Author Archives: kzmclain

Won’t Ya Be My Neighbor?

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A couple of years ago I wrote a blog post about our next door neighbor here in AZ. It might be important for you to read (or reread) the blog post in order to understand why I’m so focused on my new neighbor. Here is the link to that post. I’ll wait.

Okay. Are you back?

Anyhoo, the couple about whom that post was written sold their house at the end of December, and have moved elsewhere. (By the way, I have never been able to confirm or refute whether she chose the lifestyle he did. In the six years since we bought this house, I only spoke to her on one occasion, and it was about the bird nest in our tree. She was fully clothed. Nevertheless, the fact that I only saw her once in six years speaks volumes, doesn’t it?) Odd as it sounds, I was kind of sad. All-in-all, they had been good neighbors. Yes, it’s true that if their garage door was open, it was important – essential, really – that one had to avert one’s eyes or be strongly at risk of seeing something that would haunt you well into the next day. I’m as serious as a heart attack, I promise.

But they had our telephone number, and the telephone number of my niece Maggie and her husband Mark. On more than one occasion, circumstances warranted a phone call from our neighbor to Mark. The most recent was when our sprinkler system blew up. It was nice to know that someone sort of kept an eye on our house in the long months when none of us are here. His attire (or lack thereof) mattered not in that case.

But they moved on. He and I chatted when Bill and I were here in November. It was right after the house had been sold and shortly before they were going to move. Most importantly, he was fully clothed.

“Where are you guys moving to?” I asked him.

“Well, we’re not certain where we’ll settle eventually, but we will rent an apartment until we find a suitable 55-plus neighborhood in which to live,” he answered.

As my grandkids would chant, “Dum, dum, duuuuuuum.”

The code word, my friends, is suitable.

I admit that I immediately went inside and began googling Fifty Plus Nudist Communities in AZ. I came up with exactly zero, and luckily have not started receiving links to porn sites from Google. That’s actually quite a surprise when you think about it. I went into Joann’s Crafts Sunday and bought some yarn. In the store. Not online. And since then, I’ve been getting Google ads for the brand and color of yarn that I purchased IN THE STORE. It’s creepy, but I digress.

The house was sold to an older woman whose name is Patsy, but who I always, ALWAYS call Doris. I don’t really know why. I don’t even know a Doris. My best guess is that it’s because she reminds me of Doris Roberts, the actor who played the mother on a program I almost never watched called Everybody Loves Raymond, and who was one of the many Famous People Who Died in 2016.

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Doris Roberts, not Patsy

Doris – I mean Patsy — seems nice. She was living in a townhome and climbing all of the steps became problematic, and so she purchased the nice little ranch next door. I have already seen her at least three times as much as I ever saw our neighbor’s wife. What’s more, she has been clothed every time. It’s true she is wearing the standard Arizona Senior Citizen Uniform of beige capris and a polyester button-down shirt, but that’s okay, because that’s what I wear also.

The barely-adult granddaughter who shares the house with her has caused us no consternation as of yet. It’s true she drives a Mustang with a big and loud engine that roars into life at 7:30 each morning when she leaves for work, but that’s fine with me. I’m long awake, and thrilled that she isn’t naked. It’s the little things.

The yippy dog might grow on me, just as might I grow on him.

And Then There Was Beavis and Butt-head

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Sometime not too long after Bill and I were married, he came home from a day at the Capitol where he lobbied our General Assembly for 30 years and said, “I think I want to get involved in acting.”

Now, if he said that to me today, after being married to him for neigh on 25 years, I wouldn’t blink an eye. “Acting. Oh, yeah. That’s nice. Could you pass me the salt?” I would respond. Assuming, that is, that I wanted the salt. But you get my point. After 25 years of marriage, nothing Bill McLain does or says really astounds me.

But at that point, I likely responded with something like, “Acting? Acting? Why on earth would you want to do something like that?”

When Bill was a kid, his mother apparently signed him up for just about any kind of lessons you could give a kid. The reason she did this I assume is because he is only 15 months younger than his sister Kathy, and I think the two of them were quite naughty as children and, having completely opposite personalities, fought unceasingly. His mother’s answer: divide and conquer. As a result, he took piano lessons, trumpet lessons, singing lessons, acting lessons, tennis lessons. If there was a lesson to be had, Bill took them. At the end, however, the only lessons that really captured him were the acting lessons. So much so, in fact, that he seriously considered going into the entertainment industry when he approached adulthood. His father quickly put an end to that line of thinking, thoroughly discouraging him from something so impractical. And when I say thoroughly discouraging him, I mean saying something like if you do such a stupid thing, you can pay for college yourself.

