"God Did It"

Early on Tuesday morning, Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara, sent me this photo of a blood moon that he took while out on his route delivering newspapers.

And then he texted, "God did it."

You see, although Ed had announced his retirement from delivering newspapers in 2020, he continued to "sub" here and there until he was finally back on routes more or less full-time.

Ed said that if actually stops delivering newspapers, he will cease to exist. 

This was the explanation he gave last week, using examples from the vampires in BryonySeries.

He said, "Kellen must carry around dirt from his native land in his shoe." (I didn't know that was true, but Ed insisted it was).

He said, "John and Henry must return to the basement every night." (Totally true).

And he also said, "And I must deliver newspapers."

So it must be true.

Is this where the fiction meets the reality?

For the fictional Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara, the world's first official Irish vampire, is still a newspaper carrier in Ed's books.

I say, whether Ed delivers in real life or not, he will always exist.

For he and I have both immortalized him in our stories.

And even if the real Ed is safe at home sleeping through the night, somewhere in the world, a time-traveling Ed Calkins is driving his white van filled with his crew of brownies, ensuring readers everywhere get the news...

...while a blood moon hovers overhead.

When Vampires and Brownies Run Newspaper Routes

 Enjoy this excerpt from Ruthless by Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara.

The boo0k is part of the BryonySeries and is based on Ed's experiences (real and imaginaries).

When it’s my turn, I back my van to a large cloth bin reinforced with a light metal frame. Each bin holds about a ton of scrape paper. In no time, I’m dumping the baskets into the bin and throwing the empty basket into the back of my van, where the brownies can reload it without being seen. Unloading alone might take me four hours and a sore back, but this way, I filled the first bin in minutes. The recycler gave me an empty bin before taking the full one to be weighed with a forklift. I’m out of papers when I filled that one. The brownies peek through the rear window as the man in a jump suits counts out two twenty-dollar bills.

I jump in the van and speed off, lest the other people hear the brownies raging at the unfair payment for so much paper. Explaining that this paper is actually money would take hours. In their time-scape money, valuable metals are worth only what the metal is worth. I’m tired of explaining it. It took my hours to explain “writing,”  so I capitalize on that.

“This paper says, brownies get breakfast,” I announced. “This other paper says, Steward gets breakfast.”

My mythical friends are skeptical.

I know where to feed them, a place where I can bring them in and let them pick out what they want without having to explain anything. Eircheard’s Emporium in Jenson (thirty minutes west of Munsonville) is owned and managed by a powerful leprechaun that easily passes for a human, down to his clay pipe and broken teeth. He’ll know how to please brownies for a double sawbuck. My companions have nothing to fear from Eircheard, but to me, it’s “buyer beware.”

I made sure no other customers were in the store before I let the brownies in. Eircheard scolded me because my small friends were making him close his door to other, more promising patrons, but close his doors he did. I gave him the twenty and kept close watch on the value of what he allowed and disallowed.

Eircheard also kept watch as he sat behind the counter, puffing away.

“There are twenty-four brownies,” he reported. “Shouldn’t there be twenty-five?”

I actually don’t know what became of the last brownie. He was there when they were using their unearned brownie points. Eircheard listened to my denial suspiciously. He’s not from the same realm as these brownies, so he doesn’t trust them. He’s from a later time in Tara, when humans were less respectful of magical creatures and sacred hills of Tara in favor of other human structures.

“Does paper say brownies get honey?” they asked the Eircheard after selecting butter, soda bread, and jam. He nods that it does. To my count, even the small jar of honey left two dollars and thirty-three cents.

In the back of my mind, I hear a little angel ask about the breeders. What do they get? Aren’t they worth at least the change? Isn’t bad enough for the females that they are called ‘breeders’ rather than wives?

“Oh, look at pretty rocks!”

A brownie noticed a bag of aquarium stones in the back of the store. To his ancient eye, they looked quite valuable.

“Those magical stones are not for brownies but breeders. They make breeders more beautiful,” I fudged. Then looking at Eircheard, I added, “But that’s the last thing the paper gives.”

