%20Ruby%20Cover%20Thumbnail%20%20B&W%20.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0926QGRC6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420" target="_blank">BUY</a></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">If you've already read them, Thank You!<br />
<br />
If you have time, I would appreciate a review, either on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews always help authors. Have a great Spring!</span><br />
<br />
<br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-42929702124459063862022-02-23T12:24:00.001-08:002022-02-23T12:24:17.135-08:00 Two historic love stories and a Goodreads Giveaway! <p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsjr70AmRradNvGqVUbINKZ-2acbljHk_Dn4PQUDd35KQyEr_kKEsyYVzY0B9IHTJ-Rus7mu4Z3G8Ae0WK76pcMau27-as-JHbioGrUcyJEldv_qaFShoat7a1kPREMarXhucDESvGprlPUpNeuMEX2aCcP3WV_YyNGA6CP0aYI-De8596uGoZ3wtd=s250" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsjr70AmRradNvGqVUbINKZ-2acbljHk_Dn4PQUDd35KQyEr_kKEsyYVzY0B9IHTJ-Rus7mu4Z3G8Ae0WK76pcMau27-as-JHbioGrUcyJEldv_qaFShoat7a1kPREMarXhucDESvGprlPUpNeuMEX2aCcP3WV_YyNGA6CP0aYI-De8596uGoZ3wtd" width="250" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sadie's gravestone found at Lower Road Cemetery in Brewster.<br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1896 Brewster - Cape Cod, love reared its ugly head. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Young Sadie Hassard was being courted by Frederick Alexander.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sadie grew tired of him and wanted to move on. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
was a Sunday. Pastor Dawes began reading the opening prayer at the
Brewster Unitarian church. The sound of gunshots drew the congregation
outside. They found poor Sadie dead on the sidewalk from a gunshot wound
behind her right ear. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
young girl had been living with Pastor Dawes out of fear from
Alexander. Sadie's father knew about Alexander's jealous and desperate
heart. He hoped Sadie would be safer with the Pastor.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from The Barnstable Patriot, May 18, 1896, </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKD1PdnTaziRRu-eFfUI-_vRCM06u0LTsMTs6ILh6-WUqZfJ23ovMXTYmj24eIScoXzA-ZQeNcxPAJ740vaGFB-dR867x486qTYx5tkicuLRRXEPrV3C_iIbKu7ufN_BbLERcyz3fEb_Rjqy0SE7vhOIDk_2T0ihjzik7DBcDDV9FXuJJS8sP-1tqD=s492" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="374" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKD1PdnTaziRRu-eFfUI-_vRCM06u0LTsMTs6ILh6-WUqZfJ23ovMXTYmj24eIScoXzA-ZQeNcxPAJ740vaGFB-dR867x486qTYx5tkicuLRRXEPrV3C_iIbKu7ufN_BbLERcyz3fEb_Rjqy0SE7vhOIDk_2T0ihjzik7DBcDDV9FXuJJS8sP-1tqD=w304-h400" width="304" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">The
article continues to tell us that Alexander committed suicide and
eventually was found in Snow's Pond with a bottle of strychnine in his
pocket.</span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love unrequited. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">************</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdEttuJWtdhWoCg0GPAAQlpOxvxGD-IA1CRIxZmSmNb1T9PW3uhHDg0_r3wSrnPDZRgF6mEihLVCR0e-WE8iwHfw0I7RmKHz7EIgTVmi0MyphD2aDomQd0lrJd9sJ4QsK_P1xaWYQqt1vD3b9M77BYmheK_WxH7oG4QQPOUTfsmLWZ3IhA-KSAY2BG=s1024" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdEttuJWtdhWoCg0GPAAQlpOxvxGD-IA1CRIxZmSmNb1T9PW3uhHDg0_r3wSrnPDZRgF6mEihLVCR0e-WE8iwHfw0I7RmKHz7EIgTVmi0MyphD2aDomQd0lrJd9sJ4QsK_P1xaWYQqt1vD3b9M77BYmheK_WxH7oG4QQPOUTfsmLWZ3IhA-KSAY2BG=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Crosby Mansion - 1888 - Brewster</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Albert
Crosby was born on Cape Cod in 1823. He married Margaret Henderson in
1845 and they moved to Chicago where he made his fortune producing
distilled alcohol. After Albert took over the Chicago Opera House and
refurbished it, a fire in 1871 destroyed everything. He lost 1.5 million
and Margaret and Albert divorced. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Soon
he married Matilda Sourbeck. She was 23 years younger than Albert and a
burlesque performer. They returned to Brewster and his family home.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was not what Matilda expected. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">To
please his new bride, he began to build an addition around his small
family home in 1877 incorporating many details and lavish accents they
had admired honeymooning in Europe. The Crosby Mansion, also known as
"Tawasentha" was completed in 1888. Albert loved Matilda and wanted her
to be happy. <br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZXhAdHjW6qYEyhMBuWC7Ru35MyykYMB1fExFQ2RNylmX4X3UjatlIT4FdwTII1AXSg7iQiVzRKaH6FKckygGXHLsd80vnFta2_eVS-LeLt0_6zWh1bHwyByLPsWiu4XaqCH7gcQVtNfHPJxzj4ymWZC45-6dM0RCeK7020TfDw2hJ2V5M7aErB7UB=s1498" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1498" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZXhAdHjW6qYEyhMBuWC7Ru35MyykYMB1fExFQ2RNylmX4X3UjatlIT4FdwTII1AXSg7iQiVzRKaH6FKckygGXHLsd80vnFta2_eVS-LeLt0_6zWh1bHwyByLPsWiu4XaqCH7gcQVtNfHPJxzj4ymWZC45-6dM0RCeK7020TfDw2hJ2V5M7aErB7UB=s320" width="219" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Matilda standing in the art gallery.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">He
even built a special extension on the house for an art gallery.
Tawasentha was available for Matilda's social schedule. She loved to
entertain.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWO6FGp5_P_OIfZIvN_lVSBY05Ga5-7ofjvAVTVe-O0jrrdHrIIVwGbnaSElqTsMQu5bZlCCS7Z7TdsvOxVQzWm2eEfs_gRv-pdLwU98R_pCD16fgkJzYXlBwewr8YOkOVylxu9n8PHdbfL1RhT-VzvWSTYSKLKVVueyNLhGRiLYbIyBUADb-M5RVN=s1024" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1024" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWO6FGp5_P_OIfZIvN_lVSBY05Ga5-7ofjvAVTVe-O0jrrdHrIIVwGbnaSElqTsMQu5bZlCCS7Z7TdsvOxVQzWm2eEfs_gRv-pdLwU98R_pCD16fgkJzYXlBwewr8YOkOVylxu9n8PHdbfL1RhT-VzvWSTYSKLKVVueyNLhGRiLYbIyBUADb-M5RVN=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The front lawn of the mansion, Matilda dressed in white sits in the foreground.<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Legend
says that when Albert needed to get away from all the lunches and
parties, he retired to his rocking chair in the old homestead.</span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Albert found a second chance at love and spared no expense to keep young Matilda.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">************ </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I've always been fascinated doing research for the basis of my historical novels in my Old Cape Series.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finding the two love stories above and being able to visit the sites connected with the people inspires me to keep looking and writing.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just finished a new... <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/kJ6j9muye40" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">BOOK TRAILER</span></span></span></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">FOR <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE OLD CAPE HOLLYWOOD SECRET </span></span></span> <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxuaSK4iEyLQMcVGcumpffNTWitO9HZk2NST3bvES96I8XaBvJSjeZ3GOBw9xp2T82vuUai3bORBiD7_lGFN8PjuP4WE3SG8awA3drvJczXYUtROmzkDk_N-gp8zfw29kzd5DUbCcGLoGQMB18X-3r2cpxWAe52uIL47mYI079r5fEYA_gl-Xh4fMP=s612" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="396" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxuaSK4iEyLQMcVGcumpffNTWitO9HZk2NST3bvES96I8XaBvJSjeZ3GOBw9xp2T82vuUai3bORBiD7_lGFN8PjuP4WE3SG8awA3drvJczXYUtROmzkDk_N-gp8zfw29kzd5DUbCcGLoGQMB18X-3r2cpxWAe52uIL47mYI079r5fEYA_gl-Xh4fMP=s320" width="207" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">#3 in The Old Cape Series</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;">When researching and plotting, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071CZN814/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1492118188&sr=1-1&keywords=the+old+cape+hollywood+secret" target="_blank"><i>The Old Cape Hollywood Secret</i></a><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I traveled to Hollywood, ate at restaurants, stayed in old hotels that were open in 1947, and experienced some of the feelings that my characters felt. It was a wonderful adventure.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Today I'm going to offer through Goodreads, a giveaway of The Old Cape Hollywood Secret. <span style="font-size: x-large;">100 copies of the ebook!!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All you have to do to win an ebook is enter your name on the Goodreads website. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i>Goodreads</i> is the world's largest site for readers and book recommendations. Their mission is to help people find and share books they love. It's free to join Goodreads.</span> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/340782-the-old-cape-hollywood-secret" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Here's a link to enter </span></span></a><br /></span></p><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Good Luck! The Giveaway begins February 19, 2022 and ends on March 3, 2022.<br /><br /></span></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-4048587928959175202022-02-11T12:10:00.000-08:002022-02-11T12:10:18.871-08:00Love <p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Nature gives us signs of love in many ways. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkYtI5nu68-rUTxrlIBbbdLzEeEEjoTZj1OhZC_ab5cwOqs_U_jql8CDrcSb8OyipbKjkYVzfTfs9tb-X0XxC3WZ7f4y5X1SAcXhMm-IfMK4OJIPA_u4aSBVHqLeVDUNqpc7JS_kF620pfiscBEEhhT9zC0sDwIKyPRAXR1sb_KyFKSdLnFr7_5N7f=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkYtI5nu68-rUTxrlIBbbdLzEeEEjoTZj1OhZC_ab5cwOqs_U_jql8CDrcSb8OyipbKjkYVzfTfs9tb-X0XxC3WZ7f4y5X1SAcXhMm-IfMK4OJIPA_u4aSBVHqLeVDUNqpc7JS_kF620pfiscBEEhhT9zC0sDwIKyPRAXR1sb_KyFKSdLnFr7_5N7f=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Winter</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKEaWcy4u3pt48zAIHdDLcInlsk3B7mMccS-YJlYNyCWU-bjtDz3JUL6U9kMjRMNnTfQRNOlwtkXoN-4ZJd5hOu2kh7pObpLag3YaKekZbhz1mPGpJDlG6A0UT4rG_mfGCQ_f7WYeZ2AmJBtq18NmEwtfD0d2MfAnJN5_Sgl7IRE58zva4mXFS8Sob=s1175" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1094" data-original-width="1175" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKEaWcy4u3pt48zAIHdDLcInlsk3B7mMccS-YJlYNyCWU-bjtDz3JUL6U9kMjRMNnTfQRNOlwtkXoN-4ZJd5hOu2kh7pObpLag3YaKekZbhz1mPGpJDlG6A0UT4rG_mfGCQ_f7WYeZ2AmJBtq18NmEwtfD0d2MfAnJN5_Sgl7IRE58zva4mXFS8Sob=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Spring</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiImrHDB0ODkzrDyD-ZyToim0UWAKpPDQAxjndIYiIvbA7wU3dUsZrXhF6iHRY9ddeA5zw9fMRILU1rNaTMxE0Xw45fMPMX41pI_pTVfXH6MQpjEZnVQ1PFR4d46R2DQQYCR-zpcpkeIImzGWdxhVFAg0p6x6uiTpeYKHD2gMkCxiOpeHgReWNHc8yY=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiImrHDB0ODkzrDyD-ZyToim0UWAKpPDQAxjndIYiIvbA7wU3dUsZrXhF6iHRY9ddeA5zw9fMRILU1rNaTMxE0Xw45fMPMX41pI_pTVfXH6MQpjEZnVQ1PFR4d46R2DQQYCR-zpcpkeIImzGWdxhVFAg0p6x6uiTpeYKHD2gMkCxiOpeHgReWNHc8yY=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Summer</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNnqoAIh5WkgOQOd-9p1rAfoCkgcnMnEhNJjYRyW7XeVV8aq-wpxlujljfVdFoG18xvpeISGhhzfaF1H3zQiQVNeYbAhRe8uxbrOTPAQlnXtKcdtr76DXECzHdA8gRelnWphO5vOwhWrcRQv1I5ucswM-YQjW-AaMZ06YxmauDeF6gH3LVjw891FUS=s5152" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNnqoAIh5WkgOQOd-9p1rAfoCkgcnMnEhNJjYRyW7XeVV8aq-wpxlujljfVdFoG18xvpeISGhhzfaF1H3zQiQVNeYbAhRe8uxbrOTPAQlnXtKcdtr76DXECzHdA8gRelnWphO5vOwhWrcRQv1I5ucswM-YQjW-AaMZ06YxmauDeF6gH3LVjw891FUS=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Autumn</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">LOVE: <i>an intense feeling of deep affection.</i></span> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love makes the world go round. People love other people, animals, plants, ideas, or places. People experience love found, love lost, and the saddest - love unrequited. </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My blog today is about love. It's about my husband and me. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I want to yell it to the highest mountain. My husband and I are still in love with each other.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj51n0he-0uPKHxdwAXFuTong4v9f2UYUoOXQNdx7yC_HeRymk9wOHOQFvLOsjCNtizubyULeKojYSWouyZ1rfluBomBqqF1Tk_J0PD8Lo9UWo_RWtbPApuQ7mrm5gHNZoZ4wbX-QWCLtpXgKu7bvNeHzw5GUL9Ii2c48htiX5zm51GhF9LZJZCmzfR=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj51n0he-0uPKHxdwAXFuTong4v9f2UYUoOXQNdx7yC_HeRymk9wOHOQFvLOsjCNtizubyULeKojYSWouyZ1rfluBomBqqF1Tk_J0PD8Lo9UWo_RWtbPApuQ7mrm5gHNZoZ4wbX-QWCLtpXgKu7bvNeHzw5GUL9Ii2c48htiX5zm51GhF9LZJZCmzfR=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So what's our secret to stay married and in love for 53+ years?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Could it be that we respect each other? Talk to each other? And listen? Maybe, it's because we're also best friends, or that we care for each other? We've never gone to bed angry...no matter what.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;">Lately we've been discovering new things from our past together. How could that be? The other day Tim commented about an event from our past as a married couple and I said, "I didn't know that."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm not talking about secrets, just tiny facts that passed our notice because life makes you busy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcVeuL7LwigD7CuoJLfiafsSQthe4BeLSPWRKW5kbtbyt5DUMXWQ6Yv1uYoFGWSuT0NdLUfuus4XO0Ks8eHcDnKnk6SCcoSgwrXGF6quYnmVNsFo4POuZR5IGBg1ieuliAcytxFin8fVeOCHr1A6DSATbMpbSEH_G8_Mf3PpYUiTMEK1Q_uMilto5p=s1280" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcVeuL7LwigD7CuoJLfiafsSQthe4BeLSPWRKW5kbtbyt5DUMXWQ6Yv1uYoFGWSuT0NdLUfuus4XO0Ks8eHcDnKnk6SCcoSgwrXGF6quYnmVNsFo4POuZR5IGBg1ieuliAcytxFin8fVeOCHr1A6DSATbMpbSEH_G8_Mf3PpYUiTMEK1Q_uMilto5p=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> As I was preparing this Valentine blog, I came across something I wrote twenty years ago.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It recalls the first glimpse of my future husband.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;">I saw him that night in 1962. The music moved my friend and
