We are in New York City.\u00a0 In order to get here, we had a four AM wakeup call yesterday in order to catch our 7 AM flight from Seattle.\u00a0 (Yes, my friends, SeaTac is crowded at that ungodly hour of the day!)\u00a0 We got here, managed to stay up until 10 PM Eastern, went to bed, and slept for 12 hours, broken into two shifts for me.<\/p>\n
I finally crawled out of bed at 10:10 with an 11:00 AM live Facebook shoot here in our hotel room.\u00a0 I have to say that I was shocked to discover there was no room service available at the Grand Hyatt this morning.\u00a0 What\u2019s so grand about that?\u00a0 So while I hustled around with getting ready\u2014showered, dressed, and made up\u2014Bill, bless him, went downstairs and brought back coffee.\u00a0 Doing a coffee-free interview would have been impossible!\u00a0 It was a \u201cFacebook Live\u201d event, but it is posted on my Facebook page.\u00a0 Why it\u2019s only available on Facebook is a question I can\u2019t answer\u2014those kinds of politics are above my pay grade.<\/p>\n
So we\u2019re having a quiet afternoon in our room getting ready to go to a cocktail party at 6 PM where I am due to be given this year\u2019s Strand Lifetime Achievement award.\u00a0 Am I nervous?\u00a0 Yes.\u00a0 I\u2019m perfectly at home on a stage with a microphone in my hand and a couple of hundred people in an audience, but cocktail parties scare the daylights out of me.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure I\u2019ll be fine, but still, I\u2019m feeling a little nervous and a whole lot like Cinderella at the ball.\u00a0 As in, \u201cThey\u2019re going to let me in, really?\u00a0 A little girl from a \u2019small mining town in the West?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
Evidently.\u00a0 The house at 16 Yuma Trail in Bisbee where I grew up is a tumble-down dump these days, but it wasn\u2019t when I was growing up there.\u00a0 In the Fifties, with access to free mine water that was being pumped out of the mines, the yard was a lush combination of green grass and heavily laden fruit trees.\u00a0 My mother spent hot August days each summer, canning quart after quart of peaches and apricots picked from our own yard.\u00a0 In addition to the ones she canned, you\u2019d better believe there were still plenty of peaches and apricots left on the trees for kids to eat if they were daring enough to climb for them.\u00a0 So back then, the house and yard were tidy and neat\u2014with no chickens wandering around either.<\/p>\n
Behind the house was a building we called \u2018the summer house’\u2014a screened-in studio apartment essentially, where more than one set of newly weds set up shop.\u00a0 But when I was a kid, on Sunday afternoons, after whatever midday feast Evie served up, I often retreated there on my own, where I would lie on the bed and make up stories\u2014super hero stories in which I often played life-saving, daring-do roles.\u00a0 That\u2019s really where I started telling stories\u2014in the summer house where I told stories to myself.<\/p>\n
But where did I learn about heroes and heroism?\u00a0 That would be from my father, Norman, who, in the pre-TV days, often read to us aloud out of his beloved, reasury of the Familiar.\u00a0 He liked the funny poems–It was Six Men of Indostan; I had but Fifty Cents. And the sad ones, too:\u00a0 The Song of the Shirt; The Wreck of the Hesperus, but my all time favorite was Horatius at the Bridge by Thomas Babington Macaulay. On those Sunday afternoons, I\u2019d sometime smuggle the book out of the house to read aloud to myself, and reading that one took more than an hour.<\/p>\n
In it, as the Tuscan army, led by Lars Porsena, marches on Rome, all the intervening cities fall, one by one.\u00a0 At last as the victorious army nears the city, the only thing lying between the frightened residents and the approaching horde is the Tiber River where there\u2019s a single bridge.\u00a0 The city fathers hold a council and decide to chop down the bridge, but the enemy\u2019s army is too close.\u00a0 That\u2019s the time when Horatius, the keeper of the gate steps up to the plate:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Then out spake brave Horatius,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Captain of the gate:<\/em><\/p>\n \u2018To every man upon this earth<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Death cometh soon or late.<\/em><\/p>\n And how can man die better<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Than facing fearful odds,<\/em><\/p>\n For the ashes of his fathers,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And the temples of his Gods,<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018And for the tender mother<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Who dandled him to rest,<\/em><\/p>\n And for the wife who nurses<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 His baby at her breast,<\/em><\/p>\n And for the holy maidens<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Who feed the eternal flame,<\/em><\/p>\n To save them from false Sextus<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That wrought the deed of shame?<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With all the speed ye may;<\/em><\/p>\n I, with two more to help me,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Will hold the foe in play.<\/em><\/p>\n In yon strait path a thousand<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 May well be stopped by three.<\/em><\/p>\n Now who will stand on either hand,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And keep the bridge with me?\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Who indeed?\u00a0 Two step up to help face down the three eager beavers from the other side who come to clear the path and fail.\u00a0 In the bloody sword battles that follow, one after another of the over-eager Etruscan attackers are cut down.\u00a0 At last, with the bridge giving way beneath their feet, the other two rush back, leaving only Brave Horatius standing on the far side of the river.\u00a0 When he\u2019s there alone, someone says, cut him down.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Alone stood brave Horatius,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But constant still in mind;<\/em><\/p>\n Thrice thirty thousand foes before,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And the broad flood behind.<\/em><\/p>\n \u2018Down with him!\u2019 cried false Sextus,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With a smile on his pale face.<\/em><\/p>\n \u2018Now yield thee,\u2019 cried Lars Porsena,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Now yield thee to our grace!