Eircheard nodded, “I can deliver them myself, if you give me the coordinates to the time-scape.”

Now Eircheard could use the portal here instead of traveling so far. I, of course, decline. There are only two beings I fear, and he’s the other.

Joyful and jumping, the brownies take their treasures into the big white wheel box. Honey over bread is like steak and lobster to the sidhe.

We were on our way to Munsonville when it hit me. Do I have a place to live? Homelessness is common among new vampires but it’s hardly a problem. I somehow know that if I can’t find a place to lay my undead head, I can always return to the place and time when I died and stay put until it’s time to wake. Time-scape required memories always seemed to come as needed, but it’s hard to make long-term plans.

Short term plans…did I have money? A vague memory nagged of someone stabbing me with a knife and taking my wallet. Wasn’t I shot? I should eat. I look to where I left the other double sawbuck, but it’s gone!

“Steward too fat!” Ramon poked his finger at my belly.

His fingers seemed to puncture the very memory. I wish it were the way it happened, making me guiltless in the eyes of my Little Angel. I’m bleeding, and I look down. This Thornton Times is too bloody to deliver. Where would I get another Thornton Times? Where are my Daily Posts? Or my Munsonville Weeklies? I heard the voice of John telling me not to worry, but it’s Ramon.

“Paper should say, ‘No food for Steward.’ Ramon should keep paper till Steward not so fat.”

“Maybe another time,” I told myself, then glanced off the road long enough to look at Ramon, “There once was a brownie quite bad. His greed got the Steward real mad…”

“No! No pretty words. Steward gets paper. Brownie no steal babies.” Ramon put the twenty on the dashboard.

That’s how you do ruthless. I haven’t forgot about you there, still spying on me. I’ve already told you, if you really want to understand Ed Calkins, you have to read, and then reread, Robert Frost’s poem. And if you want to believe in Ed Calkins, you have to step through the mirror. Instead, you’re going to follow a man and his brownies delivering papers? Can you see why I think you have too much time on your hands?

OK, I’ll be merciful. If you really want to, I’ll let you watch me eat without making fun of you. Not so with the brownies, I realize. So before I can head to Sue’s Diner in Munsonville I have to drive in the opposite direction to the Happy Hunting Grounds funeral parlor in Thornton, about an hour west from Jenson.

By the time I get there, it’s afternoon and the place is conducting a funeral, but brownies are really good at sneaking in somewhere. They know where the portal is (in the door mirror of the women’s restroom), which might be a problem if anyone was ever brave enough to use it. I pull up under the pretense that I’m redelivering a newspaper. The funeral staff waves me away before I can get out of the van, but the brownies are gone.

Now, you get to watch me eat. Are you happy? I drive back to Munsonville and parked in front of Sue’s Diner. Once inside, I realized I don’t want to be seated.

“Hello number eleven,” I charmed the hostess/manager, whom I married when she was waiting tables. See what happens when you marry Ed Calkins? But don’t underestimate her. She used to work for a veterinarian in Shelby (this is her retirement job), and she is very, very smart.

“Hello husband three, the only husband I don’t hate now. Can I get you a seat? I’ve got something to tell you and I think it’s important.”

“Actually, I wanted a ‘to go’ order, liver, hold the onion. Could I possibly get it raw? I’m going to cook it much later.”

“Ed, I can’t sell raw food.”

“Extra rare then?”

“That I can do. You’ve been working on that program too hard. Are you getting enough sleep?”

Suddenly, I knew where I lived. It’s a studio apartment within walking distance from here. I also know the apartment is somehow bigger on the inside then on the outside. I know, too, that I am hiding the location from everyone expect Ruthie, wife number eleven, and even she is not to see the inside.

