Official Blog of Kristy Gherlone

Monthly Archives: August 2017

• Those Hometown Feelings

  Posted at 10:43 am by writergherlone, on August 29, 2017

  

  Those Hometown Feelings

  By Kristy Gherlone

   

  Recently, my husband and I made the long trek back to my home town in northern Maine. We try to make the trip once or twice a year and each time, I find myself battling a wide range of emotions.

  When I was a child, the town was a booming, bustling city that looked like it had been dropped smack dab into the middle of a sea of wilderness. Great Northern Paper Company owned the mill there and most of the forests surrounding it. Nearly everyone worked at the mill. The salaries provided were enough so that most people had a house in town, and a camp on one of the lakes, two cars per household, and yearly vacations.

  We had three elementary schools, a middle school, and a high school. We had an enormous recreational area with a football field, a hockey rink (with warming house), a regular skating rink, tennis courts, a track field, several playgrounds, a golf course, and a large outdoor town pool. The high school had an auditorium worthy of a Boston theatre company. Two or three times a year, we would all settle into the plush, red upholstered and reclining seats, and there, as the lights dimmed, and the curtains drew aside to reveal a spacious stage, we would watch the plays put on by the Millinocket Theatre Company, or the high school drama club. We had a movie theatre, and a bowling alley. We had department stores too, and multiple restaurants.

  We had all of those things, plus our town was cradled by mountain ranges and lakes so beautiful, I couldn’t do them justice with words. Our forest neighborhood offered mountain climbs, boating, swimming, skiing, hiking, snow- mobiling…you name it! We had Baxter State Park and Katahdin, where the Appalachian Trail ends.  We were rich in every sense, but not immune to hardship. We were a close- knit community, connected by so many things, and separated by very little. We struggled through harsh winters and forest fires. Through tragic deaths and illnesses. We spent years laughing and crying together. It was a town where you really knew each other and everyone’s family.  It is a place, that when I visit, I still see people I know in every corner. It’s both a comfort and a heartache.

  After Great Northern sold, the mill began to shut down in stages. People I had known my whole life had to pack it up and move away. Stores closed, one by one. While my town still has some of the things I mentioned, it’s a struggle, I know, to keep them going. I have history there, and not all of it is good, so when I arrive, I find myself riddled with feelings. My town has changed. I have changed.

  My mother sold the camp I spent all my summers at.  Some of my family still lives in town, but most of us don’t speak. Instead of staying with them, my husband and I stay at a hotel. It makes me sad that I can’t give him some of the wonderful experiences I had when I lived there and that he doesn’t know some of the people that used to be a big part of my life.

  My Dad is buried there. His grave sits on the top of a grassy hill, overlooking the mill; the place where he worked for over forty years and probably helped to hasten his demise. He’s alongside people he’d known and worked with his whole life. When I visit, I can hear him speaking to me, “Why are you wasting your time visiting me? I’m not really here, you jar head! I’m up in heaven, so stop blubbering and go have some fun!”

  He’s half- right. It’s not a waste of time to sit in remembrance of things loved, but lost, just so long as you don’t dwell there.  It’s important to make new memories. The forests are still there. Baxter State Park and the Appalachian Trail are still there. My old fishing spots still hold trout. We even have some new things in town, like the ATV Trails. So, my husband and I will continue to go back. Hopefully, someday, he will turn to me and laugh, “Do you remember that time we…” And I will smile when I look back on how much fun he and I had in my new- old hometown.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged familyfriendly, hometown, maine, mountains, nonfiction, nostalgia, shortstory

• Sunfish Type of Gal

  Posted at 1:16 pm by writergherlone, on August 26, 2017

  

  Sunfish Type Of Gal

  by Kristy Gherlone

  Living in the woods, like I did for many years, I found myself a frequent observer of nature. There was really no way to avoid it because once I stepped outside our brown, boxy camp, I was as much a part of my surroundings as they were of me. The sights and smells left imprints on my psyche and I learned lessons that will stay with me forever.

  Our lake and the surrounding forest held many fascinations. There were giant snapping turtles lurking around in the cove. Fish and baby duck stealing monsters that would poke their muddy green heads out of the water and skulk around brooding. I swore they were stalking me. Just waiting for me to dip a toe in so they could bite it off.

  There were several mating pairs of loons. The calls they made through the night could be both a comfort and a fright. Their cries lulled me to sleep as I lay on the swinging bed my dad made for me in the cozy loft. However, if I was awoken in the middle of the night, they sounded like ghosts! Eerie wails of long dead woodsmen that would haunt my dreams if I was able to get back to sleep.

  When I looked through the binoculars from the screened front porch, which I often did, I could spy bull moose on the far shore. Their giant antlered heads would be all the way underwater chomping on aquatic plants. Just when I thought they’d surely die of suffocation, they’d emerge.  Lily pads dangled like Christmas ornaments from their velvety racks.