I, along with hundreds of teenagers in loops around the gym’s edges. All of us
looking across the sea of faces wanting to be noticed, sometimes casually
brushing against each other in hopes of catching the eye of someone new. </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;">I passed him several times. Finally, I stopped. My friend
stopped. He stood there with his friend and I stood there with my friend. Our
two friends began to dance and without a word we followed their lead. </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Barely able to hear the other’s words as we swayed back and
forth, we were forced to lean close each time the other spoke. My cheek lightly
brushed against his smooth, strong jaw; his scent was Old Spice. It was
exciting. The music was slow and melodic as we said our names to each other. My
heart raced. I wanted to stay close to him. And then it was over. </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><i><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></i><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The music returned to loud and fast. We said goodbye. I
continued my path around the gym searching and looking and aching to see his
face again. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><i>
</i><p><style><i>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</i></style></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Over the years, we've laughed, loved, cried, and rejoiced. We've held hands throughout it all. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjg2LZwnsAm31jGVgCYM3Z2qvhxHvLDp_KO3zhRB4mlonGQ4cAbala8FO0VuyrFc8tPWAYY9vC8M_WC91GIw5iX25a5F0wRHfwGNBA5EbfN4W34boTineoSHsPK-2ihy3Byf6ABWS0ZOg4RPb_DoCqHNa6247PBb3ItgEi8zJd6ZAoxt4SRm7oHPBYw=s2592" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjg2LZwnsAm31jGVgCYM3Z2qvhxHvLDp_KO3zhRB4mlonGQ4cAbala8FO0VuyrFc8tPWAYY9vC8M_WC91GIw5iX25a5F0wRHfwGNBA5EbfN4W34boTineoSHsPK-2ihy3Byf6ABWS0ZOg4RPb_DoCqHNa6247PBb3ItgEi8zJd6ZAoxt4SRm7oHPBYw=s320" width="239" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We have been blessed with five wonderful children and four beautiful grandchildren. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So...Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. My wish for all my readers, friends, and family is that you experience love, a long love, a romantic love. And if it was a fleeting love, stay grateful you were able to love someone in your life, even if it was short-lived.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p></p></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-56734015036973498562022-02-05T11:40:00.001-08:002022-02-05T12:38:28.604-08:00Winter - Cape Cod 1700s<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's a re-post from February 2013. It reminded me of the recent storm and electrical outage that we experienced throughout the Northeast. I smiled to myself as I read, thinking we got through that storm in 2013 and we did it again in 2022. The only difference was that in the 2022 storm we lost power on a Friday afternoon instead of a Saturday and... now I have four novels instead of one. Change comes to challenge us at every turn. Knowing our past helps us move forward with courage and hope.<br /></span></div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT-Y2fLvaQIFGq-FQGLs2jg4KqchhBu573JpwEJBTW3MRg8pBS2rkrVlYBC266OI0SNdeuAcu115H-hpOeRP-4k8V7SD5xS4gULg_NJdeuJ2pN5mhrmYamHMN79bFA4kwByzwPEfSnemW_jg7HqZY1JBw-otV_A0245jkmC-T4_x2-Xdt2YgS3048L=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT-Y2fLvaQIFGq-FQGLs2jg4KqchhBu573JpwEJBTW3MRg8pBS2rkrVlYBC266OI0SNdeuAcu115H-hpOeRP-4k8V7SD5xS4gULg_NJdeuJ2pN5mhrmYamHMN79bFA4kwByzwPEfSnemW_jg7HqZY1JBw-otV_A0245jkmC-T4_x2-Xdt2YgS3048L=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2022</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ❖❖❖</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Cape Codders of the 1700s would have thought you destitute, poor or perhaps a lunatic if you built your house on or near the beach. If you wanted to survive on this spit of North America you would need to build your house inland, not on the coast. Those hearty folks were practical people.</span><br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitT7UJ5TW6osSxGh84FQCCwbLCWBQmh0nsQ7z2g7MSDTnHNUM0qxhGcv-V4eq1lUzQw9Yw__PBCmZKXbp3fxiFE1R-Cd9xjP6BWWNzaLRLCMSIzNyxet68tl8oFnp2aI19iysgd51c4XE/s1600/winterdoor2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitT7UJ5TW6osSxGh84FQCCwbLCWBQmh0nsQ7z2g7MSDTnHNUM0qxhGcv-V4eq1lUzQw9Yw__PBCmZKXbp3fxiFE1R-Cd9xjP6BWWNzaLRLCMSIzNyxet68tl8oFnp2aI19iysgd51c4XE/s320/winterdoor2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2013</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As we hunkered down for the winter storm that blew across Cape Cod this past weekend, I couldn't stop thinking of 1700 Cape Cod.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYBfFMhdmO5L_0iJXTc4c1nhGSCdXkw_K3DLQq3BeNgkSPOsjO8k08r98Dg_vr73f_Uw2fIcVnDhsWwKdEfBhbQseQdFzJEym7B0qBPM0Tz3h5pL9iGbjGWR-DGTegnTu-JJ_hlXvlEk/s1600/winter+sign.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYBfFMhdmO5L_0iJXTc4c1nhGSCdXkw_K3DLQq3BeNgkSPOsjO8k08r98Dg_vr73f_Uw2fIcVnDhsWwKdEfBhbQseQdFzJEym7B0qBPM0Tz3h5pL9iGbjGWR-DGTegnTu-JJ_hlXvlEk/s320/winter+sign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Inside our house, we listened to the constant roaring of the wind. Every once in a while, it would gust to over 75mph. We only received 14 inches of snow but other places on the Cape accumulated totals up to 32 inches. As the temperatures plummeted into the teens and the power went out Saturday morning, I felt my bones chill anticipating the cold night ahead of us.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA06t4XEC3ytUHfol3Stz5lMxmy879vXxE5GpXXrGhqT4T21koVlBMs8JzMm6vKainovW1kJEleIFiR3hUI1WWImXD22heonA9teLXjnqT3PSGiAfKknE4mFz95rjpTIPl3T4PptrrgZs/s1600/fronthouse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA06t4XEC3ytUHfol3Stz5lMxmy879vXxE5GpXXrGhqT4T21koVlBMs8JzMm6vKainovW1kJEleIFiR3hUI1WWImXD22heonA9teLXjnqT3PSGiAfKknE4mFz95rjpTIPl3T4PptrrgZs/s320/fronthouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Looking out our dark and snow covered house, I thought of how the early Cape Codders fared in winter storms that blasted the coastline.<br />
We had insulated our 1890 home to modern day standards and had use of a woodstove, gas stove and a cooking gas stove. Because of that we were able to enjoy hot drinks through most of the blustery day and ate a one-pan skillet of beans, hotdogs and biscuits at dusk.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwRHBhYZZ1TyRDnNj5_FFfRuRKex4w3fsJ_OFuSNO1asMiaLbyVy7Ct5tjb7PW4669V0vQ0VGrD5cVUgd3QYMkZjzOndpj-RgMZVe2KUspnvMLt1g4DvTXg-qomJkV4VfDt0ebTBuiPY/s1600/meal.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwRHBhYZZ1TyRDnNj5_FFfRuRKex4w3fsJ_OFuSNO1asMiaLbyVy7Ct5tjb7PW4669V0vQ0VGrD5cVUgd3QYMkZjzOndpj-RgMZVe2KUspnvMLt1g4DvTXg-qomJkV4VfDt0ebTBuiPY/s320/meal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, just as our ancestors did before us, we slept close to the fireplace and tried to amuse ourselves as best as we could in the dimly lit rooms. Tim kept bringing in firewood and we played cards for over 6 hours through the day and evening, finally going to bed early before 9pm. <br />
As I lay in the dark, trying to sleep, I thanked the Lord that the old house had very few drafts, not like houses of centuries ago, when leaves, old rags, straw and grasses had to be stuffed into openings that were exposed to the frigid outside air. Of course, there were no worries about pipes freezing, there was no indoor plumbing. Snow melted by the hearth was all that was needed.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> In my novel <i>The Old Cape House</i>, the main character Maria Hallett is banished in 1716 by the elders of the church for fornication and witchery. She tries to survive by herself in a shack on the bluffs of Eastham. It's winter, she's alone and has few supplies.<br />
I close my eyes again, I can't get poor Maria out of my head.<br />
My nose is cold. My feet are like ice.<br />
Would I have survived in 1720? I think I could have but...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9LL5crxqNu8uK3KWD-Z2HVf8IWdSabaI-RCGFF5bXkmexCCsx1lLBz-3wTnGQWOGiPha8AOOUNbdTbAVx5oAThLoLbFnBCaDTQjc7UKpE27_TKJjQzfh_U1RJFEoVCEHB-7RIHPAnnc/s1600/wintersun.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9LL5crxqNu8uK3KWD-Z2HVf8IWdSabaI-RCGFF5bXkmexCCsx1lLBz-3wTnGQWOGiPha8AOOUNbdTbAVx5oAThLoLbFnBCaDTQjc7UKpE27_TKJjQzfh_U1RJFEoVCEHB-7RIHPAnnc/s320/wintersun.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The next morning, the blizzard stopped and the sun came out against a brilliant blue sky. It cast long, luxurious shadows across the glistening white snow. My heart sang as a new day broke the storm.<br />
<br />
Legends
label poor Maria a witch, but legends sometimes are only myths and
never proven, which is why optimism rules in my soul and I try to write new endings to
old tales.</span><br />
<br />
<br />Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-42678545615136460722022-01-23T12:08:00.000-08:002022-01-23T12:08:19.584-08:00Isolation Fosters Creativity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4HA-5xiIvXAfcLq5NYJVAU6pn6jFY7CthPINVEdpJqqQ5noAegB8mxavBVdmgVpCH08ViDkHmxH1DrWqPNpGwqRl5SFyybc2g3x2Y-1M2YCWyClGX62gcXasJssDNStu3uUMDMncyxGzAacC-xzisGQzHZqP0CUB1fGO6SPY7inDqxY09fZWss672=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4HA-5xiIvXAfcLq5NYJVAU6pn6jFY7CthPINVEdpJqqQ5noAegB8mxavBVdmgVpCH08ViDkHmxH1DrWqPNpGwqRl5SFyybc2g3x2Y-1M2YCWyClGX62gcXasJssDNStu3uUMDMncyxGzAacC-xzisGQzHZqP0CUB1fGO6SPY7inDqxY09fZWss672=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;">Isolation fosters creativity and the frigid temperatures only add to the inspiration. At least, that's how it works with my artist husband and me. We're always busy in the summer but when the calming of winter settles in, it affords us the opportunity to step back, clear our heads, and begin new projects. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All I need is a warm office, coffee, and movie themes from Pandora to create interesting characters and suspenseful plots. Listening to <i>Batman</i> themes will make my thoughts race if someone is chasing one of my characters. Thomas Newman's music from </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>Passengers</i></span> will encourage my character to continue and hopefully save the day. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Recently I came across old 78 records that my father had made. They were recordings of my siblings and me </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">back in 1952</span>. My brother pretended to be a, "Man On the Street Interviewer".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHf2gjpqCU8hnkdgpPO9ad9yK4Gu8QkjSsV6MX3MgGLF5l2tS3zpHH72AQqkACKiZS9thrHgKryTWzsU1ACbbZ3eSV2sbFPm67uuWRlQV7BZByvq2wYXonJTVJwZzZzOxv02BTKqQ79u-X8_fjRHC0bT0DiipkdjLmbexYF4lPVstQwnX4GGoUSxZV=s3669" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2771" data-original-width="3669" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHf2gjpqCU8hnkdgpPO9ad9yK4Gu8QkjSsV6MX3MgGLF5l2tS3zpHH72AQqkACKiZS9thrHgKryTWzsU1ACbbZ3eSV2sbFPm67uuWRlQV7BZByvq2wYXonJTVJwZzZzOxv02BTKqQ79u-X8_fjRHC0bT0DiipkdjLmbexYF4lPVstQwnX4GGoUSxZV=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement from 1952</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I decided to scour old photo albums to find any pictures that might accompany the recording. Then with the magic of iMovie on my Macbook air, I created a five minute nostalgic trip back in time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ0hKzEbjfazQ9zUjnc8W-Vhht_GOorv89JdlXrPFo_74g8KHnAR5D7xh9WuqM3vIgzU1ymi5ZpoC-ssTQkOW9g0sTxggLqI8Yx1W6JyFU0hASEYE4TYtFOyg1x8eFo0oydTlqpgGvJRtx9CTuyarYdw6G5f_UUej0xysC0zopy4zBqQdH89eWjn2y=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ0hKzEbjfazQ9zUjnc8W-Vhht_GOorv89JdlXrPFo_74g8KHnAR5D7xh9WuqM3vIgzU1ymi5ZpoC-ssTQkOW9g0sTxggLqI8Yx1W6JyFU0hASEYE4TYtFOyg1x8eFo0oydTlqpgGvJRtx9CTuyarYdw6G5f_UUej0xysC0zopy4zBqQdH89eWjn2y=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Office</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I finalized it into an Mp4, uploaded it to my vimeo account and sent links to my children, nieces, and nephews. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">For privacy concerns, I can't make the link public. If you would like to view the movie and I'm acquainted with you, use Contact the Author option, located bottom right of the blog, and I'll send it to you. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">This family portrait was taken in the summer of 1952. The
following Christmas, my dad recorded the, "Man On The Street