As I’m standing there, she’s telling me about a man on the phone waiting for his food earlier this morning. She heard the name, ‘Ed Calkins’ and started eavesdropping. He was bragging that he busted me, something about Shoppers found in a dumpster in my area. She’d heard him say, “We’re going to make an example out of this guy,” but his boss was objecting loud enough to be heard, saying that anyone can dump anything in someone else’s area and that only the serial numbers could prove it was Ed. Later a phone call came while he was eating. Apparently, they sent someone to check those papers and it was a different account, so they dropped it. The guy, who must have been deaf because his phone was turned up quite loudly, tried to insist that Ed was also dumping for other accounts and this was one of them. The other voice called the man Jake, and said it was too far of a reach, that if police were going to get involved, they would want evidence.

“Watch your back, husband,” Ruthie concluded. “These guys are really out to get you. What did you do to them?”

“I know too much.”

When I was alive, I feared Jake would have to disgrace me, not just get rid of me. But now that I was a vampire, I could easily deal with him. I wouldn’t bite him, he’s not my type, but I could bite his wife or mistress, change them into vampires, and compel them to make his life miserable. I would have much fun exposing him as the hypocrite he always was. I can only wish Trudy would be here to see that happen.

But the voice of my Little Angel is as much a part of me as my being a vampire. She wouldn’t approve. More than that, subjugating people into vampires isn’t healthy, as most vampires are killed by other vampires and no one has better a motive then a subjugated vampire. Better I write his limerick in every bathroom stall I find until the words became so popular that when historians seek its origin, they will trace it to the ruthless Ed Calkins, and Jake’s name will live in infamy. Yeah, let history right things. I’ll set the brownies to writing in bathrooms…after I teach them to write. I’ll have to teach them what writing is first. I’m in no hurry.

Ruthie gave me a hug as she handed me my food. I smelled her neck and felt an urge stronger than I’ve ever felt. Hell, if I maul her, I’ll be “Ruth-less.” Listen, ye who spy on me. When I make a joke, you laugh. Never mind, I can’t even laugh at that one.

Almost reflexively, I drove to my secret studio apartment. After parking the van, I closed my eyes so you can’t see where this apartment is. I’ve dreaded this moment, for I’m about to learn who is missing from my life in this time-scape, which will be my home in hiding for the rest of my existence. I won’t remember people unimportant to me, but those that have become a part of me, such as my Little Angel, Trudy, my son, my long time roommate, and any that I really could call close; they would be free of my vampire time disruption. I will be very lonely, I know.

John tried reassuring me as he drained my blood. Vampires throw great parties, he said, and I’ll meet new friends and enemies. As a vampire, the enemies will be more fun than the friends. But I know already that I don’t have time for parties right now; that I’m working on something so secretive, it’s a secret even from John.

I looked around my one-room apartment and saw nothing but a bed, dresser, and closet with few clothes. I know I have more things than this. Then I see the full-length mirror. Well, to you it’s a mirror, to me it’s a portal. I can see the desk and computer tower on the other side. Oh yeah!

With hesitating, I stepped into the mirror, a narrow, flashing prism with bouncing rainbow light waves against tens of transparent sides. Walking through the portal made the view of my bed go away, but I’ll find it when I need it. Eventually a hole of illumination appeared at the portal’s far end, a chasm that expanded and brightened as I neared the exit.

The computer is off. I cold booted it and the monitor displayed “HHG”. I know exactly where I am and it’s not “now.” I’m in the basement of Happy Hunting Grounds, which has equipment for embalming, but what it’s actually used for would surprise you.

There’s a vb6 editor and compiler on this machine with a recent project in the cache. The code refers to subdirectories with pictures in them. What kind of demented pervert is working on this? My God, this is disgraceful!

“Vampires need to feed,” some voice in my head is defending itself or something else. I compiled and ran the user interface to learn more, and then I blushed at my shameful arousal. The graphic interface shows the pornography - for psychopaths.

But what’s this other code? It’s another front-end graphic interface. Programs of this type have a front end and a back end, but why two front ends? What kind of darkness is this?

A particular evil is …well, very particular and evilly wants me to rule the Kingdom of the Damned. As king, I would bring peace and harmony to all the vampires of the world. I alone could create a vampire utopia. Ending the petit feuds among them, I could unite all undead creatures to a common cause and create a standard of living that would enrich all among the shadow realms as a benevolent overlord would naturally do.

