Tuesday, February 18, 2020

They Seem Like A Fairy Tale--I'm Sure They Really Are





Last week I drove to Tahquamenon Falls excited to see ice at the falls and saw a posted sign, Watch out for Moose.

Yeah. Right.

Snow covered portions of the sign. 









The yellow warning vehemently cautioned drivers of a supposed truth:  be on guard for the next two miles. This notice, like many fairy tells, refused to back down from a strong conviction. Surely, at some point, a moose had crossed this portion of the road.

In all the years of camping, living, and vacationing in Michigan's Upper Penninsula, I have never, ever seen a moose.






The truth is: bears barge into homes and raid kitchens. 

Bobcat and cougar roam freely, crossing the ice from Canada to UP island houses. 

Beaver drag trees and dam up water that later collapses and floods homes, 

But there has never ever ever been a moose. They simply don’t exist.

It’s not that I haven’t looked. I tried to validate the claim. Give the idea a chance. 





In my search for these fictitious creatures who are loved like unicorns, I’ve combed the sides of Denali, searched Alaskan cities and woods, and have driven to Canada. 

No matter what story you’ve read, what testimony you have heard, what stuffed head mounted in a ski lodge, I am here to tell you, there is no such animal as a moose. 









It simply is a fairy tale 

                                  ...and I’m sticking to it.















It's a 20 - 20 year 
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing. 
Hold on! 
There's no looking back. No hindsight.


If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.



Link to Mary's books: https://amzn.to/2Fq4Jbm


Mary Vee loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris and infuse these amazing places in her stories. Mary is an award-winning author and writes for her king.  

Visit Mary at her WebsiteBlog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter


Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Morning Sounds of Her Little One--Sweet February



How is it that a toddler wakes before the parents? 



The morning light weighed her to her pillow. She covered her head with her blanket. It was too early to rise. She hadn’t had coffee and the alarm wouldn’t ring for at least thirty minutes.

Magically her child lept to his feet, grabbed hold of his crib rails and bounced on the mattress as though it were a trampoline, announcing the beginning of a new day. She didn’t have to be in his room to know this is what he did. 

“Mama, ma-ma, maaaaaa-maaaaaa--come and get me,” was the loose translation of the gibberish saturated with playful demand.

Like a myriad of mothers living before her and in households across the land where the weight of the morning sun crept through bedroom drapes, she waited. Allowing her head to be weighed down on her beloved pillow smooshed to a perfect consistency, and her blanket to hide her from the morning sun. Perhaps he’ll give up and go back to sleep.

But, no. The jabbering, singing, clinging, clumping of toys from inside the crib hitting the floor, flumping of curtains pulled from the rods hitting the carpet, sweet musical ramblings of her child persisted.

She loved the sound. 

And held her blanket close to her chin, weighed, such a sweet delightful weight of a morning sunrise, serenaded by her precious toddler.


It's a 20 - 20 year 
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing. 
Hold on! 
There's no looking back. No hindsight.


If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.


Link to Mary's books: https://amzn.to/2Fq4Jbm


Mary Vee loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris and infuse these amazing places in her stories. Mary is an award-winning author and writes for her king.  

Visit Mary at her WebsiteBlog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter


Friday, February 7, 2020

Chapter 4. Hooligans in Moscow


What happens when twelve family members, most between the ages of 16 and 24 are accused of being hooligans? It started...many years ago...

Read chapter one, where the hijinks begin, The American Citizen click here: Chapter One
Chapter two: Hooliganism in the Airport  click here: Chapter Two
Chapter three: The Cold Sank Into Their Bones  click here  Chapter Three


Photo by Mary Vee

As the evening hour swirled into the night, so also the -25 degree temperatures plummeted closer to -40. Winds raced into Moscow from the artic, carrying a sting and shiver never before experienced by the ten hooligans and patriarch plus matriarch which will heretofore be called bothriarchs. Sure the twelve had lived through harsh North American winters where freezing temperatures drew tears from the eyes, forced noses to run, and breath that looked like frost, but they’d never experienced this cold. A bitterness that seeped into their very marrow.


