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Monday Memories: Serious-Minded Child

2/22/2021

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Probably you see me as a "live for the moment" person. I certainly tried to enjoy every minute of every day in spite of those who blocked my path with things like piano, math, dishwashing....ugh.

However, I had a rare understanding that the world would keep turning, and I would get older. At some point, I would be an adult with my own home, children, a husband, and a job.

I also understood that bad things do happen, and they can happen to those I love.

Most children -- especially teenagers -- don't realize or contemplate the risks involved with particular actions. I did.

In fact, I took pains to keep bad things from happening. I tried to anticipate these events and stop them.

1) When we went places, I walked behind everyone. If someone was going to be kidnapped, more than likely they would be taken when we weren't looking. So I put everyone in front of me. If someone was going to be kidnapped, it should be me. I could take care of myself.

2) After "The Bully" kicked my sister, I made sure I was beside him in line whenever the kindergartners filed past us. I also took to watching him like a hawk, and if he was mean to someone else, I became their champion whether they wanted it or not.

3) The creaks and groans that occurred in the night would wake me up, and I would get out of bed and check on everyone. I had to make sure no one snuck in through a window.

4) I watched affection being given to others and measured what these people did to get it. I tried to emulate them, but I was usually unsuccessful. It was difficult to compromise my belief system, even as a second grader.

All this contributed to one thing....

While I was playing kickball, baseball, dodgeball, singing, jumping off the stairs, and other physical activities, in the back of my mind I knew....this too shall pass. This too...can be ruined.

Control became a very important thing in my life.

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Friday Friends: Vikki Ward of The End Of Camelot by Diana Rubino

2/19/2021

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Today we get to chat with Vikki Ward, the heroine of THE END OF CAMELOT by Diana Rubino. Diana writes stories that delve into periods in history with glorious detail and complex characters. I enjoy her books immensely. Let's start by learning more about the book and then we'll meet Vikki. Take it away, Diana.....

This is going to date me, but I was six years old when President Kennedy was assassinated. Everyone who was alive that day knew exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. I was in my first grade classroom. The teacher got a call on the classroom phone and told us ‘the president was shot.’ A collective gasp went around the room. My grandmother was a huge JFK assassination buff. She’s the one who got me fascinated with this tragic event, at the time the biggest mystery since 'who killed the princes in the Tower?' (I'm a Ricardian; that's for another post).  She got me embroiled right along with her.

She listened to all the radio talk shows (those who lived in the New York area might remember Long John Nebel, on WOR, WNBC, and WMCA, all on AM radio (FM was really 'out there' at that time). She bought whatever books came out over the years, along with the Warren Commission Report, which I couldn't lift at the time, it was so heavy. But my interest never waned in the 52 years that followed.

​In 2000, I began the third book of my New York Saga, set in 1963. The heroine is Vikki McGlory Ward, daughter of Billy McGlory, hero of the second book, BOOTLEG BROADWAY, set during Prohibition. This was my opportunity to write a novel showcasing all my current theories, and continue the saga. It took a minimum of research, since I remember all the 60's brands, (Bosco, Yum Berry, Mr. Bubble...), the fashions, the songs, and I even included a scene set on that unforgettable night when the Beatles first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, February 9, 1964.
THE END OF CAMELOT
The third in the New York Saga, The End of Camelot centers on Billy McGlory’s daughter Vikki, whose husband is murdered trying to prevent the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Vikki uses her detective skills to trace the conspiracy, from New York to New Orleans to Dallas, and at the same time, tricks her husband’s murderer into a confession. A romance with her bodyguard makes her life complete.

November 22, 1963: The assassination of a president devastates America. But a phone call brings even more tragic news to Vikki Ward—her TV reporter husband was found dead in his Dallas hotel room that morning.