The program I’m writing will ensure that never happens.

My ruthless smile widened. I bit into my very rare liver like it was the very neck of Ruthie.

"Uly's News" by Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara

In Bryony, the first book of Denise M. Baran-Unland's supernatural/literary BryonySeries, protagonist Melissa Marchellis meets one vampire who stands apart from the Victorian society in which she travels with composer and pianist John Simons.

            That vampire is Ed Calkins, who calls himself, "The Steward of Tara."

            Ed believes that it is the right of every Irishman to create myth. Under this premise, Ed penned my "Irish" genealogy.

            This genealogy first appeared in serial installments on the BryonySeries blog in late 2010 and early 2011. We published it in book form in 2018 and it's available in print in the BryonySeries store and in print and Kindle on Amazon. 

             Here is the first chapter. Happy reading!

           

                                                      CHAPTER ONE: ULY'S NEWS

 Although Denise's Irish ancestry cannot be directly proven, it’s quite apparent to any rational being that lacks prejudices to the contrary.

            Denise’s first known ancestor is a man named “Uly of Too Many Children."  He was smallish man, studious, numerant, and, if eyeglasses had been invented before 1700 B.C. and available along the eastern Mediterranean coast, he would have worn very thin lenses.

            Uly married a woman to whom he never paid much attention since he favored scrolls and theroms to her feminine charms. Nonetheless, she bore sixteen children, none of which were fathered by Uly. So Uly, after Number 16, (which was actually the child's name because Uly was very good with numbers, but had trouble with names and complex sentence structures, although he was very good with complex equations) realized that his wife had been cheating! As he prepared to throw her out, it suddenly occurred to him that she had been gone for several months.

            Anyway, poor Uly and his sixteen unknown children were left to fend for themselves. What did Uly do? He took a paper route by ocean. Because this was three thousand years before the invention of the printing press, a carrier in Uly’s time had to compose the paper first, copy it as many times as he had customers, then deliver it. One could say that Uly was a publisher, reporter, and carrier. The route consisted of the ancient equivalent of a trailer court and gated community.

            Each morning, Uly would compile his observations of the following day, write them on a scroll, and give it to the lowest numbered child to replicate. That child would give his copy to the child whose number was one less than his until all children were copying and all editions were written.

            Uly had two publications to deliver: The Hellenic Times and the Trojan Inquirer. Each bore the same news, but the trailer court, which preferred the Hellenic Times, and the gated community which received the Trojan Inquirer, were none the wiser.

            In addition, it might be added that the children quickly grew bored of their coping tasks. Sometimes, bored with journalistic integrity and ready at any chance to rebel against parental authority, they wrote their own views instead of Uly's representations of the facts. Others drew comedic pictures. In this way, Uly's papers might have invented the editorial and the political cartoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting to Know Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara

I have reposted this Q and A several times over the years, but it seems most appropriate today with the 2021 Calkins Day event.

Not only has Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara, released his first book, "Ruthless," he is the first author to to write and publish for the BryonySeries.

We are celebrating his him and his accomplishment on Zoom tonight at 7 p.m. CST.

The event is free, but you must register for the Zoom link and menu.

You may register up until "show time," but I can't promise anyone will see your registration come in and give you access.

So register early. Here is the link: bryonyseries.com/registerforcalkinsday.

Now read the commentaries from a couple of reprints and then the original post from 2010. It feels good to look back and see how we've built over the decade.

If you're wondering, "Ruthless" contains elements of all the versions of Ed Calkins so far: his real back story, the back story he created for his "ruthless dictator" and "Steward of Tara" persona, as well as the Irish vampire character I created for the BryonySeries, which has elements of the first two.

And by the way, Ed is thinking the sequel to Ruthless should have some of the adventures of the Knights of the Red Branch.

Because after you read this, you may just wonder about that.

