Jack and Laurel Cooper were living their dream. They had moved from the city after Jack’s retirement to run a Bed & Breakfast in Virginia’s picturesque Shenandoah Valley. Domus Jefferson or The House of Jefferson sat in the middle of heaven, nestled in the shadows of both the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Mountains.
Success wasn’t overnight, through trial and error the B&B began to make money to the relief of eldest son, Matthew, who envisioned his inheritance fueling fires in the quaint fireplaces.
One of the Cooper’s favorite regulars was an eccentric widow woman named Anna Belle Prestwich. Her home, a Southern mansion reportedly worth half a million, was five miles down the road and easily seen through barren trees in the winter. Described as cavernous, the mansion paled in comparison to the goings and comings of the Cooper’s warm Domus Jefferson.
Over the years Anna Belle developed quite a routine at the inn. With a stack of romances and her favorite cat, Castro, she whiled away the day in her $190 room—insisting on paying $300—stirring only for bathroom breaks or tea. The Coopers were weary of waiting on her for one reason, she over tipped. It was nice at first, but really unnecessary. Unbeknownst to Anna Belle, they began to donate the money to a children’s charity in Washington, D.C. which now sported a new basketball court among other niceties.
Over the years, health became an issue for both Jack and Laurel. Jack had cancer and Laurel had a heart murmur, but on the night of April 13, 1988, Jack was in trouble. It could be seen in his sunken eyes and papery skin; He was tired.
Laurel tried not to wake Jack as she eased beside him in their bed. Through her tears, Jack’s voice interrupted with, “Hi.” She quietly asked how he felt, was he dizzy, and he quietly answered, “Nope, peachy.”
It was this moment, as he turned towards his wife, she had a stroke. He shook her. He crawled out of the bed for the phone. He fell on top of the lamp and passed out. He came to and struggling to get back in the bed. Finally, he lay next to her still warm body and began to cry. Ten minutes passed until he made a move for the nightstand and Domus Jefferson stationery. Tonight he would write the last Wednesday love letter to his wife.
Celebrate Valentine’s Day with a love story in Jason F. Wright’s The Wednesday Letter.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The Wednesday Letters (copy)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Let the Cornbread Wars Begin!
Please, this is all in fun, but I nevah! I diminutive(ly) dropped the gauntlet, as any Southern lass, 
and would love to hear if you're wid me or agin me. I said, "What proper Southerner eats sweet cornbread such as Jiffy?"
This all started at Musings by Sage with his Cornbread story. (Not the food, but the nickname.) Well, I got to wondering if someone slipped something sweet in my buttermilk cornbread. As any good librarian, I went to check my reference sources and found two recipes. I couldn't find a straight recipe, sorry, but it makes sense. Why waste space in a cookbook with the boring everyday chore of making cornbread? Kind of like looking for a recipe for buttermilk biscuits.
UPDATE! Lori at Smokey Mountain Family History has graciously provided her mother's recipe for cornbread. Check out her post on this issue...
The first recipe came from Como Concoctions (1991), a Como, MS cookbook. Where's the sugah?!? The "note" was part of the recipe, I promise I didn't add it. Oh, and don't you know, Grace adds a bag of grated cheddar cheese instead of doing the extra work, now. Does anyone own a grater anymore?
The second recipe came from Magnolia Mixin' (1988), a Kosciusko, MS cookbook. I guess Miss Billie added buttermilk so as not to scare away potential Southern makers.
Mexican Corn Bread
1 cup yellow corn meal
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon soda
2 eggs
1 cup cooking oil
1 chopped onion
4 hot peppers, pickled OR fresh, finely chopped
1 cup cream style corn
¼ pound cheddar cheese, grated
Mix all ingredients together, stirring in grated cheese last. Pour into hot, greased skillet and bake 45 minutes at 350 degrees.
NOTE: A black iron skillet is ideal for this recipe.
Grace Shoaf ~ Como
Yankee Corn Bread
Serves 8 – 10
*2 cups self-rising cornmeal
*1 cup self-rising flour
½ cup sugar
2 cups buttermilk
Mix together and put in buttered loaf pan. Bake 1 hr. at 300 degrees. Cool, remove from pan. Slice and butter.
*Add ½ t. soda and 1 t. salt if using plain flour or meal.
Mrs. Billie Baker ~ Kosciusko
Monday, January 21, 2008
How Starbucks Saved My Life (copy)
He used to work at the best ad agency in New York City. He used to have a six-figure salary. He used to have final say over accounts such as the United States Marines, Burger King, IBM, and Ford. He used to wear Brooks Brothers and commute to work via a car service. He used to live in a home with 25 rooms and a two-story library. He used to have a loving wife.
In a companywide clean sweep, Michael was swept out with the old. It happened at a breakfast meeting with a bright young woman he had hired years earlier. After 25 years of dedicated service Michael was let go. He walked from the meeting realizing he had nowhere to go and nothing to do.
The firing came at a critical time in Michael’s life. He had some major problems. Months earlier he had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. The operation could wait, but eventually had to be done. He also met and courted a woman who became his lover. The affair produced an offspring his wife could not ignore. At 53 years-of-age and without a job, he needed money for medical bills, a divorce lawyer, and a bouncing baby boy.
This was Michael’s messed up life. He needed income and his attempts at consulting were, dare I say, rather insulting. He couldn’t blame his contacts. What did he have unique to offer his former clients other than cheaper rates? The meager returned phone calls slowly dried up.
One thing, through the whole degrading process, Michael could not give up was his daily Starbucks lattes. He had taken to using the famous chain as his headquarters for consulting. What did it matter he hadn’t a corner office? He had done quite a bit of work for the agency during coffee breaks at Starbucks anyway.