But I think a hankering to act was always there. Nevertheless, he went to college, became a lawyer, married, had three kids, and never became an actor. Never, that is, until sometime shortly after we were married. When he came home and said, “I think I want to get involved in acting.”

His friend John had already appeared in a couple of films or television shows that were produced in Colorado. With John’s help, Bill took some acting classes, had some head shots taken, signed with an agency, and sat back to wait for the calls to start coming in.

By the way, the reason I’m telling you this story is that in a blog post last week, I offhandedly mentioned that Bill was a member of the Screen Actors’ Guild. I seriously thought that everyone who knew Bill knew this about him, as he loves to tell stories about his experiences. However, several people mentioned that they were unaware of this fact and were curious.

But back to Bill’s acting career (tongue firmly placed in cheek).

Much to my surprise, calls really did start coming in. Not anything major, mind you. But he was an extra in a number of films, mostly Perry Mason made-for-television movies. He once played a police officer who had to step over the dead body of a person played by Geraldo Rivera. Despite the fact that you only saw Bill from the bottom of his neck down to the top of his legs, he can (and does) honestly say, “I was in a movie with Geraldo Rivera.”

He never actually had any major film roles, but, being Bill McLain, he did frequently have the opportunity to meet and talk with a number of actors. They would be out smoking a cigarette or catching a breath of fresh Colorado air and he would join them to shoot the breeze.

In order to be a member of the Screen Actors’ Guild (SAG), however, you have to have a speaking role and thereby become a union member. That happened to Bill when he auditioned for and was awarded the main role in a commercial for the Colorado Lottery. He played a husband who, at the beginning of the commercial, was asked what he would do if he won the lottery. He responds that he would take his wife out to dinner. At the end of the commercial, you see Bill and a female actor sitting at a Rockies game and he says, upon cashing in a winning lottery ticket, the following words to an unseen hot dog vendor: Two dogs here!

Two things happened following that commercial: 1. Our niece Maggie got mad at him for being with a so-called “wife” who wasn’t me (true story); and 2. He became a member of the Screen Actors’ Guild.

Once that happened, both he and John, in their inevitable manner, became very involved in SAG, eventually becoming president and vice president of the local chapter of SAG. The main benefit of this role, as far as I could ever see, was being able to meet Mickey Mouse at a SAG convention held in Orlando. That, and being able to screen movies early which will likely be contenders for SAG awards (which are often the Academy Award nominees as well). You don’t have to be an officer to screen these movies; all SAG members screen the movies and vote.

And there you have it folks – the acting career of Bill McLain, who now lives a quiet life in Mesa, AZ and Denver, CO.

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By the way, for the small number of you who haven’t heard this story, I will share it with you. At one point in his career, he played a role in a music video for a group called Ugly Kid Joe, whose biggest hit was the love ballad (I Hate) Everything About You. You can take a gander. He’s the man in the blue polo shirt pushing the lawn mower that you see 36 seconds in, 44 seconds in, and 1 minute and 50 seconds in…

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His proudest moment was when the music video was featured on Beavis and Butt-head.

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And that’s all I’ll say about that.

This post linked to Grand Social.

Saturday Smile: Trim it Short Around the Ears, Marshall Dillon

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In a most loving, pleasant way, I have been nagging — er, suggesting to Bill that he should get his hair cut. He finally did yesterday, going to a barber not too far from our house. When he got home, he told me that there were very many gun magazines to look through while waiting to get a haircut. That’s why he wasn’t surprised when his barber pulled back his white barber’s coat and showed him that he was, in fact, wearing a holster containing a pistol. In fact, it seems both barbers were packing heat. “I guess that barber shop won’t get robbed,” Bill said. I agreed, though he and I both acknowledged that it would seem to us that barber shops are not the first businesses to get robbed.

At any rate, if there was any doubt in our minds, this was further proof that AZ is, indeed, the wild, wild west……

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Marshall Matt Dillon and his sidekick Chester packing heat and perhaps going to the barber in Dodge City.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: Fiercombe Manor

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searchI’ve mentioned  before that I love manor mysteries; you know, mysteries that take place in mysterious old houses with creepy caretakers or daunting housekeepers. So when a come across a book with the word manor right in its title, I am definitely going to give it a read.