  Often, I’d take to the forest. I’d wander off, far enough away from the camp that I couldn’t see it, but not far enough so that I couldn’t still smell the wood smoke puffing from the chimney. Just past the pines, through the birches and over the rows of enormous rocks left behind by glaciers, there was a clearing that held a bog. In mid-summer, it was lush and full of green plant life. Yellow lily flowers opened on the surface during the day and clammed shut at night. There were frogs in there, but they were hard to catch. The water was deep and the bottom was too squishy. I once got my shoe stuck in the muck and I never did find it. It’s probably still there to this day.

  If ever I got too bored, I’d head back down to the lake. I’d lay on my belly, draped over the faded and warped pine dock, peek into the shallow water, and look for sunfish nests. They were easy to spot. They’d be the only clean areas dotting the pulpy, dark bottom.
  The female fish crafted large, round circles of sand that looked like the sunshine had come out on a rainy day down there. They were interesting, and I learned a thing or two in all those years of watching.

  Sunfish girls were jealous and possessive. They didn’t like outsiders, and everything and everybody that wasn’t like them was a threat that should be run off quickly. They had an inherent need to protect what they felt was theirs. They’d socialize with their own kind only. The yellow perch, all tiger striped and sleek, would sneak in and try to play with them, but the sunfish wouldn’t have it. They’d chase them off, pecking at them viciously and swishing their tails to shoo them away. I felt bad for the perch as they swam away looking very dejected.

  The sunfish were industrious, spending hours cleaning their own houses. Picking up and spitting out what didn’t belong. I’d test them by dropping tiny stones in the middle of their order. They’d pick them up and move them out immediately. In my often, curious youth, tragedy would occur on occasion. Larger stones would slip from my fingers and go splashing down into their lairs. In no time at all, other sun fish would be called in to help. Everyone would work together to restore what was lost, if it could be (sorry!) As soon as it was done though, everyone would be booted out again.  It seemed they mostly only wanted company when it was to their benefit.

  Sunfish were pretty. Purple finned and red bellied beauties. They had nothing to be jealous about, but it seemed they couldn’t help it. Sometimes they would school up and swim together. They appeared cordial enough to each other, but God forbid if one tried to take something another wanted!

  I’ve known some girls like sunfish in my lifetime. I’m sure you have too. I’ve been on the receiving end of the shoo away from time to time, and it hurt, but I always tried to apply my nature observations for comfort. People really aren’t so different, after all.

  I learned, by watching the fish as much as I did, that they were too self- centered to give you a second thought just as soon as you were out of sight (or threat zone). Their thoughts always turned back to themselves and their needs. I like that. It means less gossip!

  I learned that they often end up alone, living a sad and lonely life, while the others are out having a blast.

  While few other fish are as pretty, looks don’t mean anything if you aren’t fun to be around. There are definitely cooler fish in the lake to hang with!

   

  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged camp, familyfriendly, fish, nature, shortstory, sunfish

• Daddy’s Coat

  Posted at 4:19 pm by writergherlone, on August 19, 2017

  

   

  Daddy’s Coat

  by Kristy Gherlone

   

  “Mom, you gave me an extra again,” Katie said as she placed the last setting at the table, only to realize she still had a plate in her hand.
  She glanced briefly, but painfully, towards her dad’s chair. Her heart squeezed at the sight. His olive colored winter coat, puffy with downy feathers still hung over the back as if at any moment he’d be coming in to put it on.
  “Just habit, I guess. I’m sorry. Bring it here,” her mom said.
  Katie, lost in a memory, didn’t hear her.
  **
  “What do you want for Christmas daddy?” Katie, at fifteen, had asked her dad that year. She’d taken a part time job a few weeks before, and was proud that she’d finally be able to purchase the gifts for Christmas all on her own.
  She didn’t know, at the time, how tight her parents’ budget was, and what a relief it was for them. She couldn’t know. Her dad never deprived her of anything and never let on how much he went without sometimes.
  “Oh, I don’t know. How about a tin of those peach blossoms I like?”
  “But daddy, I meant a real gift. I always get you candy. I want to get you something you really want.”
  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want you spending your money on me. Save it up! Get yourself something special,” he’d said, ruffling her hair as he headed off for work.
  She’d had to ask her mom later what he wanted.
  “Well, you know… there’s this coat he’s been wanting. He saw it in the Sears and Roebucks. Said it looked real warm. Supposed to be filled with goose feathers or some foolishness, but don’t worry about it. His coat’ll do another year. That one’s too expensive, in my opinion. Ninety-nine dollars!” Her mother clucked and shook her head.
  Katie knew the coat he had been wearing was dangerously worn out. Many years of harsh Maine winters and several dozen washings had left it thin and faded, but he never complained no matter how cold it got. He used to say, ‘I’m tough I is I am I are, and when I’m mad I spits tar.’ It used to make Katie giggle when she was little, and her eyes roll when she got older.
  He probably could have bought a new coat the year before with the money he had in savings, but Katie had needed braces.
  “Ninety-nine dollars?” Katie asked nervously. She had one hundred and fifty saved up. Ninety-nine was a lot of money… Nearly all of her Christmas budget.
  “Yeah. That’s why I said don’t worry about it. He’ll manage.”