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Round turned he, as not deigning<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Those craven ranks to see;<\/em><\/p>\n Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To Sextus nought spake he;<\/em><\/p>\n But he saw on Palatins<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The white porch of his home;<\/em><\/p>\n And he spake to the noble river<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That rolls by the towers of Rome.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To whom the Romans pray,<\/em><\/p>\n A Roman\u2019s life, a Roman\u2019s arms,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Take thou in charge this day!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n So he spake, and speaking sheathed<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The good sword by his side,<\/em><\/p>\n And with his harness on his back,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Plunged headlong in the tide.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n No sound of joy or sorrow<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Was heard from either bank;<\/em><\/p>\n But friends and foes in dumb surprise,<\/em><\/p>\n With parted lips and straining eyes,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Stood gazing where he sank;<\/em><\/p>\n And when above the surges<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 They saw his crest appear,<\/em><\/p>\n All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,<\/em><\/p>\n And even the ranks of Tuscany<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Could scarce forbear to cheer.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n But fiercely ran the current,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Swollen high by months of rain:<\/em><\/p>\n And fast his blood was flowing;<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And he was sore in pain,<\/em><\/p>\n And heavy with his armour,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And spent with changing blows:<\/em><\/p>\n And oft they thought him sinking,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But still again he rose.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Never, I ween, did swimmer,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In such an evil case,<\/em><\/p>\n Struggle through such a raging flood<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Safe to the landing place.<\/em><\/p>\n But his limbs were borne up bravely<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 By the brave heart within,<\/em><\/p>\n And our good father Tiber<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Bare bravely up his chin.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Curse on him!\u2019 quoth false Sextus;<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Will not the villain drown?<\/em><\/p>\n But for this stay, ere close of day<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 We should have sacked the town!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n \u2018Heaven help him!\u2019 quoth Lars Porsena,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018And bring him safe to shore;<\/em><\/p>\n For such a gallant feat of arms<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Was never seen before.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n And now he feels the bottom;<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Now on dry earth he stands;<\/em><\/p>\n Now round him throng the Fathers;<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To press his gory hands;<\/em><\/p>\n And now, with shouts and clapping,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And noise of weeping loud,<\/em><\/p>\n He enters through the River-Gate,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Borne by the joyous crowd.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n They gave him of the corn-land,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That was of public right,<\/em><\/p>\n As much as two strong oxen<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Could plough from morn till night;<\/em><\/p>\n And they made a molten image,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And set it up on high,<\/em><\/p>\n And there it stands unto this day<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To witness if I lie.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n It stands in the Comitium,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Plain for all folk to see;<\/em><\/p>\n Horatius in his harness,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 halting upon one knee:<\/em><\/p>\n And underneath is written,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In letters all of gold,<\/em><\/p>\n How valiantly he kept the bridge<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In the brave days of old.<\/em><\/p>\n When my father died, I was the one of all seven kids, who inherited Norm Busk\u2019s beloved Treasury of the Familiar.\u00a0 It\u2019s a tattered old volume, given to him some ninety years ago, and the mangled cover is held together by duct tape.<\/p>\n But tonight, when I take a 20 minute cab ride from here to the Society of Illustrators to receive my lifetime achievement award, I\u2019ll be carrying Norman Busk in my heart.\u00a0 He\u2019s the one who gave me my first taste of the world of good guys and bad guys, and that\u2019s what murder mysteries are all about\u2014good versus evil.<\/p>\n Yes, I may be scared of cocktail parties, but I\u2019ll pull myself together like brave Horatius and carry on.<\/p>\n Thank you, Gramps.\u00a0 In reading to us aloud, you gave me a precious gift, one that keeps on giving.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We are in New York City.\u00a0 In order to get here, we had a four AM wakeup call yesterday in order to catch our 7 AM flight from Seattle.\u00a0 (Yes, my friends, SeaTac is crowded at that ungodly hour of the day!)\u00a0 We got here, managed to stay up until 10 PM Eastern, went to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[53,33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1638","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-bisbee","category-books"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3nsBA-qq","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1638","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1638"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1638\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1640,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1638\/revisions\/1640"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1638"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1638"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1638"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}