War Bonds

Author Podcasts: Would you? Could you? Should you?

I have a confession to make. I’ve never listened to a podcast. My sons have played bits and blurbs of their favorite podcast for me, but I’ve never actually listened to one.

Until now.

I’m right in the  middle of writing my second book, Life, Love and Raising Sons (Not Necessarily in That Order) and the opportunity to host a podcast about the same topics featured in my book opened up.

Never one to wade in and test the waters, I jumped in and drug 2 of my 4 sons with me.

In the first episode we talk about spoilers and ruin Star Wars, Santa and a classic novel or two. Undaunted, in the next episode we talk about summer movies, and board games you shouldn’t play with the family.

Produced by Spokane Talks Online, the forum offers a behind-the-scenes look at the fodder for my Spokesman Review columns, magazine articles and of course my inspiration for the new book. The podcast can be downloaded at Spokane Talks Online and iTunes etc.

It’s been a bit of learning curve, but awfully fun to hang out with my sons and spill the family secrets.

I’m not yet sure if a podcast is a valuable marketing tool for a fairly new author in the middle of writing her second book. Time will tell.

In the meanwhile, I’d love to hear your thoughts about your favorite podcasts– especially if you listen to any author podcasts!
And please tune in to Love, Life & Raising Sons here http://www.spokanetalksonline.com/category/podcasts/life-love-and-raising-sons/

img_3022

Sam Hval, Cindy Hval, Zach Hval

War Bonds

Seizing serendipity: WWII vet publishes novel

14021667_1144536465584979_1889335700444087371_n[1]

I was privileged to interview Stan Parks, 92, for this Saturday feature in the Spokesman Review.

Stan Parks, 92, has been many things: sailor, dentist, world traveler, husband, father, grandfather, photographer, sculptor, civic leader. Recently, he added a new title to his resume: author.

In March he published his first novel, “Jakob’s Ladies,” through Gray Dog Press.

Tackling new projects is second nature to Parks, who also serves as president of the Spokane Downtown Kiwanis Club.

“I retired in 1982,” he said. Then he grinned. “But I didn’t really retire.”

 “Serendipity” is a word he uses often to describe the many opportunities he’s been able to embrace during his lifetime.

Born and raised in Chicago, Parks left his studies at Loyola University to join the Navy in 1942.

“Well, they let me finish my year at Loyola because I was part of the V-12 program,” he said.

The V-12 program was designed to supplement the force of commissioned officers in the U.S. Navy during WWII.

The newly commissioned lieutenant junior grade was assigned to the USS LST-53, a tank landing ship, recently returned from the invasion of Normandy. Parks and his crew and were sent to the Pacific theater.

“When the war ended we were given the job of returning occupied troops to Japan,” he recalled. “I saw quite a bit of Japan. We picked up Japanese from outlying islands and brought them home so they could rebuild the country.”

After the war, he resumed his studies at Loyola. One evening a friend invited Parks to join him and his wife for dinner. Unbeknownst to Parks, he wasn’t the only guest.

“Serendipity,” he said, smiling. “I chatted with my friend for awhile and then his wife called us into dinner. I walked into the dining room and saw this beautiful young lady. Her name was Eleanor, but I called her Norie.”

More than six decades have passed since that fateful meeting, but his eyes still light up at the mention of her name.

“We married on Dec. 28, 1947,” he said.

They settled in Aurora where Parks established a thriving dental practice and where they raised their four children.

In 1978, he visited Guatemala, volunteering his time to provide dental services at a medical mission run by the Benedictines. The trip proved eye-opening for Parks, who mostly cared for the students at the mission school.

“They had absolutely nothing,” he said. “No dental care at all.”

He knew he’d have to return, which he did almost every year until 2004. With other dentists, he established a modern dental clinic, complete with everything they’d need to care for patients.

“The office is still there,” said Parks. “And dentists still go.”

When asked why he returned to Guatemala so many times he replied, “The satisfaction of helping those people. You can’t believe how little they had.”

After 32 years, Parks retired and he and Norie moved to Fort Meyers, Florida. His retirement from dentistry allowed him to pursue other passions.

“I did a lot of acting,” he said. “My wife and I joined the Peninsula Players. I really enjoyed it. My wife was a great actress.”

And there were the boats. The Norie 1, 2 and 3.

“They got bigger each time,” Parks said, laughing. “We spent a lot of time in the Bahamas, living on the boat.”

When their son moved to Spokane, Parks and his wife enjoyed visiting the area so much, they purchased a condo so they could spend more time here.

He’s always had an artist’s eye; framed photographs he’s taken throughout the years line the walls of his South Hill home. But he also likes to work with his hands, so when an opportunity to take a sculpting class from Sister Paula Turnbull came, he seized it.

“Talk about serendipity,” he said, pointing to several busts that he created under her tutelage.

One of those pieces is a bas relief featuring the face of his beloved Norie, who died five years ago.

Tears fill his eyes when he says her name.

“We were married 63 years. She was fabulous. As gorgeous as she was physically, she was that way on the inside, too. It’s hard without her.”

After her death, he moved to Spokane permanently to be near his son.

He went to see Turnbull upon his return to find out if she was offering more classes.

“She said she was too busy to teach, but she said I could work in her studio,” said Parks. “I loved it.”

When he heard about a writing class at the Sinto Senior Activity Center he decided to take it. He’d already penned his memoir.

“Well, it’s not really finished,” he said.

But he wanted to try his hand at fiction.

“If you don’t know how to do something, you can learn! It sharpens your mind.”

With encouragement from his writing group, he wrote “Jakob’s Ladies,” a historical novel set in 1895, about a dentist who goes out west to Sheridan, Wyoming, to launch his practice.

Parks did quite a bit of research, even traveling to Sheridan.

“I was in love with my characters. When one of them died – that was the hardest part to write.”

The book is dedicated to Norie, “My lady, my first mate, my only mate.”

He’s pondering a sequel, but he has plenty to keep him busy. He’s always been part of civic groups, so his leadership of the Downtown Kiwanis is a good fit.

“I can’t become a philanthropist and give away a fortune, but I can join a club like Kiwanis and give away pretty big chunks of money.”

At 92, he’s not resting on any laurels.

“There’s so much to be done and so many opportunities to do it,” said Parks. “I need 100 more years to do all the things I want to do.”

Columns

The road to enlightenment

In which we travel, see beautiful things, drive past enlightenment, do not catch Pokémon, but a lot make memories.

Scenic mountain vistas, mighty locomotives, a dash of dogs and a sprinkling of enlightenment – our recent road trip had it all.

After an enjoyable visit to Olympia a couple of years ago, we decided we wanted to take our youngest to the state Capitol. The torture of an Interstate 5 drive had been lost in the haze of more pleasant memories.

We arrived in time for a late dinner at the hotel restaurant, and our spirits were revived with food, drink and a view that didn’t involve asphalt.

“Look at the lady with the cute dog,” Sam said, as we gazed out the window. “I think it’s a corgi.”

 A few minutes later, Derek said, “Hey! There’s a lady with two of them!”

Bemused, we watched a parade of corgis and their owners, taking a slow stroll around the hotel grounds.

“Must be a corgi convention,” I speculated.

In the morning we found out a corgi dog show was being held at the hotel.

With coffees in hand we braved I-5 again for a few miles before heading to Elbe, Washington, for a steam train excursion. Aside from the train at Silverwood, none of us had been aboard a genuine steam-powered train.

On the way, we drove through Yelm and right past Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment. To our surprise, Sam had never heard of JZ Knight. Or Linda Evans. Or New Age anything.

Derek attempted to educate him: “A bunch of people sold their dogs, their cats, their kids and followed this guru chick who claimed to channel a dude named Ramtha.”

“Dad, you can’t do that,” said Sam.

“Do what?” asked Derek.

“Sell your kids,” Sam replied.

“Well, they did,” said Derek, who then attempted to explain Linda Evans and the 1980s. We believe travel should be as educational as possible.

While explaining “Dynasty” and really big hair, he also confidently negotiated a seemingly endless series of double roundabouts.

“Boy, all I’ve been doing is making right turns,” he mused. “I hope we’re getting somewhere.”

But get somewhere we did. We enjoyed the 14-mile excursion via First Class passenger car. Brilliant blue skies framed Mount Rainier, and we disembarked at Mineral to tour the Logging Museum, which is set up like a railroad logging camp. We explored the camp and the steam locomotive exhibits before boarding for the return trip.

The next day Sam announced he wanted to see some waterfalls, so we laced up our walking shoes and hiked Tumwater Falls Park. The 15-acre park features a network of trails and footbridges offering expansive views of the tumbling falls.

Of course, the point of our visit was to tour the state Capitol. We knew our politically aware son would appreciate the rich history of the building and sitting in the Senate and House galleries. Our visit concluded with a stop at the gift shop, where we discovered that our state is still firmly in the grip of a two-party system. You can purchase Democrat Merlot and Republican Merlot, but if you’re looking for a Libertarian Pinot Gris, you’re out of luck. You can also get Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders paper dolls, but there was nary a Gary Johnson paper doll to be found.

While Sam enjoyed the Capitol, he was unimpressed with the slogan we read on a sign: “City of Olympia: Working together to make a difference.”

“I feel like it should be, ‘Working together to make a more clichéd tagline,’ ” he said.

The snark is strong with this one.

After dinner at Budd Bay Café we were eager to stroll along the boardwalk with Sam. The lovely views of the marina and harbor were a highlight of our last trip. To our surprise, the boardwalk teemed with people milling about looking at their phones. Couples, singles and families ambled along, heads down, staring at their screens, oblivious to the sunlight reflected on the water, heedless of the lovely displays of public art and tone deaf to the lone street musician who strummed his guitar.

My suspicions were confirmed when I stopped at Harbor House.

“Is this a Pokemon Go stop?” I asked.

He nodded.

“It’s right out there,” he said, pointing toward the harbor. Then he shrugged. “It’s an epidemic.”

We watched as couples ignored the delighted squeals of their toddlers pointing at the boats bobbing in the water, instead intently scanning their phones for a Squirtle in the wild.

Saddened, we escaped the crowds and climbed the lookout tower, which offers stunning views of the harbor crowned by the Capitol dome.

Gazing down I saw a lone family on the beach. None of them had smartphones out. The preteen brother and sister were skipping stones across the water while their parents watched.

I looked for Derek and Sam to show them another family untethered from technology. I found them standing side by side, talking quietly, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon. Their broad shoulders and height are so alike now, it took my breath away.

Quietly, I sat on a bench behind them and dug my phone out of my purse. I didn’t use it to search for a Pokemon, I used it to snap a photo and capture a memory.

I’d seen a lot of lovely things on our trip, but nothing as beautiful as this.

13900235_1140759745962651_2061252563433272046_n[2]

Contact Cindy Hval at dchval@juno.com. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.


Columns

So, this is August?

In my most recent column, I bemoan the fleeting days of summer. And what happened to July anyway?

Apparently, I blinked and missed July. How can a month with 31 days just vanish? I feel like I’m in an alternate version of a John Lennon song: “So this is August and what have you done? Another month over and a new one just begun.”

I spent much of last summer out of town for “War Bonds” readings or events, so this summer I planned to make the most of the longer days. My list of things to conquer seemed so manageable back in June. But now it’s August and I still haven’t even worn the swimsuit that arrived too late for our Hawaii anniversary trip in March.

June was a blur of end-of-school activities, and by the time we celebrated Sam’s stellar report card and Zack’s graduation from Spokane Falls Community College, the month was mostly gone. But July stretched languorously out before me and I’d planned to squeeze the most out of those summer hours.

At the top of the to-do list? Get braces for Sam, which seemed a simple enough task. After all, I’ve been down the orthodontia route with his oldest brother. But the orthodontist we used back then has long since retired. Finding time to take him to visit at least three specialists to get quotes has proved impossible.

 Sam’s been busy stripping and painting his grandmother’s deck and volunteering at the North Spokane Library. When I have time – he doesn’t. When he has time – I don’t.

At this rate, he’ll be in college by the time his teeth are straightened. Actually, he will be in college because while we haven’t done the orthodontic visits, we did enroll him at Eastern Washington University. This fall he’ll be a Running Start student at his dad’s alma mater.

I’d hoped to take day trips around the area, but the farthest I’ve ventured is my backyard. Why waste gas when the garden is glorious, the flowers in bloom and hours drift by while I devour a great “beach read” beneath the Great Gazebo’s generous shade?

Instead of exploring area day hikes, I’ve stuck to my regular neighborhood walking route, despite the challenge of navigating massive roadwork projects.

The other day as I approached some work in progress, a kind flagger escorted me across the street. Apparently, I look like the type of person who might fall into a 5-foot crater, even though it was filled with three guys in hard hats and marked by orange traffic cones.

Taking the cats to the vet is always on my summer list. Because I’m no glutton for punishment, I always schedule separate visits and insist one of the boys accompany us. Milo and Thor have plenty of time for a car ride. Zack and Sam do not.

Last year at this time, we were inundated with zucchini. In anticipation of this year’s bounty, I spent quite a bit of time finding and organizing recipes to showcase our squash crop. My mouth watered with thoughts of zucchini casserole, cookies, breads and fritters. But so far our zucchini crop has been a bust. We’re awash in tomatoes, carrots and onions, but nary a squash.

Writing during the summer is always difficult. My rarely quiet home gets even noisier with kids and company. I’d hoped to be to the halfway point on the first draft of my second book, but, alas, I’m nowhere close to making that goal.

I did however record several episodes of my new podcast “Life, Love & Raising Sons,” which debuts next week at SpokaneTalksOnline.com. The program shares the title of my second book, so I count it as progress.

Even more fun, Zack and Sam joined me for the first two episodes. If you’ve ever wondered what a Hval family dinner table conversation sounds like, you can tune in or download the podcast once it’s posted.

So this is August and what have you done? Me? I just ripped up that pesky summer to-do list and put on my new swimsuit. The month is looking sunnier already.

Contact Cindy Hval at dchval@juno.com. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.

War Bonds

The Power of Gratitude

I read a quote from Yoko Ono this morning that’s lingering in my mind. Speaking about her life with John Lennon, she said, “We just accepted what was there for us and lived in grace and appreciation.”

Appreciation. Thankfulness. Gratitude. Powerful words that have the ability to transform our lives.

My story A Wedding and Funeral has been included in the recently released book, Chicken Soup the Soul: The Power of Gratitude.

The story chronicles a memorable day in which my husband and I attended the funeral of a young man who overdosed on his depression medication; and a wedding for longtime single friend who finally said yes to love.

Most days aren’t filled with such epic events, but every day offers us a chance to breathe in grace and breath out appreciation.

Gratitude. It’s powerful.

20160803_145020

War Bonds

Things no one tells you before you write a book: hazards of grocery shopping

I was hot, sweaty and tired after a long afternoon of writing followed by a brisk three-mile walk, but someone has to buy the groceries for my family and that someone is me.

Wearing my favorite emoticon-covered work-out tank and some scruffy shorts, I hopped into the car. I thought about running a brush through my hair, but it was  windy day. Why bother?
I thought about slapping some make-up on, but why would I do that when I just needed a few things from the store?

You know where this is going don’t you?

While I was selecting some Walla Walla sweet onions, a woman near me said, “I like your shirt.” I smiled and thanked her.

That’s when she said, “Oh my gosh! Are you Cindy Hval? Did you write that book of love stories from World War II?”

When I nodded. She grabbed the guy stocking produce and gushed, “Do you know who this is?” And said some very lovely and kind things about War Bonds.

Of course, the produce guy wanted to know more. And then he said, “Hey! I DO know who you are, I read your column in the Spokesman Review!”

There’s a moral here. There’s a lesson to be learned.

For me it’s this: I can’t go grocery shopping anymore, ever again.
The end.

20160802_185840

 

 

 

 

 

Columns, War Bonds

Magic, Make-Believe and Me

In this column for the Spokesman Review, I address the importance of keeping magic and make=believe alive for our children– especially now.

I was smiling as we walked out of the movie theater into the warm summer night.

“That was absolutely magical,” I said.

My sons, 16 and 21, nodded, but they didn’t seem as enthralled by “The BFG” as I’d been. The movie, based on the book by Roald Dahl, tells the story of an unlikely friendship between an orphan girl named Sophie and the Big Friendly Giant. The two join forces to rid the world of mean, nasty giants.

I loved the retelling. It brought back memories of curling up and reading the book with my second son, who was notoriously difficult to get to sit still and read anything at all. Dahl’s books were just scary enough and just off-kilter enough to capture his imagination and still his ever-churning legs.

 The week before, we’d seen “Finding Dory,” and both sons preferred that movie to “The BFG.”

Not me. While “Dory” was a fun film with great visual elements, humor and a compelling message, it lacked the heart of “The BFG.” It lacked magic.

For me, the best part about being a parent has been the ongoing permission to indulge in my love of make-believe. From sharing beloved childhood favorite films and books with my boys to discovering new stories and new adventures with them, parenthood has allowed me to retain a bit of the ability to believe in the impossible.

Perhaps that’s why I reacted so strongly when my youngest got in the car one day after kindergarten and announced, “There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”

Furious, I whipped around and gave his older brothers the “look” – you know the scary glare meant to stop even the naughtiest child in their tracks. My offspring have dubbed it “Mom’s Death Ray.”

“Don’t look at us!” said Zack, then 11, “We know Santa is real!”

Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Why do you say that, Sam?”

“Tyler’s mom helped us with Christmas crafts today, and we were talking about what we wanted Santa to bring us for Christmas. She said, ‘Santa Claus is a made-up character, and he doesn’t take presents to children all over the world.’ Is she right? Is there really no such thing as Santa?”

I looked into his troubled blue eyes and tried to gauge his desire to know with his longing to believe.

So, I reminded Sam of the story of St. Nicholas and how he used his wealth to give to the poor and needy. I told him the story of Santa Claus came from St. Nicholas’ and asked him what he thought.

He scratched his head, looked at his brothers and then replied, “Oh, he’s real all right, but I think he has help getting all those presents delivered.”

Crisis averted. Magic preserved.

I know not all parents agree that a healthy dose of make-believe makes for a happy childhood. For instance, one of my sons told me of a millennial parent in his acquaintance who told him that allowing his preschoolers to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy is the same as lying to them, and he will never lie to his kids.

But children are not miniature adults. The brain, body and emotions of a 5-year-old boy are not equivalent to those of a 30-year-old man. Fairy tales and make-believe allow imaginations to soar. They create a sense of wonder and possibility.

These past few weeks have made it difficult for many of us to hold onto any sense of hope, wonder and enchantment. The world can be a harsh, unlovely place. Maybe that’s why we need stories of magic and mystery all the more.

In a darkened theater we can watch a blue fish with memory problems cross the ocean to find her family, or see a little girl have tea with the queen of England and help banish evil giants from the land.

Stories offer us a respite from ugly reality and fan the flames of flagging faith, encouraging us to believe in the unbelievable, at least for a little while.

Contact Cindy Hval at dchval@juno.com. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.

War Bonds

Inland Northwest Writer’s Guild

Happy to speak about writing, publishing and marketing books at the Inland Northwest Writers’ Guild at 7 PM on Wednesday, 6/15 at Auntie’s Bookstore.

All writers are welcome to attend– especially lightly published and beginning authors!

There’s a punctuation and grammar skills class at 6, for those that want to brush up on their skills and then I’ll be speaking at 7 with plenty of time for Q &A.

Hope to see many fellow scribes!

 

War Bonds

A Bookshelf of Our Own

Running my hands along the spines, I can scarcely believe it– 14 books featuring my stories.

20160530_154528

From the first time a writer picks up a pen or pounds out a story on a keyboard we wonder if it will ever be read by more than just a family member, close friend or teacher. Rarely in love with our own words, we weigh, sift, edit and groan over balky transitions and awkward phrases. We look back at our first stories and they sometimes seem like primitive scratches in the sand.

And if we’re really lucky, we find our tribe– a group of supportive readers and writers, who push us to do better and who ask for more

20160530_155338

And we celebrate their publications, adding their books to our shelves, always leaving room for the next volume.

How wonderful to take a moment and realize no matter how arduous the journey from idea to print, it is possible to achieve out what every writer longs for– a shelf of our own.

War Bonds

The thrill ain’t gone

13254332_1088081834563776_7878354948230130632_n[2]

Even a year after publication, it’s still a thrill to be asked to sign a stack of books! So grateful readers and booksellers are valuing War Bonds and the stories shared within.

13266071_1088081817897111_2872651087086270262_n[1]

A recent reading at a local Barnes & Noble prompted a slew of interest and phone calls, so I was delighted to stop in and sign more copies.

As we head into Memorial Day weekend I’m even more conscious of the privilege I’ve had in being allowed to share these stories before they were lost.

I feel like “thankful” should be part of my signature.