by Kathy Brasby | Mar 18, 2013 | Hope
I didn’t think we were going to Cuba until two days before we boarded an airplane at Cancun and headed east. “Americans can’t go to Cuba,” I told our missionary host.
Fortunately, he ignored me and we went. Four days were spent in Havana before we drove across the island to the mountains at the east end.
English: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
On our first night in Havana, we went to a fancy restaurant where waitresses wore black dresses, white aprons and white caps. Like old-fashioned maids. Glittering crystal adorned each table with heavy silverware resting on starched napkins at each place setting.
And a pianist filled the air with sweet music.
When he saw us, he recognized us as Americans. Americans are rich in Cuba. No matter what money we had.
So he immediately began playing tunes by Frank Sinatra. Cuba seems lodged in the 1950’s and the musician must have assumed that Sinatra melodies would net him a nice tip from the Americans.
Emboldened by his strong Sinatra performance, the pianist then approached our table. “I know many other American songs,” he said. “What would you like to hear?”
My husband leaned toward him. “Could you play Amazing Grace?”
The man frowned slightly as he searched his memory banks. He finally shook his head. “I do not know that one.”
We smiled at each other and then my husband surrendered. “How about some Sinatra?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” The pianist scurried back to the piano and played instead I Did It My Way.
by Kathy Brasby | Mar 13, 2013 | Stories
I like ideas. I’ve told people that if they don’t like this idea, I’ll have another one soon. Ideas are building blocks for a writer.
I want to explore new ground, ask playful questions, look for a new angle. Get me out of the rut and into the fresh air so I can breath deep and dance to a new song.
OK, the dance stuff is melodramatic but you get the idea.
My newest tool in the adventure is Paper by 53, an app for an iPad. Paper is basically a sketching app but its beauty and simplicity caught my eye. Plus the promo said that this app was where ideas began.
Ok, then. Ideas are good. I downloaded it.
I’m still playing with Paper but, so far, I like it. The app store describes it as a digital cocktail napkin but that limits it too much.
Paper lets me write or draw in an attractive notebook with a quill tip pen. A very nice blend for a writer: lush paper and a great pen.
Using either my fingertip or a stylus, I can write, doodle, sketch, draw to my heart’s content. I’m not a good artist but doodling helps free ideas and make associations.
Plus, I get to play with ideas in a digital atmosphere that I can then email to someone or post on Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr.
I tend to lose notebooks (and pens) but this app hangs onto those ideas for me until I’m ready to develop them. And the overall look of Pages soothes my right brain and lets my analytical side take a rest.
The basic app is free. You can add watercolor pens, brushes and more through in-app purchases.
At this time, Paper is only for the iPad. But if you have one, give Paper a spin.
You may explore new ground, ask playful questions, and find a new angle. What can it hurt?
by Kathy Brasby | Mar 11, 2013 | Hope
A good story is like a nice collection of chocolates: it’s hard to have too many.
In my 20’s, before I had children, I hung out with my friends’ kids. Kids and stories are made for each other.
At age 4, Rene already loved a good story. And, lucky for me, she thought my stories were good.
Together, we crafted a story about Paintbrush the Smurf who lived in Smurfville and loved to paint. (You had to be there.) If we had much time together, we’d work our way through our stories.
But Rene enjoyed other storytellers as well. One evening I was invited to her house for dinner and I arrived before the meal was ready.
“I’ll read you some books,” I told her, “if you want.”
She spun and disappeared into her bedroom. And didn’t come out.
Well, I thought, she must not have wanted stories read after all. I waited a while and then started for the kitchen to chat with her mother.
At that moment, Rene burst from her bedroom, her arms stretched out, holding what looked like every book she owned. I’m not sure how she squeezed all those volumes between her hands.
Of course we sat down and read. Who cares about dinner when you can read about Corduroy and a runaway bunny?
Her brother was less enthralled with my stories but that was OK because he had a way of supplying me with fresh material.
One day he visited my house and planted himself before my computer. There, Ken played a dartboard game for a long time.
Then he raced out of the room and flung himself at me, energy exploding from his face. “You know that Darts? Two people can play it so I decided to play against myself. I played and played. And guess what?” He was nearly breathless. “I won!”
Their younger brother came along a little later. By that time, I had a son who was just a year older than Curt. On my son’s birthday, he was at kindergarten and I was babysitting Curt who wanted to help make the birthday cake.
So we pulled up a step-ladder so Curt could reach the counter and began putting ingredients in a bowl. I stepped away to grab the flour, turning back in time to see Curt slam two eggs against the edge of the bowl and drop the glob -shells included – on top of the butter and sugar.
“Do you do that at home?” I asked him.
His eyes wide, he looked up at me. “No. My mother won’t let me.”
A good story makes the day a little sweeter
by Kathy Brasby | Mar 8, 2013 | Stories
The photo came via a text on my phone along with a message:. “Tell Mom the daffodils have finally pushed through.”
Our mother loves to garden. She ordered the bulbs for her yard last summer, before her stroke felled her. The bulb package showed up the week after Mom’s stroke.
My sister and her family managed to get 75 bulbs in the ground before the temperatures plummeted.
You plant bulbs with hope. The bulbs look too dead to endure a harsh winter. But the vision  of the spring’s new life and colors spurred the family on.
Here in Colorado, we’ve been hammered by the lack of snow this winter. The ground is so dry that many farmers are considering parking their planters this year. The cost of buying seed and fuel may be greater than the potential harvest.
Our family has  been hammered, too, this winter. Not by lack of snow but by loss and disappointment. As I’ve mentioned before, my father died in September and my mother suffered a major stroke in October. Our winter has been consumed with therapy and fear.
For a time, we wondered if we’d lose both parents back to back. Then we wondered if Mom would regain anything stolen by the stroke.
Mom has learned to sit up again, lift herself with one arm and a grab bar, and swallow again. The therapists have her walking – stiffly, awkwardly, but one foot in front of the other.
“She’s doing great,” they tell us.
My sister’s photo of the emerging daffodils made Mom happy. “We’ll have to go see those one of these days,” she said.
When those bulbs went in the ground, we all wondered about Mom.  Would we be able to show her the new plants? Would the bulbs even grow in this drought? Would she survive the winter?
Yes, yes, and yes.
And I think those daffodils mirror our hearts as well. It’s been a long dry winter but spring’s coming.
by Kathy Brasby | Mar 6, 2013 | Hope
Participating in social media means pictures. Photos. Readers are very visual and a post with a picture is better.
I ran across this cheat sheet for social media photos and thought I would share with you. I have a lot of work to do on my social media. Maybe you, too?
Check it out:
