If you’ve visited the “About Christy” page of my website or read my blog post, “The Birth of a Book,” you know I give my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Olson, credit for inspiring me to become a writer.
A year ago, I inquired about her to a reporter at my hometown’s newspaper, the Thief River Falls Times. That wonderful reporter knew who I was talking about and connected me with Mrs. Olson.
Mrs. Olson and I talked on the phone a couple of times, but the excitement grew as I told her of our trip to Minnesota.
I told her I would love to speak to students where my dad taught school and she went to work.
Soon, I was in contact with not only the principal of Challenger Elementary, but also a communications teacher at Franklin Junior High, where I went to school. He arranged a book signing at Diamonds and Designs, where Mrs. Olson volunteers.
I enjoyed every minute of my book tour, but the best moment I had was having dinner with Mrs. Susan Olson. I didn’t know what to call her, respectfully, since the entire town knows her as “Susie.” I settled on calling her Miss Susie.
We talked like old friends and had so much in common, down to our taste in clothing! I’m forever grateful to Miss Susie!
With a disposition as bright as her name, Sunny shakes it off the worst day of her life and makes a new start. She’s got the brains that it takes, but she’s more than a little scared. It’s not just her reputation on the line.
Would this cockeyed adventure be the thing her siblings need too?
Pat only wants peace in the family and never dreamed doing a favor for his sister could drop him into so much hot water. Torn between what he’s always wanted and what is staring him in the face, someone is bound to get hurt.
Odds are it will be him.
But then, only the cardinal knows for sure.
Return to 1970 Indiana with Sunny, the first book in The Weather Girls series—get into the miniskirts, bell-bottoms, and Christian family values.
You’ll love Sunny for the music, the fashions, and the hilarious antics, because who can resist a romantic trip down memory lane?
I chose this book as if I was in a bookstore, only I did it virtually.
First, I picked it for its whimsical cover that drew me in.
Second, I chose it because of the back cover copy.
Third, I read the first chapter and I was hooked.
Personally, I don’t like surprises and the main character, Sunny, gets smacked in the face almost immediately with a life-altering one. If I could crawl inside the pages of this story and hug her, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
This story is set in a decade I grew up in, so I became very nostalgic reading the details and loving every trip down memory lane. Jennifer Lynn Cary does an excellent job of landing us in the early 70s and makes her characters likeable and dislikeable.
As the story progresses, I fell in love with Gramma and how she takes care of the three siblings, Sunny, Stormy and Windy, all in a season of unexpected change.
The girls bond together and prove the power of family and the power of love as they create the perfect destination wedding platform in an old Victorian home, despite their personal challenges. I’m so emotionally invested in these girls that I can’t wait for the next book.
I received a copy of this book for free via ebook for the Celebratelit.com book tour.
About the Author
Jennifer Lynn Cary likes to say you can take the girl out of Indiana, but you can’t take the Hoosier out of the girl. Now transplanted to the Arizona desert, this direct descendant of Davy Crockett and her husband of forty years enjoy time with family where she shares tales of her small town heritage and family legacies with their grandchildren.
She is the author of The Crockett Chronicles series and The Relentless series as well as the stand-alone novella Tales of the Hob Nob Annex Café and her recent split-time novel The Traveling Prayer Shawl.
More from Jennifer Lynn
I was born in the 50s, grew up in the 60s and 70s, and married in 1980. I relate to K.T. Oslin’s song “80’s Ladies” a little too well. 😉
Though we moved from Kokomo, Indiana in 1972, it always will be my hometown.
A few years ago my sister headed up a plan to have an annual Cousin’s Reunion in Kokomo. Two cousins came from Ohio and my sister and I came from the west to converge on our family who still call Kokomo home. Each trip back reminded me of how much I loved growing up there.