Interview".</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuYcr4ul7YRvHMaIK0DtjIwUBiGAGf3hV0yrJOmnemgFmIEs8y7aum5PGwNXQV-luOHdjwvHyf4NQ3__ExeRTugzqN8EA2taxqistbQDJ26C0NrCgIY1nRHMu_HBTExktepOfhUiUZH9eDRkgfdtZMIXb6Kd99ARQt5ORb0rRvQQ2qMw0GnBHyHOBt=s700" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuYcr4ul7YRvHMaIK0DtjIwUBiGAGf3hV0yrJOmnemgFmIEs8y7aum5PGwNXQV-luOHdjwvHyf4NQ3__ExeRTugzqN8EA2taxqistbQDJ26C0NrCgIY1nRHMu_HBTExktepOfhUiUZH9eDRkgfdtZMIXb6Kd99ARQt5ORb0rRvQQ2qMw0GnBHyHOBt=w274-h320" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me on the left. I was the youngest in the family.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My Dad always wanted to be an engineer but dropped out of high school in his junior year. His father had died and he became the breadwinner for his mother and two younger brothers. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Through the years and as we were growing up, he was always the first on the block to get a TV, stereo, or any new technical gadget. Popular Mechanics magazine was his go-to for the latest in high tech news. We rarely had a repair man come to the house, my Dad would fix it.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My Mom and Dad loved to dance and every room in our house had a custom built speaker, made by Dad. We had the ability to listen to a baseball game or music where ever you were, just by flipping a switch. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I kind of grew up with elevator music, instrumental, with </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">very little singing or vocals</span> in the background. Maybe that's why I write to music. The quiet and no music is actually disruptive to my mental creativity. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I think my Dad would have been proud of me </span><span style="font-size: large;">as I recently waded through the technicals of iMovie </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">for over two+ weeks. If he was alive now, he would have liked all the new tech. </span></span> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">If you haven't seen the trailer for my latest historical novel, <i>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</i>, here's the final product. I made it with iMovie.</span></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/qvS7-f--bsw" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">My trailer </span></a></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Stay creative, warm, and safe,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Barbara </span><br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-52113729236688407552022-01-13T09:10:00.015-08:002022-01-13T10:10:09.079-08:00Reflections in a New Year<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimMm2Grv-5ICyBuLEJ-rbytM2qUEfuCSWTHoa7cJQzcUvbxMS6TnSz8byekMvxau1C8BaaFWbJxptVHimXwnIx-KEV2_uvi2pmn6nRKwBF3JfP5tVgbGUfdM6mYkOcTQjDQNb0ml17nDhFon_W3VDgWD9lOevB0mMwoDWlyoM4UcMeHydT7Ml5E4qM=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimMm2Grv-5ICyBuLEJ-rbytM2qUEfuCSWTHoa7cJQzcUvbxMS6TnSz8byekMvxau1C8BaaFWbJxptVHimXwnIx-KEV2_uvi2pmn6nRKwBF3JfP5tVgbGUfdM6mYkOcTQjDQNb0ml17nDhFon_W3VDgWD9lOevB0mMwoDWlyoM4UcMeHydT7Ml5E4qM=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rock Harbor - Orleans Cape Cod<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Reflections that signal a new beginning. A time to take stock in where you have come from </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">and where you're going</span>.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Pandemic affected everyone whether you believed it was real or a conspiracy. It didn't matter. You were touched by it. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tim and I felt grateful that all our children and extended family were all on the same page, as far as vaccination, boosters, masks, social distancing, and evaluating the risk when leaving our homes. On the plus side, no one in our family has been sick. We were careful. We followed science. I guess, we were also lucky.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">This morning as we walked around the harbor, a beautiful sky inspired us. Behind the grey clouds, an azure blue sky promised hope for a better year. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some thoughts: <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hope pushes us to get out of bed each day. It's the foundation of our life. It's what keeps us going. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">We may not be able to stop a negative energy but it's how we face it that makes the difference. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today, the New York Times and other news sources have said that omicron is on the downside for infections. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's hoping...We will always have another day to make things right. Things will be better. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">My fourth novel in the Old Cape Series was published on May 18 of 2021. <b><i>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</i></b> achieved success even though the pandemic circled around it at every turn.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0926QGRC6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD3-Bpnn4yIzn4c0rueh8l0o8peGrX1cMHuHR8bcxv95RHY3G8jgEaz9Exm3bp5XkVQoCAQZWvCxnDDWI7w2_7IYsckZh9vOMhFSSJ1nVuQD-vieA-qbKtANzpdw99zDCxnGYLA8Ha5n6UF96X_zDEnnGCeu3Pdkufpwale4LYRIP8ti7tQEySFMuG=s320" width="210" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I was forced to cancel appearances at book clubs, bookstores, and inside venues. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If there was a fair or art event outside, I was able to attend and meet, once again, my readers and, of course, sell books. Always feeling grateful for those outdoor opportunities. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had a wonderful interview through the Cape Cod Writers Center about <b><i>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</i></b>. The CCWC host, Madeline Miele Holt asked the right questions and made the half hour fly by. It was fun.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/u97B6Yw0IdY" target="_blank"></a></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/u97B6Yw0IdY" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="512" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiee_4XAkyDSnIcubkYACjD3PLtet_yydGwZ5RlP4paMOuexT56cdPMiJtEKCtcdLK1rw7x4HRxTGQpnd-SBHnQvgMRanG-62aXo3WpOQu9UYaBO2mfQ_HR0Nk8diBY_lZqFHmV53Pj-fDDQjo_ACwm4vAlOc3p93I1TK490yT-mvHriFAIOR92bei1=s320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/u97B6Yw0IdY" target="_blank">INTERVIEW</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">At this time, I plan to participate in several outdoor events in and around Cape Cod. See Events.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">All my books are available at the bookstores and gift shops listed on the right side column of the Home Page.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stay safe. Good Wishes for you and days filled with hope and peace.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Barbara</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Work is in progress for my fifth historical novel.<br /></span></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-71115002772457448922021-10-10T12:25:00.003-07:002021-10-10T13:42:20.593-07:00Walking Cape Cod Again<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFANbzfw6NjokgsMU45Cni60rSs_pt9Vyg0f1dLf6zOvIZqsfMErbPoHB3TNpYfpm9z5uH3mRCpPfeCLl_5EKGMLCWWO44TtjjD6WBvjiwq1emrIzHBH08fiOM6dxnqKZN1tlSBBMYcKo/s2048/IMG_2343+2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="2048" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFANbzfw6NjokgsMU45Cni60rSs_pt9Vyg0f1dLf6zOvIZqsfMErbPoHB3TNpYfpm9z5uH3mRCpPfeCLl_5EKGMLCWWO44TtjjD6WBvjiwq1emrIzHBH08fiOM6dxnqKZN1tlSBBMYcKo/s320/IMG_2343+2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was a beautiful morning. The sun reflected across the blue ocean and crashing waves </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">like sparkling diamonds.</span></span> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz-E57ucIYfSX6BAKu0goGGSZj2tUIw5s7pQFUSUALnboKnuDKUfcB7n6BQKQ6vhlCpoTJ9he3vN0Y8Q9BVFg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nauset Light Beach in Eastham is under construction but still well worth a visit. </span> </div></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">After being restricted in my walking<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> before my hip replacement, </span></span> and even where I could wander, it was glorious to be adventuring again.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">My freedom brought Tim and I to West Brewster and the boundaries of Dennis to visit the Ancient Sears Cemetery adjacent to Bound Brook.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8HrR0GAQqdqy-WYrBvDAkhZsydl_-SOIQh0dP-_bE5IYBi-JbXXQaYCOr9jdem7CJo2raol5MXnCtedYHZpXR15HDFEd1fNdZkvzY49y-3m8rghhhEF_KCWe-NWxglYld9DGi8nAeJI/s2048/IMG_2373.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8HrR0GAQqdqy-WYrBvDAkhZsydl_-SOIQh0dP-_bE5IYBi-JbXXQaYCOr9jdem7CJo2raol5MXnCtedYHZpXR15HDFEd1fNdZkvzY49y-3m8rghhhEF_KCWe-NWxglYld9DGi8nAeJI/s320/IMG_2373.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Park behind the sign. You'll see a path on your left, then turn right. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Just off the Old King's Highway (Route 6A), you'll find 124 headstones and foot-stones lined up in rows and all
facing West. Most all are descended from the Sears family and date
approximately from the early 1700s to 1949. </span></span> <br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepdjsIIIXqv5aEIyXcdlltBsJZFLWNkB3P0B20D6Y094oBc7O739bX4_MBtI5EJ6rFPRJN2_2WgVeho-Cy3Alp1o_WdAddEb27yUc_mh0-Y4-RwDh0gMrRR0eT9RDjXJS5DAIH8fG4-A/s2048/IMG_2371.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepdjsIIIXqv5aEIyXcdlltBsJZFLWNkB3P0B20D6Y094oBc7O739bX4_MBtI5EJ6rFPRJN2_2WgVeho-Cy3Alp1o_WdAddEb27yUc_mh0-Y4-RwDh0gMrRR0eT9RDjXJS5DAIH8fG4-A/s320/IMG_2371.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On your right will be an old iron gate.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGWqliv-vKWvM0_Md7Tw7e0QlYh70sIZBPEap-pmRRVjUSDD_2S2Tv8Y3NgbrK3Jq8ICKuZIfxPVMPu3VfryB0pTyxBung6IGi5p0Jly9_ZqdluMOYSePgKnPU3FdrdeF_pnGlwXhCuI/s2048/IMG_2363.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGWqliv-vKWvM0_Md7Tw7e0QlYh70sIZBPEap-pmRRVjUSDD_2S2Tv8Y3NgbrK3Jq8ICKuZIfxPVMPu3VfryB0pTyxBung6IGi5p0Jly9_ZqdluMOYSePgKnPU3FdrdeF_pnGlwXhCuI/s320/IMG_2363.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ornate finial awaits your touch.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsErFwKzwr9UjuOgTUCrqW2Q_dSDnQ24ql7d23fp0GNTPMHkYk8ENSCiguNVYmcySmCwlx4TcVhJfl8zMOmvLiJYPnq0juiU5XTq2bhPysRLNvQ5hmpdyTjsf4FmPq4Mo56N_cEvcmfw/s2048/IMG_2364.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsErFwKzwr9UjuOgTUCrqW2Q_dSDnQ24ql7d23fp0GNTPMHkYk8ENSCiguNVYmcySmCwlx4TcVhJfl8zMOmvLiJYPnq0juiU5XTq2bhPysRLNvQ5hmpdyTjsf4FmPq4Mo56N_cEvcmfw/s320/IMG_2364.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My advice is to start on your right where you can see the water, that's where you'll find some of the older graves. </td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br />As I walked up and down the rows, I couldn't help thinking of how hard a life so many of these early settlers encountered. <br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj7oTvCVgIzjTF930vkKqHjVB1RyvreU68ZX7r26HbkHM15Q4-g7SW_gYf1FDKajVY24YzDAHwPcnTYADAF2ZvVGnw-ERUp3cWOZVNMqRSnkxa7koJyTxeBgGu_R6XQB3xKAZxOKl8YM/s2048/IMG_2366.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj7oTvCVgIzjTF930vkKqHjVB1RyvreU68ZX7r26HbkHM15Q4-g7SW_gYf1FDKajVY24YzDAHwPcnTYADAF2ZvVGnw-ERUp3cWOZVNMqRSnkxa7koJyTxeBgGu_R6XQB3xKAZxOKl8YM/s320/IMG_2366.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Memory of Mrs. Desire, wife of Noah Sears</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.<br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFld_not74TCZwKs1fVIzOW1VDysK6lvl6UudyozkrddGTsoFKJyATsUz1DNZ_Ere-uzk9HtgD00SaQ3QunnXArHBvgGzr7xiECKqOdpdte-fGHbGKoDuToSzSsEmPYWzwTwOkE1iCNQ/s2048/IMG_2364.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFld_not74TCZwKs1fVIzOW1VDysK6lvl6UudyozkrddGTsoFKJyATsUz1DNZ_Ere-uzk9HtgD00SaQ3QunnXArHBvgGzr7xiECKqOdpdte-fGHbGKoDuToSzSsEmPYWzwTwOkE1iCNQ/s320/IMG_2364.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">As we turned back to return to our car, Tim pointed to the tree that was the inspiration for a watercolor, <i>Bound Brook</i>. It's available as a limited edition giclee print on our website and in the galleries, both Brewster and Chatham.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEbLUXYDNcOJWBpoPl3Eu3f-x7f94JRUtPFUcLLT6ieNPSEIfX0w__52IE91GfzYbIDFRAIVsFItcE9PIhRAPIoWZwX44RWvuQizrhAJK-xY8xUIEbruu6yiYRXQTBNVSEvoy6ARVr3mk/s250/BOUNDBROOK250.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="177" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEbLUXYDNcOJWBpoPl3Eu3f-x7f94JRUtPFUcLLT6ieNPSEIfX0w__52IE91GfzYbIDFRAIVsFItcE9PIhRAPIoWZwX44RWvuQizrhAJK-xY8xUIEbruu6yiYRXQTBNVSEvoy6ARVr3mk/s0/BOUNDBROOK250.jpg" width="177" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.strunagalleries.com/cart/index.cfm?page=21&view_productID=455&CategoryId=3&BrandID=2" target="_blank">Struna Galleries</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL AND REMEMBER THIS ANCIENT CEMETERY BORDERS ON PRIVATE PROPERTY.</div></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you take a left on the Old King's Highway and go further into Dennis, make sure you visit Scargo Tower. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS93xmjGQy6spagsGB1lBW5YCiHzan7LKaOJnnTWkWbhutnevieUF9KuRzaoOHoBu3WmF1TRkrY9czT-Hn0X9y7hyny_k3JJVGS421AYbW7cCR80AWz3N0kCL_4ytI_peiGGX-o7JflBA/s2048/IMG_2375.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1990" data-original-width="2048" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS93xmjGQy6spagsGB1lBW5YCiHzan7LKaOJnnTWkWbhutnevieUF9KuRzaoOHoBu3WmF1TRkrY9czT-Hn0X9y7hyny_k3JJVGS421AYbW7cCR80AWz3N0kCL_4ytI_peiGGX-o7JflBA/s320/IMG_2375.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scargo Tower<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </div></span>There have been three Scargo towers at this spot. The first tower was
built in 1874 by the Tobey family. Constructed out of wood, it was
destroyed by a gale in 1876. The second tower, known as "Tobey Tower"
and also made of wood, burned down in 1900. The present tower, was built
of cobblestone in 1901 as a memorial to the Tobey family. The tower
stands thirty feet high. It is located on the highest hill in the area.