Three black vehicles stood outside the airport awaiting the family’s arrival. The drivers opened the trunks and stepped to the side. There was no rush to get another fare. They’d worn sufficient winter clothing and their bodies had acclimated to the frigid air. They had guaranteed jobs. And so, they stood. 

By the open space for the luggage.

The hooligans got the message. They dragged their suitcases to the trunk and stuffed them inside. The driver even let them close the lid before he stepped into the vehicle.

Their hotel wasn’t far. At least that’s what they remembered. But who really knew after such a long flight, and how long exactly had they been awake? Or when they had last eaten? The scene at the hotel resembled the same as the airport. The driver stepped out, opened the trunk and stepped aside.

Few city lights broke through the night. The hooligans and bothriarchs carted their suitcases into Moscow’s Inn Tourist Hotel.

Hungry, tired, unable to understand anyone, and unable to read any signs, the hooligans gladly stayed back while Dud confirmed arrangements with the hotel desk clerk. Dud spoke fluent Russian to the woman, smiled, then faced the hooligans. The smile left. The poor man was exhausted. He handed out the room keys and shooed the hooligans into the elevators to manage on their own.

Barely four family members plus suitcases squeezed into the lift carrying them up to the eighth floor. The doors opened. A plump woman dressed in a white shirt, black skirt, and scowl sat at a small wooden table serving as a desk. She didn't have a cell phone to occupy her time since they didn't have them in the 19070's. Even if the phones had existed back then, the likelihood of her having something fun to do in the quiet hours was zero. She said not a word, which was wise since the hooligans wouldn’t have understood her.

The clerk assigned the family a row of six rooms along one hall. All with single beds anchored to a wall and a bathroom. Convinced the KGB listened to their every word, mainly because Dud said they probably would, the hooligans searched for bugs unsure what one would look like. 

The room window faced Red Square. Not a person walked the street. No music blared from local businesses. In the distance, soldiers in uniform, guns by their side, kept watch. There were no neon signs. No flashing ads.

For a country where citizens survived the bitter temperatures, had guaranteed jobs and income, they seemed to suffer cold in their souls.

The hooligans took it upon themselves to fix the problem. 

They walked the hauls past the woman at the desk who no doubt worked for the KGB shouting “hooliganism, hooliganism, we are for hooliganism.” Down the hall, the bothriarchs ignored them all, locked their door, and dreamed of all the future dollars they would save in college tuition if the KGB really did haul them away.


The story continues...

It's a 20 - 20 year 
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing. 
Hold on! 
There's no looking back. No hindsight.


If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.





Link to Mary's books: https://amzn.to/2Fq4Jbm



Christmas is Mary Vee's favorite holiday. She loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris. Mary is an award-winning author and writes for her king.  

Visit Mary at her WebsiteBlog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter


Thursday, January 30, 2020

The Cabin On Lake Superior

Photo by Mary Vee, Lake Superior

On the shores of Lake Superior, tucked in a harbor, lies a cabin. It's an A-frame with a tiny bedroom facing the lake on the upper floor. Uncles, aunts, and cousins vacation there throughout the summer, each bounding through the back door after a long drive, calling dibs to sleep in the tiny bedroom. 

The winner tosses their suitcase on the bed then opens the window before they eat, drink, or even use the bathroom.




Photo by Mary Vee



Few sunlit hours are spent inside the cabin when the kids arrive. They slip into their bathing suits and bound to the water's edge, slipping on the rocks and tumbling under the surface. Their skin seems to have polar temperature protection. It's the only explanation why they can stand the freezing temperatures even in August.

Photo by Mary Vee, Lake Superior

The best sound is the waves pitter against the shore...unless huge stormwinds rial up the water crashing, billowing waves against the rocky beach. But that can be heard with the window closed. Grandma said so.




Across the harbor is the lighthouse, lighting the way for ships to tuck in the harbor when storms threaten to smash their freighter in two. Some, like the Edmund Fitzgerald, did not make it. 