Fiercombe Manor, a debut mystery novel by Kate Riordan, despite a few minor flaws, met, yes, even exceeded, my expectations. It was suitably creepy in the manner of Rebecca, the similarities a reader can’t fail to notice.

It’s 1933, and young and naïve Alice finds herself in a precarious position – pregnant by a married man who has no intention of leaving his wife after all. She confesses her situation to her horrified mother, herself a cold and unloving parent. The mother contacts her old friend Mrs. Jelphs, who is a housekeeper at Fiercombe Manor in Gloustershire, far away from London. The plan is for Alice to have her baby (which Mrs. Jelphs is told is the result of a brief marriage that ended when her husband was killed), then return to London and immediately give the baby up for adoption.

But when Alice arrives at Fiercombe Manor, (which is not occupied by the Stanton family who live abroad, but instead is lived in and managed by Mrs. Jelphs and a groundskeeper) she immediately begins to get creeped out by some of the noises she hears at night and stories she is told. Bit by bit, she learns of the homes’ former occupants. From that point forward, the story is told in the familiar back-and-forth style – Alice’s story and the story of Elizabeth Stanton. Sometimes I wish authors could be a bit more clever; nevertheless, both storylines are creative and compelling.

The book’s readers and reviewers draw a comparison between Mrs. Jelphs and Mrs. Danvers (the housekeeper in Rebecca). I don’t believe the comparison is justified. While Mrs. Jelphs clearly knows more than she is saying, she is ultimately kind and cares for Alice. Still, the whole notion of a young woman alone in a creepy mansion with only a suspicious-seeming housekeeper and a groundskeeper who keeps showing up in unexpected place clearly begs the reader to compare it to Rebecca.

There is a romantic element, as one of the Stanton heirs is a young man who has issues of his own. The romance doesn’t get in the way of the story, however.

I enjoyed the book very much, and found Riordan’s writing to be beautiful. I am looking forward to the author’s next book, which apparently will be a ghost story.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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The Weather Outside is Frightening
There are many reasons why I like living in AZ in the winter, but not having to shovel snow is certainly NOT among the least of them. While it has been a bit chilly as of late here in the Valley of the Sun, chilly means low 60s. So when Jen sent us this photo that she took yesterday…….

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Bill was oh-so-amused with himself when he sent back this photo, with a note indicating that because he was a bit chilly sitting outside, he was wearing flannel…..

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As you could imagine, her sides hurt from laughing.

Singing
I had a couple of people requesting reviews of the movie Sing after I posted yesterday that I was seeing it with my sister Bec and her grands. Unfortunately, circumstances resulted in me being unable to see the movie, but I am determined to see it, even if I have to go by myself. Bill is very understanding, but not quite that understanding. Bec said it was oh-so-good, and that Mackenzie and Carter were absolutely riveted, barely fighting over the popcorn.

Ouch
I mentioned that Bill and I were both suffering a bit from back pain due to our sudden return to exercise. Bill is actually recovering much quicker than I. Nevertheless, we determined yesterday morning that rather than going to the gym, we would take a gentle walk in our neighborhood. Which he did. I, on the other hand, gave it a go, but my back hurt enough that the thought of getting a mile or so away and realizing I couldn’t make it back would be a bad thing. So I gave up the goat and came back home, while he continued on. Friday, my friends. I will be ready on Friday.

At the Movies
Bill is a member of the Screen Actors Guild, and as such, he gets access to movies that are likely contenders to awards. Generally the movies are so sad and depressing that we are reluctant to watch. Night before last, for example, we watched the movie Jackie. Now, I knew that it was the story of Jackie Kennedy in the days following the assassination, so I knew it was going to be somber. But my heavens. Slit my wrists right now. Bill asked me if I thought the acting was award-worthy, and I guess I think that it really isn’t. Natalie Portman just didn’t ring true to me. What can I say. Sad times, though, wasn’t it?

Ciao.

Homestead Settlers

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Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
Say, who are the people in your neighborhood?
The people that you meet each day. – Big Bird

Bill and I have been in our AZ home now for a week and a couple of days. The first week after we arrive each year always feels kind of like a Disneyland vacation – lots of stimulation, tons of really good food, and a whole lot of fun. Really, it feels like a vacation more than real life.

But after New Year’s Day, Jen leaves to return to Colorado, we put our Season of Beef behind us, birthday celebrations slow down a bit, and it is time to get on with beginning our ordinary AZ life in earnest for the four months that we are here.