From the tower, one can see almost all of Cape Cod on the bay side,
including <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Provincetown" title="Provincetown">Provincetown</a> and the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sagamore_Bridge" title="Sagamore Bridge">Sagamore Bridge</a>. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">For fun, I recorded my footsteps climbing up the spiral staircase.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwjvG04P6e1guA39755RurERnUxuKjFsJOE5nHWyoxJlXRlWIyoKGKiTN-aj_Cwv35BSj1kFr-5WdVaFA_piQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> Once you reach the top, it's a breathtaking view and worth the effort.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzcNeKY-TZNcyLfnXw5b5G7QHMkYhkPVotqBM07CHfC-7tPKp_dsOHZ8TBCHmT0QOVFdcn0glGxf_fQuL8NUc6dZswOiiTzni3R-nu39NGOte7RlPGRkR5e7PBBc8qlzlPI7SnmLSwEo/s2048/IMG_2379.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzcNeKY-TZNcyLfnXw5b5G7QHMkYhkPVotqBM07CHfC-7tPKp_dsOHZ8TBCHmT0QOVFdcn0glGxf_fQuL8NUc6dZswOiiTzni3R-nu39NGOte7RlPGRkR5e7PBBc8qlzlPI7SnmLSwEo/s320/IMG_2379.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />The Dennis adventure only took about 1 1/2 hours. You should try it. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The Cape has so many places to explore...get moving.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oPoigAz8bYCGtx1X7UX0OrQxUgtIsT2_WCaG1ovHE-1KDwFFNrnfdzkFQLBOMR0hWBiCKdis05SEdWaMCnc6n83jB9Y8yq1KFDwBnXhPjqxokwwteRpJF6Z47VDzXc_-1Qia1zx7vwc/s500/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oPoigAz8bYCGtx1X7UX0OrQxUgtIsT2_WCaG1ovHE-1KDwFFNrnfdzkFQLBOMR0hWBiCKdis05SEdWaMCnc6n83jB9Y8yq1KFDwBnXhPjqxokwwteRpJF6Z47VDzXc_-1Qia1zx7vwc/s320/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0926QGRC6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420" target="_blank">Available to BUY</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">During the much appreciated success of my latest historical novel, The Old Cape Blood Ruby, I have started my fifth historical novel featuring Brewster, Cape Cod and Central Mass, Millbury. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Stay Tuned...<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /> </span></span><br /><p></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-4013390161751540042021-08-27T11:17:00.005-07:002021-08-27T11:23:36.443-07:00Come to the Fair! <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meet me at the fair! </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">9th Annual Kill Tide Arts & Craft Fair <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Drummer Boy Park - Brewster 8/28-8/29</span><br /></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCbLZt1Lqy8oofcSMUcLROe0FMrEXweomDgjKqiOhEWsv114sfNpq5JBcGzz0MJbM3eQQ_q6XzffwWmEauDEY6v2nKLM2mFhfsISfIf5zG6hDsxIa6FIH9pKCOP6o5wQG-jjjGWAYI7k/s960/215480081_4047034122081279_8168086270175986793_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="824" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCbLZt1Lqy8oofcSMUcLROe0FMrEXweomDgjKqiOhEWsv114sfNpq5JBcGzz0MJbM3eQQ_q6XzffwWmEauDEY6v2nKLM2mFhfsISfIf5zG6hDsxIa6FIH9pKCOP6o5wQG-jjjGWAYI7k/s320/215480081_4047034122081279_8168086270175986793_n.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'll be signing all of my Old Cape Series books. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #003366; font-family: georgia, palatino, serif; font-size: 24px;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 16px;">For those of you who are wondering what a Kill Tide is?</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #003366; font-family: georgia, palatino, serif; font-size: 24px;"><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 16px;">In late August the Full Sturgeon Moon causes a flood tide which drowns the larval pupae of dreaded Greehead flies...<span style="color: #003366; font-family: georgia, palatino, serif; font-size: 24px;"><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 16px;">a cyclical phenomenon known locally as <b>the Kill Tide.</b></span></i></span> </span></i></span> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Old Cape Blood Ruby was featured in the <a href="https://bit.ly/2WuWuVG" target="_blank">Cape Cod Times </a>today! </span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnXKp-yCVK3wf1LAnwcvxvfRafNtkdMeA3iyf3GVxXhJ9VtsiOsPpgwI0XWeDQZdAiQvJkaUpzVGTP1ujWiaYAeTAofBy8h6QDTs2MQ1sGxYo3fbxVgnu4BfNgVXL-sLHxq2EXpiYXv8/s500/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnXKp-yCVK3wf1LAnwcvxvfRafNtkdMeA3iyf3GVxXhJ9VtsiOsPpgwI0XWeDQZdAiQvJkaUpzVGTP1ujWiaYAeTAofBy8h6QDTs2MQ1sGxYo3fbxVgnu4BfNgVXL-sLHxq2EXpiYXv8/s320/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Next stop?<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Coming in September - Cranberry Festival in </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Harwich, Ma. 9/14-9/15</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you can't meet me in person, you can always find them in your local bookstore or <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Barbara-Eppich-Struna/e/B00G9FZ8AM/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">online</a>.</span><br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-75452583730956254382021-05-26T10:43:00.001-07:002021-05-27T09:47:50.369-07:00New Hip! New Book!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3-N1wY2VHYJX8RpwG6TU_PN-Rng0btk-trqAgvLi_b1Sw88zVun-i4GGIR0Uz9Ct24EI2dGIlzDd1i9kpLmQxdPlv33qDdb5NVrCu0LxVzcGpLKfWDRW7dDREaKD5eIQrr6SLYSiWzY/s2048/walking+stick.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3-N1wY2VHYJX8RpwG6TU_PN-Rng0btk-trqAgvLi_b1Sw88zVun-i4GGIR0Uz9Ct24EI2dGIlzDd1i9kpLmQxdPlv33qDdb5NVrCu0LxVzcGpLKfWDRW7dDREaKD5eIQrr6SLYSiWzY/s320/walking+stick.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's been a crazy time for the few months before and the three weeks after my surgery for a new hip. Preparing for my latest release of <i><b>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</b></i> and... becoming a bionic woman with two titanium hips made my schedule interesting.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I've missed walking, hiking, and visiting the grand kids, and yet, a general longing for adventure stays with me every day. I look forward to...<br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5uZu4DQJ5TsC8SmK0Tkq_3G96d1i6Tgtzsj-Wi4M22cRbfRzx4ky08vdCvnuhgFiZsGHE_y9gUIzHh-23Dw-KdajymAQRWhHE0HYUlXsLM4E5zW2dK4Fyc83PyP2pvtBCw4PgKusCIU/s2048/brewster+explore.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5uZu4DQJ5TsC8SmK0Tkq_3G96d1i6Tgtzsj-Wi4M22cRbfRzx4ky08vdCvnuhgFiZsGHE_y9gUIzHh-23Dw-KdajymAQRWhHE0HYUlXsLM4E5zW2dK4Fyc83PyP2pvtBCw4PgKusCIU/s320/brewster+explore.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Exploring Brewster </span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIDjIVOQ3f-YFqonw59QmC75MApxv3rKsazTK6xwLUsrpL4Nx4Bhvd1fkXVH686RfJTpLDT-osbgganVXp2NEhuJNoDCSVf8P8aGjAZ51RBO-_tVSTrl84lWfsfCcMOIf3xLKm6_zmSk/s2048/grasses.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIDjIVOQ3f-YFqonw59QmC75MApxv3rKsazTK6xwLUsrpL4Nx4Bhvd1fkXVH686RfJTpLDT-osbgganVXp2NEhuJNoDCSVf8P8aGjAZ51RBO-_tVSTrl84lWfsfCcMOIf3xLKm6_zmSk/s320/grasses.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Discovering that Orleans has a secret path<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDor9TvOkl9PsxAh8HMA3IzqB20hx9NWpUsX52F3R7nocV_Cz5QqKWQ4ttiigxwf3MU-rGN6nXFwgeDI7FJVoaH9a0yi5sJOJBo4dFmSfYFr1Bz2vcYl1nOo2UxGVJ2bc8V7s_3HLRLs/s2048/geocaching.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDor9TvOkl9PsxAh8HMA3IzqB20hx9NWpUsX52F3R7nocV_Cz5QqKWQ4ttiigxwf3MU-rGN6nXFwgeDI7FJVoaH9a0yi5sJOJBo4dFmSfYFr1Bz2vcYl1nOo2UxGVJ2bc8V7s_3HLRLs/s320/geocaching.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Geocaching</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgFqk5hS6YDmqXyFBAHeRdpULP1-fey_M4KJ2Ph-KolRD-ZAOeAFoYmp6qSG2j6SHt6ZyO8ie3352Jao7ueM6YR8Y9Dfjeq9_ptJwTGVgYyzkm9WVC3IdgdT4k7PZ1kEbokwJlw90L3c/s2048/flying.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgFqk5hS6YDmqXyFBAHeRdpULP1-fey_M4KJ2Ph-KolRD-ZAOeAFoYmp6qSG2j6SHt6ZyO8ie3352Jao7ueM6YR8Y9Dfjeq9_ptJwTGVgYyzkm9WVC3IdgdT4k7PZ1kEbokwJlw90L3c/s320/flying.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eventually Traveling to Alaska and California</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6LeKZHb6qkDmGfWL_GDCRv-SnyPrM43AKqItr3xbn9ns8QbfFNzWyqOXoOfB-cwIfRxD9EdSn8DCFNKqP2C0C5UwhvvLkwXjk3RNyo5kLZabHtWcocxz0fIVtUmLf_7He2xqRAhvaRk/s2048/casey.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6LeKZHb6qkDmGfWL_GDCRv-SnyPrM43AKqItr3xbn9ns8QbfFNzWyqOXoOfB-cwIfRxD9EdSn8DCFNKqP2C0C5UwhvvLkwXjk3RNyo5kLZabHtWcocxz0fIVtUmLf_7He2xqRAhvaRk/s320/casey.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alaska & Casey</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-8KCBqBDyk4Of7jgA4GneLKmSUj-cASqSnG7xNDNG4bjB_122sBZ_PVp6-TR_Df1EzzagrWTjxqgzN9YL2jhFyo8I2NhteiQIkSVONcO2BKHeoMnsE56M8-P5XeR6Axr-GTB4mlut-o/s2048/madison.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-8KCBqBDyk4Of7jgA4GneLKmSUj-cASqSnG7xNDNG4bjB_122sBZ_PVp6-TR_Df1EzzagrWTjxqgzN9YL2jhFyo8I2NhteiQIkSVONcO2BKHeoMnsE56M8-P5XeR6Axr-GTB4mlut-o/s320/madison.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alaska & Madison</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-SrqgatzyIOxvYm-eperhcvuSUSZ4PFvrrgHQsx4Vw8vcSlmj2ENkXAvj9ud1DTrKBPhNWbrQmwBaGOhCwqEC4fcFGFdPdRI6H8FwBmFKKNVwI1-goWF8CMEP48CSsetPOftBjPq-c8/s2048/zack.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-SrqgatzyIOxvYm-eperhcvuSUSZ4PFvrrgHQsx4Vw8vcSlmj2ENkXAvj9ud1DTrKBPhNWbrQmwBaGOhCwqEC4fcFGFdPdRI6H8FwBmFKKNVwI1-goWF8CMEP48CSsetPOftBjPq-c8/s320/zack.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alaska & Zack</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZflV309lOvDLMsmlhu3z4PU8_jZ8XQbDdoch18ISzwgQZCgLS03XGyGdkqUizUoMT0LHJqX7wcwZji5wEUgJgoiHtHNrdPVqTX5nD0CoVeoc10CEW-A4y3F2Vli5rhZq2OJTglnfnnQ/s2048/glacier++.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZflV309lOvDLMsmlhu3z4PU8_jZ8XQbDdoch18ISzwgQZCgLS03XGyGdkqUizUoMT0LHJqX7wcwZji5wEUgJgoiHtHNrdPVqTX5nD0CoVeoc10CEW-A4y3F2Vli5rhZq2OJTglnfnnQ/s320/glacier++.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Exploring the Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zQeKHhc70wEoeoWog9bGMmfBC8530DUC8UHYFXuc4pLTya3GDusSdvduCPNq5Y-_GbZ2lE_IL8iYsmN-are3vsvXtadE0QCQUoHpmm9VbJOm7si-UsrkrmZydL0vI40RVBnB26PVtes/s2048/Ca+coast.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zQeKHhc70wEoeoWog9bGMmfBC8530DUC8UHYFXuc4pLTya3GDusSdvduCPNq5Y-_GbZ2lE_IL8iYsmN-are3vsvXtadE0QCQUoHpmm9VbJOm7si-UsrkrmZydL0vI40RVBnB26PVtes/s320/Ca+coast.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And then, as always, on to California</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40ctywRJHyCmczAiQGSaZxLcmJYB_Gj0ENb2cQrJ1TwLwci2sruczkcStjUpKwjL1jT5lODGJn__HI2pgcconG3oFIMKrEgxGtP1qDM6k5hzDuA4MRF3_xvCXPC0jWqqeq1FYgNJt4nc/s2048/ca+hunt.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40ctywRJHyCmczAiQGSaZxLcmJYB_Gj0ENb2cQrJ1TwLwci2sruczkcStjUpKwjL1jT5lODGJn__HI2pgcconG3oFIMKrEgxGtP1qDM6k5hzDuA4MRF3_xvCXPC0jWqqeq1FYgNJt4nc/s320/ca+hunt.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Crosby and Grandma in Southern California finding the final piece of the puzzle in our treasure hunt!</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I missed it all!</div><div style="text-align: center;">But soon I'll be <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgH-tsjLcUe5KqfO9GygaUTH70DSd8R_Xa733sfDALi0ApcZXhz9jk13WRKatv3wt2LWeamwmvKTwKAXcMzgIalwfr7HHwOCk0czOFuMv-xlx4oPD9klnYU0YUFKHb8KT8SRIANOVAEY/s2048/pancho.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgH-tsjLcUe5KqfO9GygaUTH70DSd8R_Xa733sfDALi0ApcZXhz9jk13WRKatv3wt2LWeamwmvKTwKAXcMzgIalwfr7HHwOCk0czOFuMv-xlx4oPD9klnYU0YUFKHb8KT8SRIANOVAEY/s320/pancho.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Walking the beach</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WjBOLZmDy21jdn_dRJm-8VWAZUyOnyGkV3XkLvuogozXXO4f0zIg8NwfhpjBm1uzYVx8Td_qm0LSj8Mtjjpn_TIOPXLb_7YogUWEMjtpMo2nrYZqg1k_JaFCOWwfOd6TCQ6uTTJzLIY/s2048/toes+in+water.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WjBOLZmDy21jdn_dRJm-8VWAZUyOnyGkV3XkLvuogozXXO4f0zIg8NwfhpjBm1uzYVx8Td_qm0LSj8Mtjjpn_TIOPXLb_7YogUWEMjtpMo2nrYZqg1k_JaFCOWwfOd6TCQ6uTTJzLIY/s320/toes+in+water.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Touching my toes to the water</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKZFC9XPZ9OPUlgmWHkQ8rqSugzAseqDNjY7cD9fUFaJgwNHUGa_U7pfyAUYnRzJGPrWGpKlxhSCq85hq6-hTBgGjJ8nI0kHTSrrNixVCRr-tW540DHyqSAL3Jh7V6Gi5BequM7sT6F8/s2048/path+down.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKZFC9XPZ9OPUlgmWHkQ8rqSugzAseqDNjY7cD9fUFaJgwNHUGa_U7pfyAUYnRzJGPrWGpKlxhSCq85hq6-hTBgGjJ8nI0kHTSrrNixVCRr-tW540DHyqSAL3Jh7V6Gi5BequM7sT6F8/s320/path+down.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Exploring with my granddaughter in Alaska</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdamQs_2CHZnif7jpaTnjJcYigswO70Yo33ZNGyPlKz0jbkjoshMGycIVQ4Fkf7UNNeOsnAb1NP5dqyIQYo2ky-TSQOTuX_9efzWGa97bjHVc5euNN0kglaw4HMErXMNtljP0K2NagZs/s2048/seling.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdamQs_2CHZnif7jpaTnjJcYigswO70Yo33ZNGyPlKz0jbkjoshMGycIVQ4Fkf7UNNeOsnAb1NP5dqyIQYo2ky-TSQOTuX_9efzWGa97bjHVc5euNN0kglaw4HMErXMNtljP0K2NagZs/s320/seling.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Packing up to sell my books at festivals and book events</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRBe_LFQLMQ95Ii16Qa907dy4iTh3FPKXSi1lYxpkZhifGa7JukptsY4SYtAMWwNaSTp65mhvY_gb9wp_VUSh7ZyLnYhfVWTLetl3Kr9TWWRz5eUPqgBbQhU5aySn95CtBZdhlX26mI8/s2048/shanties.