ALL THEM HOUSES - a memoir

 ALL THEM HOUSES - a memoir - an excerpt

Page 54 - 57

Then I knew that I was obliged to stop telling the flattering white lies that led to my fall in the first place. I learned that there is no security in conditional love. Did this truth set me free? No, indeed! It has gotten me into a whole lot of trouble.

I will talk more about this later. Because when I started dealing with these kinds of truths and white lies, I was no longer living at 32 Ashbury Avenue. No, no, by then I was well past the age of twelve.

I was not old enough to be making a commitment of any kind to anyone of the opposite sex. However, it is, indeed, the truth that at the age of ten, I did have my very first boyfriend.

His name was Augustine Arnone. He, along with his parents, moved into a house just down the street from ours on Ashbury Avenue. I think I was ten years old at the time of our meeting.

Augustine was from Italy. He spoke the Italian language and no English. This didn't seem to hamper our new friendship at all.  I taught him how to say a few words in English. More exciting, he taught me how to say naughty words in Italian; the word that stands out in my mind is fungala. I didn't know what the word meant but I did know it was a naughty word, one that I could use around my other friends who didn't know how to understand Italian. This gave me an edge.

I taught Augustine how to roller-skate. Together we would hold hands while we raced down the hill on Glenholme Avenue, remembering to make a sharp left hand turn onto Jesmond Avenue to avoid roller-skating into traffic.

Yes, Augustine was my first boyfriend. But he was, by far, not the last.

My life with my family on Ashbury Avenue was, in most ways, a good life. I will go back to the kitchen with its gas stove and skirted sink, its white, wooden table and its matching white cupboard with the glass doors that held the plates and other dishes.

I remember May 24th weekends with fireworks and fun. I remember one year, in particular, when somehow, by accident, the collection of fireworks all went off at once on the front verandah. What a scare! What beauty! What excitement!

Throughout Canadian winters I remember boots in the back porch, mitts drying by the warm gas oven, and drinking cocoa which had to be made in exactly the correct way with one teaspoon of cocoa, one teaspoon of sugar onto which milk is poured and mixed before the boiling water can be added.

Our city backyard was special to me as a child. It was where Mommy hung the laundry on the clothesline. It was where Daddy planted his vegetable garden. I remember sitting on the ground and eating straight from the earth the carrots, the beans, and the peas.  Yes, I survived. Perhaps even the earth was cleaner in those days than today.

Most of all I loved to spend time on the backyard swing.

I was blessed to have such a wonderful, caring, loving mother. She worked so very hard to keep our home clean and organized. I remember her brushing my hair. I remember her slipping the nickel into my hand for the collection plate at Sunday School. I remember her shaking her finger at me and saying, "Be good."

ALL THEM HOUSES - a memoir is found on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or it can be found directly at  https://www.amazon.ca/All-Them-Houses-Audrey-Austin/dp/1542874076/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1PDWNWSPH0KO3&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.z-iqvAgC-hWWF7c_jQrBqYlJWrMheZyhXMQc6P2EDA0.C-VO4Y97f9XcGEt7WZluJEufmtS-Gw_PLeQWtN5xf_8&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+All+Them+Houses&qid=1769702283&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+all+them+houses%2Cstripbooks%2C112&sr=1-1

THE SILENT STAR plus a dozen SELECTIONS - an excerpt

 THE SILENT STAR plus a dozen SELECTIONS - an excerpt

an excerpt from JOSHUA'S JOURNEY - page  37 - 40

"Do you want help with that shirt, Joshua?"

"Lordy, lady! You still here? Don't need no help!"

"Okay, you have a good day. I'm leaving now."

"Good! It's about time!" I get the buttons all done up. I pull the grey pants outa the closet and carry them back to bed where I plunk myself down. Never used to have this trouble getting into my pants. Used to stand up tall, slide in one leg, then the other; tighten the belt and away I'd go. I remember those days. Some people call them the good old days. Not me!

Getting into my pants is a project and I don't mean the kind I used to live in either. Anyway by the time I was three mama moved out of that hell-hole and rented a little house near Oakwood and Vaughan. Don't know where my daddy was but he sure wasn't in that neighbourhood. Back in those days I was the only black face in the crowd. I asked mama once where my daddy was but she wasn't in a good mood to give me a straight answer.

Mama used to say if her life was a movie it would be a melodrama. If my life was a movie it would probably be a comedy or maybe a horror show depending on how you want to look at it.

I get my pants on. The pants legs are dragging on the floor; way too long. I shove my big old feet into my shoes and it makes no difference. The pants legs are still dragging. The pants are old and I know they're not getting any longer. Means I'm getting shorter. I didn't notice the shrinking. Guess it was a gradual thing. Doesn't seem long ago that I was six feet tall. Of course I wasn't bow-legged in those days. Don't know when that happened either.

Today's my birthday.  Not sure but I think I'm 82 years old. Doesn't seem long since I was a strapping young man. In fact it doesn't seem that long ago that I was a kid. This gray fuzz on my head was curly black in those days. I was the only black kid in my school. When I was little I didn't know the difference between black and white but by the time I was ten I knew how to punch out anybody that got in my way or called me a bad name. I was brutal when I had to be. I knew how to be tough and even cruel. It kept people away from me and that's how I liked it.