What does this mean in practical terms? It means going to the grocery store and buying items besides brownie mix, wine, and ingredients for guacamole. Things like eggs and milk. Maybe some low-fiber bread and a jar of peanut butter. Some chicken thighs to put in the freezer for use in dinner preparation.

Every year sometime around this time I write a blog about going to the grocery store to fill my pantry and refrigerator for the first time. I always complain about all of the other snow birds who arrived after New Year’s Day who are doing the same thing as I.

And it’s true that Monday, when, despite the fact that I firmly declared that I wouldn’t do it this year, I went to the grocery store along with everyone else. But given my new outlook on life and my commitment to making 2017 a year of joy and grace, I’m not going to complain. I mean it. I’m not going to complain.

But I admit that it is absolutely striking – shocking, really – when I look around my nearby Fry’s Supermarket (which I remind you every year is our Kroger store) and see that the majority of shoppers are snow birds. Well, if they’re not snow birds, they’re at least my age or older. Much older. When I’m shopping in Denver and I see that many elderly people, I look outside for the retirement community bus. But I don’t even bother any longer here because I know there is no bus. In the words of that great philosopher Big Bird, these are the people in my neighborhood.

But since I’m not getting cranky this year, I paid attention instead to the person who was probably my age helping a much older woman make her choices. “Mom, I tried these apricot preserves and I think you would really like them.” “That sounds real good,” her mom told her. I wonder if Court will ever help me pick out preserves.

I noticed the obviously-single old gent buying his groceries ahead of me in line – groceries that consisted of some frozen TV dinners, some sliced bread, and three or four containers of glazed donut holes. “I’m going to come to your house for breakfast tomorrow,” I told him. “Those donut holes look good.”

“Well, they sure are,” he assured me. “And you’re welcome to come to breakfast!”

I didn’t get annoyed at the woman in the electric scooter who nearly backed over me as I rushed to get something I had nearly forgotten. After all, she’s in an electric scooter, and I’m able to use my two good legs. Instead, I smiled at her and said, “Excuse me.” And she smiled back.

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Bill and I enjoyed lunch in November with Lilly and Maggie.

Bill and I will soon fall into our regular routine which, frankly, once we’re settled, doesn’t look a lot different than our routine in Denver. No grandkids, of course, but lots of great nieces and great nephews who go a ways towards filling that void. In fact, I am going to see the movie Sing with my sister Bec and her two grands this very afternoon.

Bill and I already made our first visit to the gym on Monday, and then spent Tuesday walking gingerly because our backs were saying, “What did you do to me? What were you thinking?”

Little by little, our Mesa house will feel like home instead of vacation. And as the days get a bit warmer, being outside will remind us of why we come here in the winter anyway!

This post linked to the GRAND Social

2017: I Got This

Posted in Main Course, Meat Dishes, Recipes, Whimsies by

imgresIt’s about this time every year that I do my annual New Year’s resolutions post. You know, where I say that I am going to pray more, eat less, exercise more, worry less, drink more water, drink less alcohol. And then, by the end of January, I am back to barely remembering my morning prayers, half-heartedly dragging myself to the gym once in a while with absolutely no enthusiasm, drinking less water and drinking more alcohol and worrying about my lack of commitment. Sigh.

So I decided I’m going to forgo resolutions and just think more about what I would like my 2017 to look like. And that’s a pretty easy task.

I would like to not see the inside of a hospital, or even an emergency room, in all of 2017. I don’t know if this is possible, but what I do know is that it has been an entire year since I’ve been admitted to a hospital, and despite a couple of ER visits, my overall health seems to be better. I don’t know if I can attribute this to my low-fiber diet and my increased water intake, but I know that both of those things haven’t hurt. Keep up the good work, Kris!

Bill had his semiannual appointment with his neurologist’s office right before Christmas to measure his Parkinson’s progression, and we were blessed to learn that there has once again been very little progression. So little, in fact, that the PA with whom he meets (because the doctor doesn’t even feel he needs to see him more than occasionally since he is progressing so slowly) suggested we might not have to come every six months. Bill and I nodded, but admitted afterwards to each other that we feel better getting their outlook every six months. But when we honestly answered her question about how often he — and by association, I — exercise, she would have said tsk, tsk if people actually said tsk, tsk.

Interestingly, she told us that his doctor (who is quite renowned within the field of neurology and movement disorders) believes that regular aerobic exercise is as beneficial to people with Parkinson’s as are the medications they take. And while the meds can often have yucky side effects, aerobic exercise does not. I wish that eating rib eye steaks and drinking martinis was just as effective, but I’m afraid it isn’t. So, it’s back to the gym, and not begrudgingly either. After all, God has been good enough to keep his progression slow, so we can do our part.

