Fiction Series

Kanona

Retreating to her hometown of Kanona, New York, in 1870, schoolteacher Carrie Dawson was doing well to forget her tar and feathering. Turning to the animals, especially the horses, for in all seriousness, they were kind to her on the days when she could not shake it off.

Making it worse was Mary, her former pupil, chasing Carrie down, year after year, picking them off—remnant, memory, scab and refrain—to demonstrate her musicality and latest children’s rhyme.

Making it pay off in 1896 was Mary’s brother, Charles Brother, casting lots on Carrie’s horses, launching a venture to make good one day, someday, for when time is right. And entertaining Mary’s servant girl in the meantime.

Making it known to Stewart, Mary’s son, who could care less, was Miss Minnie. Mary’s servant girl. Charles called her “Win.” She thought Stewart would like to know about Kanona, and other parts he missed about his childhood, his uncle, and his heritage, or even the part about Minnie’s pitch into darkness—and then light—on that day in a Kanona livery, confessing now in the middle of the worst part, her need for more supply.

Getting stuck with this drama was Mrs. Lafayette, who wanted nothing to do with this mess. She was merely stopping by a stranger’s farm in Indiana for some weekend vigilante justice. She was merely hell bent on sticking around long enough to make pain for her ex-husband’s wife, to dump on her some sticky gunk and leave. She didn’t want these problem people; she just wanted to burn a cross.

Lourdes

High from her porch steps in Bedford, Indiana in 1910, schoolteacher Mary Brother promises to accept her demotion and new identity. To just be a babysitter.

But how in the world can she ever rely on her broken heart to teach and warn the children?

By getting out of the world, of course, with her catholic imagination, of course, to show that she was not raised in a barn, but in a stable.

Oh, she knew was lucky to have celebrity mentors at a private orphanage for a shiny career.

And even though this ride to the top was made short by scandal, Miss Mary still has a duty to give testimony about what she saw then, as a reliable witness, and what she sees now in her daily bread—her portion and her cup—and waits for her guardian (and the Holy Spirit) to let her know when it is time to tell the truth about what she saw, and how it came to be, her new life, if she can keep it.

While she waits, she writes to her mother, the Queen of Confessors, and you, dear reader, can sit on the steps with her, if you like, or move on, as you will, and perhaps she herself might do the same.

Her attorney got her out of trouble the last time, (picking her up and brushing her off), and now that she understands how it works (when you stop lying), she sees even more obstacles, everywhere, with foes pressing on every side, and she is aware that nothing disturbs the giant of darkness more than the songs and play of children.

Loving care comes from all sides, too, from her attorney and from some Italians, including a band of faithful limestone carvers in and around Oolitic, Indiana, who tell her about the girl, Bernadette and the Lady of Lourdes, and how masterpieces spring up from mud.

Nonfiction

Reading Charley Brother: On Video

In 2009, I was a young and overwhelmed wife and mother of two active boys when I received an old, battered box from my mother, who discovered it while cleaning out the family home.

Inside was the diary of a long-forgotten ancestor, a Civil War Marine. Dumbfounded, I asked, Who was Charley Brother?

Despite my duties at home and work, I was determined to learn about the life of this exceptional man and set the record straight. While doing so, I hoped to bring recognition to the courageous men who served alongside him. But when I tried to wrap it up, I froze. That's when these men turned to me, and asked, Who is Christine Friesel?

You won’t find out in this video series but join me anyway as I read from The Boys of Bath: his diary, his fight, his words, my voice, and the weather.