In the 1930s there were only 4,000 places you could by books in the United States. Fewer than 500 were actually bookstores. In the 40s, bookstores began to be more popular. During World War II with other commodities in short supply and available cash, people bought more books than ever. The popular Book-of-the-Month Club shipped its 100 millionth book in 1949. Consumers were catching on to the hobby that once belonged to the elite class in cities, and more middle class towns opened bookstores. Customers perused the shelves, read, visited friends at the book store, and savvy shopkeepers started book discussion groups to keep them coming in. Then came urban sprawl. The hardware store, the bakery and all the other special places on Main Street USA moved to the outskirts of town to nondescript strip malls, where they could be seen as new and modern. It was the 50s; new and modern were in vogue. Book stores held on, dust lay on the shelves and mildew crept across the fabric covers of favorite books, cherished by two generations or more. By the 60s, the pillars of business on Main Street were crumbling; the retail revolution had begun. Retire, sell, close, or move. Those were the limited options for the small business owners on small town main streets. The bookstores were in the shadows. When the 70s blew through, many small towns weren’t looking too healthy. Outside the towns the newly incorporated Wal-mart Stores, Inc., were bringing out shoppers who were learning a new past time, shopping. Families who spent evenings together at home reading, now had a new place to hang out, open long hours to accommodate shift workers. Avid readers discovered they could buy discounted books at their wonderful new Wal-mart Store. The small book stores lost their customers. Many closed their doors in the 80s. In the 90s, large chain bookstores made appearances in malls around the country boasting bigger is better, forcing the closure of even more small bookstores. In 1996, when Oprah Winfrey began her popular book club on TV, there were 12,363 bookstores in America. Between 2000 and 2007, more than 1,000 bookstores closed. Today there are 10,800 independent bookstores in our country. Their largest competitors are no longer the large chains, many of whom have also closed. The largest competitors now are online sales. The surviving bookstores have gotten more aggressive, more out-front, more creative, and their health seems to have stabilized. Next Saturday is independent book store day called Indie Saturday, or Indie Book Day or Indie Go-Go Day. Whatever your local bookstore calls it, support it. They need the loyalty of every writer, reader and consumer. Find an Indie book store next Saturday and go buy a book. If you are near Elizabeth City, NC, come to Page After Page Bookstore. They have a special day planned with food, music and authors signing books and reading to children. I’ll be there. What Indie Bookstore will you visit, support and appreciate?
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COMING OUT Friends, Romans and Country Men, this is it. This is the week I’m coming out. Out of the closet, out of the cocoon, out of the last century. I’m about to become Thoroughly Modern Me. What happened in San Antonio should probably stay in San Antonio, but I’m about to admit to the whole sordid affair.
I spent some time with the new Social Media Specialist for Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, my publisher. I’m doing things I never wanted to do. Using vulgar sounding words like “apps,” and “downloads,” and “hash tags.” I’ve learned my handle, now, so next time you ask me, I can give you my handle and you won’t have to call me by my name anymore. My little pink telephone, which I’ve always referred to as my car phone because that’s where it stays, is now part of my body. And she’s officially my phone. That’s in case y’all need me 24/7. I’d advise you, though, if it’s really an emergency, call 911. You may get some unusual “notifications” from #Deanna this week. I’ve promised him I would practice and improve my proficiency this week. And I will…as soon as I can figure out how to mail them to you. I do still have a stash of postage stamps should it come to that. By the end of the day today, Monday, I will be home in the mountains and I can begin my barrage of notifications to an unsuspecting cyber world. I’m not sure this affair will last. I’ll take full responsibility for the breakup. Understanding the Alamo I’d seen the iconic pictures of The Alamo and of course, the John Wayne versions. So I was surprised to learn that The Alamo isn’t a little gray ancient stone façade with a little dome on top. That would be the church of the Franciscan mission, San Antonio de Valero, the oldest of San Antonio’s five missions built in 1750s. The mission was a large rectangular compound with walls surrounding houses, store houses, and places of work, and, of course, the little church, which still had no roof when the mission closed in 1793.