Commentary from the May 9, 2020 post

Why would a person allow himself to be legally fictionalized for a book series?

Read on and see.

 

But before you do, I'd like to mention the good that's resulted out of this collaboration, and I'm not talking money. (Nobody's making any serious money here).

 

One: Ed, who discusses his struggle to write through the years, was given space on this blog to write as the character he created. Yes, that's right. He created his own character for himself, and then I fictionalized it even further for the series.

 

Two: Ed realized his dream of seeing some of his works in print when I published a collection of his blogs a couple years ago for Calkins Day that dealt with my Irish genealogy. (I'm not Irish. Ed made it all up).

 

Three: Ed is now writing is own book for the BryonySeries based on his (and some of mine) characters. And he gets free editing services for this and all of his writings.

 

Four: He's slowly realizing his dream of just "being known." We've held some small scale celebrations of Calkins Day (with even smaller parades).

 

Except for using the character in the books, none of these above benefits were stated in print; they've evolved over the years as we've gotten to know each other.

 

And yes, I did turn down the marriage proposal.

 

 

 

Commentary from the April 6, 2019 post

 

When I first started the BryonySeries blog in 2011, I posted this Q A with the real Ed Calkins in several installments. We did this interview months before the release of the first book, and it has never again been published.

 

Now for the first time, in living black and purple, is the entire interview with the man that ficionalized himself and allowed me to fictionalize him further for the series.

 

Just to clarify: Ed Calkins is a real person. He really lives somewhere Chicago-ish and was a supervisor for one of the agents when The Herald-News circulation passed from The Sun Times to the Chicago Tribune. I reported to Ed for my Marycrest route.

 

Having missed his Ed Calkins parade several years in a row, I offered, as consolation, a one-page monthly newsletter for his imaginary world or a spot in my series as a vampire. His response was, "Immortality, of course."

 

My attorney drew up the necessary paperwork for Ed to sign off himself. Seriously.

 

No Ed, is not insane, but wonderfully creative. If you want to know Ed, read the novels, for I dutifully scrawled on brown paper wrapping snatches of conversation overheard in passing at the distribution center while Ed handed out papers or in longer conversations by phone to weave in real dialogue with the imaginary dialogue and overall character arc.

 

I also spent much time with him, getting to know his "ruthless dictator" persona, as to accurately portray it. In a wonderful and truly humbling act of trust, Ed did not want to read any drafts; rather, he wanted the experience of his fictional self however I chose to write it, a very literary and legally-bound, "Do with me as you will."

 

It was marvelously empowering.

 

PS: I did such a good writerly job with Ed that one day, after Timothy had been out of the distribution center for a year attending Joliet Junior College and working at the Renaissance Center, he offered to help us roll papers one night and ran into Ed.

 

Ed said something to the effect of, "Wow, I haven't see you in a long time." Timothy blinked, yes, literally blinked, in surprise, for he had been reading drafts of Staked! as I had chaptered it off and felt as if he'd seen Ed every day.

 

Any blog post on this series attributed to Ed was really written by Ed. Just so you know.

 

And now, the interview:

 

 

 1)  Who is the ruthless dictator?

 

“My son was doing a lot of role playing games, and he was trying to come up with a bard and give him magical powers. I told him there was no need coming up with magical items, because bards are already too powerful, providing they’re not trying to seek notoriety for themselves. Ruthless dictators are not afraid to die. They’re just afraid of how they’ll be remembered. It’s not effective to compose a song or a limerick or an epic poem glorifying yourself. You’ve got to have other people saying it about you. Why not cut the military in half and invent some really good limericks? You can really insult someone into submission.”

 

 

2)  Why did you invent him?

 

“I was bullied as a boy, so it came from the way I would get back at bullies. I would think something negative about them, because verbalizing it wouldn’t go well. In my mind, I called it even. The ruthless dictator really started when I got a ticket running a stop sign when I was delivering newspapers on a really snowy day. If I had stopped, I would never have gotten going again. I really thought the ticket was unfair. As revenge, I picked ten people out f the phone book and thought bad things about them. My wife thought that was pretty corny. Later, I took over the entire town. I didn’t have to conquer a nation. It just had to be a place, at least metaphorically. It had to have its own identity.”