  Her mom had married him when Katie was just eight years old, so he wasn’t her real dad then. He’d only become he real dad by the way he treated her, and by the way her heart felt about him. He became as real as anyone else’s. They’d been so poor before. Never enough food, or anything else for that matter.  He’d taken them in, and treated her like she was his very own daughter. That first Christmas he’d bought her every single thing she’d scribbled down on her list. She knew he wanted her to know how loved she was and that she’d never have to worry again.
  Katie went off in search of the catalogue and looked it up. It was nice. It was rated to forty-five below. He could use that, working outside like he did a lot of the time. He was getting old. His hair, gone gray years before, had thinned to unmanageable wisps, and his hands, all gnarly from arthritis, could barely hold a wrench anymore. She knew the cold bothered him, though he’d never admit it.
  Katie studied the picture again.
  Ninety-nine dollars! She sucked in her breath. It was a lot of money. There were so many things she could buy with that!

  Without any more hesitation, Katie called the number on the catalogue.
  Christmas morning, she watched as he opened the big brown box. She’d never seen him cry before, but as he unwrapped the tissue paper and pulled the coat out of the box, his eyes were misty. He choked up as he reached over to hug and thank her.
  He wore that coat every winter day until the last one, and every time he put it on, he’d say the same thing, “Boy oh boy this is a nice coat. So sturdy and warm.”

  **
  “Katie! I said bring it here!” Her mom’s voice, tinged with annoyance, brought her back to the present.
  Katie snapped to and handed the plate back to her mother.
  She turned around and went over to her dad’s chair. She ran her hand over the soft fabric of the coat. She lifted it up and held it to her nose, breathing in deeply.
  It smelled of tobacco and mint. Of wood shavings and oil. There was a whiff of coffee and just a hint of cologne. Everything that was her dad was captured in that coat. There were a thousand memories wrapped up in there; of him pulling her on the sled, the year he taught her to drive a snow mobile, that fall he took her hunting, and of him chopping down countless Christmas trees. The threads that ran through the length of that coat, holding it together, were like the threads of their relationship. Sturdy. Just like her love for him would always be, even though he was gone.
  “I can put it away in the closet if it will make you feel any better,” her mom said.
  “No, don’t!” Katie said quickly. After all, she liked to pretend too.

  There would always be a place at the table, even if only in their memories

  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged childhood, family, familyfriendly, fiction, flashfiction, shortstory, stepdad

• Harvey

  Posted at 1:17 pm by writergherlone, on August 12, 2017

  

   

  Harvey

  by Kristy Gherlone

   

  Harvey had been waiting all year for the snow to come again.  He’d overheard the birds whispering icy secrets to each other for days, so he knew it would be soon.  He shivered with anticipation, shaking the last of the stubborn, cranky leaves to the pavement.  They skittered away, alarmed to be so suddenly homeless.  He watched through the night, stretching his limbs from time to time to ease his creaking trunk and to test the air.  Just as the first sliver of light peeked over the horizon, he heard one tiny flake giggle as it swam through the air.  He reached out to grab it before the morning warmth could steal it away, and gently tucked it into the crook of his branch.  He captured as many as he could, lovingly placing them in his care until his arms ached under the strain.  His nearby friends danced and shook in the wind trying to rid themselves of the tiny offenders, but not Harvey.  He’d waited a long time.  He wanted to keep them for as long as he could.

   

  *Also, my new story, Ice Cream or Moxie, is now available at Shortfictionbreak.com!

  Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments | Tagged familyfriendly, microfiction, shortstory, snow, trees, winter

• The History Lottery (excerpt)

  Posted at 12:39 pm by writergherlone, on August 8, 2017

  This is a busy time of year for magazine submissions and contests. Please accept my apologies for the dwindling posts, as I have been working on completing my short story selections.

  Be sure to look for “Ice Cream or Moxie,” in Short Fiction Break this Friday, August 11, and the entire version of “The Falls”, coming up in the print version of Wild Women’s Medicine Circle Journal.

  For today: Here is an excerpt from one of my novels, which you can find on Amazon and Barnes & Noble:

  This novel has had excellent reviews and is a favorite with my readers.

   

  “Maize Getchell was just ten years old the night she went missing from the small town of Carlton, New Hampshire, where she lived with her father, Raymond Getchell, former Chief of Police. Rachael Somes, a clerk at the store from which Maize was taken, was only nineteen when she was shot and killed that same night by the man who is presumed to have taken Maize.”

  Raymond turned up the volume, put the footrest up on his chair, and took a giant swig of his beer. It always caught him right in the gut every time he saw a picture of her. It took his breath away. He’d chosen the picture to be shown every year. It was his favorite. She’d been caught in mid-laugh. He loved the way her nose had wrinkled in that way, and the way the sun caught the highlights in her orange-blonde hair. She had a lot of her mother in her. It was a picture he’d taken of her on their trip to the beach the summer before she went missing. The last vacation he’d had with her. She’d told him that it had been the best vacation of her life.

  “On April sixteenth, seven years ago tomorrow, Maize was taken from Beale’s Hillside Convenience at approximately eight o’clock in the evening by an unknown man. She would have been seventeen this year.”

  The news played a brief clip from a surveillance video that had been shot from outside of the gas station. They paused the frame on the abductor, but it wasn’t a clear shot.

  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged fiction, government, grief, loss, lottery, love, murder, mystery, novel

• Mother Earth

  Posted at 6:14 pm by writergherlone, on August 3, 2017

  

   

  Mother Earth

  Micro fiction by Kristy Gherlone

   

  Pleased with what she had created, Mother Earth wanted to rest for a while and admire her beautiful children.

  They climbed all over her, showering her face with sweet-scented kisses, so happy to have her near. She sang lullabies to settle them as they clamored for a place closest to her heart.

  “No need to fight, dear ones,” she whispered.  “You ARE my heart.”

   

  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged childfriendly, earth, microfiction, nature, shortstory

• Arts and Crafts!

  Posted at 11:18 am by writergherlone, on August 2, 2017

  

   

  If you are a writer, or even if you’re not, taking a break from your everyday work schedule, once in a while, is a good thing.  For me, my break is making something that is not written on paper… Cover letters, Bio’s, submissions and most often, rejections can wear on my soul.  Nothing helps my anxiety, or soothes my mind better than working with my hands. Sitting at the table with a project is the most relaxing thing I have found and I try to take on a new one every few months. Painting on rocks is something I can do inside, on rainy days.  These are just a few of what I have done:

  

  

  

  The last set of stones, shown here, I made for my grandson. It’s part of a bigger project that was a blast!  He has had hours of fun playing in his special in-the-garden play area.

  

   

  

  

  And of course, he wanted one for his own house, so I immediately began another. This time, he chose Peppa Pig and dinosaurs as his theme.

  

  

  And by no stretch of the imagination could anyone consider me a talented painter. I have zero imagination when it comes to drawing. Usually, I have to look at a picture and that’s what I did for these. Painting on rocks is difficult, so I use the fantastic marker paints. However, I found with those, the paint does not weather well. I had to re-do them with weather proof paint after the first season.

  My grandson also needed a couple of step stools so he could brush his teeth all by himself. I made one for my house and one for his. For this project, I needed a bit of help from my husband.

  

  

  Every time he gets up on these stairs, he traces over each character with his chubby little finger and recites each character. He loves these steps and it makes me so happy!

  

  He and Sassafras love the ones at my house!

  A much bigger project that I’m proud to say I did on my own, was a walk way to my favorite shed. This was not an original idea, but one I found on the internet. It was something I could sit down to do, and it was required as each of the flowers in the path were hand created. It took days to build but I’m happy with how it came out.

  

  

  I used a special stone dust that has glue in it to keep the stones in place. Admittedly, a few still get kicked around and so I find myself trying to fit them back in like a puzzle.

  Another thing I’ll show you was something I also saw on the internet. My kids were visiting and wanted to do a project. All I had for raw materials was a couple of old pallets and a busted up water bed. We looked it up and came up with this:

  

  

  

  A pool bar! My most favorite thing! And to think we made it from pallets! Crazy!

  

  This adult sized sit and spin was a Christmas gift for my grown daughter. She had always wanted one as a child and for one reason or another, didn’t get one. I made this last year with the help of my husband and let me tell you….it’s so much fun! We have all played with it numerous times. I’d show you a picture of her on it, but she would be mad! We made it with pre-cut pine rounds(Lowe’s) and a lazy Susan that I bought for $11.00 on Amazon.

  Not all projects need to be so time consuming. Some are just thrown together when the holiday or season calls for something creative. I did this from something else I saw. Next Halloween I’m going to do it a little differently, as the full size flower clumps are hard to stuff into the buckets.

  

  So that is just some of what I have been up to besides writing. I would love to know if you also find the time to make things! I would love to see and hear about your hobbies.

  Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments | Tagged arts, crafts, hobbies, paiting, projects

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