I remember the day I was sitting out on the front step. Mama was at work and I was just hanging around, bored, waiting for her to come home to make us some supper. I saw this old lady coming down the sidewalk pulling her grocery cart. From the step I could see she had some good stuff in that cart. There was bread, apples, some meats from the butcher shop wrapped up in brown paper and tied with strings. I wanted some of that good stuff.  I was hungry.

When that old lady was just about in front of me I stuck my leg out in front of her. The cart collapsed, groceries scattered all over the cement and she went flying. Then down she went on the sidewalk. Her knees were bleeding all over the place. It was hilarious. Stupid old woman!

Before she had a chance to pick herself up I grabbed a package of meat and ran up the alleyway like I was being chased by dragons. Once I was safely hidden in the back alley I opened the brown package. Good stuff! To this day knackwurst is one of my favourite sausages but it has never tasted as good as it did that day.

Mama came home about a half hour later.  I remember ..............

THE SILENT STAR plus a dozen SELECTIONS is an anthology of short stories, all with the focus on contemporary social issues.

You will find this book on my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

or you will find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Silent-Star-plus-dozen-Selections/dp/1508664919/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2UPKV028R7S7R&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.S0HtuoEG1np-BiarETkT9gFHR19xnWuE4DBsYCr8uX4.tQN3b0UXKN2p2sL4u8Y4PnWoNcrPFxXaZy3K7YIdyM0&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+the+silent+star+plus+a+dozen+selections&qid=1769622069&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+the+silent+star+plus+a+dozen+selections%2Cstripbooks%2C114&sr=1-1

CRABAPPLE COURT - an excerpt

 CRABAPPLE COURT - an excerpt

Page 118 - 121

"I could not help but overhear, doctor. You were speaking with Gerald Gagnon?"

"Yes."

"May I ask what it was he wanted?"

"He wants me to come over to stay with Patricia. He is going back to Elliot Lake to pick up his things."

"Oh, yes," the inspector says. "That comes as no surprise to me. Now, doctor, if I may, I understand you live here with your husband?"

"Yes, but he's not home. He's out with the search party and so are my boys."

"I see. Your boys? How many boys do you have?

"I have three sons."

"Their names and ages?"

"My oldest is William at seventeen; Harold is fifteen, and Gordon is thirteen."

"I see, and they are with your husband on the search party?"

"I didn't want them to go but, yes, that's where they are."

"And you had a reason for not wanting them to go, ma'am?"

"I was trying to protect them but they are okay. As long as they stay with my husband I'm okay with them being on the search party."

"Your husband, what is his profession, doctor?"

"Ernie is a lawyer."

"Since your boys are much older than the missing child I don't expect they would have much contact with her?"'

"No, that's where you're wrong. Susie was often coming over here wanting Gordie, my youngest, to play with her. It drove Gordie nuts. He didn't want her around. He just didn't want to be bothered with her and he would tell her to go home."

"And your other children?"

"No, they had no time for Susie but my oldest boy William did say he sometimes felt sorry for her being an only child with no father. It was Harold who said that she still had her grandfather though so he didn't feel so sorry for her."

"I see."

"I was surprised though when Gordon told me that Susan didn't like her grandfather. Gordie said Susie told him that her grandfather was weird."

"Did you find out why she said her grandfather was weird?"

"No, that's about it."

"You are a good friend of Doctor Donnelly?"

"Yes, we work together at the hospital. We're neighbours and, sure, we are friends."

At this point Inspector Fletcher stands up from the couch. "Thank you for your time, Doctor Martin. If I have any further questions I will be in touch with you."

Heather shows the Inspector to the door. Just before he leaves he asks, "You will be going next door now to Doctor Martin's house?"

"I will,  yes."

"I see," is all the Inspector has to say about that.

Heather closes the door. She goes into her kitchen. After rummaging in a drawer she withdraws a small pad of paper and a pen. She writes a note, tears the small sheet from the pad and sticks it up on the fridge door with a magnet. I'm over at Patricia's is all the note says.

Heather is surprised when she knocks on Patricia's door to have it opened by a woman she has never seen before in her life. "Who are you?" she asks.

"I am Officer Owen of the RCMP. And who are you?"

"I''m Heather Martin. Patricia's father phoned me earlier and asked me to come stay with Patricia because he wants to return to Elliot Lake."

"Come in, Heather," Patricia shouts from the living-room. "It's okay, Officer Owens."

"Where is Gerald?" Heather asks upon her entry into the living-room.

"He wanted to go home to pick up some fresh clothes and stuff. He will be back here tomorrow."

Heather is annoyed. "I told him to stay with you until I got here. What was his big rush to go anyway?"