I think that for the most part, I am a positive person. As Bill is reading this statement, he is trying not to laugh. He would tell you that I worry about everything, and he is, in part, right. I tend to worry about a lot of things, many of which never transpire. He, on the other hand, worries little, and only about very specific things, but otherwise, lets life play out however it will. I feel compelled to say that life often successfully plays out for him because I worried about something and therefore was able to avert disaster. Let’s just say that had he been responsible for Christmas presents, he would have nine grandchildren looking at the absence of presents under the tree and saying, “Why Santy Claus, why?” just like Cindy Lou Who.

Regardless, I want my 2017 to be positive. While 2016 wasn’t as bad a year for me as I hear many people complaining about, there were still many things that stunk. A friend was diagnosed with cancer. Our country went through a very difficult and divisive presidential election. Our grandson Micah gave us a medical scare when he aspirated a rock into his lung, requiring emergency surgery.

I will admit that part of me is sad to say goodbye to every year because as you age, the years go by more quickly and the end of life (which young people think will never come) looms ominously closer every day.

But there is no point in concentrating on the negatives when there are so many positives in my life. And that’s what I intend to remember this year. So when I think about what I want my life to look like I 2017 as I indicated in the very beginning of this post, I realize that I want it to be full of smiles and joy and things that are good for me, like good books, great friends, awesome family time, great food, interesting travel, and lots of hugs and kisses from grandkids and friends and my husband.

2017: Watch out; here I come!

For good measure, here is the recipe my family uses for our annual New Year’s prime rib. I offered it to you a couple of years ago, but it’s time to give it to you once again.

the-beast-2017Herbed Rib Roast

 Ingredients
1 7-8 lb. prime rib roast (3-4 ribs)
1 T. whole black peppercorns
2 bay leaves
1 T. kosher salt
3 garlic cloves
1 t. chopped fresh thyme
1 t. chopped fresh rosemary
1 T. olive oil

Process
Grind peppercorns and salt to a powder in an electric coffee/spice grinder, then transfer to a mortar. Add garlic, thyme, and rosemary, pound to a smooth paste with pestle. Stir in oil. Rub paste over roast. Transfer roast to a rack set in a small flameproof roasting pan. Marinate, covered and chilled, at least 8 hours or up to 24 hours.

To cook:
Let roast stand at room temperature 1 hour. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Roast beef in middle of oven 20 minutes. Reduce temperature to 350 degrees and roast beef until a thermometer inserted into center of meat registers 110 (for very rare, 120 for medium), 1-1/2 hours to 1-3/4 hours more. Transfer beef to a large platter and let stand, uncovered, 25 minutes. Meat will continue to cook, reaching about 130 for medium rare.

Taming the Beast

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As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, the final weeks of each year are beef-intensive. The year 2017 began accordingly with a Big Beef Bang as Bill and I celebrated new year with most of our AZ family at Bec’s house. The guest of honor was what Bec began affectionally calling The Beast….

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The day was kind of cool and rainy, rain being fairly unusual in this area, though not shocking. Still, there were a total of 17 bodies at Bec’s house who mostly couldn’t go outside. So the adults hung around the kitchen counter awaiting the grand entrance of The Beast, and the kids found ways to play despite being stuck indoors. There was a lot of hide-and-go-seek.hanging-out-new-years-2017

Bec removed the roast from the oven to rest…..

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After resting for half an hour or so, Bill began to carve, first cutting up the bones…..

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And then slicing the meat into serving size….

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But it wasn’t all work and no play…..

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And now we’re all ready to face 2017. While we’d like to say no more beef for awhile, it’s safe to say we all went home with a bag of leftovers.

Family. What a great way to start the new year.

Saturday Smile: Happy New Year

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Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne? – Robert Burns

Though I’m rarely awake at midnight on New Year’s Eve to sing the above-referenced song, I think about it every year around this time. This was another song written by the mostly-gloomy Scottish poet Robert Burns. The phrase auld lang syne is roughly translated as for the sake of old times. In Scotland, singers join hands and stand in a circle, and during the last verse, they cross hands so that they are holding the other hands of their neighbors. At the end, they run to the center of the circle. In the United States, when the song is played at midnight on New Year’s Eve, most people are so drunk that they only hold hands to keep from falling down. Not me. I’m in bed.

As for what made me smile this week…..