Finding his notes, Vikki realizes her husband was embroiled in the plot to kill JFK—but his mission was to prevent it. When the Dallas police rule his death accidental, Vikki vows to find out who was behind the murders of JFK and her husband. With the help of her father and godfather, she sets out to uncover the truth.
​
Aldobrandi Po , the bodyguard hired to protect Vikki, falls in love with her almost as soon as he sets eyes on her. But he's engaged to be married, and she’s still mourning her husband. Can they ever hope to find happiness in the wake of all this tragedy?
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An Interview with Vikki Ward

What is your occupation?  Do you enjoy it?
I’m living my dream as a housewife, but I design costumes for my father’s Broadway musicals. I’m also busy with our two kids—although Al and I decided we want four, so I’m hoping for twins.
 
What is your family like?
A bit crazier than others, mainly because my father was in the rackets in the 1930s and he’s a composer of Broadway show tunes.  I had an unforgettable childhood. My father took me to every Broadway musical that came out. We had famous people to the house all the time for dinner and cocktails, and to me, they were just folks, I didn’t care how famous they were, or if their albums played in the background. Dad gave me piano lessons, although it wasn’t my calling the way it was his—I preferred painting, sewing and designing fashions as a creative outlet. I never knew my mom, she died tragically and suddenly when I was an infant. But my father’s second wife Greta treated me like her own daughter. We went everywhere together, museums, hair salons, shopping, for long strolls through Central Park. But in school nobody cared whose kid I was. It was a strict Catholic school and I was in a uniform like everybody else. My family is Roman Catholic and we still have all the saints’ statues in the hallways and backyards.
 
What did your childhood home look like?
A stately Tudor in Bronxville, then a red brick colonial in Westchester County. My father also brought us to his beach house on the New Jersey shore, which he bought the year I was born. I don’t like to go there, though. It’s where my mother overdosed on pain pills and I don’t want to be reminded of that. She died in the hospital the next day.
 
Do you have any hobbies? What do you enjoy doing?
Designing costumes, going for bicycle rides with my husband and kids. I love to sing opera arias, although I’m not trained, and I make sure I’m alone when I do it. Fortunately, Al and I share a lot of interests - opera, painting, fashion—and one that most couples don’t share—guns. We have contests at the shooting range to see who’s the best shot. He also likes to hunt, which I don’t. But I’m good at cooking the venison he brings home.
 
Who was your first love?
My first husband Jack Ward. I stayed in D.C. after I graduated Georgetown, still thinking I wanted a career in politics. I got a job as a political consultant with a couple of ex-CIA agents. Jack was a reporter for the Washington Post. I always enjoyed his articles—they had a clever undertone of cutting-edge humor. Sometimes he mentioned personal details: his close calls as a stunt pilot, his solo in a sailboat around Cape Horn, the political and show business parties he attended…I was hooked. I couldn’t wait for him to reveal another personal item, like the next installment in a serial. Then he became a television reporter for NBS. I was in my glory, able to see him every night at six and eleven. When So Far So Good came out—that was his memoir—I took the day off from work to read it. I devoured it, tore out the pictures and taped them to my walls. On television, he was as commanding and powerful as any president, and that was it—I had to meet him. So I spent every spare moment in front of NBS Studios waiting for an ‘accidental’ encounter. Finally it happened. First it was eye contact and a little small talk, ‘I’m your biggest fan,’ that kind of stuff. I had to talk fast. One day I just blurted out an invitation to my place for dinner. He was so surprised, he accepted. I had him over the next night, and he fell in love with my lasagna. I was already in love with him. 
 
What's the most terrible thing that ever happened to you?
Losing Jack. He was found dead in the bathtub of his Dallas hotel room the same day President Kennedy was shot. He wasn’t supposed to be in Dallas. He never took baths. I immediately knew he’d been murdered. I found his notes and his tapes, and learned that he was embroiled in the plot to kill JFK—but his mission was to prevent it. From that horrific day on, I vowed to find out who was behind the murders of JFK and my husband. Bringing that bastard to justice became my quest, and once I found him, I knew Jack could rest.

What was your dream growing up? Did you achieve that dream? If so, in what ways was it not what you expected? If you never achieved the dream, why not?
To be a wife and mother, and indulge my passion for painting, designing costumes and seeing them on the stage. I must say I am living that dream, despite having lost Jack so tragically. But I know everything happens for a reason. Al told me many times if he hadn’t met me, he doesn’t know if he’d be alive today.
 
