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Shifts Anthology – St. Louis Area Writer Featured in St. Louis Today

DSC_2483 glass window bridge 1 copyrSweet serendipity!

Have you ever stumbled upon something while searching for something else?

So nice to be mentioned by author and editor Trina Sotira, of Muse Write Press in Chicago, from her article in St. Louis Today published December 9, 2017.

Her story tells the story of women’s challenges and triumphs in Shifts – An Anthology of Growth Through Change.

As Trina states:

“The anthology features poems, short stories and essays by 35 women who represent diversity in age groups, geographic locations, marital status, parenting status, professions and sexual orientations. It highlights the strength of women as their life shifts ultimately lead to increased confidence and internal peace. The book was a 2016 Next Generation Indie Book Award and 2015 USA Best Book Awards finalist.”

I am honored my photograph of the “Glass Window Bridge” taken on the gorgeous island of Eleuthera, Bahamas, graces the cover of his powerful book (pictured above).

To read the entire article click on the story title below –

ST. LOUIS WRITER FEATURED IN ANTHOLOGY THAT CAPTURES WOMEN’S CHALLENGES AND TRIUMPHS” 

Peace out,

xoxo

Sheree

 

 

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This Day of Infamy – Pearl Harbor – An Author’s Tribute

On this day, I’d like to pay tribute to all those who served on that day December 7, 1941, and either lost their lives, or survived the attack on Pearl Harbor. Specifically, I’d like to honor my Dad, Joe, who served aboard the U.S.S Vestal in WWII as a Chief Petty Officer.

Taken from the information gathered from the U.S.S. Vestal 1988 reunion booklet, “The U.S.S. Vestal compiled one of the longest records of continuous naval service of any Navy ship. Though the U.S.S. Vestal had neither the appearance or grace of an ocean greyhound, her heart and spirit were an inspiration.”

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She first came into service in 1914 during the Vera Cruz affair, followed by service in World War I.

“At a time when most ships are faded memories, U.S.S. Vestal, at the age of 32, was awaiting the then, unknown attack on Pearl Harbor, 7 December, 1941. Anchored alongside the battleship U.S.S. Arizona, where she had moored several days before, some of her crew had gone ashore to church. Others were carrying on the ship’s work and the rest were making the most of a Sunday routine.”

When the attack came, General Quarters sounded, and all hands dispersed to battle stations. The ship’s three-inch gun began booming, even though it was the only gun used in action.

“A bomb hit forward, going through four decks and exploding in the general stores storeroom. A moment later, a second bomb hit after of the quarterdeck and went through the carpenter shop, down through four decks and the double bottoms. By now, the Ole Vesta, was blazing like the goddess she was named for, as the forward bomb had started fires in the hold and was endangering the ammunition in the forward magazines. The bomb hit aft had opened the hull plating and water was gushing in.”

We all know the fate of the U.S.S. Arizona.

Commander Cassin Young received the Medal of Honor, for his heroic efforts. After the U.S.S. Arizona exploded, with extreme calmness, he moved the Vestal to an anchorage distant from the Arizona, beaching it, thus, saving his ship.

Dad received orders after the U.S.S. Vestal was repaired and set sail in August of 1942 to the South Pacific. He told tales of going ashore on New Hebrides where the shipmates traded candy and cigarettes with the island natives in exchange for a good night’s sleep on the beach, while the islanders kept a watchful eye for enemies.

During his tour, Dad visited the South Pacific islands. I imagine those landscapes must have been untouched at that time. Dad spun tales of throwing a boomerang on the beach in Australia, and yes, it did come right back to him! I still have that boomerang – it hangs above the door from the kitchen to the garage, in an upward position – catching all the luck and good fortune it can.

I discovered that as a molder, it was his duty to dive underwater to repair submarines. I didn’t learn this until after he had passed away. Maybe this is why I have such a passion for scuba diving and the underwater world.

Did you know that during the two months that followed August 29, 1942, the Vestal completed 963 repair jobs for 58 ships and four shore installations? Saratoga, South Dakota, New Orleans, North Carolina and five destroyers were just some of the ships.