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRBe_LFQLMQ95Ii16Qa907dy4iTh3FPKXSi1lYxpkZhifGa7JukptsY4SYtAMWwNaSTp65mhvY_gb9wp_VUSh7ZyLnYhfVWTLetl3Kr9TWWRz5eUPqgBbQhU5aySn95CtBZdhlX26mI8/s320/shanties.JPG" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sharing booth space with my best friend, Anita Caruso. We both love meeting our readers and selling our individual book series. Anita writes a children's series, <b><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08VCF72RL?searchxofy=true&binding=kindle_edition&ref_=dbs_s_aps_series_rwt_tkin&qid=1620494274&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Brayden's Magical Journey</a> </i></b>and of course<i>, </i>I create the <b><i> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Barbara-Eppich-Struna/e/B00G9FZ8AM/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1" target="_blank">Old Cape Series.</a></i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">One final entry</span><b><i> <br /></i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">Y</span><span style="font-size: medium;">ou can order my latest, <i><b>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</b></i>, at any bookstore and is now available as a paperback everywhere and ebook online.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0926QGRC6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oPoigAz8bYCGtx1X7UX0OrQxUgtIsT2_WCaG1ovHE-1KDwFFNrnfdzkFQLBOMR0hWBiCKdis05SEdWaMCnc6n83jB9Y8yq1KFDwBnXhPjqxokwwteRpJF6Z47VDzXc_-1Qia1zx7vwc/s320/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" /></a></b></div><b><br /><i><br /></i></b><p></p><p><b><i> </i></b><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you for your support! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Just a reminder: An author can always use some reviews, so, if you like my books, please leave a review.</span><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p><b><i> </i></b>Barbara<br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-54363012368023861172021-04-11T12:39:00.005-07:002021-05-03T18:57:58.511-07:00Pre-Order New Novel - ebook!<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAsyX19DQ9lga7l-gca9Sl_0cmIITiy5a3NJ1wFL9wso8HczDgjSQH4VyrYPkD4rio0W-dP17cvBME2bOFSIXgd5SlZrJ3vdr433Vf7acyDc1rf6LkThc0vou2SAI4b9ZuxplxCduoJo/s500/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAsyX19DQ9lga7l-gca9Sl_0cmIITiy5a3NJ1wFL9wso8HczDgjSQH4VyrYPkD4rio0W-dP17cvBME2bOFSIXgd5SlZrJ3vdr433Vf7acyDc1rf6LkThc0vou2SAI4b9ZuxplxCduoJo/s320/328Blood+Ruby+Cover+Thumbnail++B%2526W+.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0926QGRC6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420" target="_blank">Pre-order for ebook only</a></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>So excited to announce that my fourth suspenseful historical novel is available on amazon for Pre-Order. To be delivered to your kindle on May 18, 2021!<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>"In 1898, the Portland Gale tore across Provincetown on Cape Cod's coast. Walter Ellis, a descendant of legendary Maria Hallett, loses his ship and livelihood. Forced to leave his family behind, he seeks gold in Alaska but never returns. Present day Nancy Caldwell travels to Alaska to visit family. She discovers an old letter destined for Provincetown from 1899 but never sent. Back home on Cape Cod, a 1780s house, a hidden 'pigeon's blood' ruby ring, and a past nemesis complicate Nancy's search for the missing fisherman."</span></span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>It's only been a few years since the first creative spark popped into my brain and ignited this multi-generational family saga. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>During our semi-annual visit with our middle son, Tim, and his family in Alaska, we were on the island of Juneau. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwghyphenhyphenCOQoAUTAzwH87OWhB2HWwC0Tm-tvC4GOVDC4-xU6_yeiKwuwC_6Ep3ZRrgyQrR1UP6lssoxU5XRyHZjcPPtMkjouYZ5nSyViKz1PN1Y5OHRdtg-P18EGzAwE9GDUP-G7KWZF-yA/s1024/IMG_2016.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwghyphenhyphenCOQoAUTAzwH87OWhB2HWwC0Tm-tvC4GOVDC4-xU6_yeiKwuwC_6Ep3ZRrgyQrR1UP6lssoxU5XRyHZjcPPtMkjouYZ5nSyViKz1PN1Y5OHRdtg-P18EGzAwE9GDUP-G7KWZF-yA/s320/IMG_2016.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Landing in Juneau</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIhxNm6cbWSSlOjKd5F09oJucd-nc1NAGXzi0HYAZ9teVIG_85UYE3LyfLrLGujh3dXRj8F9lNeXqM0S9x2AnETQHHFu3s7MElxCKew3eN2p9dpJukrsw4VbGtvK5WRfAPJfQTKUL2Fw/s2048/IMG_0245.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIhxNm6cbWSSlOjKd5F09oJucd-nc1NAGXzi0HYAZ9teVIG_85UYE3LyfLrLGujh3dXRj8F9lNeXqM0S9x2AnETQHHFu3s7MElxCKew3eN2p9dpJukrsw4VbGtvK5WRfAPJfQTKUL2Fw/s320/IMG_0245.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tim and Jenn's home<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>One morning, we woke to a storm-tossed exposed ocean floor. Outside their expansive windows overlooking the mysterious Pacific Ocean was a large white object, young Tim went to explore. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaphtkJFKv8i8brX7UGxk8wsnv3F8pTYUE1l7YuACcYL_38un43OduLzJHcPqXtQb6BunRrKk4nRwyZExXFuD8LqBHrJ0qqx3IwSRXMieIUrGWbhtwG0kK8m3BVYcq4f1fmlSUnR6IbS4/s2048/IMG_1162.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1530" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaphtkJFKv8i8brX7UGxk8wsnv3F8pTYUE1l7YuACcYL_38un43OduLzJHcPqXtQb6BunRrKk4nRwyZExXFuD8LqBHrJ0qqx3IwSRXMieIUrGWbhtwG0kK8m3BVYcq4f1fmlSUnR6IbS4/s320/IMG_1162.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">View from deck</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gAsoO1IeJeNH6G9YkTCtfO3IUbzwUby3yw0XghFSPbqUV0GJ51RhBAQn3fp19Wc9L6uFuJNVsO2bK_k3YV3rFqFuNBdqsNEFvDhv4l8naP-OITHo-aRr6FsY459lClChsc6XNkiKS4c/s2048/IMG_6950.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gAsoO1IeJeNH6G9YkTCtfO3IUbzwUby3yw0XghFSPbqUV0GJ51RhBAQn3fp19Wc9L6uFuJNVsO2bK_k3YV3rFqFuNBdqsNEFvDhv4l8naP-OITHo-aRr6FsY459lClChsc6XNkiKS4c/s320/IMG_6950.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">For a visual - I'm walking when tide is out. The rocks to my left are submerged at full tide.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>We watched as our son walked further and further away until he stopped and took some pictures. We waited for his return. Surprisingly, it was the skeleton of what looked like a complete leg. After finally uncovering proof that the skeleton belonged to a large animal, we all breathed a sigh of relief. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbiNHOWlmIeF6UzVJWvLVotPwrDuJMJ8ZHUFhMHoKpVs64fstGVMpovOEEURC9aHjUd_4fi-jOiz5Yu472k_fKuv3H5yGWJjh8ry81a1wFECdCxrmBOlUV849AwBqp-bZkyYl3D2KePI/s1632/skeleton+ak.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1224" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbiNHOWlmIeF6UzVJWvLVotPwrDuJMJ8ZHUFhMHoKpVs64fstGVMpovOEEURC9aHjUd_4fi-jOiz5Yu472k_fKuv3H5yGWJjh8ry81a1wFECdCxrmBOlUV849AwBqp-bZkyYl3D2KePI/s320/skeleton+ak.JPG" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>But my imagination took off and my plotting began for an adventure from one end of the country in Provincetown, to the other in Juneau and back again to Cape Cod.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Below is a book trailer that I made. </span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qvS7-f--bsw" width="320" youtube-src-id="qvS7-f--bsw"></iframe> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>I'll keep you posted as to the date when you will be able to read this wonderful story as an ebook or paperback. Stay tuned.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>If you are a registered reader on Net Galley, here's a link to get an early preview. If you liked the story, please leave a review. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/221221" target="_blank">NET GALLEY</a><br /> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time...</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Barbara</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">
</p><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-color-alt: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></span></span> </span>
<p style="text-align: left;"><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-39553797531303913342021-02-13T09:23:00.001-08:002021-02-13T09:23:33.117-08:00Pirates, Skeletons, and more...<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqQX79oYDCl_50spUcukgR7hiOT39K2Kk6LHBZAKpOL9GEz0IHQI8xuyec7Dg6KWWx76Oq_shosZhQfQ5TwUfqRkOOQTdBDmLBleLYdkTvAtNYw7LO9J_ikM9PQZOD-1TLXGjCDWiMGk/s500/Whydah_Bell_2.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqQX79oYDCl_50spUcukgR7hiOT39K2Kk6LHBZAKpOL9GEz0IHQI8xuyec7Dg6KWWx76Oq_shosZhQfQ5TwUfqRkOOQTdBDmLBleLYdkTvAtNYw7LO9J_ikM9PQZOD-1TLXGjCDWiMGk/w320-h240/Whydah_Bell_2.JPG" title="The Whydah" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://bit.ly/37bk0sN" target="_blank">Update from The Whydah Pirate Museum</a></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Always exciting to read about the latest developments from Barry Clifford and his team. Recently they discovered the remains of six skeletons that had been encased in a concretion, which is a large mass that forms around underwater objects. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in 2018, they found a leg bone and had hoped it was the captain of the ill-fated Whydah pirate ship, Black Sam Bellamy. But, through the science of DNA and a trip to England for a match from Sam's distant relative, their research proved it was not the infamous pirate. Undeterred, they continue and, as of today, they are on the hunt again for Bellamy. <a href="https://www.discoverpirates.com/" target="_blank">The Whydah Pirate Museum</a> is open and located in South Yarmouth on Cape Cod.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There are many stories written about the 1717 wreck of the Whydah, Sam Bellamy and his lover, the mythical Maria Hallett.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My first two historical novels, <i>The Old Cape House</i> and <i>The Old Cape Teapot</i> follow Sam and Maria's story line. They're based on all the facts that we know to be true and accurate, all gleaned from old records and documents. Where there were holes in the search, that's where I fictionalized. Two important premises fueled my stories.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">#1 They never found Sam Bellamy's body.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">#2 Maria Hallett is not documented anywhere as to her connection to Sam except in folk lore.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/CAPE-HOUSE-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLBWA?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20house&qid=1465094656&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7554aKl4UX8xr6hI9UqcWgpcTLEmdH5O5Fp0YzDCiUcMeUrIpUQf7I9NQcL0-JNsKCqWIJ5rXzBJAxujtqJeo6w5O3hApO0kdJJrDKmlox6nL_nZZUbOG0hKu8wZflTDUpDJ_07bq_8/s320/cover+small+copy.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/CAPE-HOUSE-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLBWA?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20house&qid=1465094656&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Old Cape House<br /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> <i>Nancy Caldwell relocates to an old sea captain's house on Cape Cod with
her husband and four children. When she discovers an abandoned root
cellar in her backyard containing a baby's skull and gold coins, she
digs up evidence that links her land to the legendary tale of Maria
Hallett and her pirate lover, Sam Bellamy. <br />Using alternating
chapters between the 18th and 21st centuries, The Old Cape House, a
historical fiction, follows two women that are lifetimes apart, to
uncover a mystery that has had the old salts of Cape Cod guessing for
300 years. <br /><br />2014 Winner ~ First Place in Historical Fiction ~ Royal Dragonfly Awards!</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>International Best Seller on Amazon!<br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i> </i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cape-Teapot-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLB9S?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20teapot&qid=1465094772&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1035" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1RdXWnNxZceTIwyAoxrgQ0VrDAVJXb7i26_Ftx-2rrEWb51VNcwH4xjhyphenhyphenXWfQRwDBW4NB1JKkbP3LNqyNrgBwqITUlPFfT9zgTWHHb6U_5CR5Zydv578glsyFwJBFytrK2amSQiKfw8/s320/coverteapot.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cape-Teapot-Barbara-Eppich-Struna-ebook/dp/B01GGDLB9S?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20old%20cape%20teapot&qid=1465094772&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Old Cape Teapot<br /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;">Nancy Caldwell uncovers a pirate mystery that had the Old Salts of Cape
Cod wondering for close to 300 years in the historical fiction, The Old
Cape House. Was she lucky or a good detective? Nancy returns in The Old
Cape Teapot, the second in a series, to uncover the trails of two
survivors from the wreck of the 1717 pirate ship Whydah. Armed with the
knowledge that in pirate culture the looted riches were equally shared,
she takes us to the tropical island of Antigua and back to Cape Cod