Who is your role model?
My stepmother Greta. She rescued my father when he was still deeply grieving for my mother. She brought him back from the brink and gave him two beautiful kids.

What is your deepest desire?
To give my kids a normal life, and I hope they never have to face crime or murder or even greed.
 
What is your greatest fear?
That some underworld figure will come after me. It’s an irrational fear, but when you learn your father was a gangster, and my having met killers such as Jack Ruby and underworld figures on my quest to find Jack’s killer, that fear never leaves you.

THE END OF CAMELOT: An Excerpt

November 22, 1963
Larchmont, New York

Vikki entered her foyer and dropped her shopping bags on the floor. As she locked the door and kicked off her alligator pumps, the phone rang. She answered it in the kitchen, so she could raid the pastry box while she chatted.

“Vikki, it’s Linc Benjamin.” His ragged voice came over the line. “I have terrible news. Jack is dead.”

“What?” She couldn’t have heard right. “What did you say?”

“Jack was found in the bathtub of his hotel room this morning—”

She dropped the phone and slid down against the wall. Her glasses fell off her face. The room spun. Sunlight glared. She smelled the new coat of wax on the kitchen floor.

“Vikki? Vikki?” came faintly from the dangling receiver. She crawled over and grasped it. He would tell her it was a mistake, they had the wrong man, or it was another of Jack’s practical jokes.

“My Jack?” she whispered.

“Vikki, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed.

“Linc—no, please. Tell me it wasn’t Jack. Are you sure? There must be a mistake. Not Jack.” Her heart thudded like a hammer. A stabbing pain pierced her chest. She held the receiver away from her ear.

“Vikki, are you there?” His voice came through the earpiece. “If you want, I’ll be right over. I can tell you everything when I get there, or right now, whatever you want.”

“Now!” she demanded.

“The Dallas police found him drowned in his hotel bathtub—”

“Dallas? What was he doing in Dallas? He’s supposed to be in Chicago doing a story on the FBI!” she screeched, beyond rational thought. No, this had to be a mistake!

“I don’t know, Vikki. The maid found him. The Dallas police tried to call you all morning, but you weren’t home, so they called here, at the network. Do you want me to come over and—”

“Wait!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Now—where is he now?”

“Parkland Hospital. They’re going to bring the bod—er, bring him back to New York after the autopsy.” His voice broke again. “God, Vikki, I’m so sorry. I feel like I lost my brother.”

She went blank, too stunned to think. Her hands shook so much she could hardly hold the phone.

“Vikki, do you want me to come over—”

“No.” She released the receiver. It swung away and banged against the wall. She curled up on the floor as the ticking clock echoed the thudding of her heart.

She wept in unbearable grief. Shutting her eyes tight, she cradled her head in her arms. A jumble of thoughts rendered her helpless.

“Please, God,” she prayed, “Let it be a mistake and Jack will come walking through the door.”

The doorbell rang. “Jack?” She forced her eyes open.

“Vikki!”

Her head throbbed with each pound on the door. 

“Vikki! Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

The voice was her father’s, and as much as she wanted him with her, holding her, rocking her, the present was too much to bear. She wanted one last visit to the past with Jack, happy and alive and free from harm.

But the raw truth seared her soul: The past is gone, and so is your beloved Jack!

Too weak to walk, she crawled to the door, reached up, and unlocked it.

Her father rushed in and knelt beside her. “Vikki, honey?”

She collapsed into his arms, heaving gut-wrenching sobs.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he crooned, like he was singing the songs he wrote for her.

“Dad, Jack—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it yet. The words were too ugly, too real.

“Yeah, I know. He got shot. When I looked in the sidelight and saw you lying on the floor, I thought you were hurt.”

She gulped. “I answered the phone and it was…” That seemed like a hundred years ago already.

He helped her up, and she forced herself to gulp enough air to stay conscious while he said, “I’ll turn on the TV and see what the news says about the shooting—”

“No, he wasn’t shot! They found him in the tub—”

“Vikki, here, let me get you on the couch. Come on, babe, that’s it.” He helped her off with her coat. “Now, what are you saying?”

