My 2014 Guests; My Father.
April 2014 saw many wonderful authors being interviewed on the blog. They were kind enough to submit to my many questions and my regular question--if you were a plant in the next life, what would you be, and why?
You can find their posts thus:
Astrid Amara, author of "The Archer's Heart" and "The Devil Lancer." She would also like to be a "dandelion in the next life. Normal, resilient, and annoying."
Xina Marie Uhl, author of "Necropolis". She would like to be "some sort of long-lived and majestic tree. How about an ancient bristlecone pine? I love how twisted and gnarly strangely beautiful they are."
Skylar M. Cates, author of "The Guy From Glamour" and "Exposed". She would be "A wild blackberry bush. I like the idea of growing fruit."
Cate Ashwood, author of the Hope Cove Trilogy and "Keeping Sweets". She would be an "eggplant? I currently look a lot like an eggplant with legs!"
Zathyn Priest, author of "Amara: The Rebirth". He would be a "rose bush with dark red blooms. Dark red because it's bold and represents my Goth side. The plant because they're beautiful, but they're also tough and you don't want to mess with them. They'll get you with their thorns, making you sorry if you try!"
Rick R. Reed, author of "Obsessed", "Dinner at Home", and "Legally Wed". He would be "Cannabis, so I could help people relax...and laugh."
Meredith Shayne, author of "Metal Heart" and "Equilibrium". She would be "Mint. It’s tasty, it smells nice, and it takes over everywhere it grows. World domination through botany."
Raine O'Tierney, author of "Sweet Giordan, Please Remember." She would be "a Maypop because they are so unique and they remind me of good times in my childhood with my PawPaw."
In news not related to books or writing, April also saw quite a sad event in my life and the lives of my family. My father died on April 5. He had been ill for some time, but it was still quite a shock to all of us. He died only a few weeks shy of his 97th birthday.
My father was born in 1917 in Paris, France. He was always the most French Frenchman I'd ever met, and in his life he'd done a lot--lived in Casablanca, Morocco, after World War Two, where his first wife gave birth to my brother John; worked for His Masters Voice in Quebec, Canada; repaired transistor radios for the French Resistance in World War Two; emigrated to Australia in 1967 with his two youngest children and his first wife. She was killed in a tragic accident in 1968, the victim of a hit-run driver.
My father met my mother several years later, and they got married and had me. I remember him always being full of life, vim and vigor, even though he was not particularly tall, he always seemed to be something of a giant in my eyes. He did some work as an electrician in the pre-digital era, and later, he assisted at the French Consulate office in Adelaide. He had always wanted to visit the South Pacific, but never realised that dream. He was honoured by the French government with the Ordre National de Merite medal for services during World War Two.
My parents divorced when I was 16, and while it wasn't amicable at first, they did become friends after a few years. Dad remarried after several years, and was always active in the local French community and his churchlife. He had many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and was proud of them all.
Our relationship may not always have been super happy joy joy--I do have his love of arguing, and we argued about many things, most of the time those arguments ended in laughter and joking--but I will miss him and I will feel his absence for a good long time.
He would have been 97, today, the 1st May, 2014.
Rest in peace, dad. I hope the cafe au lait in the next life is to your liking.
xXx
This is my dad. Him as a young man, in his twenties; him with me as a toddler, in 1974; and him and me at his 90th birthday, in 2007.
You can find their posts thus:
In news not related to books or writing, April also saw quite a sad event in my life and the lives of my family. My father died on April 5. He had been ill for some time, but it was still quite a shock to all of us. He died only a few weeks shy of his 97th birthday.
My father was born in 1917 in Paris, France. He was always the most French Frenchman I'd ever met, and in his life he'd done a lot--lived in Casablanca, Morocco, after World War Two, where his first wife gave birth to my brother John; worked for His Masters Voice in Quebec, Canada; repaired transistor radios for the French Resistance in World War Two; emigrated to Australia in 1967 with his two youngest children and his first wife. She was killed in a tragic accident in 1968, the victim of a hit-run driver.
My father met my mother several years later, and they got married and had me. I remember him always being full of life, vim and vigor, even though he was not particularly tall, he always seemed to be something of a giant in my eyes. He did some work as an electrician in the pre-digital era, and later, he assisted at the French Consulate office in Adelaide. He had always wanted to visit the South Pacific, but never realised that dream. He was honoured by the French government with the Ordre National de Merite medal for services during World War Two.
My parents divorced when I was 16, and while it wasn't amicable at first, they did become friends after a few years. Dad remarried after several years, and was always active in the local French community and his churchlife. He had many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and was proud of them all.
Our relationship may not always have been super happy joy joy--I do have his love of arguing, and we argued about many things, most of the time those arguments ended in laughter and joking--but I will miss him and I will feel his absence for a good long time.
He would have been 97, today, the 1st May, 2014.
Rest in peace, dad. I hope the cafe au lait in the next life is to your liking.
xXx
This is my dad. Him as a young man, in his twenties; him with me as a toddler, in 1974; and him and me at his 90th birthday, in 2007.