The Spanish army, the Alamo Company, moved into the vacated mission, and gave it the new name. In 1821, when Mexico declared its independence from Spain, the Mexican residents stayed put. By the time of the Texas Revolution in 1835, this compound was known as The Alamo. It was this large compound that the Texans defended, and died for the cause of Texas Liberty. Texas became the 28th state in 1845, and the arrival of the United States Army brought prosperity to the area. In 1850, the little church finally got a roof and the rounded parapet over the door was built by the Army, which used the barracks and the warehouses and created a depot. It’s interesting to see this famous antiquity sitting dead center in the middle of the modern busy city of San Antonio. I imagined it along the edge of the desert with cactuses. But, the Alamo compound was there before the city. As the town grew and prospered it grew outward from this compound that was once a walled mission. The city has done a wonderful job of preserving, maintaining, and protecting this structure while millions of Americans wander through it every day. Step into the damp musty enclosure and you walk into 260 years of history. If you’ve not seen this national treasure, put it on your must-see. Universality of the Church From the time I first began studying religions back in college, one of the aspects of Catholicism that intrigued me was the universality of the Church. Since becoming Catholic, I’ve been privileged to attend Mass in several different countries where other languages were spoken, and yet I could participate fully. It was always the same. The Mass doesn’t depend on local custom or an interpretation.
Easter Sunday in Dallas, Texas, I was reminded of this universality when we attended Saint Michael the Archangel Church with our Filipino friends. When we arrived at the church we noticed the pillars of the porte-cochere were wrapped in decoration that at first I thought were African. Then I decided they might be Native American. But when I saw some people wearing Ethnic costumes decorated with seashells, I thought maybe indigenous Hawaiian, or could they be Filipino? There are many Filipinos in the Dallas area. The music began, unlike any I’ve ever heard. It was loud, resonating with an unusual beat which I decided must be African. A large acapella choir singing in this strange language and rhythm was an amazing sound. The Mass was completely familiar; it was, of course, the same order of the Mass. The priest, I believe, was from India. Our priest at home is also, and very difficult to understand. But the music… After Mass I cornered an usher and asked him about the choir. Was this a visiting group on tour in the U. S.? Where are they from? He looked a bit confused by my question until he realized I was a visitor. The choir is their normal choir made up of parishioners who happen to be Samoan. The area of the city known as Ules, has a large population from Samoa. Ules also has a great football team, he told me, as the Samoans are large strong people. This is a huge church by any standard, but since my own home parish is extremely small, it seemed enormous to me. I looked around and saw what looked like a UNICEF poster of all God’s diverse and beautiful children praying as one. In the pew in front of us a woman signed for her deaf husband. Behind us a squealing toddler, Hispanic, made his get-away. Old and young, in a wide variety of hues, all Easter People, we listened together to music that came from half-way around the world to sing praise and alleluia to God of us all on this glad Easter morning. A wonderful gift to begin the Easter Season. Stations of the Cross XIII and XIV God of power and mercy, in love you sent your Son that we might be cleansed of sin and live with you forever. Bless us as we gather to reflect on his suffering and death that we may learn from his example the way we should go. We ask this through that same Christ, our Lord.