One day Bobby Hebb’s “Sunny” came on the Oldies station and caught my attention. Then I remembered the songs “Stormy” and “Windy” and wondered what it might be like for girls with that sort of name—especially if their surname was Day. Would their dispositions match their names? Why would their parents give them those names? The questions kept coming and I fell in love with the whole storyline.
The best part was putting the house I grew up in into the book(s). Yep, as you read the story, Hazel Day’s house is set up mostly like the one where I grew up only I added a den and an extra bedroom upstairs.
Ferguson House is based on the Seiberling Mansion—I love that place and tour it every chance I can when I get back to Kokomo. It’s amazing.
I also included favorite landmarks. Scotty’s Drive-In saw a lot of me in my early teen years. Great for grabbing a coke and not that far from either school or home.
The funny thing about memories is that they can blur and morph over time. Thankfully someone from my hometown has put together a Facebook page where I can ask questions and get more than enough answers.
Many locales I remember no longer exist, so writing about them helps them live on.
I hope you will check out Sunny and 1970 Kokomo and come back for the rest of The Weather Girls trilogy.
Mrs. Oswald Chambers is about the wife of Oswald Chambers, the author of one of the most famous Christian devotionals, My Utmost for His Highest.
It was published ten years after his death, compiled by notes his wife had taken from all his years of ministering and teaching the Bible.
I must confess, I only read biographies about people I am interested in and most of them are bogged down with too many details of the person’s life. Bestselling novelist, Michelle Ule, does an excellent job of telling the story of Biddy Chambers without boring her reader to death with wordy, unimportant details.
From her upbringing in Victorian England to her experiences in a WWI YMCA camp in Egypt,
I was captivated by young Biddy’s strength as she returns to post-war Britain a destitute widow with a toddler in tow.
Refusing personal payment, Biddy published not only My Utmost for His Highest, but also 29 other books, all with her husband’s name on the covers. As a single mother, she was ahead of her time by overcoming incredible odds, all while staying humble and true to her founding faith.
Since I started to read it, I could not put it down. If I had stars to give, it would receive five out of five stars for excellence in writing and historically accurate and captivating biography.
You could win an autographed copy of Mrs. Oswald Chambers
Michelle is giving away a signed copy of Mrs. Oswald Chambers. To enter, click here to email me. I’ll announce the winner in my October newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, scroll to the bottom of this page, where you’ll see a headline that says, “Free Stuff.” Be sure to tick the “Newsletter” box!
If you happen to love science fiction, I’m sure you have heard of the British series, Dr. Who. It’s been around for more than fifty years.
A few years ago, my children introduced me to the Doc, and I LOVED IT! We binge watched before binge watching was a trend. I absolutely fell in love with the character, especially #10, David Tennant.
In my opinion, he had the character down to a science – pun intended.
Dr. Who inspired my husband to build something I have always wanted in my front yard. A little lending library.
Well, our library isn’t so little. It’s a life-size TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space). The Tardis is how Dr. Who travels through time, and it resembles an old police call box.
When we first built our Tardis, someone reported it to our police department and they had to come check it out. There’s nothing illegal about it. It’s filled from top to bottom with books to take.
The lower shelves hold baby books to first readers and middle-grade novels.
The upper shelves are filled with books for more avid readers.
My theory in choosing the Tardis is, “Books are bigger on the inside.” (If you haven’t seen the show, you won’t know what that means, but it is highly relevant to the series plotline that has spanned more than five decades.)
The word is getting around and somedays we get “Whoovians” taking pictures with the famous box.
No matter WHO it inspires, its one and only purpose is to inspire people of all ages to read.
By the time you read this post, I will have done what some people say is “another year around the sun.”
Yes, I celebrated another year. I’m older but feel like I’m still sixteen years old, trapped in a fifty-something body. At least that is what my mind says. My body tells another story.
Don’t you hate the question, “How old are you?”
As kids, we don’t mind that question, but as a seasoned woman, I prefer to keep my answers light. Thus, the reason for this post. If you want to know how old this author is… here’s an old commercial from my younger years to give you a clue:
Ketchup is my favorite condiment.
