Pickwick Is Ready

My darling cat Pickwick is always ready for a picnic. He’s excited about this book because he thinks it’s about him and food. Also, he wants to play in the box when my author copies arrive. 

Advertisements

The Best Present Ever!

My editor sent me this present: 

Photo of new books

I’ve got mail!

And I opened it:

The Two Mutch Sisters, Spring 2018 | The Pickwicks’ Picnic, September 2017 | Clarion (both)


Did I mention I love my editor?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Even little Talia was excited, until I came over to take her picture:

Get down off the table, Lil T.


The takeaway is this: No matter what happens in this world, it’s a comfort to think of the innocence and wonder of children and childhood. And cats. 

Shaking the Family Tree

W-4hen you shake my family tree, a few nuts fall out. Case in point: My great uncle Arza. He worked in a traveling vaudeville-style show in the early 20th century. Here he is, far left, dressed as a clown, complete with doggy. I bet the dog did tricks.

Arza_Circus

I don’t know much about the photo or the troupe, but this picture must be over 100 years old. Arza died in March, 1977, at the age of 91.

That photo sits on our fireplace mantel, along with this one of him posing with his partner Schlosser (the other guy in clown costume above) with guitar and mandolin. His last name was Killey, but apparently he went by “Kelly” in show business:

File Jul 31, 5 55 50 PM

“Schlosser & Kelly, Musical Team” My great uncle Arza Killey, right. 

(I don’t know about you, but I think the stringed instruments in the two photos are the same ones.)

I wish I could tell you more about Arza’s colorful life, but when I knew him he was quite elderly and being cared for by my much younger grandmother. He never married. He and my Uncle Glen, who also traveled with the show, were members of the Elks, a fraternal organization founded by theatrical types. One time, Glen and Arza “fixed” a dent in their car by welding a piece of sheet metal over it. They were always doing crazy things like that, but that’s about all I know. Every time Arza tried to tell us a story about his life, his sister, my grandmother, would interrupt him with “oh, these kids don’t want to hear your old stories.” But we did. We did.