Stations of the Cross XIII and XIV Jesus is Taken Down From the Cross What tender mourning! Jesus’s lifeless body lies in his mother’s arms. He has truly died. A profound sacrifice, complete. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. I behold the scene at the foot of the cross. I contemplate touching, caressing his body. I remember all his hands have touched, all who have been blessed by his warm embrace. I pause to let it soak in. He knows the mystery of death. He has fallen into God’s hands. For me. That I might love as I have been loved. I pour out my heart to the God of all mercies. Jesus is Laid in the Tomb They take the body of Jesus to its resting place. The huge stone over the tomb is the final sign of the permanence of death. In this final act of surrender, who would have imagined this tomb would soon be empty or that Jesus would show himself alive to his disciples, or that they would recognize him in the breaking of bread? Oh, that our hearts might burn within us, as we realize how he had to suffer and die so as to enter into his glory, for us. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. I pause to contemplate this act of closure on his life. In solidarity with all humanity, his body is taken to its grave. I stand for a moment outside this tom. This final journey of his life has shown me the meaning of his gift of himself for me. This tomb represent every tomb I stand before with fear, in defeat, struggling to believe it could ever be empty. In the fullness of faith in the Risen One, given by his own Holy Spirit, I express my gratitude for this way of the cross. I ask Jesus whose hands, feet and side still bear the signs of this journey to grant me the graces I need to take up my cross to be a servant of his own mission. Scripture: Mark 15; Matthew 27: 57-60; Mark 16:42-47 Music Meditation: Were You There? https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=yfp-t-s&p=were+you+there+when+they+crucified+my+lord#id=7&vid=2bcd29ebea4aa0212b163ac1dbc72335&action=view Stations of the Cross XII: Jesus Dies on the Cross God of power and mercy, in love you sent your Son that we might be cleansed of sin and live with you forever. Bless us as we gather to reflect on his suffering and death that we may learn from his example the way we should go. We ask this through that same Christ, our Lord.
Station of the Cross XII Jesus Dies on the Cross Between two criminals, a mocking title above his head, with only Mary and John and Mary Magdalene to support him Jesus surrenders his last breath: “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. I stand there, at the foot of the cross, side by side with all of humanity, and behold our salvation. I carefully watch and listen to all that is said. And then, I experience the one who gives life pass from life to death, for me. I console Mary and John and Mary. And let them console me. This is the hour to express the deepest feelings within me. Scripture: Luke 23 Music Meditation: Now We Remain https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RR6UqcYa_rc Station of the Cross XI: Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross God of power and mercy, in love you sent your Son that we might be cleansed of sin and live with you forever. Bless us as we gather to reflect on his suffering and death that we may learn from his example the way we should go. We ask this through that same Christ, our Lord.
Station of the Cross XI Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross Huge nails are hammered through his hands and feet to fix him on the cross. He is bleeding much more seriously now. As the cross is lifted up, the weight of his life hangs on those nails. Every time he struggles to pull himself up to breathe, his ability to cling to life slips away. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. I make myself watch the nails being driven through his flesh. And I watch his face. I contemplate the completeness of his entry into our lives. Can there be any pain or agony he would not understand? This is for me. Nailed to a cross to forevr proclaim liverty to captives. What sorrow and gritude fill my heart! Scripture: Luke 23:33 Music Meditation: Old Rugged Cross https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=yfp-t-s&p=old+rugged+cross+youtube#id=2&vid=4cd84f90be9a4bdc7cf68f1227c7eb9b&action=click Station of the Cross X: Jesus is stripped God of power and mercy, in love you sent your Son that we might be cleansed of sin and live with you forever. Bless us as we gather to reflect on his suffering and death that we may learn from his example the way we should go. We ask this through that same Christ, our Lord.
Station of the Cross X Jesus is stripped Part of the indignity is to be crucified naked. Jesus is completely stripped of any pride. The wounds on his back are torn open again. He experiences the ultimate vulnerability of the defenseless. No shield or security protects him. As they stare at him, his eyes turn to heaven. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. I pause to watch the stripping. I contemplate all that is taken from him. And how he faces his death with such nakedness. I reflect upon how much of himself he has revealed to me. Holding nothing back. As I look at him in his humility, I know that this is for me, and I share my feelings of gratitude. Scripture: Matthew 27 Music Meditation: Via Dolorosa https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=yfp-t-s&p=old+rugged+cross+youtube#id=2&vid=4cd84f90be9a4bdc7cf68f1227c7eb9b&action=click |
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Author Deanna lives in the inner-coastal area of Eastern North Carolina in historic Edenton. She belongs to a local bookclub, SCBWI, Catholic Writers Guild, ACFW, NCWN and other writing groups. Categories |