Anyway, I could go on and on. But I won’t.

All I know was, he was my hero.

I cherish a crumbling photo album he compiled from the 1940’s, displaying photos of Mom, my brother, my aunts, and his friends in the service, places he’d visited, communique’s, and items he cherished – one being the letter Mom wrote to Dad announcing the birth of my brother, Richard.

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I even found a small business-size card inducting him into the “Ancient Order of the Deep” as a “Trusty Shellback” for crossing the equator aboard the U.S.S. Vestal on August 20, 1942 signed by Davy Jones and Neptunus Rex, bearing two red seahorses and an official imprinted seal. (smile)

My only wish – that I knew ALL the stories he had to tell, not just bits and pieces.

People, if you have the time, sit down and listen to your grandparents and parents tell their stories. Ask them details, find out what happened the day you were born, talk about historic events – because time is precious. Before you know it, it’s flown by, like a gust of wind.

If you get the chance, visit the Pearl Harbor Memorial in Hawaii. It’s hard to even comprehend the ‘big’ picture of what happened that day, until you visit.

Oil still surfaces from the depths of the U.S.S. Arizona today in pools of rainbow hues. Some say it’s the souls of those who perished. It’s such a somber and emotional experience.

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My thoughts and prayers go out to all those families today, of those who served in World War II. May you all have a blessed Christmas.

Peace out and Love,

Sheree

 

A Salty Dog, South Walton, & a Romantic NYE

DSC_0577 Captain Pam Smiile N Wave

On a spring visit to the Destin/Santa Rosa Beach area of Florida, Russell and I, craving a hearty sea adventure, headed west to nearby Destin Harbor for a relaxing gulf catamaran cruise with Captain Pam Kane and Smile N Wave Sailing Adventures.

Some might say Captain Pam is a salty dog. As a girl, she even missed days of school to help crew on a friend’s sailboat to feed her passion.

Her 31-foot custom built catamaran equipped with 43-foot mast, and Bimini top, offers tours for swimming, snorkeling, visiting the grass flats, searching for sand dollars, and romantic sunset cruises. Even though it was a cloudy day for us, we still enjoyed our time on the water, hiking out on the aqua-colored net, feeling the cool sprays of ocean on our legs, and getting to know more about Captain Pam.

Pam started sailing about thirteen years ago and calls the ocean “God’s bathtub.” “If you can’t be happy on the water, you probably can’t be happy anywhere.”

“On moonlight cruises, it’s so peaceful. The dolphins are usually active, and meteor showers are common. What’s neat is that there are more than 30-50 dolphins all local to the area.”

The more Pam and I talked, the more I felt like I’d known her for a long time. She just had one of those easygoing personalities, ocean spirits, and sweet souls.

Her greatest joy is witnessing excitement on people’s faces, especially first timers  – first time sailing, and first time in the gulf.

“People love relaxing, and the quiet solitude of being on the water,” Pam says.

So if you’re in the Destin area, go support a local business. You might just have the time of your life.

(The story on Captain Pam didn’t make it into my published AAA Southern Traveler story, but check out the story below to see what did.)

AAA South Walton Style pg34 Nov Dec 2017

AAA South Walton Style pg35 Nov Dec 2017

Just Listen for the Beauty

This has been a popular post; so I’m sharing with you again.

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I position the hot red-hued Adirondack chairs on our back deck facing each other. The hubster lights the Tiki torches and pots of citronella for ambience. We’re eager to relax as night falls over the pine, birch and maple trees on our three acre slice of heaven.

This night is different. It’s cool and crisp for a summer evening in the Midwest. Normally humid, our French door windows are fogged with condensation.

As I gaze up at the sky from my chair, I delight in the pastel white-blue clouds blended with the deep indigo blues.

We’ll see no stars tonight. Just as well, as I close my eyes and listen for sounds in the distance. The pooches settle in on the bright red and white patterned rug nearby.

I ask hubby, “What do you hear?”