 

 

3) What was your reaction when asked to become part of a vampire novel?

 

“I was nervous at revealing my ignorance about vampires. I didn’t know a lot about it. I worked quickly to remedy it.”

 

 

4) Why did you accept?

 

“Immortality, of course. I can’t think about myself in everything. I have to think about 1,000 years from now, and if there’s going to be a three-day holiday in my name or not. There’s a side of me that thinks this could be goofy enough to think this could actually happen.”

 

 

5)  Weren’t you afraid of how you might be portrayed?

 

“No, and a lot of that comes from my survival mechanism as a kid. I learned to play along with the bullies rather than fight them. Part of my comedic outreach is self-deprecating, so it didn’t really seem that anything negative could hurt me. The ruthless dictator would say, ‘Look, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ King Midas is much better off than King Midas the Second, even though he was portrayed in a bad light, because nobody remembers King Midas the Second.”

 

.

6) What if fans expect the real Ed Calkins to be similar to the fictional Ed Calkins?

 

“He is like him. There’s just that side of him. He’s significant in an offbeat way, enough to where he can claim the stewardship of Tara without blushing.”

 

 

7)  The Irish have no solid vampire legends. How do you feel about being the first, real Irish vampire?

 

“I think other people will make more of that than I will. Being known as the Steward of Tara is more of a crowing achievement in my mind.”

 

 

8) Where did your love of Irish lore and history begin?

 

“It started with my love of history. Then I looked into mythology, and I used to tell my son a lot of tales and legends. When he reached high school and heard the same thing, my credibility rose in his eyes. One thing I had told him that wasn’t really true is that Ireland was always a backwash of European history, unless your interest is war. Then, it is probably true. There were many Irish warriors. It’s just they tended to be fodder; they were never fighting for Ireland. Ireland is probably the only place where you get a sense of what pre-Christianity was about, so if you want to know Ireland, just study its myth. Even before I was really into being Irish, I had a disdain for the Roman Empire, which, I think, gave me a bias toward the Irish. In all honesty, I’m American, but my heritage is Irish. It only takes going to Ireland to know that.”

 

 

9)  How did you research your Irish heritage?

 

“I’ve read a lot of books. Also, as a college freshman, I got put into an Irish literature course, which I wasn’t very interested in it at the time. I’m not one of those people who have forgotten much of what they learned in college. So it stayed with all these years in a recessive way. The problem is that I’m very bad with names. The proper study of Irish mythology involves heroes, kings, and saints, in that order. They are alive today through the last names. I just don’t know who these people are.”

 

 

10)   When did you begin writing?

 

“I started with poetry. In the eighth grade I wrote poem that resonated a little bit.        So, throughout high school, I wrote poetry. I was an editor of the literary magazine and the editor in chief the last year. Something bizarre about me is that I can’t finish anything. I have these really organized fantasies, but I’m not a wordsmith. I just lost my hard drive, which means I lost everything I’ve written for the last twenty years. I should be beside myself, but I’m not, because none of the pieces were really finished

 

 

11)   What have you written?

 

“I actually wrote a historical fiction novel when I was in high school. I had a         fascination for Hannibal, so I put myself on the other side facing Hannibal’s army. I didn’t really know how to handle it, but I did write it.”

 

 

12)   How had you shared your writings in the past?

 

“I posted them. When I was working on my trilogy, someone would send me an e-mail that said, “Send me your story,” and I’d send them a few chapters. Then I’d get another email saying, ‘That was great. Send me some more.’ So, a lot of it was praise-driven. The problem is that twenty years have passed. The protagonist has become darker and the eroticism is no longer interesting, I hate to admit. In my mind, I’ve reduced the second book to a single, short story. Also, every novel I’ve written was also an idea for a game. I had done a really good job of writing the games, again not finished. The smallest details completely derail a project for me.”

 

13)    How do you overcome writer’s block?

 

“The truth is I don’t. My writing block is fear. By the time I do write, it’s only because the ideas have been spilling out over and over and over again through my mind, to where it’s enough already. The details have become an irritant, so I just sit down and write.”

 

 

14) What motivates you to compose a limerick?

 

   “I get ticked off, and my mind starts putting lines together. It’s different with limericks because I don’t have to actually write them. A limerick is not fine art. Because of its structure, a kindergartener is just as good as composing limericks as an adult.”

 

 

15)  Why is legacy important to you?

 

“I think it’s fascinating to me in the same way history is. Think of Sue, the Tyrannosaurus Rex, which lived approximately 25 million years ago and compare that to the 6,000 years of civilization. In the eyes of God, dinosaurs must be a statement of survivability. Humanity is still an experiment in its infancy. When all is said and done, the history of humans is going to be a lot more significant than the bones of a creature, but we’re not there yet. We’re gong to have to start with many things, including being a lot older than 6,000 years. Maybe there won’t be an Ed Calkins parade that 6,000 years old, but maybe there will a 1,000 years old Ed Calkins Day parade, which will create the much larger tradition of there still being parades.”

 

 

16) How did the idea for Ed Calkins day parade originate?

 

“I discovered that my birthday and Valentines Day had a little conflict when I started dating my wife. The first year I was dating her, we went out and celebrated my February 13th birthday. Guess what happened on the fourteenth?  I didn’t have Valentine for her. That offended her at the time. My defense was, ‘Come on, it was my birthday.’ I guess where started. Then I started joking with other people that my birthday should be a national holiday. When you couple that with Lincoln’s birthday and the stars aligned in the sky, you can see it was meant to be.”

 

 

17)  You’re famous for cookouts, Queen of Christmas contests, candy canes and Santa hat distribution and palette jack races. Why host these things?

 

“Have fun, of course. Distribution centers can be so dreary. If everyday is like the last, no one wants to get up.

 

 

18)   Do you own a kilt?

 

“I used to, but I gave it away to my brother. It no longer fit, at the waistline. So, currently, I do not have a kilt. They’re not cheap. They can cost a couple hundred dollars.”

 

 

19)  For what occasions did you wear it?

 

“Initially I wore it St. Paddy’s day. I wore it the whole day. I was I in newspapers and, yeah, I went to work with it. My wife wouldn’t let me do it after I married her. It happened this way. I have a way of not taking care of garments. When I was starting to date her, most of my jeans had holes in them. She takes care of her possessions. That how I knew we were serious when she started washing my clothes. But when a woman starts washing your clothes, she gets to say what get discarded and what gets kept. You know my striped shirts? Those were her idea. My wife now dresses me. I used to dress differently.

 

 

20)  What are your plans for this blog?

 

“I’d like make some myths of my own, but that won’t start until the book comes out. I’m thinking it might be fun to add different side stories of the character into the blog, but maybe, too, I might be able to introduce some of the traditional Irish myths. I’ve been wanting write something about the interplay of state fairs in Ireland. There were laws concerning them, such as you couldn’t arrest anyone during a fair and you could not engage in war. All combat had to be resolved before a fair was scheduled to start. I’d also like to write about the Knights of the Red Branch and maybe some adventure that happens to some of the knights. That’s the neat thing about a blog. Speaking from the character, if something doesn’t fit, or if there is something else I want to say, I can always come back with, ‘I was just joking. Here’s what really happened.’ I’m very excited about this. I feel I’m getting closer to that three-day holiday.”

A Christmas Gift for Ed Calkins

I like chocolate way more than candy canes at Christmas or any time. But if I am going to eat a candy cane, I want a traditional cane in a traditional size.

But when I was a child, I typically only receive the miniature ones, always to my dismay.

So as a parent, I only dispersed the "regular-sized" candy canes to my kids - and usually only for St. Nicholas Day (Dec. 6), about the one day of the year that I eat an actual candy cane. True to form, I've eaten just the one this year - I have more still tucked inside my stocking.

