Book Review: The Key to Everything

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving” ~Albert Einstein

The Key to Everything, a novel by Valerie Fraser Luesse, tells the tale of 15-year-old Peyton Cabot. The only child of well-to-do parents, Peyton must watch helpless as his tender-hearted father, broken by the battlefield, drowns his demons in a bottle of bourbon.

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Favorite Photo

It is week two in the 52 Ancestors in 52 Week’s writing challenge. This week’s prompt is Favorite Photo.

“That’s should be easy,” I thought, “as I have tons of pictures. With 3,649 images in my family tree, there’s bound to be a photo or two that would qualify as a favorite.”

Mama’s Mixtape

I hate to admit it, but in my teenage and young adult years, I was an expert at pushing my mother’s buttons. (If I haven’t said it lately, so sorry about that, Mom.)

It seemed like every time she spoke, I would respond with high-pitched whines, ever-rolling eyes, and yeah whatevers. (It really, really is a miracle that I made it to adulthood!) Worse yet, I would argue the opposite of what she was saying. If my mother stated that the sky was blue, I would claim that it had a tint of red. If she commented that it was cold outside, I would swear that I was hot. And if she yelled, “Turn down that #$&* noise!”, naturally, I cranked up the volume. (Yep, I was THAT kid…)

It’s a Miracle We Made It to Adulthood

Now that I am older, I have come to appreciate the amazing restraint my mom exercised when I and my sisters were children and teenagers. With our rolling eyes and know-it-all comments and all-around pain-in-the-posterior attitudes, it is a miracle that any of us ever made it to adulthood.

And yet, here I am, a mother myself of children with their own eye rolls and smart-aleck responses and P.I.T.A. performances: I swear they will be lucky to make it to next week!

My Spiritual Journey, Step-by-Step

According to family lore, when I was just a newborn, my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother wanted me to be christened. However, my father interceded, saying that when and if I were baptized, it should be something that I knowingly would choose. His stance made sense to my mother, and I was not baptized as a baby.