searching for clues to more treasure. </span></i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>International Best Seller on Amazon!</i></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you're interested in reading more...</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fellow Cape Cod author Elizabeth Moisan wrote her version of Sam and Maria. Based on the facts that we know, her novel is an accurate swashbuckling pirate adventure...but Maria's story is a bit different from mine. <i>Master of the Sweet Trade</i> a good read.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Master-Sweet-Trade-Bellamy-Hallett-ebook/dp/B0791LNL6Y/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1613236249&sr=1-1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbD5-VobFfyNrzvyz2hcbQduFsT9mBtMh88oWiNhKLSP8ZqkeEgEtUXkZ4GFqDu2LOc9O9cb_GPIu__RzsopUKyVgavSgwN8Q4q-k47CfX_pqeDTPt9k5XNUDO88BVYkvKKiWtzkRfs8/s320/419HweiHHuL.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-32922615842216268912020-11-20T09:30:00.000-08:002020-11-20T09:30:04.012-08:00History of Thanksgiving - posted 2013 - still interesting!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmgXmPJhhSmm4EEdtGKVXCSwwhuwIrfPlE-Rku_JAC6c4KGH0UWxFVRDTZzfxD1KNWMitvoeqXBlEa2qR9VlWh_1lcoJpotrJZlMX3mVza9N8M9yKgmAV6X0DgixRNTkfFeKYUJSj_Cs/s1600/alg-eating-jpg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmgXmPJhhSmm4EEdtGKVXCSwwhuwIrfPlE-Rku_JAC6c4KGH0UWxFVRDTZzfxD1KNWMitvoeqXBlEa2qR9VlWh_1lcoJpotrJZlMX3mVza9N8M9yKgmAV6X0DgixRNTkfFeKYUJSj_Cs/s320/alg-eating-jpg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span>In 1621, the Plymouth Colonists and the Wampanoag Indians shared a feast that lasted several days.</span> It was not called a holiday or Thanksgiving. It was simply a meal of gratitude because they had survived a year on a new continent. Of course, it only happened because the Wamponoag Indians taught them how to stay alive and how to reap a good harvest over the summer. Most importantly, the Indians gave them hope that they could make it through another coming cold season. Still sad that 42 of them had already died out of 102 pilgrims, either on the voyage, from the frigid weather, or sickness, the early settlers wanted to celebrate for the future. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo_5PZyrtuadGx70Xvw2_wPyaSn6PkKI-5M-Q1u1Mp9Pf5fI3t1lh5vxUHJ5C3vXhI-2EPBuu6G2v_QO5y3YlJLwdusUx1DH_wwqDUqj-CppPSdlxYG1oMK9h6GSaeo8atiZKwCnj7BI/s1600/027+Dining+and+Feasting_1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo_5PZyrtuadGx70Xvw2_wPyaSn6PkKI-5M-Q1u1Mp9Pf5fI3t1lh5vxUHJ5C3vXhI-2EPBuu6G2v_QO5y3YlJLwdusUx1DH_wwqDUqj-CppPSdlxYG1oMK9h6GSaeo8atiZKwCnj7BI/s320/027+Dining+and+Feasting_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Plimouth Plantation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">According to Edward Winslow in a letter to a friend in England in 1621, he wrote, “And God be praised, we had a good increase…. Our harvest being gotten
in, our governor sent four men on fowling that so we might after a
special manner rejoice together….” He continued, "...many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest
king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we
entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which
they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon
the captain and others."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">In my research, I sometimes find the reasons behind historic events that are not necessarily taught in school. For instance, peace between the Indians and early settlers lasted only 50 years or one generation. After which, the decimation of the Native Americans began with earnest as more people came to the New World. The new pilgrim arrivals required more land and took it from the Indians, either by legitimate trade, purchase, or war. The survival of the Indians was not uppermost in their minds, their own well-being came first. It surely was a sad time in American history. If only our forefathers would have been more compassionate with the plight of the American Indian. I often think there had to be a way for both peoples to live side by side in peace. Let's hope that history will never repeat that era.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here are a few more facts, but on the lighter side of Thanksgiving – people always celebrated a harvest but t</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">he festivities were never on a Sunday because that was the day of the Lord, so a weekday was chosen.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNldJeygcwcqJVFqWEft0kQ98RhSLVKd09s3WsdwwHCypaNKm8kzOLF94YWP4d_Lwu7xV9R7jUVTcJj9ofGNmtuXLBzn6xMPaedILc5Ut_PEM-GS7IE7cw5zOXqHF7ClNExLrYnHnWH0/s1600/images.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNldJeygcwcqJVFqWEft0kQ98RhSLVKd09s3WsdwwHCypaNKm8kzOLF94YWP4d_Lwu7xV9R7jUVTcJj9ofGNmtuXLBzn6xMPaedILc5Ut_PEM-GS7IE7cw5zOXqHF7ClNExLrYnHnWH0/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">In the 1700s – 1800s, there were regional celebrations of Thanksgiving throughout the colonies and states but no set date. In 1863 amidst the Civil War, Lincoln declared a day of Thanksgiving to be celebrated on the last Thursday of November.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaj6x9gU7A2IDisXvaXAB3FP3A5KVKlHVVzsde3ivrkjt1Dzh40ZRcdZ-5S1OO33SAHoSS1KcsNrRz8xMaA6MpfUYLtc25VyKttzt5cR__xsHu0T5Bu8x-vSP3-BfWV4mo5L5OwIgWnQ/s1600/adventures-of-tom-sawyer-thanksgiving.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaj6x9gU7A2IDisXvaXAB3FP3A5KVKlHVVzsde3ivrkjt1Dzh40ZRcdZ-5S1OO33SAHoSS1KcsNrRz8xMaA6MpfUYLtc25VyKttzt5cR__xsHu0T5Bu8x-vSP3-BfWV4mo5L5OwIgWnQ/s320/adventures-of-tom-sawyer-thanksgiving.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo - Cast of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" – 1938 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Then in 1939 during the Depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt changed the holiday to the third Thursday of November. He wanted to stimulate the economy and give retailers more time for promoting Christmas sales. People didn't like it. They called it 'Franksgiving'. Reluctantly in 1941, President Roosevelt changed the day back to the fourth Thursday of November.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVC8X02qSIIB0stnvhXAXtVn-p2CbEHUjHdEHeM4zrNaTaEcMA__wsQ0w992SVUYnsoMd0-097D_sk8OsWvi1H5Z2KMwcBgJMZ8ZUfXHmBdD2rfSLuIDV5HBr4UJYsQHReSkQF3L7GPjE/s1600/images-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVC8X02qSIIB0stnvhXAXtVn-p2CbEHUjHdEHeM4zrNaTaEcMA__wsQ0w992SVUYnsoMd0-097D_sk8OsWvi1H5Z2KMwcBgJMZ8ZUfXHmBdD2rfSLuIDV5HBr4UJYsQHReSkQF3L7GPjE/s1600/images-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">As far as the traditional food of the season as we know it, it was different by region throughout the 19th century. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When the southern
states finally joined in the holiday around the late 1800s, they
brought with them some of our favorites, such as corn bread, ham, and
sweet potatoes. </span>In New Mexico, chilies and southwestern flavors appeared in stuffing. Crab was important on the menu around the Chesapeake Bay. Key Lime pie sat next to pumpkin pie in Key West. New England had a big influence on the Thanksgiving menu, adding cranberry sauce and probably scallops, especially here on Cape Cod.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There is no mention of Thanksgiving or Christmas in my first historical novel, <i>The Old Cape House</i> because it was not celebrated as we know it today. The Puritans frowned upon dancing, singing, or pretty much anything that was fun. But every fall season around the harvest, I'm sure a thank you was on everyone's lips and in their hearts, happy that their cupboards and root cellars were stocked for the approaching cold season and that they would survive another winter once more. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Happy Thanksgiving!</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPIHPPiWSQr6I5O08MyBvjiNnYpMcI-qBH1lPAOFm_b5yJogWO1s-fLJgQfvds5W2NNEFn5a8vz8I6IS26W40M0nHRU3ThCDNN9aweB9XmVSkS_fU7__SpiiMYPuYcchVHU9GJn9n6pg/s1600/table.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPIHPPiWSQr6I5O08MyBvjiNnYpMcI-qBH1lPAOFm_b5yJogWO1s-fLJgQfvds5W2NNEFn5a8vz8I6IS26W40M0nHRU3ThCDNN9aweB9XmVSkS_fU7__SpiiMYPuYcchVHU9GJn9n6pg/s320/table.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">From our table to yours...</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">be thankful for whatever good is in your life and wish the same to others. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-46232250204484046582020-10-29T16:30:00.005-07:002020-10-29T17:22:12.091-07:00"It was a dark and stormy night..."<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxsu1iHdpTlTIrkmdXwX8NuG8vR_8dHRnkArs-zN0SEuN4SYKC-Z5bAqydNyMN0MxCvhTv-IplKqcnGJ1pJGXfk5cTBK25Cy5VZUA3Tr9itssusNOaVvQtC7PVpa63c8xMql-Pv82F8Q/s2048/IMG_1859.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxsu1iHdpTlTIrkmdXwX8NuG8vR_8dHRnkArs-zN0SEuN4SYKC-Z5bAqydNyMN0MxCvhTv-IplKqcnGJ1pJGXfk5cTBK25Cy5VZUA3Tr9itssusNOaVvQtC7PVpa63c8xMql-Pv82F8Q/s320/IMG_1859.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Linnell Landing, Brewster</td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It was a dark and stormy night..."</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This familiar and </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="aCOpRe"><span><i>clichéd</i></span></span> opening line is not recommended to be used as the beginning of your novel. But I couldn't resist, just once. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's a little background about where it came from and who wrote it first. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was the opening line to Bulwer-Lytton's 1830 novel, <i>Paul Clifford</i>. The rest of the sentence is quite entertaining.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at
occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind
which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies),
rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of
the lamps that struggled against the darkness."</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">As we near Halloween, my thoughts turn to the past. My mother always said her ancestors came from Hungary, and the words '<b><i>Roma/Gypsies</i></b>' were used to describe several of her aunts. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mother told us a story about a distant relative who came to visit the family. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">She was only three but</span><span style="font-size: large;"> remembers a scary looking woman, one of her relatives, arguing with her mother. The following week, her oldest sister who was five years old, became sick and died within a few months of an unexplained illness. Her mother said the woman had put a curse on her child. The story only adds to the mysterious side of my family. </span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="hgKElc"><b>Roma (Gypsies</b>) originated in the Punjab region of northern <b>India</b> as a nomadic people and entered Europe between the eighth and tenth centuries C.E. They were called "Gypsies" because <b>Europeans</b> mistakenly believed they came from Egypt. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="hgKElc">Growing up, I knew my mother's nationality was Hungarian but never paid much attention to the word, Roma, and how it would connect to me, until 1986 when my husband and I were living near Chardon, Ohio with our three children. We decided to look for a bigger house. It was a beautiful brick house built in 1868 with acreage.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span><i><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="hgKElc"> <br /></span></span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjapuebUDLkK9Ckc9ghJYPUMYROO0RoIDcecqhJKaBdtcDJDBQY77QTgxHgJ2p48wGZUXy73hMu6lfND9ssHOCaIOwbaO0UEfjW4cPVMbqvwaOtUG5fgZ8r8sZTsbiKD2DAAfScJqsbXA/s648/Chardon.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="648" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjapuebUDLkK9Ckc9ghJYPUMYROO0RoIDcecqhJKaBdtcDJDBQY77QTgxHgJ2p48wGZUXy73hMu6lfND9ssHOCaIOwbaO0UEfjW4cPVMbqvwaOtUG5fgZ8r8sZTsbiKD2DAAfScJqsbXA/s320/Chardon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chardon, Ohio 1986</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">We always dreamed of owning an old home with lots of secrets. The first time the family went to view the potential purchase, everyone was excited. As we walked closer and entered the side door that led into the kitchen, the kids immediately began exploring. For some reason, I stayed put. Something held me back. I could hear the kids talking as they ascended the beautiful ornate staircase all the way up to the widow's peak. I cautiously ventured a little further in. I waited only a few minutes before I called out to my husband. "Okay. I'm done looking. I really don't like it." My words were ignored, lost in the echos of animated voices. "I yelled a little louder, "Going outside."</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tim joined me on the grassy driveway. "You don't like it?" </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Not really. Not sure why. I just feel uncomfortable. I'd rather not go back in and I don't think we should buy it." </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">There was some discussion later that night. Tim knew I was as stubborn as my mother and agreed to look no further. To this day, he still fondly remembers the missed opportunity of our decision to not buy that old Victorian. I felt confident that it was the right decision.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">A year later in 1987, our summer vacation stretched into almost three weeks of sun, fun, sand, and looking for an old house within the Lower Cape. We started in Barnstable, just for the fun of it, even though we preferred the other end of the Cape. One of the houses we considered buying was The Crocker Tavern on Route 6A. </span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbm5GZYtM1G8f5bWQD2txxzy5Mv3LLrT30tSZS2lCJ0MKo80qD1qXKyAXiIXyepyjm7P6utUW1Dz4n2Jk625OE_eJ0sG3EkxdOXmpr7RucgWKRPIQ9pGrOcRe7J1_9z4tfXw-vRUni3M/s275/images.