From the cabin's shores, one can see the Queen. She is a ferry that crosses the harbor like clockwork, twice a day taking passengers from the town around the harbor to the left to the lighthouse point to the right. 

The uncles, aunts, and cousins at the cabin, though, walk the path from the cottage through the woods, past the hidden lake that has the best swamp fishing around, and on to the lighthouse where open Lake Superior waves roar and show their power.

Like the slow pitter, plunk, blub of Lake Superior's mighty waters against the safe harbor shore on a warm peaceful day, so is the restful time spent at the cabin on Lake Superior where the internet doesn't work, there is one push buttoned landline, plenty of wood for cooking over a campfire, land for romping through the woods, and porches for staying up late to occasionally see the aurora borealis lights in the sky.



So...Why did I pick the cabin today? 




Because this is the view from my window. LOL!









It's a 20 - 20 year 
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing. 
Hold on! 
There's no looking back. No hindsight.


If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.





Link to Mary's books: https://amzn.to/2Fq4Jbm

Blizzards, Avalanches, Mysteries, and more


Christmas is Mary Vee's favorite holiday. She loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris. Maryis an award-winning author and writes for her king.  

Visit Mary at her WebsiteBlog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter





Tuesday, January 21, 2020

Chapter 3 The Cold Sank Into Their Bones


What happens when twelve family members, most between the ages of 16 and 24 are accused of being hooligans? It started...many years ago...

Read chapter one, where the hijinks began by clicking here: Chapter One
Then on to Hooligans in chapter two by clicking here: Chapter Two


CHAPTER 3




Photo by Mary Vee
Flying across the world with ten first time air travelers was much like containing crowds for the winning team at a sporting event. The travel time, including lay overs, would consume twenty-five tedious hours. The first leg, Detroit to New York and was not nearly long enough for Dud to rest after the boarding pass incident. Thank God they had to wear seatbelts.

In some cases, passengers landing in New York City had to find a way to get from LaGuardia to Kennedy in time to meet their international flight. Anyone who has traveled in NYC, even if during horse and buggy days, knew getting the earth to stop turning might be easier.

The patients who had so graciously planned this trip for their beloved doctor understood the NYC traffic plight. To prevent the impending catastrophe, they hired a helicopter to pick up the family from LaGuardia and fly them to Kennedy. Long black blades whipped overhead, propelling ten hooligans plus he and his wife around the tip of the Chrysler building on through a maze of skyscrapers. The spectacular view wowed his brood, transforming them into the curious and amazed.

Like the Pied Piper, he led his family through Kennedy’s tunnels to the next gate, handed out boarding passes at the very last second, and watched each one enter the second plane, this one bound for Denmark. Dud drew a blindfold over his eyes after buckling his seatbelt and slept the entire flight. What the rest of the family did—he didn’t want to know.

He woke to a steaming hot towelette served by the flight attendant. The rousing heat and the strong cup of coffee prepared him for a family meeting in the Copenhagen airport. He was serious. Everyone would abide by his strict rules to stay close during the next three hours for their safety

The only significant sightseeing adventure the teens found at this first visit to Denmark was a vending machine full of Danish Danish. Their camera shutters clicked. “I’m starved.” They eyed the pastry delights. “Real Danish Danish!” Their coins tumbled into the machine and out popped a plastic wrapped Danish that tasted like sweet cardboard. They read the label and found the pastry had, in fact, been made in the US.

At the appointed time, Dud pressed his family into the smallest of all their planes. They squeezed into itty, bitty seats with barely enough leg room aboard the Aeroflot airline. The hooligans turned cranky, tired from the journey and not in the mood to deal with gruff flight attendants who only served ginger ale. Their final destination was a mere skip over the Baltic Sea, and once high enough, they would be able to view Lithuania but not have authorization to land there.

Moscow served as the port of entry for the Soviet Union and was located nearly six hundred miles beyond his childhood country. Also, crews from Copenhagen could not fly into Russia. The plane landed in Helsinki where no passenger was allowed to disembark and sat for sixty long, boring, uncomfortable minutes before a Soviet pilot and crew boarded and set coarse for Moscow.