With latte in hand, Michael sat daydreaming when a woman spoke, “Would you like a job?" 
The first chapter begins, “This is a true, surprising story of an old white man who was kicked out of the top of the American Establishment, by chance met a young African-American woman from a completely different background, and came to learn what is important in life.”
From hubris to humility, from being served into the service of others, Michael Gates Gill has written a quirky memoir in How Starbucks Saved My Life: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live like Everyone Else.
Note: What kind of life is Gill living now? Tom Hanks has bought the rights to the book and Gill is enjoying success on his book tour. Hmm, has he changed?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
NWCC Student Book Club!
January 30th
Graham Greene
Our Man in Havana(1958)
February 13th
Kingsley Amis
Lucky Jim(1954)
February 27th
Vladimir Nabokov
Lolita(1955)
March 5th
Larry Brown
Big Bad Love(1990)
March 26th
Barry Hannah
Bats Out of Hell(1993)
April 9th
Louise Erdrich
The Antelope Wife(1999)
April 23rd
Cormac McCarthy
All the Pretty Horses(1992)
May 7th
Edwidge Danticat
The Dew Breaker(2005)
Note: The image is from Planet Book Club
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (copy)
I was thrilled to hear The Diving Bell and the Butterfly movie won two Golden Globe awards: Best Director and Best Foreign Film. I had just finished the book and was in awe of the author’s determination and style.
Jean-Dominique Bauby, Editor in Chief of French Elle magazine, had a massive stroke December 8, 1995. After three weeks in a coma and another month spent in a drug haze, he slowly began to realize he could not escape his hospital bed. He felt pain, but wasn’t sure whether it was “burning hot or ice cold.” To ward off the feeling he instinctively stretched, but his movement was less than an inch. Bauby was experiencing locked-in syndrome.
Bauby equated his post-stroke situation as being locked in a case, or as the title suggest, in a diving bell. He was breathing air and could move his neck a little, but the rest of his body was weighted down by the water.
The word butterfly in Bauby’s title is a symbol representing his imagination. He used his mind to escape the diving bell at every opportunity. “There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas’s court. You can visit the woman you love, slide down beside her and stroke her still-sleeping face. You can build castles in Spain, steal the Golden Fleece, discover Atlantis, realize your childhood dreams and ambitions.”
Most victims of stroke are functional after months of rehabilitation; unfortunately, locked-in syndrome patients take years to learn the art of breathing over their vocal cords for speech. Bauby had the capability to grunt, but being a stylish well-educated man, he desired a form of communication more appropriate with his demeanor.
Easy enough, a blink pattern of once for yes and twice for no, was established during Bauby’s second month of recovery. His left eyelid, the only voluntary movement from his face, began to 
become the portal for all communication. Next, an alphabet system with the most common letters at the beginning was recited to Bauby, and he blinked at the correct letter.
Now, here is the most incredible part; Bauby wrote The Diving Bell and the Butterfly with his left eyelid! He would compose paragraphs during the morning, memorizing three or four, and then blink them back to his amanuensis. This memoir is a reminder; lives do change in a blink of an eye.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Blogging ALA Midwinter 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Hot Diggity Dog!
Our group article appears in this month's Mississippi Libraries!
Loads of fun, Folks! Margaret and Crystal are the best people to work for and with! Our collaboration was akin to participating in an online college course where one is paired with two 
others to write a paper. Each member writes what they know and then someone organizes it into (hopefully) good reading.
I know exactly what you are thinking and nothing could be further from the truth! Typically group effort means one person does 80% of the work and the rest chip in when an adjective, image, example, etc. is needed. Us peeps got busy, wrote good stuff, and organizing was a snap. I kid you not, I had fun!
Hum, maybe I should let y'all decide whether it is good stuff?!? The title is Reading Round Table: Northwest Mississippi Community College and located on page 86. Yeah, yeah, the title needs work...
Sunday, January 06, 2008
The Goose Girl (copy)
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a very beautiful and young King and Queen. They watched over prosperous lands from mountains and valleys to streams and lakes. The perfect place to start a family, for the territory known as Kildenree, was a fertile hunting and farming ground.
First born to the Kildenree Monarch was a baby girl named Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, or Crown Princess Ani for short. The infant, born into the finest of families, had a slight problem. She had ten fingers and ten toes, it was true, but Ani would not open her tiny eyes. No cleaning, coaxing, or cooing would make those peepers stir. For three days the royal family paced in worry, wondering what could be done.
On the third night, which shone bright blue, an older woman entered the nursery as the castle slept. She slipped her rough hands under the infant and lifted the child to her face. “Was it you I heard cooing? Did you have something you wanted to say? I’m tired from my journey, but am ready to listen.”
The lady ambled to a nearby rocker and wearily sat down. “Would you like for me to start the story and let you finish?”
The Queen, asleep in the next room, was awakened by her daughter’s cooing and an oddly familiar melody. She rushed to her daughter’s royal crib only to find it empty. In the moments that followed her panic turned to bliss as she recognized the figure in the rocking chair. In the corner near the open window sat her sister, and in her lap, bathed in the blue moonlight, her wide-eyed Ani.
This is my interpretation of the first chapter in Shannon Hale’s The Goose Girl. Published in 2002, this fantasy quest, coming-of-age tale written for tweens and teens, is loosely based on a Brothers Grimm story of the same name. And, if you enjoy this story, do not fear; Hale has written two more in the series, Enna Burning and River Secrets.
If the author’s name looks familiar, maybe you have seen Hale’s hilariously popular Austenland. This adult title is chick lit with a little less Prada and a little more Regency-era romance as a modern day girl wins a vacation to England’s answer to Disney World, Jane Austen Land.
Also Reviewed by RaiderGirl