I use it for anything fried and meat that may be a little too tough or dry to swallow.
I have embraced the fact that I was not raised with many etiquette mannerisms and learned mostly by observing. Observation has helped me become who I am today. I pride myself in not being stuffy. That is why this is now my favorite commercial for American sauce.
To celebrate my getting older, I’m giving away a present! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
Share this blog post with a friend. Send me proof to this address and I’ll enter you in contest to win a $25 Amazon gift card. (Enter by September 30, 2021).
Airplanes have had them for years. Cars have had them since 2013. I’ve had one since 1996. I’m talking about my personal little black box, an insulin pump.
It’s smaller than most cell phones, often mistaken for a pager. (What’s a pager and why would someone need one? They only use them in restaurants, buzzing for you to pick up your food.)
My little black box or the “insulin pump” has become more sophisticated since I first started using one to keep my diabetes in control.
Through the years, with every upgrade and change comes another great feature. Today, most pumps come with a continuous glucose monitor that communicates to the pump if your blood sugar is high or low.
I happen to have a dog whose nose is faster than modern technology. But with a combination of both, my blood sugars are monitored quite well.
Sometimes too well.
You see, the pump is programmed so well, it beeps or vibrates for notices other than high and low blood sugars.
It beeps to tell me to check my BG or blood glucose (sugar).
It beeps if I miss a meal bolus (insulin to cover food intake).
It beeps when the insulin reservoir is low.
It beeps when I need to change the set (tubing, reservoir attached to me subcutaneously).
It SCREAMS if I ignore the calibration prompt and it can be extremely loud and hard to ignore. Actually, it screams if I ignore any of the above prompts.
Although this little black box saves my life by giving me what my physical body can’t, it bullies me. Yes, I can change the tone of the above prompts, but it will continue to bully me until I respond. Oftentimes it bullies me all night long, keeping us from sleeping or dreaming, for that matter.
Yes, it is annoying. Yes, I feel bullied. But I can’t live without it. I can’t complain because it keeps me healthy.
I can live with a bullying black box. It helps me live by my own decree:
When I was a second grader, my teacher, Mrs. Olson, told me I was destined to be a writer.
I wrote five pages about my dog and won first place in the writing contest Mrs. Olson created for her second-grade writers. That was in 1972 and I never forgot her words, always dreaming of becoming an author.There is no feeling more exhilarating than opening a box to find a dozen books with your name on the front. I compare the process to giving birth. There’s the conception, the long haul of putting words into story… and that is only the beginning.
For the most part, the process can take a lot longer than nine months of carrying a baby. Only writers can understand how much work it takes to finally hold your baby, the fruition of hard work in your hands: A book with your name on the over.
It begins with an idea.
Thanks to my friend Susan K. Stewart, who listened to my idea and said the three words authors love to hear, “Send it in,” I have a middle-grade book series.
Susan and I became friends, and she shared with me her idea for a book that was burning on her heart. I loved her idea. I wish I could have said those three words to her, but because she is an editor, she had an “in” with the publisher.
Susan had a dream, one that involved her love of donkeys.
Recently, her dream was fulfilled. A box of books arrived at her doorstep and when she opened them up, her dream for Donkey Devos was born. I love it when dreams come true.
From idea to the page, from the page to pitching to a publisher, from the publisher to the editing process and from the editing process finally to print, writing is hard work.
But because I have dreamed of writing my entire life and recently birthed my second book, to me, the entire process truly is my labor of love.
As COVID restrictions began to lift, thirty-plus people were able to enjoy fun, games, and prizes and tons of pizza at Joey’s Pizza (the very one mentioned in the books!). I ordered too much food, so many people went home with a large pizza, but that’s okay because Joey’s is the best pizza in my opinion.
If you weren’t there, you missed out on the rubber band shooting game, searching for seven Lego Elvis hidden in plain sight, an ice-breaking Bingo game, photo opportunities to be Eddie on the first book’s cover, and posing with Rocky as Elvis, all earning tickets to put in the bag of your favorite raffle prize.
After all the activity and thanking everyone for their support, I sat down to sign books.
My “vision” photo
Years ago, when I dreamed of being an author, a friend of mine set up vision photos and I took mine, pretending to sign books. That photo came to life, my dream came true, and for the first time, I felt like a real author.
The day’s activities blurred together; I can hardly remember it. But one thing I sticks out that I’ll never forget: the people I love who helped me fulfill my second-grade dream of being a writer honored me by celebrating my victory. For that reason, I am truly grateful.
Rocky’s real name is Rockefeller Espinosa. His middle name has not yet been revealed. He has an older brother and baby sister but does not remember them.
His ex-con father, Eduardo, gave him a picture of the three siblings, telling Rocky the children were the reason he made it through his long days in prison.
Rocky is in the foster care system, currently living with the Perkins and their baby girl, Rosie. Rocky loves Rosie and dreams of being adopted by the Perkins. His foster mom, Mary, makes the best, ooey, gooey, chocolate chip cookies. (Check out her recipe here)
Rocky always carries his drumsticks wherever he goes. Everyone thought Rocky was a bully as he keeps to himself, walking the perimeter of the school during recess.
Eddie Taylor invited Rocky to join the band as their drummer and has become Rocky’s best friend. When Eddie became a diabetic, Eddie thought diabetes meant ending the dream of the band winning the Sun Valley talent contest.
Rocky persuades Eddie to not give up with these words:
“The only way to survive the bad notes life sings to you is to keep playing until the music is in key again.”
Rocky became a fan of Elvis while doing research for his 4th grade living biography report. Drumming isn’t Rocky’s only talent; he can also impersonate Elvis and wooed the mayor at her 50th birthday party.
Rocky’s Elvis Spotify Playlist
If you want to hear music the Rubber Band plays and Rocky’s favorite Elvis tunes, check them out on Spotify.
What is it about flying the flag outside my front door that makes pride surge within me?
My dad always flew the flag on Memorial Day, Flag Day, The Fourth of July, and Veteran’s Day. His brothers served our country. Daddy, unfortunately, was unable to serve our country but he desperately wanted to. I watched Daddy fly the flag proudly declaring he was an American and loved his country.
Thinking back to when I was a kid, growing up in a small town, Thief River Falls, Minnesota, there was always the Fourth of July parade to get excited about. I’d scramble through adults to perch myself on the curb of the downtown street. It was the best chance of getting candy the parade entries tossed out.
At home, we hardly ever got candy, so I always tried my hardest to catch as much as I could on parade day. Unfortunately, there were always bigger and faster kids and I maybe left with one or two pieces, devouring them before we got home.
But why did my heart surge as the Honor Guard for the military passed by?
In high school I played the French horn with the marching band. We’d memorize the music so we could fancy dance. I loved hearing the cheers from the crowd as we passed by. My heart pounding with pride to be a part of the celebration.
I didn’t understand my feelings of pride until I got older.
I’m proud to be an American. I enjoy freedom because there are thousands of people who work and fight for that freedom every day. People who have devoted their lives, some whom have given the ultimate price, just so I can get a cup of coffee each morning and enjoy it on my back porch while listening to the birds singing in the trees.
As I hang the flag out, I know why I feel pride. I’m patriotic, like my Daddy. I want my neighbors to know I’m thankful and proud to be an American.
Dr. Who inspired my husband to build something I have always wanted in my front yard. A little lending library.
There is no feeling more exhilarating than opening a box to find a dozen books with your name on the front. I compare the process to giving birth. There’s the conception, the long haul of putting words into story… and that is only the beginning.
Rocky’s real name is Rockefeller Espinosa. His middle name has not yet been revealed. He has an older brother and baby sister but does not remember them.
What is it about flying the flag outside my front door that makes pride surge within me?