Contrary to the teens, the five-month-old baby had tolerated the journey very well. The airline provided a bassinet that hung, suspended above passenger’s seats. She seemed to like the motion and only cried when hungry. Soviet women on the plane, all donning scarfs over their heads and tied under their chins, ogled over the little one resting. They talked and pointed in their native language. Dud translated some of their words. All kind. They mostly expressed a great desire to hold the infant.

The long journey wore on the other family members. Their quiet was a medicine that only partially helped Dud’s uneasiness. They were about to land in Moscow. A communist country that had no problems displaying brute force. If one of the family misbehaved in a suspicious manner, he could encounter some serious trouble.

There would be KGB at the airport, this he knew for a fact. He rubbed his forehead, hoping his children and their spouses heeded his warnings not to bring religious jewelry, a Bible, a photo, anything religious or they could be taken for interrogation.

The weight of his entire family fell on him. He herded his charges, barking orders, keeping them close as they climbed down the ladder onto the tarmac in -25 degree temperatures and icy winds. His daughter held her baby close with a blanket over the little one’s face. The distance to the door was about a hundred frigid yards.

They’d barely left the dark shadows of the plane when a group of Soviet women swarmed his daughter and grandbaby. Their chatter cackled wild and unintelligible. One scooped the baby from his daughter and marched toward the door at least eighty yards away. His daughter and the rest of the family pushed forward, concerned where they would take the infant. His children called out in English. The women’s continued babble in Russian and urgent steps to the airport door showed they not only didn’t understand the American’s but didn’t care.

Dud could speak Russian, Lithuanian, Polish, German, and English fluently, but at this exhausting moment, the women’s words jumbled in his head.

Faster and faster he and his family walked, remaining close to the Soviet women, uncertain what would happen inside the terminal. The women singled out his daughter, enveloped her, and pushed her far ahead, separating her and the baby from the rest of the family. The glass doors opened and the ten barged inside, calling to their sister. A few feet beyond, the women lavished kisses on the child, passing her from one to the next before finally handing the baby back to her mother.

The incident stirred such an uproar not only with the ten but now also his wife. Their confusion escalated when a voice spoke over the loudspeaker in Russian. His warnings about the KGB frightened them, and in truth, him as well. “Hurry. Grab all the suitcases and bring them here.” They spread out through the area searching for their luggage, then stampeded to the meeting location. The pile of suitcases leaned on each other, tumbling to the floor. “Take them to this checkpoint.” Dud pointed. “Line up with your suitcase. Hurry.” His panic grew when a soldier in uniform edged near them.

The teens responded with utter pandemonium. Rather than following guidelines learned in kindergarten such as: take turns, one at a time, slow down, you’ll all get there if you wait, and be quiet, they barreled into the checkpoint, crowding each other and hoisting their suitcase onto the counter.

The security guard in soldier uniform shouted at them. The unruliness caused him to widen his eyes and step back, and when observing the massive number of suitcases lumped into his workstation, he waved his arms like a traffic cop. The translation seemed to be: move, move, move on and take your belongings. He never opened a single one.

Dud led his family, each dragging their luggage through the lobby and out the front door of the airport. He didn’t savor the air or breathe a sigh of relief.

After a long and tiring flight, the twelve stood on Soviet soil in Moscow.

And for the first time, his family saw Soviet Russia. 

...The cold sinking into their bones didn’t come from the temperatures.


The story continues...

It's a 20 - 20 year 
It may be a roller coaster or smooth sailing. 
Hold on! 
There's no looking back. No hindsight.


If you're looking for some great reads whether drama, mystery, or fantasy visit my Amazon page where you will find the perfect read. Ebooks are on sale.





Link to Mary's books: https://amzn.to/2Fq4Jbm



Christmas is Mary Vee's favorite holiday. She loves to travel to places like New York City and Paris. Maryis an award-winning author and writes for her king.  

Visit Mary at her WebsiteBlog, and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter