Locks of Love Pass It Around

　

　



I know some of you are familiar with Locks of Love and there are some of you that aren’t. And the majority of you are scratching your head: how has this got anything to do with your latest book Devil’s Concubine?

Well, it has some bearing on the book. We are dealing with people who are getting scalped remember? When I did my research for a place to send hair to be made into wigs the one place that popped up on the computer screen was Locks of Love. I had heard about Locks of Love through various organizations but wasn't thoroughly up to speed on the how and what they did. Just brief information which I knew was wigs for disadvantage children. Anything more than that I was unaware of.

So with my trusty computer I went on the search to find out more about the organization. Really to see how it worked so I could base a scene in Devil’s Concubine. Moments later I was reading everything about this non profit organization and was not only learning how it operated but how it helped thousands of children. I read about their interesting organization which I informed a few of my long-haired friends, especially the ones who were thinking of cutting their hair short and they kindly donated to the cause after my research. I’m very proud of those friends.

Even though I used a fictitious name for my Locks of Love in Devil’s Concubine, it was the same basis as Locks of Love. It was a brief moment in the book that this was used, but still I wanted to share Locks of Love with you because it’s a worth-while mission.

Let me explain about Locks of Love. Locks of Love, is a public non-profit organization that provides hair pieces to financially disadvantaged children under the age of 21. This group is trying to restore a sense of self, confidence and normalcy to children who are suffering from hair loss. I know it’s hard enough for adults to swallow when they lose their hair, but for a child who is growing up around other kids it’s extremely hard.

The names these children endure can be brutal. If Locks of Love can bring this to some child that is financially disadvantaged it lifts the burdens not only on the parents who can’t afford such and can only stand by and watch the ignorance of others, but lifts the emotional burden these children have to endure.

These children are not just cancer patients, they are also children with alopecia and burn victims. As a burn victim I understand the horrors and name-calling and the low self-esteem some of these children endure and any way we can help is important.

Now I know some of you reading this are genuinely interested so I thought it would be nice for my fans to get the opportunity to learn about this organization and perhaps interest you into a donation of some sort whether it be hair or financial.

To donate your hair they do have a few guidelines and they are simple and easy to follow.

Donated hair must be ten inches or longer. Curly hair may be pulled straight to meet the requirement.

Hair may not be bleached, chemically damaged or over processed; perm or colored hair is accepted.

Hair must be in the form of a clean, dry ponytail or braid. Sorry, but I was informed dreadlocks are not accepted.

Hair that is less than ten inches or grey is separated from the donation and sold to off set manufacturing costs.

Now that you know the guidelines to donating your hair here is the website to contact them about your donation
http://locksoflove.org/mission.html

Now if you can’t donate hair, and still would like to help, they will take financial donations and that is tax deductible.

In my research I discovered many notable donors such as Gabe Carmi (Chicago Bears first-round draft pick), George Parros (National Hockey League player) and Lamb of God drummer Chris. The list goes on.

I’m sure you have heard criticism for their practice in selling donated hair. Well as mentioned above they have guide lines and some of the unusable hair like bleached, highlighted, gray and hair shorter than ten inches are sold to offset the cost of custom wigs.

Now I know some of you are scratching your head and saying, “Well, Carla, this is all nice that you are talking about Locks of Love but what about your book? How does Devil’s Concubine come into play?”

This is my answer, sometimes our detective in this case Detective Gavin Reece is thrown down the wrong road to confuse him about who is killing people. We call this in the writing world a red herring. But sometimes a worthy organization puts things back into perspective and can point us in the right direction to catch a murderer.

So the next time you have decided to cut that long hair that goes down your back, think about donating it to Locks of Love and make a child’s day.

Want to purchase the latest book? Here's a link.

http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361803843&sr=8-1&keywords=carla+landreth

Indians Weren't the Only Ones

　

As part of my series to tease you about my latest book Devil’s Concubine, I thought one of the things we should discuss is scalping. Yes, the victims in my novel are scalped by a murderer. But since scalping is not heard of these days and if so, a rarity I thought we should take a look at why it was done and how it has some bearing on my latest novel Devil’s Concubine.

I wish I could say the American Indians were the ones that were the only ones to practice such horrific acts of scalping people, but evidence shows this is not true. Well, there went my history lesson from childhood.