“The pool, the people, the crickets…”

Dogs bark in the neighborhood adjacent to ours, cars putter slowly down the gravel road, and a plan’s engine zooms overhead. Through the window screen, I can hear the kittens playing, shuffling in the curtains, meowing inside.

“Just close your eyes and listen,” Russell says. “Just listen for the sounds of the night.”

My eyelids become heavy as I reflect on the beauty I discovered in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan this week. Creamy yellow and dreamsicle sunrises over Copper Harbor, vivid red orange and blue violet sunsets silhouetting kayakers in lake waters, endless waterfalls, pebble beaches, and an eagle flying above the shoreline as day breaks.

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I believe beauty is where you find it. And it’s everywhere in this land, in every form.

It’s present in the smiles of my two pooches as the wind whips through their silky hair as we tool around town in my Chevy Equinox.

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Sabrina (copyright Sheree K. Nielsen)

It’s in the faces of the two sweet kittens we adopted…and their mother.

It’s in the eyes and weathered face of the 86 year-old woman I converse with at the airport, as she tells me how much she loves her children and grandchildren.

There’s beauty in the crisp morning breeze as the fan pushes air downward, and the comfort of the feathered pillow caresses my head.

Or in the ruby-throated hummingbird, wings fluttering, as it sips nectar from the lavender magnolia in my back yard.

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Beauty is present in the hugs from my long time friends that shower me with affection after I’ve been out of town.

There’s beauty in the smiles of the baristas at my favorite coffee shop as I walk in and they ask, “Hey Sheree, how ya doing?” Of course I know all their names. We’ve had a beautiful relationship ever since that coffee shop opened. As they pour those perfectly pulled shots of espresso into a mug, they leave time for latte artwork in the shape of a heart or a leaf.

I guess you could say, there’s a reason to find beauty in just about everything. I’m looking at seven of those reasons right now – my husband who is intently gazing at his computer from the leather chair, and my six fur kids playing, sleeping, or exploring.

Stop what you’re doing right now, close your eyes, take a deep breath and just listen and observe.  You’ll be surprised how much beauty you’ll find in whatever you see and hear.

Peace out and love,

Sheree

DSC_1721 cappucino art design 1 crop copry

Oysters and Pearls

Recently, I’ve been listening to Jimmy Buffett’s Encore 2 CD set of hits while taking the canine kids for drives around town, running errands, or heading to appointments. I’ve played this CD so many times, it has deep groves in the vinyl.

As I was singing along to “Oysters and Pearls” one afternoon, the chorus was stuck in my head.

(Chorus)

Some people love to lead
And some refuse to dance.
Some play it safely, other take a chance.
Still it’s all a mystery
This place we call the world
Where most live as oysters
While some become pearls.

(Chorus)

Some never fade away, some crash and burn
Some make the world go round, other watch it turn.
Still it’s all a mystery
This place we call the world.
Most are fine as oysters
While some become pearls

Hmm…Oysters and Pearls…

Haven’t some of us been both, at one point in our lives?

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When I won the Da Vinci Eye Award for my ‘healing’ coffee table book, Folly Beach Dances, in 2015, published by Ocean Spirit Photography, I felt like a pearl – so proud, so confident, to have collaborated with five talented Missouri women authors, my husband, and a wonderful designer, to ultimately publish this inspirational book of poetry and photography.

When I realized I wouldn’t be able to bear children, I felt like an oyster, even a failure. A deep chasm was left in my heart.

But quickly, I felt like a pearl again, when I was able to mentor a select group of youth at O’Fallon Christian Church for three years. And what awesome adults these kids have grown up to be – Riliegh, Sidney, Tyler, and Ben.

Some say the key to life is moderation. “You need to crack open the oyster to find the pearl.” (author unknown)

I like that a lot.

So maybe, in our own way, we’re oysters on the outside?

We don’t realize our own potential until we go out on a limb, take a risk, learn how to scuba dive, ride a horse, walk across a ranging stream to reach that waterfall, or whatever it is we crave to get excited about life….and you!