I became a fan of candy canes on that day years ago after reading a blessing prayer for candy canes on St. Nicholas day in a book my mother sold in her Christian gift shop.

It was called Prayers for the Domestic Church (originally published in 1979), and I longed to own that book. My oldest kids were very young, and I was building up our home prayer life at the time and seeking ways to seamlessly weave that into our ordinary lives.

My mother gave it to me at Christmas one year. We used it so much, most of the pages split apart from the binding. The book was lost in one of our many moves.

The blessing prayer for St. Nicholas candy canes is here.

But now, I also like miniature candy canes all though December, especially if they are cold. And that's because of Ed Calkins.

When my family and I delivered newspapers in the middle of the night, and when Ed Calkins was my supervisor for one of those routes, he always distributed miniature candy canes with our route books. And he did this every day throughout December.

I believe that an ordinary gift, when given sincerely and with well wishes, becomes more than an ordinary gift. 

I'd usually eat that candy cane while we were actually out about in the middle of the night, windows down, heat blasting on high. We had nearly a thousand papers (not counting Ron's papers), so we were out there about three hours every night.

This year, when Ed and Nancy Calkins dropped of the artwork for Ruthless, he also dropped off three round peppermint balls, apologizing for the lack of actual candy canes since they were in short supply this year. Because COVID and candy canes go together, I guess.

Last week, Rebekah and Daniel shopped for our Christmas Eve food. Rebekah spied a box of miniature candy canes. She checked the expiration date: 2023. 

So Rebekah bought it and placed it under our tree for Ed, whenever we see him again (hopefully before 2023). 

In doing so, Rebekah became part of the chain of giving a taste of something sweet to weary people working in the cold dead of night when more sensible people are sleeping.

Merry Christmas, Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara!

Throwback Tuesday: Five Minutes on Christmas Eve

I wrote this post a decade ago and posted it on Christmas Day 2010 and thought you might like to read it today.

Many of us (my family and I included) won't be celebrating Christmas this year the way we've celebrated it in this past.

But that doesn't mean the celebration won't have equal (or greater) value than celebrations in years past.

This particular Christmas Eve a decade ago was rather bleak. And then I did something that changed the bleakness and made this particular night one of my most favorite memories.

May this post help inspire you to stretch your creativity and make this holiday season the best so far.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Five Minutes on Christmas Eve

As I'm writing this, I get a phone call from my nearly seventeen year old daughter Rebekah. She and her fifteen year old brother Daniel and my husband Ron are done rolling newspapers and are heading home. Communion bread for this morning's Divine Liturgy is rising in the oven, and soon I'll be out in the van throwing newspapers.

This is not how we used to spend our Christmases.

Years ago, when my six children were very young, Christmas Eve meant getting together with my first husband's side of the family and enjoying a special Christmas Eve dinner of twelve traditional dishes, that represented the twelve apostles. We continued that tradition up until this year when the timing of Christmas as per the newspaper schedule and everyone's work commitments made such a gathering impossible.

Then the Holy Spirit tapped me on the shoulder as I was getting ready for bed last night, at the ungodly hour of seven o'clock (It's ungodly when you rise at midnight). I hollered down the stairs for Daniel, but he had left with my oldest son Christopher to pick up my daughter-in-law Cassie from work. So, I phoned my twenty-year-old son Timothy, who was still stuffing Sunday inserts for their customers with Rebekah.

After making sure they were near each other, I asked Timothy to put me on speaker phone. He did, and I read from the Gospel of Luke, beginning with Gabriel's appearance to Mary and ending with the shepherds. When I finished, there was a chorus of excited voices. My kids were not alone in the warehouse.

A number of other carriers were spending their Christmas Eve there, too, preparing for Sunday so they could spend Christmas Day with their families and had been touched by the reading. Timothy said, "Now it feels like Christmas. Thank you for reminding us of the reason for the season."

Whatever the reason for YOUR celebration this day, have a blessed and merry Christmas!