CRABAPPLE COURT is available on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Crabapple-Court-Audrey-Austin/dp/0978023870/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2HN50466BMXDI&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.9KyJHI59gjPEMyXNYCK6IA.QAfEREG9CsM0TXMGFow3rt6Hh1IFBHXkXTlZllI1OYI&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+crabapple+court&qid=1769529540&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+crabapple+court%2Cstripbooks%2C106&sr=1-1

EMPOWERMENT WORKSHOPS FOR WOMEN

 EMPOWERMENT WORKSHOPS FOR WOMEN in book form

For many years I conducted Empowerment Workshops for Women covering a multitude of women's issues topics including Grieving Our Losses; Relationship; Getting High on Life; and more.

The first workshop I ever facilitated was many years ago in Toronto and it was titled IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER?

I am now a retired Psychospiritual Practitioner and I am no longer facilitating workshops.

However, I do have all the material from past workshops in my possession and, just recently, it occurred to me that I could take this material and offer it to anyone interested in book form.

And I have begun by doing just that with material I had on hand from my first workshop many years ago.  The material is still very relevant and it is now my pleasure to share with you the first in this new series titled Empowerment Workshops for Women.

You will find IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER?  in paperback format on all Amazon sites.

Visit my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or find IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER? directly at https://www.amazon.ca/AGE-REALLY-JUST-NUMBER-Empowerment/dp/B0GHNT5N9F/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3UD9ARYHHU8WA&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.Y-mYmPdrniU9sf_nNPNbtw._yFa2EogZzDQ4FURsFd2OmzTw6O53bnmqXbYyl83uS8&dib_tag=se&fbclid=IwY2xjawPkseNleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFxbG54QkxaZmxzSXFOQU1xc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQQMjIyMDM5MTc4ODIwMDg5MgABHp0Ey2KDIL_UFvKuEoLH_-PfQzYE2UW_qKLolw16nlkmeyCB0Gkdt9UFMcTd_aem_aKyegTRDykDMJ2MkYd-vlw&keywords=Audrey+Austin+is+age+really+just+a+number&qid=1769460193&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+is+age+really+just+a+number%2Cstripbooks%2C113&sr=1-1

WHEN GOD GIVES US SPRING - an excerpt

 WHEN GOD GIVES US SPRING - an excerpt

PAGE 101 - 107

With my outfit I fought hard throughout the south. It wasn't until after September, 1862 and the issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation that many more free blacks signed up for duty. The way it was explained to me this Emancipation Proclamation was an executive order issued by United States President, Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863. He used his war powers and proclaimed the freedom of 3.1 million of America's four million slaves.  I heard this proclamation immediately freed fifty thousand slaves, and nearly all the rest were freed as our Union Armies advanced.

These ex-slaves, including me, were called Freedmen but we never were made citizens of the United States. That never did bother me much anyway because I knew that once this Civil War was over I would be on my way home to Canada.

In May of 1864 when I was at the age of sixty-two, the Union Army came under the leadership of a fellow named Ulysses S. Grant. We clashed against Confederate General Lee in the wilderness. Lots of men around me were being killed. I prayed a lot to sweet Jesus and stayed alive to fight another day.

In 1865 I was with my black battalion and we were in the State of Virginia. That's when I did something I never thought I would do. Battle ensued. Men dropped around me while others advanced. I dropped down too. Yes, I pretended I was hit. I acted as though I was dead. I was quiet. I was still. My battalion carried on without me. I was sixty-three years old and that's when I decided to finally do something I'd been thinking about doing ever since I first signed up in 1862.

After taking off and burying my Union Army jacket I made my way to Master Alfred's plantation. I was surprised to see that the Union Army had not been here, at least not yet. Everything looked much the same as it had when I was my Master's house slave and sex slave. From my distant vantage point I saw the big house up on the hill; the big white house with the tall white pillars reaching up to heaven.  From where I stood I could not see the slave shacks down the hill in back of the big house.

That's where I was heading and when I did finally reach the slave shacks and looked up to the big house on the top of the hill I hesitated, but only for a second.  Was I doing the right thing? Yes, my heart decided. I knew what I must do.

It was quiet there outside the shacks. I wondered if they had all run away. But then I realized it was early in the day and no doubt they were all out working in the cotton fields. I raised my eyes and looked up to the top of the hill. I saw no signs of life  up there either and began my trek up the hill.

The back door of the big white house was unlocked. I let myself in and looked around for Leona. I didn't see her or Wilbur and though I thought that was odd it didn't keep me from my goal. I walked from the kitchen at the back of the house through the dining room, the drawing room and then made my way to the library. Master Alfred was not at home unless, of course, he was upstairs in his bedroom.

I removed my shoes and in as quiet a manner as I could manage I began my climb up the stairway. My back hugged the wall in the upstairs corridor as I made my way slowly to his bedroom door. Once outside the door I didn't hesitate. Grabbing the knob, I turned it and pushed the door open before me.

That's when I saw him.

I had forgotten that I was not the only one who had aged throughout the years I'd been gone. Before me in a heavy dark wooden wheelchair sat an old white-haired man. His rheumy eyes were pinkish and his toothless mouth gave him a gaunt expression. He was much thinner than I remembered. I didn't know his age but like a ton of bricks it hit me that he must by now be at least ninety years old. Could I go ahead with my plan?

Looking straight at me he asked in his soft, trembling old man voice, "Who are you?"

"You don't remember me, Master Alfred?"

"Nope."

"Well, it's been a very long time."

"Michael? Is that you, Michael?"

"It's me, Michael," I answered. "Still alive and breathing God's good air after all these years."

"Where have you been, boy? What made you take off like that? You were my favourite. I told you I would always look after you. Didn't I tell you that, Michael?"

"Yes, you told me that, old man."

"What brings you back here, Michael? Have you missed me the way I've missed you all these years?"

"I'm here to settle an old score. That's why I'm here."

"Old score? I don't understand."

That's when I removed the gun from its resting place behind my belt. I pointed the pistol at the old man and .............

WHEN GOD GIVES US SPRING is a novella and it can be found on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or directly at https://www.amazon.ca/When-God-Gives-Us-Spring/dp/1499106769/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3UN7SCX9IT776&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.a9LsbqZla18K8mwP_OiBbhPeuJogsaTGC7_2RcO_cR0.-9lf7ppMFGLOSYxMXDY0sZdBdrkstJt1op_Whfch4F4&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+when+god+gives+us+spring&qid=1769444312&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+when+god+gives+us+spring%2Cstripbooks%2C111&sr=1-1

WHEN GOD GIVES US SPRING has received only five ratings but all ratings are 5 star and, even though this novella was published twelve years ago, on Amazon.ca it is still rated #534 in Black & African American Historical Fiction

WHEN GOD GIVES US SPRING is available exclusively on all Amazon sites in Kindle, Paperback, and Audiobook formats.

cover paperback

cover audiobook

RECOMPENSE - an excerpt

 RECOMPENSE - an excerpt

Pages 49 - 52

It was on Maurice's sixtieth birthday that I gifted him with a laptop computer. Thinking it was high time I learned a little more about the world of the internet I also bought one for myself.

And there we are; an old couple who know nothing of marriage, making a commitment to spend our evenings on-line. Maurice sits at his desk. I sit on the other side of the living-room at my desk. Together we singularly explore this new phenomenon called the World Wide Web.

I learned to shop on line. I bought books, music, even clothing. I didn't do a lot of e-mail but one activity I did enjoy was chatting. Visiting the chat room was something that started the evening I discovered a website called Senior Befriender.

In the beginning I felt twinges of guilt when I responded to a message from a stranger, a man I knew nothing whatsoever about. For this reason I tried to gain some attention from Maurice. "Why don't we go out to a movie this evening?" I would ask of the man hunched over his laptop on the other side of the room.

He would barely lift his eyes from the screen and it was rare that he would point them in my direction before muttering, "No, I'm not in the mood. You go if you want."

Another evening I tried again. "Maurice, how do you feel about going out for dinner this evening? It would make a nice change from cooking."

"I don't feel like going anywhere, Alison. Why don't you call a girlfriend and go yourself?"

After a while I just gave up. After a while I began to relax and enjoy the flirty chats with men across the country and around the world. One evening I was particularly intrigued to receive a friendly message from a fellow called Conrad. "Hello pretty lady," he typed.

I had not posted a photo of myself like most other women did on this senior chat line so how on earth did he know if I was pretty or not. "You don't know what I look like," I responded.

"This is true."

"Then why do you call me pretty lady?"

"I have been reading some of your posts to others on this site. Only a pretty lady could say such positive and friendly words."

I couldn't remember the last time anyone had paid me a compliment of any kind. I quickly glanced across the living-room to see if Maurice was paying any attention to me. I didn't want him to see me blushing. 

As usual he was not paying the slightest heed. "Thank you," I typed.

"Alice, may I send you a private message? I would like to chat with you."

Until now I had done no more than type friendly posts on the screen. No one had requested that we chat privately and for sure I had made the request of no one. Again I looked across the room at Maurice. He was totally immersed in whatever he was doing on his laptop. He showed no interest in me as a woman. He never had. Why shouldn't I enjoy a little enjoyment in my life?

"Okay," I typed.

"Alice, my name is Conrad. I am a black man and I am on my way to being sixty years old."

"I am also a senior."

"Yes, but Alice, are you also a black woman?"

"No, I'm caucasian."

"Does this difference between us matter to you?"

I almost typed, no, it doesn't matter; my husband is also a black man. But then I caught myself and instead I simply typed, "No."

"Then I am happy."

"Good." I could feel myself smiling. "I live in Canada. Where do you live?"

"I live in South Africa."

Oh, so far away. This should be a very safe experience for me, I thought, with Conrad living so many miles away from home. Odd that he should live in the same country where Maurice lived for most of his life. "I live in a small town," I shared.

"I do too. I live in a small town called Salt River."

I nearly fell off my chair.  And that is how ............

RECOMPENSE is a novella that you will find om my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Recompense-novella-Audrey-Austin/dp/1500503010/ref=sr_1_1?crid=265DG7CDVJQFM&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.FbEUoSHjD32_Xocixga_pe65cWpwhQOzusoIKpkhfbSTIRN14H4PwluNi3hnslFn.Jy3BeKnnXZId7zqu74Y363Y5p58fg8-F4Oaip59S7aM&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+recompense&qid=1769354406&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+recompense%2Cstripbooks%2C150&sr=1-1

POETRY FROM A to Z - an excerpt

POETRY FROM A to Z - an excerpt

Pages 72 - 75

INSPIRATION

by Audrey Austin

(PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED SCRIPTED INSPIRATION - NOPC)

Inspired to fly

above the tasks that make dreams plummet

I follow my eyes

which do ascend to a private place

high above a humdrum habit

of living a life

that forbids a star to rise above the horizon

my eyes grow deaf

my ears are blind

at last I peer with God's odd look

at dirt below

and see that secret site

deep beneath the magical hope

of being all I'm meant to be.

From lofty heights with arms extended

I hang suspended

staring down at God's good earth

that place

where mother did give birth

to such a one as me.

It's warm up here

despite the cool of lonely

being all alone.

No one can see my frightened face

that meets the ground,

that sacred space

beneath the heights

to which I've risen with great strain

only to realize

I must go back.

I must go home

since there are those who do depend

upon my role

which wraps in boxes needful things

to hold them close

so that I dare to feel important

bigger than I'm meant to be.

My desire 

to linger here while gazing down

on all held dear is crushed

by knowing that it's true,

yes,

I am me and you are you.

Return decreed 

I teach my reach

to draw arms close and stop the flailing

I must descend

inspired no more

reality opens up the floor,

the drum of hum beats down the door

I'm going home

to dream once more.

Page 98

ONLY ONE

by Audrey Austin

Last time I looked there was only one

Only one of me

Call me any name you wish

Still only one of me.

If I can handle all the tags

Still knowing who I am

Why doubt that God won't know He's called

By any other name

POETRY FROM A to Z Poetry from A to Z is a collection of poems, some of which have been previously published in various anthologies. This collection includes a variety of subjects and styles for your reading enjoyment.    This book is found in my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Poetry-Z-Audrey-Austin/dp/150098910X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=26FKYFOYMVMW6&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.tWnNiacuOg_WiGxStjW-UPONaGUwl01c8ecT75d4pJeadT4p-5mkCByIuJOeB2sn6kzSCHT1PgKZunzxqmhUGjm9JSfu6l8nX3Ws9itlpXw.xGMyjaUejjXIa_HYwTXlny6OP6a7WOpJ1eVbRKSJ8oM&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+poetry+from+a+to+z&qid=1769268436&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+poetry+from+a+to+z%2Cstripbooks%2C111&sr=1-1

ELLEN and The HUMMINGTREE

 ELLEN and The HUMMINGTREE - an excerpt

Abundance

Page 142 - 147

After Jerry left me, William was not the only man who shared more than a casual interest in me and my life. Jethro also loved me. I must confess my relationship with Jethro is another story altogether. By the time he came into my life I had already become what the so-called experts liked to call the proverbial empty-nester.

Both daughters, Sandi and Carol, had left home. They each were focused on a career and they were making their own way in the world.

It had been years since Jerry abandoned his family and, though it wasn't easy, I had finally accepted that he was not coming back to me; to our marriage. I was alone in the world and I felt lonely. The forty-nine year old woman staring back at me in the mirror was a caricature of the practical, purposeful person I used to be. I swear there were times that I could barely contain the urge to slap her face.

Joy had turned its back on me. And you can take my word for it; worrying about money was no pleasure either but, knowing this, I could not seem to make myself stop doing it. I jumped every time the phone rang and maybe it was a good thing I didn't get a lot of company because at that juncture of my life I was scared to answer my own front door.

The power had been turned off in my house but that was okay. I could live without electricity. I had even learned to like the cozy, sheltering warmth of the old oil lamp. Indeed, the shadows dancing on the walls in the dark of evening had become my only source of entertainment. As for cooking, I was doing my best with the old backyard barbecue. I had no idea what I would do when the charcoal ran out. And I didn't even want to think about the whelp of winter on this beautiful, small town, summer day.

I thought of my mother and I could almost hear her voice saying, "This is another fine kettle of fish!"

Yes, a fine kettle, indeed. On this fine summer day I finish the dishes, dry my hands on my apron, and decide that what I need to do is to get out of the house. Maybe the morning's fresh, fragrant air will force the worry whirlpool out of my swollen head. I decide that I will take a walk on the trail through the woods behind the house.

I've almost reached the garden gate when the yellow quartz boulder beneath the Hummingtree whispers my name. I can hear it calling, Ellen, come rest a while.

I ignore the invitation. For the past many weeks I've spent time sitting on God's good earth beneath the Hummingtree. I've sat cross-legged on the soft, green grass and, in my usual way, I have leaned over the yellow quartz rock and shared my money problems with God. And each time His promise reached my ears, Abundance is on its way.

At first because I wanted to believe I would simply reply, "Thank you, God." But as time went by and my financial situation did nothing to improve itself I began to doubt His promise.

Abundance is on its way; the Good Lord repeated when I continued to beg for help.

It's taking its own sweet time getting here, I answered. And after several weeks of receiving this repetitive pledge with no money arriving on my doorstep I was fast losing faith.

Ellen, come rest a while, the voice persisted that morning.

Feeling mean and miserable, I leaned over and picked up a pebble. I tossed it as hard as I could and watched with satisfaction when it bounced off the yellow quartz rock onto the grass.

I walk to the garden gate, open it, and begin my trek through the woods. There are few animals about this morning.  I spot a couple of black squirrels scurrying along the branch of a Maple. I hear the crows cussing. I see a chipmunk turn and run at the sound of my approaching footsteps. No bears about this morning and for this I'm grateful as I allow my mind to enter the stillness.

I walk for almost an hour and by the time I'm home and have reached the garden gate I am no closer to a solution to my financial problems. Back inside the yard I glance over at my yellow quartz rock. Feeling dismayed and discouraged, I make my way across the crisp, green grass and settle myself on the soft earth beneath the Hummingtree.

I folded my legs beneath me and bowed my head to pray. Silly fool, you're still wearing your apron, I chide myself. With a sigh, I lean over the rock and whisper, it's me again, Lord. Are you there? I'm sorry I threw the pebble. I didn't mean it. I hope you will forgive me and my impatience.

I can feel the vibration massaging my feet and my legs as the humming makes its way up the trunk of the tree. I hold my ear close to the hole in the rock and soon the same old message reaches me once again, Abundance is on its way, Ellen.

Where's it coming from, Lord? And how much longer do I need to wait?

Patience is a virtue, Ellen. There are reasons for waiting.

That may be so, Lord, but I can't pay the bills with patience. It's money I'm needing.

There are reasons for waiting, Ellen.

I lift my weary body up from the ground and carry my impatience and my worry through the backyard. My intention is to go back into the house where, for the thousandth time, I will scan the local newspaper's classified section in search of an opportunity to make some much needed money.

The welcoming, white, plastic lawn chair on the patio calls out to me and I allow myself to collapse into its old reliable comfort. Who am I kidding? I know without looking that there will be no jobs in the small town newspaper and certainly nothing for a no-skills female of forty-nine.

Then the tears come. Self-pity makes itself at home in my heart while my head pounds with what threatens to be a migraine. That's when it happens. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of the deep, unfamiliar, masculine voice.

"Hello, I'm looking for Ellen Dawson. Would that be you?" he asked.

l look up to see a short, pot-bellied, bearded fellow with a knapsack on his back. He is standing at my backyard gate. His crooked smile and crinkled eyes peering out over the shaggy beard are not reminiscent of a bill collector but these days you never know the truth about people. I needed to make sure I wasn't in for more harassment.

"Who wants to know?" I asked.

"I want to know," he answered. "Folks in town told me I'd find Ellen Dawson at this address. Would that be you?"

"Why do you want to meet Ellen Dawson?" I ask, though the longer I look at him the more convinced I am that he is not a bill collector or someone who has come to turn off the water or put an eviction notice on my door.

The odd fellow's crooked smile grows bigger behind the beard and his voice can only be described as jovial when he speaks. "I'm obviously off to a very bad start. Let me start over," he says. "My name is Jethro. I'm a tourist in your lovely town. I planned to stay in the hotel but they sent me on my way because all the rooms are filled. Seems there's a big bicycle race happening this weekend. Never dawned on me I'd need a reservation and now I find myself with no place to stay."

"What's that got to do with me?" I ask.

ELLEN and The HUMMINGTREE is available in Kindle and Paperback formats on all Amazon sites.   You will find it at my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

or directly at https://www.amazon.ca/ELLEN-HUMMINGTREE-Audrey-Austin/dp/1926614674/ref=sr_1_1?crid=29H6QDMFKHSXN&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.JcIT7S9JcTSZVLHWqqDYTF0hzo9XJ0-PxTIby6Z3j67GjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.-VYloX8XPD0Zl1Nxd5r6GLVlMcO3EdymDVCTE91L_4E&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+ellen+and+the+hummingtree&qid=1769183943&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+ellen+and+the+hummingtree%2Cstripbooks%2C115&sr=1-1

KEEPING IT SIMPLE - Imagine Being Whole - an excerpt

 KEEPING IT SIMPLE - Imagine Being Whole - an excerpt

Page 129 - 131

The Inner Critic

This heart chakra issue expresses itself and gives a person the message, I am not good enough.

The inner critic is that aspect of you that makes an entrance in the early years of childhood. Some of the negative messages sent by parents, teachers, and other authority figures in a child's life might include: You are not good enough or You are stupid or What makes you think you are capable of doing something like that?

Hurting comments such as these are absorbed like a sponge into the essence of a child. In his earliest years the child is shamed.

And what happens when this childhood wound is not nurtured and healed is that it is carried into adulthood. Even though there may be no one sending these negative messages to you, the message is always being sent. And who is sending the message?

The Inner Critic, of course!  Eric Berne, father of transactional analysis, may call this inner critic the critical parent within.

This inner critic does everything in its power to sabotage you. It is the inner critic, based in fear, who tells you that you are not going to win so there is no point in even entering  the race. It is the inner critic who will find something negative to say about any achievement -- it is never good enough. Nothing ever satisfies the critic within.

Meditating with the focus on the heart chakra will allow you to get in touch with this inner critic. Through continued meditation and, if you choose, through psychospiritual therapy, it is possible for you to discover the source of the inner critic. It is possible to understand why the inner critic made its debut. It is also possible to honour, acknowledge, and even to thank the inner critic for all that it attempted to do in order to protect you.

And it is within the realm of possibility that you can transform the inner critic, the critical parent within, into the nurturing parent within.

You can learn to parent yourself; to offer the love, the trust, and the confidence that you never received in your early childhool period. 

KEEPING IT SIMPLE - Imagine Being Whole  is a book that shares with  the reader,  emotional healing through the trinity of Meditation, the Chakras, and Psychospiritual Therapy.

You will find this book in Kindle and Paperback formats on my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you will find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/KEEPING-SIMPLE-Imagine-Being-Whole/dp/0978023838/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2RBV56EPAN5SF&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.wAkOhsE7Cqaky74BHeslAg.JfOZ0Hl2IEdKA7MDhwRB-W1VkN_UlHhDWJERMyACEbU&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+keeping+it+simple&qid=1769111812&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+keeping+it+simple%2Cstripbooks%2C116&sr=1-1

SOCIAL STUDIES, BOOK THREE - an excerpt

 SOCIAL STUDIES, BOOK THREE

WEAVING ALICE,plus Eleven - an excerpt

FREDDIE'S ATHABASCA - Pages  106 - 112

Frederick enrolled his daughter in the local elementary school and set off to work where he helped to extract the oil from  the sand. He explained to Georgina the amazing modern technology that made it possible for men to extract oil from beneath the sand.

"Do you see, daughter?" he would ask. "Do you see what I mean when I say it is essential that we look beneath that which appears to be reality? Why, to look at the sand one would never dream there would be precious oil underneath. And you must always remember that when we looked beneath our dreary existence in the refugee camp we found the beauty of my Athabasca."

Georgina dreaded having to go to school. It was bad enough that the other children made fun of her poor language skills but that was made worse by their taunts of Brainless Birthhammer!  It took several months but Georgina did find herself surprised by her own ability to learn a new language. But she found English very difficult to learn.

"How can one word be spelled in so many different ways and mean different things?" she asked her father. "How can one know whether to write the word to, too, or two in a sentence?"

Freddie, though he spoke English reasonably well, was not well-versed in its spelling or grammatical aspects. Not liking to admit his ignorance he would encourage his daughter to make good use of the dictionary he had bought for her. Look the words up, Georgina; learn their meanings.

And so she did. By Georgina's fourteenth birthday she was, like her father, reasonably fluent in English. And by the time she was fourteen she was ready to enroll in the local high school. Freddie did his best to give guidance and advice to his daughter but there were things in a girl's life that only a mother could provide. And these were the things Georgina missed.

When she remembered Gisella she remembered her beauty, her faith, and her loyalty. This was the example set by her mother that Georgina did her best to follow.

A naturally pretty girl, she decided to look beneath those things that were lacking in her life and in doing so she discovered strengths and abilities within herself that she didn't know existed. She worked hard. Through study and determination she learned to love the English language. She surprised herself by winning a provincial writing competition. Of all the high school entries in Alberta, Georgina's story took the prize. She was beginning to believe that in Freddie's Athabasca anything was possible.

"I'm very proud of you, daughter, very proud," Freddie told her. "One day you will write books and you will be famous and people all over the world will know your name."

"Oh, papa, that would be wonderful but I would be happy if just the kids in this neighbourhood would get my name straight. Still they call me Berthhammer. Will they never stop?"

"It doesn't matter, Georgina. Maybe they will never stop but do you need to care? You know who you are. You are the lovely, creative daughter of the beautiful Gisella."

And time passed as it has a way of doing even in Fort McMurray, Alberta. Life for Georgina was good in her Freddie's Athabasca. She graduated high school and went on to gain her higher education at the University of Alberta. She became a scientist and held an important position in the modern technological world in Fort McMurray.

It was a sad day when her father passed away. By then Georgina was happily married and mother to a smart little Canadian boy who would sometimes complain to his mother when things didn't go his way. 

"Look beneath, my son," she would encourage. "Go beneath what you think is the reality. You will be surprised what you can discover about yourself."

And one day Georgina retired. She became a grandmother. Her world in Freddie's Athabasca was filled with a satisfying sense of accomplishment. Yet something was missing. No matter her age she still sometimes felt the pangs of loneliness that she had experienced as an immigrant child. She still remembered the cruel taunts of the children, "Brainless Birthhammer!"

She thought of her father. Look beneath, she knew he would advise. And so she did. She decided she would write her memoirs. I will call it Freddie's Athabasca, she decided.

Picking up a pen she opened her journal and wrote. I have been called Brainless Berthhammer. I have been called many things I would rather not remember. But today I make my stand and I say to all who will listen, my name is Georgina Berethhamner. I am the daughter of Gisella and Frederick. My mother had faith and my father had determination. These are the things that brought me to Freddie's Athabasca. Look beneath the surface and you will discover I am more than I ever dreamed I could be.

SOCIAL STUDIES, Book Three - Weaving Alice plus eleven is the third book in a trilogy of short story anthologies that keep the focus on contemporary social issues.

You will find this book exclusively on all Amazon sites.   Visit my Amazon author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/SOCIAL-STUDIES-Three-Weaving-Eleven/dp/099371630X/ref=sr_1_2?crid=1L0UHQGF4ATTV&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.L4-dkbC0EQA92Un8cZEvUrY2A1FgDlH4MeYHcJPJDKs.Bwfp4oo-y3agDxXiPm9PjIISg3MlWC4rvTdxCFHrWOs&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+social+studies+book+three&qid=1769013884&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+social+studies+book+three%2Cstripbooks%2C143&sr=1-2

Is Age Really Just a Number?

 Is Age Really Just a Number is a workbook for the emotional empowerment of women. It is dedicated to all women who are on a personal growth journey seeking authenticity and empowerment. I hope this little handbook will assist you in following the path that you have chosen by yourself, for yourself. This book is a gift you are giving to yourself. Remember, the answer is within you.

In this book we share words, and thoughts. It is also an experiential book filled with exercises for you to consider and complete.

I hope the reading of this book will assist you in getting just another step closer to being your own best friend.

As a special bonus, I have added a narrative poem titled "Cabin Fever". The lesson to take from this poem is to never become a Theodore M. Wonslaught. Age is not just a number. Age is exactly what you decide to make it.

This work book is number one in a planned series of Empowerment Workshops for Women in work book format which will be of benefit to the individual reader, and also tool for anyone planning to conduct a workshop on the same or similar topics.

IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER   is available in paperback format Exclusively on all Amazon sites.

You will find this workbook on my Amazon Author page at  https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or directly at https://www.amazon.ca/AGE-REALLY-JUST-NUMBER-Empowerment/dp/B0GHNT5N9F/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3GNXSFAD8YLOG&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.Y-mYmPdrniU9sf_nNPNbtw._yFa2EogZzDQ4FURsFd2OmzTw6O53bnmqXbYyl83uS8&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+is+age+really+just+a+number&qid=1768962132&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+is+age+really+just+a+number%2Cstripbooks%2C154&sr=1-1

SOCIAL STUDIES, Book Two - Shattered and Broken - an excerpt

 SOCIAL STUDIES, BOOK TWO

SHATTERED AND BROKEN

An excerpt from one of twelve short stories - THE SILENT STAR - Page 177 - 179

The next thing I remember I woke up in a hospital bed. When I opened my eyes I could see that Father MacFarlane was there sitting in a chair next to me. "I'm sorry, my boy. Poor wee lad all alone in this world again."

It hurt my face when I tried to talk but I had to know. "Father, what do you mean alone in this world again? What happened Father?"

Just then the doctor came into the room. I saw the shake of the doctor's head and the sadness in Father MacFarlane's eyes. I didn't cry when he told me what had happened. I was frozen inside. I huddled deeper within and found the quiet spaces that lurked around outside my lonesome heart. I refused to let the pain come into my heart. I was the Silent Star. My ears burned when they received the words. "There was an accident, Andrew. Willy and Fiona are both in Heaven now, son, and they've taken young Gordon along with them."

Words failed me but the kindly priest must have been able to read my thoughts. He answered my question without me having to ask. "Catherine and Mary are here in the hospital. They will be okay, God willing, and so will you, son. So will you.

I don't know if I was okay or not but in time I was released from the hospital and placed in another foster home. I was nine years old, soon to be ten. Catherine and Mary were not there to help me celebrate my birthday when it finally rolled around. To this day I don't know where the girls are. I hope they are okay but it isn't something I ever asked about or talked about. I knew how to keep my thoughts to myself.

I was the only child in this new foster home. I don't know who made the decision to put me into the house with Ike and his wife, Marta. I don't know why this happened to me but it did. I lived with the old couple for five years until I was fourteen years old. That is when I was finally able to take things into my own hands and do something about what was going on in that godforsaken place.

Marta was a very wise woman; an old crone; a spiritual woman who inspired me to believe that there was purpose in all things. I guess she was kind of like a grandma to me because she was a lot older than the mothers of the other kids who attended my school.

I couldn't tell her what Ike was doing. How could I?

SOCIAL STUDIES, Book Two - SHATTERED AND BROKEN  is the second in a series of short story anthologies focused on social issues.  It is available with all my books on my Amazon author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin or directly at https://www.amazon.ca/SOCIAL-STUDIES-Shattered-Broken-Eleven/dp/0978023897/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2YE2Q44JWIRHF&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.BHL2BIlsT2nos8agrwG9-t5_hnvwpopNBNTAtHilSCA.tJPQ5GQsS3Nl6k9kYqldIcN7xHScgS88TxgHA-Wb1h0&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+social+studies+book+two&qid=1768922246&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+social+studies+book+two%2Cstripbooks%2C132&sr=1-1