Rumor has it and even evidence proves other races and nations were doing this practice way before some of my ancesters. What groups you ask? As far back as B.C, the Scythians were scalping their enemies. Some Anglo-Saxons, French, Persians and Visigoths, just to name a few were also doing this horrendous act. So since this practice wasn’t something new it made me wonder, why is it the American Indians always get the bad wrap on such?

I guess one of the first things we need to do is look how the procedure was done. It certainly wasn’t like one of those cheesy westerns we watched as a child. All I can say is thank goodness for film regulations at the time or the invasion of the frogs wouldn’t have been the only thing I feared as a child.

The method to this grisly practice was taking a tomahawk and striking the victim on the head, which usually killed them, if not you can imagine what the scene would have been. The Indian would then take his crude knife and make incision at the front of the forehead to around the back of the head. Then with a foot on the victim’s shoulder or back, pull off the scalp from back to front.

That was just the scalping. Once this step was done the Indian would attach this scalp he had obtained to his scalper’s belt. As he left he would give a death cry. Once back at his camp as they say or where ever he could go without being pursued, he would finish scrapping the skin from the scalp. He would make a hoop out of wood and stretch the skin over the hoop and put it in the sun.

He would comb the hair and paint the skin red before he attached this scalp to a stick. He would carry this stick home and you guessed it, the more scalps the better.

Now that was pretty gruesome, but imagine doing something like that now days? I could get more graphic but I believe you reading my book would be the benefit at this point. The question now if you did a modern day scalping, is why?

Once again I must look back at why this was done and this is what I discovered.

There were three reasons for scalping, one profit. You guessed it money, even then money played a part in this act. You sell a scalp back in 1703 for 12 pounds by the time we hit 1723 scalps going price was 100 pounds. The French did this mostly, but still there was a profit in these scalps. However, Indians still made money as well selling these items.

Second reason Power. Again you guessed it: somebody who had the most power had the most scalps. He must have been a good warrior to be able to come home with 8-10 scalps. The women must have swarmed around him.

The third had to do with war. These scalps were prizes and sometimes the most brutal Indians took body parts along with hair to show what they took from the enemy. Sometimes bounties were placed on such body parts. Of course give credit where it’s due on this. The practice of paying a bounty for a body part was a European idea.

Now that I have you engrossed, I should tell you a little about a modern scalping. Let’s see, our murderer decides to subdue you, by any means. He doesn’t kill you, holds you hostage, tortures you for some reason unknown, before he skins your head, not using a tomahawk but surgical tools that a skilled surgeon would use and leaves you to suffer. But don’t worry, you won’t suffer long before he decides to cut your throat.

Oh my, I have your attention now.

As I sketched out my story from all angles, one thing I had to focus on was my murderer. Yes, he is scalping victims and yes, I used the format I just explained earlier, except in Devil’s Concubine, our murderer isn’t an American Indian back in the old days, but a modern man with a way to hide his trophies from the world. And the way he hides things makes you think twice about your own hair.

My character is very careful in his acts of murder, but sometimes a murderer even has a heart. As does this one when he shows mercy by dumping his victims where they can be found. The question you will be asking yourself over and over throughout the whole book is why?

Could this murderer being doing this for profit? Is it for power he wants and gains over his victims? Or is it for a private war that has tormented him for years? Devil’s Concubine is a very sick and twisted tale of murder and one you will surely enjoy.

Carla Landreth Shares Her Latest Book

　

　

　

Sometimes as you go along the path of life you get kicked in the gut, hoping you don’t get back up, but not for me, not this writer. I have always worked hard and persevere in anything I do. Whether it be my role as mom, wife, or writer I have always thrown myself into my work.

It’s my passion for telling tales, and that would never disappear no matter how bad my life could get. It’s been a long five years for this author, but she has prevailed. I have pushed myself beyond limits others would not do.

Six years ago my last book, Silk Stocking Road, was a factually inspired story about racism and murder in the 1920’s. Set in the small backdrop of my home town of De Leon, Texas. That was my last book.

So much has happened since that little book came out, my husband’s death, my role as parent would be tested, decisions in my life would change dramatically and my writing would be set aside for a time being.