A friend posted this the other day on Facebook, and it made me laugh out loud. As we reach the end of 2016, the time for making resolutions is imminent. I think I will start this way…..

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I would add the vacuum cleaner to the list.

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Friday Book Whimsy: 2016 Favorites

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pile-of-booksMy reading goal every year is 100 books. I’m not sure I have ever hit my goal, but I have come close. For example, in 2015, I read a total of 93 books. I’m afraid in 2016, I was a bit of a slacker, having only read 88 books – a couple of which were, quite honestly, novellas. In my world, they counted! Especially since I’m not graded on quantity. And I’m thankful I’m not rated on quality, because I don’t use the New York Times Book Review for my book choosing. Actually, I’m not graded on anything being retired and all….

Anyway, I post a book review each week, so if you are a faithful Friday Book Whimsy reader, you will be familiar with all of the books I am going to feature as my favorite five books of the year. The books may or may not have been published in 2016; they have just been read by me in the past year.  Frankly, most are books published in earlier years.

My five favorite reads in 2016, in no particular order….

Britt-Marie Was Here, by Fredrick Backman
Britt-Marie is a 60-something woman who leaves her controlling husband after she learns he is having an affair. She is compulsive and entirely set in her ways. She has been since she was a little girl and her much-adored sister is killed in a car accident. It should have been you, is the message that Britt-Marie got regularly from her mom, whether or not it was spoken out loud. So Britt-Marie begins the process of starting a new life. The only job she is able to find is the manager of a recreation center in a very small town. She has spent most of her life taking care of others and has no idea who Britt-Marie is and why anyone would care. But she learns that people do care, and begins to put together a new life where people accept her for who she is.

What I liked best about the book: Britt-Marie. I loved the main character so, so much. The book was entirely feel-good, and who didn’t need that this past year?

The Last Days of Night, by Graham Moore
The novel examines the invention of the light bulb, and the eventual replacement of gas lighting with electric lights in this entirely readable, eminently fascinating account of the legal battle waged between Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse. There is no one less interested in science than I, and yet I found the book to be fascinating. Moore uses real characters such as Edison, Westinghouse, Nikola Tesla, and Paul Kravath to give readers a snapshot of life in NYC in the late 1800s and how progress is REALLY made. It unexpectedly provided me with one of my favorite reads of the year.

What I liked best about the book: I love to learn about history and science via novels, as I find that so much easier to read. Moore was able to pique my interest in the notion of inventing and patents. It takes good writing to successfully accomplish that task.

Where’d You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple
This novel is everything I would hate in a book. The entire story is told via emails, text messages, flashbacks, school documents, and so forth. There is no driving narrative and virtually no dialogue. It is really all about the characters, but Semple does it so well that this book was a total pleasure to read. I had it in my library for a long time before I finally picked it up and read it, almost straight through. Bernadette is the star of the show, despite her quirky, agoraphobic nature. She is likable and believable. I would like to have her as my best friend. I don’t regularly reread books, but I will read this book again and again.

What I liked best about the book: The author’s characters are the best thing about the novel. Despite the fact that there is no driving narrative, she was able to paint clear and distinct pictures of each character through her unusual writing style.

The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah
There is a plethora of novels available about World War II, and lots of good ones. I found The Nightingale to be one of the best I’ve read (and I’ve read more than my share) simply because it offered a different perspective on the awful war. Two sisters from a small village in France experience the war from entirely different perspectives – one as the woman and wife left behind to care as best she can for everyone around her, and one who becomes part of the French resistance. The look at the war from the women’s perspective, as well as Hannah’s beautiful writing, made this one of my favorite reads of 2016.

What I liked best about the book: There are many books – novels and nonfiction alike – about the horrific treatment of the Jews, and about the miserable conditions of the fighting men and women, but I liked reading about what it was like to try and keep your world in order under wartime conditions as the woman back home.

Tiny Little Thing, by Beatriz Williams
Christina “Tiny” Schuyler was the so-called good sister of the three Schuyler girls. She did everything the right way. She was good in school, she married well, and she was the perfect political wife to her ambitious husband. But what is missing is love. It made for a wonderful book with a thoroughly satisfying ending. Tiny Little Thing was the first book I had ever read by author Beatriz Williams, and I have read several since. They almost always have some connection to the Schuyler family, and they are very good. But Tiny Little Thing is my favorite.

What I liked best about the book:  Blackmail, adultery, Vietnam, dirty politics – all wrapped in a 1960s package. It took me a bit to get into the novel, but once I did, I couldn’t put it down.

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