My little kitten, Ireland (aka Tater Tot), sure knows how to live life. She is pure joy! All I have to do is look at her, and the corners of my mouth upturn in a grin. Everything is an adventure for this fur baby. She loves chasing foil balls, talking to cardinals through the French doors, watching squirrels on the deck, stalking her brother from behind the footstool, trying new treats, and snoozing on my lap in the cool of the evening.

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But me…I’ve been playing it safe, except for vacation, when anything is possible.

Why is it for most of us, we hide in our bubble after arrive home from a vacation adventure?

Today, I’m going to make a promise to you, that I’ll try to take more risks in life.

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I’m not sure where this adventure will lead, but I’m going to finish those writing projects that have been collecting dust, explore my local area, dance more, laugh more and be the tree hugger nerd that I truly am.

Hopefully, I’ll feel more like a pearl than an oyster…every day.

Care to join me?

Peace out and love,

xoxo

Sheree

The Drifter – A poem from Folly Beach Dances

2 The Drifter copyright

Since it’s National Poetry Month, I’d like to share a poem I penned for my 2015 Da Vinci Award Winning book, FOLLY BEACH DANCES – THE INFINITE RHYTHMS OF A SOUTH CAROLINA SEASHORE, inspired by the sea’s rhythm and my lymphoma journey, and endorsed by Karen White, NYT bestselling author.

It’s titled “The Drifter”, on page 5 of this ‘healing’ coffee table book of lyrical poetry and gorgeous photography, with reflections by 5 award-winning women authors, and my husband.

“The Drifter”

Not far in the distance I notice an old tree,

now driftwood,

with branches reaching out to a cornflower blue sky and white-streaked cotton clouds.

The image of a beach bungalow appears in my head,

with sounds of laughter,

lazy days in the sun,

peaceful ocean breezes,

smoky barbeques at dusk

and a warm crackling fire at night.

Except from Return to Folly Beach, Sheree K. Nielsen

Folly Beach Dances, copyright May 2014

Peace out and love,

Sheree

The Fuss About Persimmons

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In Our State this month, there was an article about wild persimmons, and how they’re the fruit of the Gods.

Frankly, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Every persimmon I’ve ever tasted made my face pucker and lips curl.

The article goes on to say you should never pick a persimmon from the tree…wait until it drops on the ground…that’s how you know they’ll be ripe and edible.

So I decided to give this theory a chance, since there are wild persimmon trees on our property.

Today, I pulled on my Sahalie shorts, Life is Good t-shirt, and donned my grey warm-up jacket. After lacing up my tennis shoes, the dogs and I sprinted down the deck steps to the first clearing where the persimmons lay strewn about the ground.

I collected as many could fit into a Kleenex, and stuffed the makeshift carryall in my jacket pocket. I laughed and realized ‘how silly of me’, because I knew I’d be back for more fruit.

My mini Aussie Shepherd and I raced up the deck steps. Gently, I removed the Kleenex filled with persimmons, and set the ripe cargo on our patio table. As I glanced back at our property, I noticed Red Dog, with his nose to the ground. As he raised his head, I caught him munching on those peachy treasures, savoring every bite.

Racing back down the steps, I collected more persimmons underfoot, and plucked two from the tree. Once inside the house, I selected one of the specimens I’d picked from the tree. I was eager to prove Sheri Castle, the article’s author, wrong about her theory.

As I bit into the tough skin, my face shrunk up like a prune. I spit it back out.

Next I selected a peachy-purple specimen, almost bruised-looking, and carefully bit into the fruit. Surprised, it tasted like guava, peach, apricot and even a touch of cinnamon. As I chewed, I noticed the skin was thin, with the pulp soft and fibrous – eager to shed its seeds. Yes, this persimmon was on the ground.

It’s probably too late this year, but next year I’ll be ready for those sweet persimmons as they drop like sugarplums onto one of Grandma’s quilts, at the suggestion of Our State (blanketing the ground to catch the fruit).

But for now, I’ll savor those tiny little ‘deer candies’ until they’re gone, and concede that I’ve figured out ‘the fuss about persimmons.’