“Dad—Jack…”

“I know.” He nodded. “JFK was shot in the head. The governor of Texas was shot, too.”

“No. My Jack! They found him—” Sobs burst from the depths of her soul.

“Huh? What…your Jack?”

Unable to speak any further, she nodded.

“Something happened to him?” He sat her down on the couch.

She drew in a ragged breath and he grasped her hands.

“Oh, God. Oh, Jesus Christ, Vikki.” He held her and stroked her hair as she sobbed, her tears staining his scarf. “Okay, Dad’s here, I’ll stay with you. I’m sorry, I thought you were talking about President Kennedy. He just got shot.”

“President Kennedy?” She shook her head in disbelief. “No. Jack’s friend from the network called, and—” She couldn’t go on.

“Don’t talk. I’ll get you a brandy or something.” He glanced over at her liquor cabinet.

She didn’t even want him leaving her for a few seconds. He hung her phone up and it started ringing instantly. She heard spurts of conversation. His voice sounded like an echo in a marble tomb. He finally stopped talking and came back with a brandy bottle, a snifter, and her eyeglasses. “I found your glasses on the floor.” He took her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. “You’ll be okay, you’re strong, you’re my girl,” he murmured, and she wished he’d sing to her.

​Instead he explained that President Kennedy had been shot on the motorcade route in Dallas.

Purchase The End of Camelot
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Monday Memories: Chosen Profession

2/15/2021

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It's career day at school.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" the teacher asks.

All the children's hands shoot up but mine. I listen to them shout out different answers. "I want to be a nurse!", "I want to be the president!", "I want to be a teacher!"
​


A teacher?!?!? You've got to be kidding. Whoever that was was obviously insane.

I didn't have an answer. Well...that wasn't true. I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. It wouldn't be easy, but I was prepared for the mountains I had to climb.

Let's all remember what my favorite shirt promised, "Anything boys can do, girls can do better."

I believed that with every ounce of my heart and fiber of my being.

My classmates didn't know it, but they were looking at the future second baseman of the Houston Astros.

Yep, that's what I was gonna do. Playing baseball all day? Yep. Absolutely. Sign me up. I had it in the bag. Luke and Han were teaching me how to play, and I was good. Really good.

So...not a problem.

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Monday Memories: Yeehaw!

2/8/2021

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Click on the link below:

Yeehaw!

Day: Friday
Time: 8:00 p.m.
Channel: 11
Kara: rear in front of television
Jack: rear also in front of television

The Dukes. Had to love 'em. I wanted to drive that car and fly on my own.

I used to try to get my mother to do a General Lee jump. There was this big hump over by the movie theater. I'd holler at her, "Step on the gas, Ma!"

No such luck. I'm sure you aren't surprised.

Bo Duke was my first major crush. Boy howdy was he a looker. Maria liked Luke...weird child. Jack liked Daisy and eventually, when all us girls started wearing Daisy Dukes, he had a nick name for each one of us. I was Daisy, Maria was Daisy Dukey, and Roxi was Dukey Daisy.

Bill had all the cars. He loved those cars so much, Mom had to carry an extra set in her purse. He'd play with them at church. (Let's not discuss how often I tried to play with him and got into trouble for it.)

Yep, I was influenced. I decided then that the best lookin' guys were the ones with mischievous grins and come hither looks in their eyes.

YEEHAW!!!!!
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Release Day: The Ranger's Vow

2/7/2021

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I’m happy to share my newest release, THE RANGER’S VOW from the Texas Brides of Pike’s Run series! This story allowed me to delve into the life of Sherry Forrester, a feisty, care-free, loyal lady who sews, shares kisses behind haystacks, goes skinny dipping, and has no wish to get married.
 
When Sherry is around every scene gets livelier. She does nothing by halves, and it was great fun to write her. Because she is so strong in her convictions, upsetting her world causes a good deal of emotions of which she is NOT fond. But she gets through it, because she has a fighting spirit.
 
I adore Sherry Forrester and her family. Luke Calhoun becomes quite worthy of her, and it was very satisfying to give both of them their happy ending.

Sherry has no wish for a husband, but one night with a Texas Ranger…why not?
​

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THE RANGER'S VOW
Historical Romance​

One night can’t become two…
 
Sherry Forrester has her life just as she wants it. No attachments. No pressure from her parents to marry. A little bit of money and the freedom to be the lady she desires. When a stranger rolls into town, mysterious and gorgeous, her interest is piqued. Sherry swore she wouldn't give away her heart, but she longs for one night of passion, and the newcomer is perfectly capable of supplying that.

Texas Ranger Luke "Rip" Calhoun is hoping for a few diverting weeks in Pike’s Run. Along with promising to help the local sheriff catch a wily garter thief, he looks for challenging card games, good whiskey and a willing woman. When Sherry Forrester catches his eye—who wouldn't want her after stumbling upon her skinny dipping?—he does the hardest thing ever and waits for her to choose him to warm her sheets for a night. And only one night. For Luke made a long-ago vow never to let love ensnare him.

But what neither plans on is the hand of fate changing their paths…
THE RANGER'S VOW: AN EXCERPT

Luke caught a flash of pale skin as someone arced beneath the water. His breath stilled when the figure broke the surface, revealing a woman about twenty yards from him swimming to the opposite bank. Luke froze, careful not to move a single muscle lest this be a dream and he woke.

All he could see of the woman was her head as she glided away from his side of the creek. Was she naked? He glanced toward the other side and discovered clothes folded on a rock. He could determine the colors, and white peeked between light blue fabric. He knew plenty about women’s garments, and most of their underthings were white pieces of angelic sweetness. Which meant the lady enjoying the water was as bare as could be.

A smile tugged the corners of his lips, but before he could be accused of peeking more than he already had, he dismounted and used his horse to hide her from his view. At the moment, he couldn’t pull Zeus away for anything, so Luke was stuck until the animal decided he was finished. Of course, Luke didn’t want to leave. While he couldn’t see, and hadn’t seen a damn thing, it was nice being near a woman who courted risk and went skinny dipping.

Hell, there was nothing between her and that water. Not one stitch. His mind conjured all sorts of images as the sounds of her body cutting through the stream reached him.

When a screech met his ears, he knew she’d caught sight of the drinking horse and perhaps its owner’s legs. He let out an exhale and waited for the outburst.

“Who’s there?” she cried. “You get out of here.”

He should, but he wouldn’t. He was never more grateful for his stubborn mount. “I can’t, ma’am. My horse has a mind of his own.”

“Ha! A gentleman would find a way.”

He used his bandana to wipe his brow as he remained hunched over in order to keep hidden. “A man has to take care of his horse, ma’am. Can’t survive without him.”

There was a splash. Had she left the creek—or hit the surface with an irritated hand?

“A convenient excuse so you can spy on me.”

He chuckled. “Ma’am, I can’t see, and didn’t see, one thing, I assure you.”

“You assure me? And what good is that? I don’t even know who you are.”

Damn, but he wished he could look at her. “Nope, you don’t.”

A silent moment, then, “That’s it? You aren’t gonna tell me your name?”

“You gonna tell me yours?”

“Not on your life. Why would I let some drifter know who I am?”

“Drifter? Is that what I am?” He’d been called worse.

“Well, how would I know?”

“Then why’d you call me that?”

Zeus lifted his head, looking toward the lady who shared his creek. Luke kept himself from pushing the horse’s nose back to the water in order to prolong this moment normally only possible in nighttime fantasies. Of course, in his dream the lady usually invited him in.

“Would a gentleman spy on a woman as she bathed?”

“If he’s smart, he would.”

“Ha! So you did peek.”

He grinned and watched a grasshopper jump over the toe of his boot. “I admit I looked, but it’s just my luck I couldn’t see anything. You’re too far away.”

Zeus snuffled then turned his head toward his master. He blinked at Luke as if he wondered what the hell the woman was doing skinny dipping in his drinking water. Luke stroked the black then exhaled. He’d have to leave this sprite.

“I feel sorry for you that you didn’t manage to see anything,” she continued, her tone without an ounce of pity. “I don’t mind telling you I’m as pretty as a picture.”

He laughed outright. “I’ve no doubt of that, ma’am, and I can promise you my mind paints a perfect image, so don’t you fret.” He tugged on Zeus’ reins.

She made a noise that was half-laugh, half-disbelief.

​He left the idyllic setting, Zeus following behind him. A smile stayed on his lips as he mounted up once he was out of her line of sight. What a damn fine welcome.


BUY THE RANGER'S VOW

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Monday Memories: My Right Hook

2/1/2021

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The blinding heat of the sun burns my skin and causes sweat to form on my upper lip and forehead. As I wipe it away with the back of my hand, I walk to the batter's box. In a semi-squat, I raise my bat, ready to smack the ball to Kingdom Come.

The pitcher sends his best fast ball my way, and I let the bat fly, connecting with a gratifying crack. The ball shoots over the outfielders' heads and lands behind second base in fair territory. I take off running.

But before I can get to first base, a whistle is blown, and everyone is running to line up.

Utterly disappointed, I kick at the dirt as I trudge to line up. As usual, my fun is ruined by school.

Standing with my arms crossed, I wait for the teacher to escort us inside. The Kindergarten class comes out, excited for their turn on the playground.

Maria skips by me. "Hi, Kara!" she calls.

Seeing her smiling face brightens me a little. I accept her hug as the kid in line behind me asks, "Is that your sister?"

"Yep," I answer as I release her.

"How sweet," the kid mocks. "Does the baby have to hug her mama?"

I frown at him. "Be nice."

He sticks his tongue out at me and turns back to Maria. "Are you a baby? I bet you cry at night 'cause you're afraid of the dark."

Maria stares at this kid, her eyes wide in sadness.

"Look here," I say, "you leave her alone. Stop bein' mean."

His answer is to kick my sister -- hard -- right in her legs. She goes toppling over, crying.

I launch myself at him, knocking him in the face, and sending him sprawling into the dirt. He only laughs, but I don't let that stop me. I fall on top of him, kicking and snarling.

A teacher separates us. She can't get a word in because I'm screaming at the kid at the top of my lungs. "Don't you touch my sister again! I'll make you sorry you did! If I see you go near her, you'll get a punch in the face!"

I look over at my sister who's being comforted by her teacher. I'm so livid, I don't even realize I've shocked all my classmates. They are quickly ushered inside as the mean kid and me are given a talking to.

I don't remember if I was sent to the principal. I do remember his very round, scratched-up face, and the "dare you" expression in his eyes.

That was it for me. He was dead meat from that point on

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    Kara O'Neal

    An author who has too much to say is dangerous.

    The subjects on this blog:


    Monday Memories -- My Childhood

    Wednesday Words -- Books!

    To be a guest on my blog:

    Contact: kara@karaoneal.com

    Monday Memories: Cast

    Kara -- Me
    Maria -- sister
    Wendy -- sister
    Bill -- brother

    M'Lynn -- mother
    Drummond -- father

    Grace -- mother's redheaded friend
    Liam -- Grace's husband
    Gorgeous (Georgie) -- oldest son and friend
    Phillip -- middle son and friend
    Andrew -- last child and friend

    Jo -- mother's "big idea" friend
    Noah -- Jo's husband who builds things
    Jack -- oldest son and friend
    Roxi -- middle daughter and friend
    Lela -- last child and friend

    Alex -- friend who travels the country and lives in Dallas
    Blossom -- friend who lives in Dallas and sells houses

    Miss Holly -- next door neighbor
    Kirk -- middle son
    Scotty -- youngest son

    Lou -- uncle on my dad's side who likes baseball
    Evaline -- my dad's sister who's crazy funny
    Luke -- oldest son and my cousin
    Han -- younger son and my cousin

    Clark -- my mother's brother who bleeds maroon

    Alexander -- my eldest cousin on my dad's side

    Dawn -- cousin on my dad's side that is the same age as Maria

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