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbm5GZYtM1G8f5bWQD2txxzy5Mv3LLrT30tSZS2lCJ0MKo80qD1qXKyAXiIXyepyjm7P6utUW1Dz4n2Jk625OE_eJ0sG3EkxdOXmpr7RucgWKRPIQ9pGrOcRe7J1_9z4tfXw-vRUni3M/s0/images.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crocker Tavern, Barnstable<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Again, everyone was excited, especially Tim. It would be the perfect location to open his gallery, right on the Old King's Highway or Route 6A. I was the last one to enter through the red door of this circa 1754 wooden structure. The problem was I didn't want to cross the threshold. I held back again. I was uncomfortable once more. I waited outside, only peeking into the house occasionally. I was cordial to the real estate rep but knew in my heart, this house was not for me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">By the time we left for home, back in Ohio, we had looked at several other houses and finally decided to buy an old 1880 farmhouse in Brewster, the Sea Captains Town</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"> and make our big move to Cape Cod.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> This time, I felt at ease inspecting each room in the empty house.</span><br /></span></p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSbLbds82zydG_x-onPcvWxyBmY4_R3ne79t8kz_O9_z37RnzIX_hcuyYHtMD8chfdOHhddqb4J31ct6wDYPA9TtpUtzVgHLH1YZKIXuIu-z7j2398teU8IAWe8fz4Eh3GJn9YkOuzn8/s252/A.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSbLbds82zydG_x-onPcvWxyBmY4_R3ne79t8kz_O9_z37RnzIX_hcuyYHtMD8chfdOHhddqb4J31ct6wDYPA9TtpUtzVgHLH1YZKIXuIu-z7j2398teU8IAWe8fz4Eh3GJn9YkOuzn8/s0/A.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brewster Home - 1987</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Once we moved in almost a year later, in June of 1987, an article in the Cape Cod Times appeared that October. It stated that Cape Cod had several haunted houses and of course one of the most famous was the Crocker Tavern in Barnstable! I was right.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We also discovered our Brewster home was not without secrets. Another few years went by and we were awarded a citation for Best Christmas decorations from Brewster Chamber of Commerce. Upon receiving it, we wanted a picture for publicity. We pulled out our Polaroid camera and a picture was taken of me holding the award in front of the barn. That night, we showed the image to our children and noticed a white mist floating in front of me in the photographed picture. Was it a friendly spirit or just bad developing from the Polaroid camera? We'll never know.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">What I do know is I'm always comfortable in our lovely home because I think the house must hold a friendly spirit and maybe, just maybe, the spirit was pleased we've taken such good care of the old place.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPvSQL0or0k_jAMOfA7u3nPPfN_JYAoWMrukUYPnwpBdTJCjWoBXTa4hR8c8y5eFdmlqmMgvdkkgj7DDsERtTgxkfA6TZ6TVyj6dPVZkLXqUT2B1OcZfJMkqRZ1T2aGJvfczXc5u653I/s630/IMG_2654.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPvSQL0or0k_jAMOfA7u3nPPfN_JYAoWMrukUYPnwpBdTJCjWoBXTa4hR8c8y5eFdmlqmMgvdkkgj7DDsERtTgxkfA6TZ6TVyj6dPVZkLXqUT2B1OcZfJMkqRZ1T2aGJvfczXc5u653I/s320/IMG_2654.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brewster Home 2020</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">When our daughter, Heather, opened her own Struna Galleries in Chatham, it was in the Captain Dodge House on Main Street. Every so often, customers would come in and ask how she liked living with a ghost? Confused at first and finding no evidence of such a haunting, she assumed it was a friendly spirit. I agreed. All the years she was located there, I never felt any thing strange about the quaint little gallery. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In my uneducated opinion, I don't believe in ghosts but I do think there are good and evil forces in the universe. Sometimes these spiritual forces can be felt by certain people, if they are open to their energy. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know if I'm one of those special folks who can sense spirits. I do know that before my two daughters purchased their first houses, they asked their Mom to take a walk through them and then sought reassurance from me about my feelings. Were they good or bad? </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Update on my latest historical novel, <i>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</i>. Publication will be coming in early 2021.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>"In 1898, the Portland Gale tore across Provincetown on Cape Cod's coast. Walter Ellis, a descendant of legendary Maria Hallett, loses his ship and fishing livelihood. Forced to leave his family behind, he seeks gold in Alaska but never returns. Present day Nancy Caldwell travels to Juneau, Alaska to visit family. She discovers an old letter destined for Provincetown but never sent. Back home on Cape Cod, a 1780s house, a hidden 'pigeon's blood' ruby ring, and a past nemesis complicate Nancy's search for what happened to the missing fisherman."</i></span></p><table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody><tr>
<td height="434" width="55"><br /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><br /></td>
<td bgcolor="white" height="130" style="background: white none repeat scroll 0% 0%; vertical-align: top;" width="508"><span style="mso-ignore: vglayout; position: absolute; z-index: 251659264;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%px;">
<tbody><tr>
<td><br /></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</span> </td>
</tr>
</tbody></table><span style="mso-ignore: vglayout;">
</span>
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"Lucida Grande";
panose-1:2 11 6 0 4 5 2 2 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-520090897 1342218751 0 0 447 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
h1
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-link:"Heading 1 Char";
mso-style-next:Normal;
margin-top:12.0pt;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:0in;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan lines-together;
page-break-after:avoid;
mso-outline-level:1;
font-size:16.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#365F91;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:191;
mso-font-kerning:0pt;
font-weight:normal;}
h2
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-link:"Heading 2 Char";
mso-style-next:Normal;
margin-top:2.0pt;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:0in;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan lines-together;
page-break-after:avoid;
mso-outline-level:2;
font-size:13.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#365F91;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:191;
font-weight:normal;}
h3
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-link:"Heading 3 Char";
mso-style-next:Normal;
margin-top:2.0pt;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:0in;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan lines-together;
page-break-after:avoid;
mso-outline-level:3;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#243F60;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:127;
font-weight:normal;}
p.MsoHeading8, li.MsoHeading8, div.MsoHeading8
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-link:"Heading 8 Char";
mso-style-next:Normal;
margin-top:2.0pt;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:0in;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan lines-together;
page-break-after:avoid;
mso-outline-level:8;
font-size:10.5pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#272727;
mso-themecolor:text1;
mso-themetint:216;}
p.MsoHeading9, li.MsoHeading9, div.MsoHeading9
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-link:"Heading 9 Char";
mso-style-next:Normal;
margin-top:2.0pt;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:0in;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan lines-together;
page-break-after:avoid;
mso-outline-level:9;
font-size:10.5pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#272727;
mso-themecolor:text1;
mso-themetint:216;
font-style:italic;}
p.MsoHeader, li.MsoHeader, div.MsoHeader
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-link:"Header Char";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
tab-stops:center 3.0in right 6.0in;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
p.MsoFooter, li.MsoFooter, div.MsoFooter
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-link:"Footer Char";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
tab-stops:center 3.0in right 6.0in;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
p.MsoDocumentMap, li.MsoDocumentMap, div.MsoDocumentMap
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-link:"Document Map Char";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Lucida Grande",sans-serif;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
p.MsoAcetate, li.MsoAcetate, div.MsoAcetate
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-link:"Balloon Text Char";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:9.0pt;
font-family:"Lucida Grande",sans-serif;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
p.MsoRMPane, li.MsoRMPane, div.MsoRMPane
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
span.MsoBookTitle
{mso-style-unhide:no;
letter-spacing:.25pt;
font-weight:bold;
font-style:italic;}
span.Heading1Char
{mso-style-name:"Heading 1 Char";
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Heading 1";
mso-ansi-font-size:16.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#365F91;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:191;}
span.Heading2Char
{mso-style-name:"Heading 2 Char";
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Heading 2";
mso-ansi-font-size:13.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:13.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#365F91;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:191;}
span.Heading3Char
{mso-style-name:"Heading 3 Char";
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Heading 3";
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#243F60;
mso-themecolor:accent1;
mso-themeshade:127;}
span.Heading8Char
{mso-style-name:"Heading 8 Char";
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Heading 8";
mso-ansi-font-size:10.5pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#272727;
mso-themecolor:text1;
mso-themetint:216;}
span.Heading9Char
{mso-style-name:"Heading 9 Char";
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Heading 9";
mso-ansi-font-size:10.5pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:major-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:major-bidi;
color:#272727;
mso-themecolor:text1;
mso-themetint:216;
font-style:italic;}
span.ilfuvdna6bn
{mso-style-name:"ilfuvd na6bn";
mso-style-unhide:no;}
span.DocumentMapChar
{mso-style-name:"Document Map Char";
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Document Map";
font-family:"Lucida Grande",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:"Lucida Grande";
mso-hansi-font-family:"Lucida Grande";}
span.e24kjd
{mso-style-name:e24kjd;
mso-style-unhide:no;}
span.HeaderChar
{mso-style-name:"Header Char";
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:Header;}
span.FooterChar
{mso-style-name:"Footer Char";
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:Footer;}
span.BalloonTextChar
{mso-style-name:"Balloon Text Char";
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-locked:yes;
mso-style-link:"Balloon Text";
mso-ansi-font-size:9.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:9.0pt;
font-family:"Lucida Grande",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:"Lucida Grande";
mso-hansi-font-family:"Lucida Grande";}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Cambria",serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}mso-level-number-format:bullet;
mso-level-text:;
mso-level-tab-stop:1.0in;
mso-level-number-position:left;
margin-left:1.0in;
text-indent:-.25in;
font-family:Symbol;}
ol
{margin-bottom:0in;}
ul
{margin-bottom:0in;}</style>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-45386506893010479712020-09-07T06:02:00.003-07:002020-09-07T06:05:55.804-07:00Coming Winter 2020 - The Fourth Novel in "The Old Cape Series".<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><p>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHT0gLPe2zqG7q0tE0R4lVxbRzfvy-hfr4p4lb9A34oOFN1ZgTsSx1s0oNLFeu2GCGRN5UEqtyWbdUOq3-XcS5yRs-jJqZ72LUFZ2nzsy3jWZdFtW_9e4xp2rRwMX7KcqotkZaDCOVt-s/s1600/pigeon%2527s+Blood.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHT0gLPe2zqG7q0tE0R4lVxbRzfvy-hfr4p4lb9A34oOFN1ZgTsSx1s0oNLFeu2GCGRN5UEqtyWbdUOq3-XcS5yRs-jJqZ72LUFZ2nzsy3jWZdFtW_9e4xp2rRwMX7KcqotkZaDCOVt-s/s1600/pigeon%2527s+Blood.jpg" /></a>
</p></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pigeon's Blood</td>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><div style="text-align: left;"><h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">What first prompted me to write my fourth suspenseful historical? On a walk in
Orleans - Cape Cod, I passed Gallant Jewelers on Main Street. It's a
favorite shop of mine when looking for, everything jewelry, and I wondered if
they would answer a question I was mulling over in my head. The mystery of
a rare ruby ring called 'The Pigeon's Blood'.