But who knew this year would be an interesting year. Not only did Silk Stocking Road get pitched to film producers, I got to meet people along the way, who would be not only sparking me back into life, but in my writing as well, and oh yeah, I got a new publisher--BookLocker.

Today, I have a new book coming out and my awaiting fans who have asked over and over again over the last five years, “When is the next book?” will finally have to wait no more.

I should explain how I got the idea for such a book. One day while watching a cheesy western on television, I got an idea when one of the women was scalped. As you know I can have an imagination. What if someone scalped a person now days? Why would they do such act? Before I knew it, I had my trusty legal pad and pencil and was sketching out the latest novel.

In one afternoon I had outlined a novel with characters. In four months I had completed the manuscript and now in one week that book will be out in markets across the globe.

As you know, it wouldn’t be a Carla Landreth novel without the most surprising ending and, yes, it’s a complete page turner. I was thrilled when my editor read the novel and reported back, “You certainly went outside the box and this time your mystery readers are in for a real treat.” I take that as a very good compliment, considering he has worked with greats such as Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oats in the past. Today, I thought it’s time to share what the buzz is all about and gear you all up for it’s release.

What is the story called? Devil’s Concubine.

What is it about? A fictional mystery set in small town Texas, a homicide detective is about to encounter the strangest and most bizarre case of his career.

Detective Gavin Reece is called to the scene of a gruesome murder. The victim is female and has been scalped. He believes this case to be cult related. However Detective Reece soon learns, with the help of his retiring partner and his new partner-to-be, nothing seems as it appears in this case. Reece will uncover a murderer’s seven year methodical killing spree.

In two weeks Detective Reece’s professional and personal life will interfere with this case. But when the killer has targeted one of their own, Detective Reece will do the most unthinkable act in his career, use riddles from an innocent man to catch a monstrous killer.

There you have it.

Over the next few weeks or at least the next few months, my blog, for those of you who follow my blog, I really appreciate it by the way, will see that each article I write will reflect some aspect of Devil’s Concubine. So I believe my readers will be in for a treat with that.

I am also asking my readers to not be shy and give a review of the latest book when you read it. You’d be surprised how many writers like me depend on your reviews.

As I said things are starting to get back into the groove around here and my fans, who I want to thank for being patient, will be seeing a lot more books in the future. Life may have kicked this writer, but she’s not going down without a fight!

This book will be available through Amazon or BookLocker But for those of you who want to learn more about me or any of my books, you can visit my website at
www.carlalandreth.com .


http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354228430&sr=1-7&keywords=carla+Landreth

Everything Has an Age Limit

Everything Has an Age Limit

 

 

There comes a time in every body's life we have to accept the fact we are older. With age comes letting go of the past. Like going past it's expiration's date, you need to throw away or at least put it up in a box to bring out later to share memories with your grand kids.

So what is it that needs to go to the attic as they say? Well, Carla is sounding off on this and hopefully some of you will catch my drift.

The first thing that needs to go is halter tops. Sorry, they are only good if you are pencil thin and have Heidi Klum's body or not past the age of twenty one, possibly twenty three, depending on how you are doing body wise. It irritates me to see these over weight, middle aged women putting on these halter tops thinking they are still young. It's nice to think you are young, but wearing your daughter's or grand daughter's halter top? Also tube tops are a no, no. Don't forget what comes with age. Whatever wasn't sagging before is now rushing to go south. We don't want to see it.

Makeup is great to hide the flaws that age has given us, but do you really think you need that eighties blue eye shadow, bright red lipstick or that bright blush? The answer is no. You have no idea how much you look like a clown coming down the street with all that bright stuff on, it's scary. Add the big teased hair and you definitely look like a clown.

Speaking of hair, big teased hair is out, unless you are trying to hide the balding spot on the top of your head. A good hairdresser knows a few tricks without making you look like you belong to the Happy Beehive Club. Color is an issue. Believe it or not the older we get, our hair color is not suppose to be the same as it was in your twenties. Hair color needs to be chosen carefully, not what looks good on the box, which means stay away from the coal black hair or the bright red you are fancying right about now.

That perfume you wore in high school is no longer in style and please don't go for that stuff that smells like baby powder with flowers, what we call old lady perfume. It may turn grandpa on, but guess what? The rest of us are suffering two isles over.

The casual dress you wore when you were a teen and got you the Most Best Dress award at high school, doesn't mean you should carry that style up into your older age. I'm referring to those ladies and men stuck with seventies polyester suits, sixties micro minis and the Madonna look. Don't you just hate it when someone who is dressed like this says, "Everything comes back into style." Obviously we haven't been reading the complete article in Cosmo when it said it has been reinvented.

I remember an old woman in our little community, Mrs. Green, she was about seventy at the time and she was a huge embarrassment. But in her little mind she was still Mrs. Robinson. Wearing the big hair, bright makeup and yes, those halter tops. I won't mention the Daisy Duke shorts that only showed her wrinkled legs, saggy ass and high heels to boot. Everybody in town used her in a joke and when Tammy Faye came on we weren't shocked as rest of America. In fact we thought Tammy was a little tame compared to Mrs. Green.

I remember how many times she went for the men in our little community. The women found it amusing as this little old lady flirted her way with their spouses, boyfriends, dads, brothers, and uncles. There was no age limit as well, ask some of the young boys who worked at our local grocery store (sorry Steve) who was honored to carry her groceries out to her old Buick. The woman, herself thought she was a cougar while the town saw her as a joke and harmless.

Recently however in my little town I am seeing more and more of these little ladies on the move. At first I thought it was just my little town, I was wrong. It's hitting all of the little towns of America. It's an epidemic! I'm here to tell you please, please control yourselves. Everything has an age limit and I wish you all would see it.

If you still want to dress this way after I have said you look embarrassing not only to yourself but to your family and friends, then I suggest you get with your significant other and play games in the bedroom. Everybody likes to play fantasies in the bedroom. Like, what character am I? Like I said there comes a time when age limit plays a part in our decision making as we get older and I think its high tide you think before you put on those things for everyday use.





Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

My Halloween Spider and Mrs. Strasner

When I was a kid at my house, there was no celebrating Halloween. My parents were convinced it was a devil holiday and that was it. No argument. So while my parents may have bought candy and that was a rarity, for the trick or treaters, we, meaning my kid brother, Jason and I, weren't allowed to dress up or go from door to door to trick or treat. Instead my parents loaded us up in the car and took us to both grandparent's and that was it.

I remember in school after the holiday, kids would bring some of their treats to school and snack on them at recess, leaving me feeling snubbed. Oh well, I had come to accept this as part of my world until I got into second grade.

My second grade teacher was Lurlene Strasner. A very smart woman or at least I thought she was. I heard getting her for a teacher was the best thing; however Wylie Jean Stokes was good also. Of course you know later I had Mrs. Stokes and she influenced my life profoundly even to this day.

Mrs. Strasner was one of those teachers who wanted to really teach, she believed in the rule not to leave one child behind before that rule even existed.

She made learning as much fun as watching the History Channel. She made it fun and educational. I learned more in that class than any other elementary class. She was real good in teaching us history before it became a requirement and fueled my love for the subject after that. She didn't bring out the books and say lets read this, take a test and call it that, not Mrs. Strasner.

Now while most teachers don't think to use the famous day by day chart, called the Calendar, Mrs. Strasner did.

I learned so much about the holidays that I was so unaware that I didn't know much about them until I got her class. When Halloween was fast approaching she began our studies on this wicked and controversial holiday.

I remember how she approached the holiday in question, "Does anybody know anything about All Hallows Eve?" The whole class sat quietly looking at each other waiting for someone anybody in our group to speak up. There was no answer. She then asked, "Does anybody know anything about Halloween?"

All hands came up!

She smiled, "Does anybody know what it means?" Those hands were up again like bingo winners at a bingo game. But the answer that was given was wrong. No it was not a devil worshipping holiday nor was it a holiday for candy.

She explained that Halloween was All Hallows Eve. From there we got a fascinating lesson, about truths, myths, the origin of the holiday and that it was observed around the world. We learned that certain cultures celebrated it differently and some cultures had added traditions and so forth. I told you she was a good teacher.

We read stories that related to Halloween and even watched a small cartoon on the projector called, The Headless Horseman. Our spelling words, even math had to do with Halloween, this went on for a good two weeks.

Now you would think that this would have been it, but it wasn't. Each day we learned something or did a project and I loved the projects we did. They were crafts and let's be honest; if kids can do things with their hands they will learn more. I told you she was ahead of her time.

Well one day Mrs. Strasner had a box of sticks that looked like she made poor Mr. Strasner gather from the yard. They were about a foot long and had several little tiny limbs branched from the larger limb. We all sat at our desk completely excited.

Before we got started she told us to bring out our scissors, glue, and a piece of Manila paper, pencil and ruler, which like good excited kids that's what we did. The very first thing she told us to do was write our name at the bottom of the paper.

She then came around each desk placing one of those little branches in front of us on our manila paper and told us not to play with them. As soon as she got those limbs to each student she came by with these little black pre-made pompoms. They were not real large but not too small either. She again laid one at each desk.

The anticipation was growing.

Then she came by with two little eyes and laid them beside our pompom and then she came by with white yarn. Now she pulled it out of the skein two times explaining that when she pulled it out each time and brought it to the tip of her nose it was roughly a yard. Of course she wanted to know how much she was giving us if she was doing this process twice. Then she would ask you to cut the yarn and place it on your desk.

Do you know how hard it is for a child to sit still with these marvelous things staring at us, not easy, but with Mrs. Strasner she told marvelous stories which entertained us which kept our mind occupied.

Once she was back at the front of the room she explained what we were doing we were making spiders and spider webs. She told us to take out our ruler and measure off so many inches on our yarn. I think it was six inches, I could be wrong. She then came by with a black sharpie and marked it. Math lesson 101 as they say was done. We had to glue the eyes to the pom pom and leave that on the Manila paper.

They would be drying while we did the next step. She told us to take our yarn and wrap it around the little limb we had. She told us to use our imaginations when doing this, but to leave where she marked on our yarn dangling down.

I remember we were so excited we couldn't help but talk to our neighbors with all the excitement. Yes, we still maintained a soft voice even with our neighbors. I must explain this because many teachers who are reading this now wonder; how did she do that?

Well, Mrs. Strasner taught us at the very beginning of the school year about our indoor voice. She explained to us the only time we use that loud voice is if we are in trouble. She pointed out your parents don't yell at the neighbors next door when they are right beside each other, now do they? She was right. I don't remember my parents ever raising their voice to people in public, so why should I, unless as she said you were in pain or in trouble and needed help. We were also rewarded at the end of the week if we had followed this rule and it usually was good.

Now back to my story.

Some of us really got to playing with our yarn and made what we thought was designs of what our spider would weave in the night. Mrs. Strasner went around checking our progress, encouraging those who weren't doing so good and praising those that were moving along fine.

When this step was done she moved to the next which was now glue our spider to the end of the yarn.

By the way this step was easier said than done, but we all glued the best we could then she told us to lay our spiders on the paper at the front of our desk. She would call each of you to carefully take your spiders still on the paper to the book case and lay them on top where she said they were going to get some sunning to dry.

We would forget these little critters until the next day. She told us to go and get our spiders and put them at our desk. We were so excited. We sat at our desk and she told us to bring out a sheet of notebook paper and our pencil and we had to write a short story about our spider in cursive writing. Yes, I had fun writing my story and yes at the end of the day we got our grade on our story and handwriting. Good story idea, but bad handwriting. To this day I still laugh about it. It wouldn't be the only time poor Mrs. Strasner would be working on my handwriting.

We would bring these creatures home and I remember for years I kept that thing until we moved and then lost it. We still however, never got to trick or treat, but I did learn Halloween wasn't a bad holiday all because of Mrs. Strasner.

When I had kids I sort of carried that crafting life with me and the history along with it. Each year I made those same little spiders with my kids, except we would go out together and pick the limb ourselves, bonding time as they say between mother and child. I also remember watching my kids with excitement in their eyes, as mine, when I was a child in school and feeling a little bit like Mrs. Strasner as I watched them make their spiders and spider webs.

A memory from school I carried to my children, who to this day laugh when they remember getting to make Halloween spiders for many years.





Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
    

Upon on The House Top. . . Who the H**l Left the Door Open!

One of my favorite times of the year was Christmas and still is. I have always loved the Christmas lights it was something that could entertain me for hours. I always loved to see what people came up with for their lawns and how sometimes just a simple strand of lights across the house could speak more than you realized.

When I was about four, my father had a Chevy Chevelle convertible. It was red and had black rag top. I remember that much, but can't remember what year the Chevelle was. I just remember he would say get in the Chevelle. You have to understand my father called all the cars by their models, no cute names like most of us do now.

It was that time of year when Christmas was just around the corner and my father decided one night we should go out and look at lights.

My mother was for the ride until she found my father taking the top down on the car. It was way too cold for us to have the top down and she made that clear, but my father made it clear that's how we were going.

My mother still upset, bundled us kids up, but not while mumbling hateful things about my father in the process. She then grabbed a quilt off the bed and her purse.

My mother helped us into the back seat then placed the quilt over us. It was bitter cold, I can remember that and even with the quilt that my mother tucked around us tightly, didn't deter this bitter cold snap. My father let out a few choice words, which caught my mother's attention.

My mother was so upset, that when she took us to the car, she had forgotten to turn off the lights in the house. She didn't forget to lock it; she just forgot to turn off all the lights. My father, furious took it upon himself to get out of the car and go back into the house and turn off the lights.

I must tell you that in the old days Christmas lights were a hazard to leave on when nobody was home, that and gas heaters. They were never to be left on unless someone was home, especially Christmas lights. It wasn't unusual as a child to hear somebody's house caught fire because of these two items; who loved to start a fire when nobody was home.

They aren't designed like they are now, cool burning and if there is a snag with one, like for example; a bulb goes out the rest stay lit. Nope in the old days the lights were not cool burning and they were only to stay on long enough to enjoy before you turned them off fearing you'd catch the tree on fire and burn the house down. If a bulb went out, they all went out. The guessing game was endless.

Now my mother didn't only forget the tree lights, but the house lights as well. So my father cursing and calling her names got out of the car and went back into the house.

Meanwhile mama still angry at him was making sure me and my kid brother, Jason was bundled up. I remember mama threatening to kick our father's butt while stating the fact, us kids were going to be sick from a death of pneumonia.

Upon my father's quick return, he had to once again, made a scene about the lights being left on. He finally calmed down long enough to start the car and begin our little excursion.

De Leon, Texas is a small town and they use to celebrate Christmas every year. Meaning most of the folks around town had lights up of some sort and if there weren't lights on the house they had their tree in the front window for the world to see. The town itself was decorated with metal Christmas trees that had been wrapped in garland and big lights that hung onto the street lamps that lined the town. Some didn't work but I guess that is why they had the garland on them to make them pretty for the holiday season.

The store fronts of DeLeon, Texas were something to see. It became a competition among the store owners to decorate their store from top to bottom with Christmas cheer. I'm sure if you didn't do some sort of decorating it would reflect your Christmas sales.

However, this was the 70's and the spirit had reached its peak as my father drove us through town. Jason and I were so excited looking at lights, but also freezing to death in the process.

My mother still upset over the fact we were driving with the top down, also bundled up freezing cold; didn't find the spirit as my father did. Who could blame her for being upset? Taking two small children out in the cold in a convertible with the top down and only coats and a quilt, possibly the only thing preventing us from taking a trip to the hospital with pneumonia, my mother was mad. I knew in the next few days, beginning with that night, Vicks salve was going to be rubbed all over our chest. That menthol smell would linger on us for days thanks to my father.

My father drove us through town at least four times. It was too much to see in one drag through town, as they say, because of all the store fronts decorated up.

Smith's Department Store was not only lit up, but his mannequins were in the latest fashion and in the Christmas spirit as well. Stores like Higginbotham's, who owned nearly a city block, had several displays, while stores such as Ronald Variety, Dabney Hardware and Montgomery Ward graced us with all sorts of Christmas spirit with their window displays.

Homes in town were just as elaborate with the Christmas cheer. Humsinger's fuchsia home was lit with matching lights, while Dr. Eisenrich’s home was lit up with traditional clear lights and wreaths and bows. Al Stranser may have had a home that looked like Tara from Gone with the Wind, but at Christmas was covered tastefully in red lights and big wreaths. Houses on Reynosa Street, one of the most popular neighborhoods at the time in De Leon, were all a glow as they say. Some had Nativity scenes, while others had Santa's. Some had them just a big tree in their big windows. This was a sight for a child to see.

During this little excursion that took two hours my father thought a soda from Dairy Treat would be a good idea. Now, yes, we had Dairy Queen and we also had a Dairy Treat. My father preferred Dairy Treat. My mother was fuming by now and wasn't enjoying the lights. Well, she wasn't in the first place but by now she was really upset.

I have to say by this time Jason and I were just about frozen like Popsicles under the quilt in layers of clothes and coats. Plus we were getting extremely tired from all of the excitement. It would have been nice though if my parents hadn't needled each other every chance they got.

Finally, after miles of lights, dozens of store fronts, hundred of Christmas trees and Vegas like homes, my father said it was time to go home. Something my mother was more than over-joyed about and frankly us kids couldn't wait to get home to warm up. We weren't looking forward to the Vick's salve, but a nice warm house was sure a welcome.

Upon arrival of our small home, our father parked the car under the little Hermosa tree. Something bad was about to occur.

My father quickly noted that he could have sworn he turned off the lights in the house. I wish I could say that it was a pleasant way he said it, like for example, "Hey kids, I wonder if Santa came by when we weren't home." Instead it was, "What the h**L. Those lights aren't supposed to be on damn it!"

My father said other things as my mother got us kids out of the car. At this point I have to say, I now know the theory behind the lights being on, but at the time I just feared for Santa's life.

As we approached the door my father squawked out more profane words. I must explain at this point why the commotion went a few degrees higher with my father. You see the door never really shut well unless you slammed it good. Apparently, Santa forgot that too.

Now I can only paraphrase what my father said and I cut out the more colorful words that were used. My father said yelling by now, "GD, what the h**L, if I see that SOB, I'm going to kick his ever loving fat a**." I told you he cursed a lot.

To add insult to injury to my father, my mother says calmly, almost mocking him, still mad we went looking at lights with the top down said, "Well, were we robbed?"

My father snapped like a twig and said, "How the h**l would I know. I haven't gone in yet, woman!"

My father went into the house and made another loud squawking sound, which caused my mother to think we had been robbed. Then my father, once again paraphrasing, "That little f****r, turned on the heater and left it on! That SOB!"

By now my mother has rushed in with us kids relieved we hadn't been robbed. However, somebody had been there. That big man in the red suit had came to our house. Santa, had came while we were out.

The tree was lit and underneath it was full of all sorts of presents. Jason and I knew we had been a good girl and boy to receive such. Of course we ended up opening up presents that night not our usual Christmas morning, another mistake Santa made.

Years later I would learn what exactly happened from my grandma. This is what happened.

Well, poor Santa (grandpa) came into a dark house he unlocked the door turned, on the lights to find the tree, unfortunately poor Santa needed to go to the little boy's room. So he turned on lights as he traveled through the house, forgetting to turn them off as he returned. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water and forgot the kitchen lights not because he found cookies sitting on the table, even though he did find those and ate them. He forgot the lights because he realized the table and chair set had to be put together. He wanted to make sure everything looked good under the tree so he turned on the lights to the tree to make sure it was okay and once again forgot to turn them off. But all the while the house was cold his arthritis was acting up so he turned on the heater. As for the door, well the dang thing hadn't been shutting right, but poor Santa (grandpa) was unaware of this. So he shut the door not thinking twice of what he had done. He got into his green Mercury, where his elf (grandma) not thinking too and said to her, "Now when Roy and Deborah get the kids in, they won't turn on the lights in the living room but in the kids room. The kids will probably be knocked out anyway. So they will never see the tree until the next morning."

We were lucky we weren't robbed.


Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

Do Marriages Really Work?

With more than half of the Americans ending their marriage in divorce it has been brought to my attention do marriages really work? I have always been asked by many, how did you keep your husband for twenty three years? Technically my husband and I were married for nearly twenty years. I always count the three years of dating as a trial run as they say to see if we were compatible and we were of course. I can't say the marriage didn't have it's moments but we always worked through them. So after being asked several times since his death, how did you do it? I decided it was time for me to share a few secrets and opinions.

First and foremost marriage is not about sex. It plays a key role, but it is not the basis of a marriage and if you think it is, you need to walk right out the door right now and spare everybody while you have a chance. I am amazed at how many couples base their relationship on sex. If you don't believe me about how people have placed an importance on the sex part of their marriage, go to a little league game and just listen to the women chatter while little Timmy is playing ball. What they say would make a sailor blush with the constant talk of how their sex life is the only thing saving their marriage. Are you kidding? Sex definitely plays a part in the marriage, but for it to hold your marriage together? Children's school glue doesn't work if it gets wet does it? I rest my case.

Neither is money for the basis of a marriage. I don't care who has the money, the woman, the man, his parents, her parents; it's not a marriage if you can only see dollar signs. Don't get me wrong, having money to live comfortable is nice, but when the money starts drying up because of recession, is that the reason for the divorce? I know a cousin who will only date men with a certain income bracket and if they don't meet that standard she dumps them. Never mind she has been married too many times and is now alone. Not a pretty situation if you ask me.

Another culprit in the marriage failure department is; I thought I could change them. Really, are you that stupid to believe you can change dear old Jim Bob from his nightly drinking habits or his sitting on the couch in his underwear while picking his nose at the dinner table? Come on, reality check here. They were doing this long before they met you. Another thing I have found absolutely funny, you thought you could tweak him or her of just that one bad habit. Unless these people hit rock bottom of the nasty habit you want to tweak, nothing changes and besides who gave you the right to decide you had to change them.

Also, a quickie relationship without knowing full well who you are marrying is a bad idea. Whether it is a rebound relationship or just a quick couple of months from E-Harmony, nobody really wins with these kinds of relationships no matter how compatible you are and the ones that do are so rare it's not even real. There is a reason for dating.

Never, under any circumstance should you marry because everybody else is doing it. Please just because some of the world thinks everybody has to get married and procreate doesn't mean you have to. Forcing yourself to marry because that's what peer pressure told you is a real bad idea and usually ends with an affair and a divorce before it's over. Also don't marry with the expectations this person will grow on you. It doesn't work and somebody please tell Lifetime for women that.

Marriage is a balancing act. It really is. You give and take to each other. Noticed I said to each other. Accept the other for who they are and don't try to change them the moment you get married. Now I want to get one thing straight before we move forward. Marriage is about growth and yes with growth there comes changes, but the changes come on each other's terms not demands.

Remember marriage is about give and take, a mutual understanding between two people. If you can't even have this, what makes you think, sex, money, and changing one's habits is going to make it work? It's not.

Yes, I did have a great marriage and yes, we had rough spots, but we knew each other and the terms of the marriage. I think that is what held us together. Believe me we worked hard at it.

So you still ask the question Carla, how? We already know all of this. How did you do it? Well, I am going to tell you a little secret. It's not really a secret but with this world today it would be considered a secret. I have learned listening to your elders no matter how off the rocker they may seem, have something to say. We should listen to them because lets face it; they have been there and done that.

When I got married at eighteen my grandmother gave me three books. These books played a key role in my married life. What were the three books you ask? Well, the one book was a cook book, to which I still use to this day. It was very thick and has everything from A-Z including how to can my own veggies. Great book when you are first married because when you're young and not sure about the cooking world, this little book does the trick. The second book would be a helpful household guide. Yes, the thing looked to be a hundred, but I know how to remove stains, do laundry, and so forth. Removing water stains from wood is a cinch and how to fix a faucet; easy. Some of the information is now out of date, but the basics are there. The book was pretty good; it really became helpful later when I had kids. The third book, which at the time left me speechless, blushing and wondering just what was grandma thinking, was a book about sex.

Remember I said marriage is not based on sex, remember that! I bet you're confused now. I was at the time. Here, was my grandmother's, words of wisdom.

The cook book is so you can cook. One way to a man is his stomach whether he is a vegetarian or steak and potatoes man only. They have to eat. A clean house is guaranteed way to say hey, I have time to do some fun things when he gets home. If you can cook and keep a house clean he'll love it. The third is the most important. If you get bored with the same old, same old in the bedroom open that book and discover another position. That will definitely keep the marriage going.

So what does this mean? In short, you have to keep your marriage interesting not let it get boring. The leading cause of divorce is affairs and what causes affairs? People become bored at home. Yes, they love their spouse but with the same in and same out, home cooking as they say, it becomes rather boring. According to my husband he was usually excited to get home because he never knew what to expect. I wanted my marriage to work I never let it get stale. So I am giving America a little wisdom from my grandmother, marriages are give and take they have to balance and for God's sake never let it get boring!



Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

Where Have All The Shorts Gone?

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