The Waiting is Over

By Fran McNabb

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably already experienced the excitement of Christmas morning,

especially if you have children in the house. You still might have lots of torn wrapping paper around the Christmas tree and empty boxes where the children left them after getting their toys. Watching the excitement on a child’s face on Christmas morning makes all the stressful weeks before the holiday worthwhile.

Maybe you’re relaxing in a big chair after feasting on a traditional Christmas meal or waiting for the rest of the family to come in to enjoy a later meal together. Christmas is about family and what better way than to sit at a table together.

Every family has a different tradition as to how Christmas day will be spent. I hope whatever you choose to do with the rest of your day and the rest of the holiday week, you spend it with family and friends and find the peace and joy that Christmas should be all abo

And lastly, if you or someone you know received a Kindle or an iPad and you’re looking for some great reads, don’t forget the ladies on this blog: Susan Aylworth, Sandy Cody, Sofie Couch, Roni Denholtz, Victoria M. Johnson, Karen McCullugh, Deborah Nolan, Janis Susan May, Leigh Verrill Rhys, of course, me, Fran McNabb.

The waiting is over. Enjoy your holiday. Merry Christmas and Happy Hannakuh to you and yours. See you in 2020.

FRAN MCNABB and her husband live on a quiet harbor on the Gulf Coast. She writes sweet, traditional romances and uses her beloved Gulf Coast in many of her books. Check her out at www.FranMcNabb.com

The Point, A Place in the Heart

by Fran McNabb

 

If you’re not from my corner of the world, “The Point” probably brings up all sorts of meanings. For me and for the tightly knit group of people who grew up on the small peninsula of the Gulf Coast, the name conjures up memories from the past.

The Point, or Point Cadet as some called it, was home to several ethnic groups—Cajuns, Yugoslavians and Italians—most of whom made their living from the seafood industry. Over the years these different groups shared their traditions and food and seemed to meld together while still keeping their own traditions alive. We grew up enjoying foods from all the cultures, such as baccali, jambalaya and gumbo.

Most families had someone who worked as shrimpers or factory workers or owned neighborhood stores and cafes that catered to those families. My mother and father both were seafood workers. Dad had a shrimp boat and Mom worked on and off throughout her life in the factories. My brother and I even tried our hand at part-time work, but quickly learned that life wasn’t for us.

I love to share memories with people who grew up in that part of the world. The other day something reminded me of the “aroma” of the huge oyster shell piles on the beach. I know most people wouldn’t think of that as a good memory, but I loved it. (Thanks to Tiffany Duval for the picture. The picture comes from a time prior to my life, but the piles remained into the late 20^th C.)

I love riding down the beach today thinking about what we did as children there. I smile at the memory of our moms in their big sunhats following us children who rolled truck inner tubes through the streets to get to the beach. What fun!

Most of us lived in the same neighborhood and played with the same friends for our entire school years. It was a comfortable life—not rich in material things—but comfortable because of the familiarity of the people around us, the slow rhythms of life, and the traditions that we expected. I look at our mobile society today and realize so many young people will grow up without that experience.

 The Point was nearly wiped out by Hurricane Katrina, but though the landmarks might be gone, nothing can take those memories from our hearts.

 Everywhere in the world has its own place like “The Point.” Where is yours? Is it in upper New York, in the desserts of the southwest, or in a small town in the Midwest? No matter where the region is, I’m sure you have special memories from your past that are distinctively yours. If you do, you can count yourself as one of the lucky ones.

 

Fran McNabb grew up on “The Point.” Today she and her husband live on a quiet bayou harbor, a short distance from the area. Several of her light romances are set along the beaches and island that she and her family still enjoy. She loves to hear from readers at mcnabbf@bellsouth.net or through her website at www.FranMcNabb.com

 

A Time for Thanks

by Sandy Cody

It's that time of year again - a little less than a week until Thanksgiving - perhaps our noblest holiday. Why the noblest? Because, for one day at least, we take time to be thankful for the things we have instead of longing for the things we lack.

There's no reason for this holiday except to be thankful. We don't expect anyone to give us a gift. We don't have to shop for a special dress and the perfect shoes to compliment it. All we have to do to honor the day is count our blessings ... oh ... and cook. But even that is pretty easy compared to most special days. There's no agonizing over what to serve. The menu is dictated by tradition. In our house that means turkey with the usual accompaniments, including both pumpkin and pecan pies. It may be something different for your family, but whatever appears on your table is probably consistent from one Thanksgiving to the next. If your family is anything like mine, the mere suggestion of something different is enough to prompt lifted eyebrows and silent, disbelieving stares - certainly not gratitude for trying to add a little originality to the holiday. At best, the response would be: "Thanks, but no thanks."

I guess this wouldn't be a Thanksgiving post if I didn't list at least some of the things for which I am most thankful: my family; my health and the health of the people I love; plenty of food; a warm, comfortable home; freedom to worship, think and speak according to my conscience. I started to write that I know these are the same things for which we are all thankful, but it occurs to me that would not be true. Far too many people lack some or even all of these blessings. If I'm honest, I have to admit that I have these things, at least in part, because of an accident of birth, not because of any special merit on my part. And for that accident, I am most thankful.

This has turned out to be more serious than I intended. Sometimes that just happens. The words take over and spill out serious thoughts.

I hope all of you have a seriously Happy Thanksgiving. May you spend the day surrounded by people you love and may the day be the perfect mixture of serious gratitude and silly laughter.