</span></h3></div>Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-33525230387692210432020-04-16T12:06:00.005-07:002020-10-05T13:42:56.392-07:00 Spring 2020 ...and remembering Sister Barbara.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrR6rHjMd13SCG-7jFpo1lo7sNJbPoTtvgFD7mxlXkNUmj7Il-_WUdaOEZxBgGBTHhEyT6K1wWCoZJaVZqfqWIYaB6MlCsNdo4zT__pRfRp0a882WG0w244vvSyIrXnoDeHJxvKHNPyc/s1600/IMG_0628+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="1600" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrR6rHjMd13SCG-7jFpo1lo7sNJbPoTtvgFD7mxlXkNUmj7Il-_WUdaOEZxBgGBTHhEyT6K1wWCoZJaVZqfqWIYaB6MlCsNdo4zT__pRfRp0a882WG0w244vvSyIrXnoDeHJxvKHNPyc/s320/IMG_0628+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Family, Friends, and Faith</i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Last month, the world lost a beautiful soul...my sister, Sister Barbara.</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Co-writing her memoir took me on a different journey, other than my usual historical fiction, and became a labor of love.</span></h3></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Family, Friends, and Faith </span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">- an inspirational memoir of how one woman made a difference in thousands of lives.</span></h3></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j6yaGuqDwitw8oLKu2s3bSejoTH810QFbEJ-g7LIfi6uIvFZMo8El0FZJ8uRG5YXQ40xhZQWhrYsdlsjXu-b0mkph7tc9UgbCqYLPm4RjRzl30v19u-FS8UpIsGVqOszeju5_vOp4FY/s1600/portrait.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j6yaGuqDwitw8oLKu2s3bSejoTH810QFbEJ-g7LIfi6uIvFZMo8El0FZJ8uRG5YXQ40xhZQWhrYsdlsjXu-b0mkph7tc9UgbCqYLPm4RjRzl30v19u-FS8UpIsGVqOszeju5_vOp4FY/s320/portrait.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sister Mary Barbara Eppich O.S.U.<br />
<br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">An Ursuline Sister for more than sixty years, she dedicated her life to living at the feet of Jesus and sharing his love to all who met her. </span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Sister Barbara entered the Ursuline Sisters of Cleveland, Ohio in 1954. I was five years old and she was eighteen. In her early eighties, whenever I had a chance to visit with her in Ohio, she relived the challenges she encountered within the confines of the paternalistic Catholic Church. I recorded her words on audio, captured her thoughts with my written notes, and gleaned her feelings from her journals. We crafted her story together through love, laughter, and tears. She recalled that without the kindness of the Ursulines, she could not have experienced the pure joy of teaching so many young children, who in their simple ways, made her laugh, and oftentimes taught her life lessons.</span></h3>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPycwbuXy7o1Dmpav6Ve2AqhjVaPhtvUpVjHp_rTXxI4qTKXI8Ktch-heHh6k6hSlC5lYGblpU8hOUuhjbgQWxRH_tadKMowUPSR2IZkW52GvDkS8UkhyphenhyphenGOwCFbMpkuiYkBkKE_-x-gyk/s1600/SMB+guitar.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPycwbuXy7o1Dmpav6Ve2AqhjVaPhtvUpVjHp_rTXxI4qTKXI8Ktch-heHh6k6hSlC5lYGblpU8hOUuhjbgQWxRH_tadKMowUPSR2IZkW52GvDkS8UkhyphenhyphenGOwCFbMpkuiYkBkKE_-x-gyk/s320/SMB+guitar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early years showing her love of music and teaching children.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">We combined our words into a simple story of family, friends, and faith. Sister Barbara's words are printed in italics. My thoughts are interspersed in chapters relating my memories and commenting on the culture that surrounded Sister Barbara throughout her life of giving. </span></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Were doors closed to her? Yes.</span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Why did she stay as an Ursuline sister? </span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
This is the story of an ordinary person who has done extraordinary things. I hope that after reading her memoir, you will find one idea that will inspire or enlighten you.</span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am what I am because of the people in my life. S.M.B.</span></i></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOAlKgjtTjbSaZ7vK8uWAUigvQkIuP4x74XjkpRlxbHWwNNnEBQsJ8zlw8TCfRxNiNoJ4ywxiStzYGpYVN4CBhqJWBM0BT3treEt39l8XPoCbgCU-5nGoqMUAZziHxtN9JSnPn30w-MY/s1600/FFF_e-book.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOAlKgjtTjbSaZ7vK8uWAUigvQkIuP4x74XjkpRlxbHWwNNnEBQsJ8zlw8TCfRxNiNoJ4ywxiStzYGpYVN4CBhqJWBM0BT3treEt39l8XPoCbgCU-5nGoqMUAZziHxtN9JSnPn30w-MY/s320/FFF_e-book.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><i><i>Stories are the way into our lives. S.M.B </i></i></span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Family, Friends, and Faith is currently available</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="color: red;">FREE to read as an ebook on Kindle Unlimited</span></span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
through <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Family-Friends-Faith-Inspirational-S-U-ebook/dp/B07Q27KDTN/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=family+friends+and+faith&qid=1553626299&s=digital-text&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
and paperback <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0997656646/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i3" target="_blank">Amazon </a> </span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
<a href="http://www.strunagalleries.com/cart/index.cfm?page=20&CategoryID=7&BrandID=9&CFID=200107894&CFTOKEN=fc4dfd088e9c17b1-213B264E-0A7D-D810-080C2A9DC1F8003A" target="_blank">Struna Galleries online</a></span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
Proceeds from the sale of this book are donated to Ursuline Sisters of Cleveland. If you would like to make a donation, you may do so at</span></h3><h3><span style="font-weight: normal;">
<a href="https://www.ursulinesisters.org/" target="_blank">Ursuline Sisters of Cleveland</a></span></h3></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i> </i> </i></div>
<br />Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-67339096408124097432018-10-21T14:17:00.006-07:002020-09-07T06:11:10.051-07:00Amazon Giveway - The Old Cape Hollywood Secret<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNlRmshVo5wN7u_UCPDFElz0Nb4OLmTqztX6jnaZ8eUo4FdnyNiE5dtwJaAfOnxv4yNa-uKLLXnpSFJn4oZ3t675eNa4vGJ5mh762dy4KF12vkMA08q-n-9oEad8AnIJ58r8VUSGE7CY/s1600/TOCHS+ad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNlRmshVo5wN7u_UCPDFElz0Nb4OLmTqztX6jnaZ8eUo4FdnyNiE5dtwJaAfOnxv4yNa-uKLLXnpSFJn4oZ3t675eNa4vGJ5mh762dy4KF12vkMA08q-n-9oEad8AnIJ58r8VUSGE7CY/s320/TOCHS+ad.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
Easy to enter my <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2ySqqLv&h=AT1Wn3F7Vom_SzFe24UO_lbHTQ7g9ZhVNMRORDlssh31kYIzA6-rXpQxK2Z3IV7lDeAe3sa-ASB1kIt6K9U0BDDzpzFD2DqGMAuwqoJzLlwYdOlnO8AFdnM6bQ9ML7bTnQx95d9H2YplBjEFBB6VT7YX0bsbRgJUdUrBAYqO37kL94-W-iPbHYlqwvkhNNliuJBXkE85UwiidjZLe7kxqC7PURWb3RHH9ObNKeuRyJQJpktSN-3qOiHrq4P8k6sfaU4Tk6vWHnCT8s3iV1goVPRfi5lQoq9R82ABfLFtK_L7TkB3WnHzoH-shcyuEBhD81BHkHSmeV3LI8zAjrekOsBZigdCptze34wzabAiI8ZFN1YUlvGRorJxWQRsKJdinGUqqFau8Ew_UVUSK0R0Az_DGykvGFlG-TF1M3owiEj7LcPOciXrfhWygsZa7IZ9YZ2Y8WVH88x4B__O" target="_blank">Amazon Giveway</a> to win a Kindle Copy of The Old Cape Hollywood Secret!!</h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
All you have to do is follow me on my Amazon Author page.</h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
</h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(29, 33, 41); display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">This suspenseful historical novel takes place in 1947 and present day. When young Maggie Foster and her cousin Gertie leave Cape Cod for glamorous Hollywood, one returns home with a secret, while the other disappears only to be found seventy years later by present day Nancy Caldwell. It's a page turning back and forth using alternating chapters between time periods. </span></span></span></h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
</h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(29, 33, 41); display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">If you're can't wait to start reading, the novel is available as an ebook at Amazon, B&N, and iBook for $3.99.</span></span></span></h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(29, 33, 41); color: #1d2129; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Links to buy are on the right side of the blog. </span></span></span></h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
</h3></div><b>
</b><div style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(29, 33, 41); color: #1d2129; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanks for your support!</span></span></span></h3></div>
Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164233906074398851.post-33997236291227284852018-10-11T10:54:00.002-07:002020-10-05T13:44:37.752-07:00The Klondike Gold Rush 1897-98 and Searching for Scallop Shells<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNi-IA4o7cGlhVUQlWzvzYwpkffxnDFy6Ve9DkSuofuXXenKiGvJ7nrycAgyUvy8yjRuXsN1qWraU-4X95bm-Hd9XvjK3Mncxz20VhfvQKOem1Xealu4nFii3xpxv7-d7rZbjqpgLTeM/s1600/IMG_0197.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNi-IA4o7cGlhVUQlWzvzYwpkffxnDFy6Ve9DkSuofuXXenKiGvJ7nrycAgyUvy8yjRuXsN1qWraU-4X95bm-Hd9XvjK3Mncxz20VhfvQKOem1Xealu4nFii3xpxv7-d7rZbjqpgLTeM/s320/IMG_0197.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Low Tide at Crosby Landing - Brewster Bay - Cape Cod</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
What does the 1897-98 Klondike Gold Rush in Alaska have to do with scallop shells? Not much, it's just that I've been researching for my fourth suspenseful historical fiction and my head has been filled with facts, pictures, and plot lines.<br />
<br />
I also needed to find scallop shells. They're a nice decoration for my books.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXbgArbhSWziNx96bRv7JCU6k9GQ4Cfp7t1V31FQVVfyA3-oXe4o8JOVVRS4DIggYzyewzDsq_TcgUBebBYwiAUuhpQGonPdQsbBUMGvEVqJ70UFiYb4KPlpQkRU8GtuOf0dTwyZ8kVs/s1600/IMG_4096.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXbgArbhSWziNx96bRv7JCU6k9GQ4Cfp7t1V31FQVVfyA3-oXe4o8JOVVRS4DIggYzyewzDsq_TcgUBebBYwiAUuhpQGonPdQsbBUMGvEVqJ70UFiYb4KPlpQkRU8GtuOf0dTwyZ8kVs/s320/IMG_4096.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you know that the scallop shell is the only shell that doesn't break when you drill a hole in it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbFyBdoqDIYQfEJuiMtFViDU-f_BZhW_kfLNkR5MstEBPklv_XTcWXqTWVJuB7JxxnSGr1G2jEm1CXDKDUcAJQ3dlW_0o8APtxbTRJQ1u687DGtyXnsYRk_4WuOpcnHkPL_AZ2u7MF2s/s1600/IMG_1876.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbFyBdoqDIYQfEJuiMtFViDU-f_BZhW_kfLNkR5MstEBPklv_XTcWXqTWVJuB7JxxnSGr1G2jEm1CXDKDUcAJQ3dlW_0o8APtxbTRJQ1u687DGtyXnsYRk_4WuOpcnHkPL_AZ2u7MF2s/s320/IMG_1876.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you squint, you can see me clutching a plastic bag filled with shells. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I knew the tide was going to be at its lowest between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m. As soon as Tim closed the gallery, we left for the beach with bags in hand to carry our treasures (scallop shells) home. The empty shells seemed sparse at first and we grew disappointed. We continued walking further East as the water grew cooler and the sun descended lower on the horizon. Just as we decided to turn around, I spotted several medium size shells. I noticed Tim, on my far right, bending over to pick up some shells. I was encouraged to step further into sections of deeper water.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tim joined me in the mid-calf water. He laughed and said, "Well, we've got flashlights on our phones, if we need them."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I agreed and we kept walking.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When it grew too dark to see the shells and our feet felt like ice, we turned around. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
With bags half full of seashells, we headed for the car. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Braving the elements, even in small adventures like ours in search of treasure, reminded me of what I'd discovered in researching the Klondike Gold Rush or sometimes it's called the Yukon Gold Rush. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Canadian authorities in 1897 wouldn't let you climb over the
mountain pass into Canada if you didn't have a year supply of goods (over 1000 lbs) to keep
you alive. </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgInO0YywH-jsCYexppyoHnSzur1OM4hn7Vksql_xSce9VICFtE_eRyUoWvtcxDW4H-SMpomCXa8UWzfA6MWndk5Ou2UAAzfDOiMGsd7NTrE6GzF73NBZJx1utB9NLrDbEy8Hl_9Xd4s/s1600/270px-ChilkootPass_steps.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgInO0YywH-jsCYexppyoHnSzur1OM4hn7Vksql_xSce9VICFtE_eRyUoWvtcxDW4H-SMpomCXa8UWzfA6MWndk5Ou2UAAzfDOiMGsd7NTrE6GzF73NBZJx1utB9NLrDbEy8Hl_9Xd4s/s1600/270px-ChilkootPass_steps.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chillkoot Pass</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The prospective miners had to carry these supplies up and over the mountain to get to the Yukon River either on their backs, on horses or mules. Oftentimes they hired the native people to carry it for them. The Tlingit people of Southeastern Alaska played a major role in this tragic event for many of the 100, 000 people who desired a quick fortune. Most never had success. Many died or stayed in Alaska for lack of money to return to their home.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9T870dunIH1yukXvPs-7NDtYeMaPNRODmoCN0n-K24TJ0-wsA5AI2qsDI9UnqSA16x6cz-n2N1a_pt8HbMSxTHrA2PDWxRi66lgw1m1clACnVQVbsZKnWhip5ZgyLve1zXi3WgBnTmQ/s1600/79111018.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="768" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9T870dunIH1yukXvPs-7NDtYeMaPNRODmoCN0n-K24TJ0-wsA5AI2qsDI9UnqSA16x6cz-n2N1a_pt8HbMSxTHrA2PDWxRi66lgw1m1clACnVQVbsZKnWhip5ZgyLve1zXi3WgBnTmQ/s320/79111018.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once over the pass, they continued to where the gold was last found. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I stopped a minute to take in the beauty of the sunset and calmness of the ocean. Tim came up alongside of me. I looked over to him. "I'd probably make a good partner for you if we decided to go and find gold back in 1897."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
He held my hand and said, "I believe you're right. We do like adventure, don't we?"<br />
<br />
In total we gathered almost 100 shells, claiming a good haul and no casualties.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stay tuned to my blog for further developments surrounding my fourth suspenseful historical novel, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The Old Cape Blood Ruby</b></i>. This suspenseful tale has everything to do with Maria Hallett and her descendants, plus Provincetown and Alaska in 1897-1899. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A big thank you to all of you who have supported me by following this blog, buying my books, and spreading the word about my stories. If you have the time and enjoy my novels, would you please leave a review either on Amazon, Goodreads, or B&N. </div>
Barbara Eppich Strunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12810508017367021669noreply@blogger.com0