RED! the breakthrough ‘zine Interview with Christine M. Grote

RED! contributing writer, Elizabeth Bryant, recently interviewed RED! writer and blog/technical consultant, Christine Grote, about the publication of her first book, DANCING IN HEAVEN: A Sister’s Memoir.  It is an evocative exploration of the life and death of Christine’s sister, Annie.  The book delves deeply into the complexities of caregiving and the endless – and endlessly loving – attention the family gave toward assisting a sister and daughter who, profoundly disabled, was never able to speak, nor was she capable of mobility without help.  Christine’s memoir, a truly innovative work in the literature of caregiving and family relationships, most of all captures the joyous spirit of Annie, who constantly in her limitations still communicated great warmth, laughter, and love to anyone around her. Christine Grote, also a contributing writer for RED!, is an original member of RED!’s staff, and for four years has assisted in the publication’s editing, design, promotion and marketing, and technical advancements.

RED! – After reading your book, it is obvious that Annie was a very big part of your families’ lives and that you all loved her dearly. At what point in your life did you really start to think that you would like to write about Annie’s life?  

Christine:  Not until I was an adult and had children of my own.

RED! – How did your family feel about you writing this story of Annie? Were they supportive?

Christine: Some of my family members were supportive and some were not. I think my mother supported me both as a writer and because I was recording a piece of our family’s history. I think she is happy to have and to be able to share Annie’s story.

RED! – I love the way the pictures in your book aid in telling Annie’s story. The front cover and the picture on the back cover really add to the story as well. Can you tell me about how you chose the pictures and cover that you chose?

Christine: I just tried to make the picture relate in some way to what I was writing about. Some of the pictures I moved around a few times. Originally I wanted to use more family group photos, but when two of my siblings were unwilling to sign release forms, I had to remove most of the group shots. My daughter designed the cover. It was her inspiration, and I loved it.

RED! – Do you feel that writing this book has helped you in a sense deal with Annie’s passing?

Christine: I think it has, in the sense that rubbing salt in a wound expedites the healing. It was painful to write, but it forced me to face a lot of things that were difficult.

RED! – Do you think that it has helped your family cope better with her passing? Have they read the book?

Christine: I think it is beginning to help my mother. She has read it three times now: twice in the original version that included all family members and once in the rewrite version. My sister Carol has read it. My father is unable.

RED! – I think this book will be very helpful to others who have or are currently going through similar circumstances in their lives. Is that something you had in mind when writing your book?

Christine: Absolutely. In fact, I sent one of my books to my friend Jim, who is in the book. He read it, and then gave it to a co-worker whose four-month-old child was just diagnosed with cerebral palsy. He told me he thought it would give her inspiration and strength.

RED! – What advice can you give aspiring writers who are thinking of writing a book, particularly a memoir?

Christine: I believe memoirs are very important because they record a piece of history, or what is happening in the here and now. They are also tricky. Memoir stories have to be told in the context the events were lived, which requires including other people. Some people, as I unfortunately learned first hand, do not want to be in a book. My advice would be this: if you are writing about someone else, check with them every step of the way, so you don’t end up with a complete story that you are unable to publish.

RED! – Thank you again, Christine; I hope your family is doing well.

Christine: Thank you.

You can contact Christine at:

Website: http://www.christinemgrote.com
Blog: http://www.randomthoughtsfrommidlife.wordpress.com

Dancing in Heaven is available at:

Amazon.com (print and Kindle)
B&N (print and Nook)
Createspace (print)
Smashwords (multiple ebooks)

To read excerpts from Dancing in Heaven and book reviews, please visit the Dancing in Heaven page on Christine’s blog.

This is the famous line from the Garden of Gethsemane; a man is asking his Father in heaven to take his burden and to spare his life from impending death.

God did not take his cup away.

The man died. He not only died, but he died a horrific death. His body was spit upon, beaten, and then hung on a wooden cross. He was a religious criminal. Guilty, they said, and “crucify him,” they shouted, Why didn’t God take the cup and save the man?

It seems to be one of the most widely asked questions even today. “Why did God allow …this thing in my life? Why doesn’t God intervene? Why doesn’t He take my cup?” I know you have asked this same question. I have, many, many times. And many times, God has not taken my cup, while other times He intervenes.

When something we consider bad or fearful happens, we immediately call out to God the Father to take our cup. We know that a loving God wants the best for us, so surely He cannot mean this impending nightmare to fully descend on us. We hear of accidents, death of the young, sickness that decays, and we always assume it is for someone else. It’s universal to think, “That will never happen to me or my loved ones.” But it does.

If you live long enough, you know that death, illness, accidents, and pain happen. We assume God loves us and can, at any moment, send a fleet of angels, impart divine inspiration, cure illness and raise the dead; He can take the cup.

So, why would He choose not to help solve our problems?

The answer lies in the providence of God. He sees all and knows all, so He only intervenes when it falls in line with His providence, or grand design. Meaning, there is a plan that may not look like our plan. The plan for the man who was accused of blasphemy was brutal in its end, but God had the bigger picture in mind. We all know the bigger picture is stated in the scriptures where it says, “Unless a kernel of wheat die and fall to the ground, it cannot live again.”

So it was for the man on the cross:  He must die to give life.

It is brilliant in concept.

We see it in nature. It is seen in the fields and flowers as they dry and crumble to become seed for new plants. We see human death making way for the next generation. Spiritually speaking, we can plant spiritual seedlings, but they cannot grow unless there is death; death of our sin and own personal will. Jesus of Nazareth was the man on the cross who provided the spiritual seed to die and live again. He claimed to be God in the flesh, and was crucified for saying so. Rising from the dead.  Crazy trick, but only possible if you are “The” real God.

By Michelle Gilbert

RED! – Can you please tell me about yourself?  Do you have a family; where you went to college, give me a mini-biography?

Greg Flannery:  After graduating from Covington Latin School, in 1974, I attended St. Gregory Seminary for three semesters. In 1980 I was hired by the Mount Washington Press to handle debt collection. When the editor found out I liked to write, he gave me an assignment and then hired me as a reporter. I have worked in journalism ever since. My recent work includes serving as editor of Streetvibes for two years and news editor of CityBeat for eight years. In 2009, at a ceremony in Bergen, Norway, I had the honor of receiving the Best Feature Story Award from the International Network of Street Papers.

My wife, Mary Alice, and I have been married 31 years. We have four adult children, all feisty and disinclined to let anyone tell them what to do.

 RED! – How did Article #25 become a purpose in your life?

Greg Flannery: As a member of the board of directors of the North American Street Newspaper Association, I have witnessed the growth of street papers around the world while “mainstream” corporate newspapers founder. I wanted to start Article 25 because I believe democracy requires a vibrant free press and because street papers offer a meaningful opportunity for disenfranchised people to earn a living. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which forms the foundation of our editorial policy, is an inspiring yet largely overlooked testament to every person’s right to liberty.

 RED! – Can you share with us a success story that has come about from Article #25?

Greg Flannery: Because Article 25 began publishing June1, I’ll tell you instead what I have seen at other street papers. People who are homeless or addicted or dealing with mental illness not only earn a small income buy distributing street papers but, with the right assistance, connect with human services that enable them to improve their lives. Street-paper distributors help their customers to overcome stereotypes about poor people and regain a sense of their own dignity and ability to decide their future. Equally important, street papers tell the stories that the corporate media ignore. In the case of Article 25, our goal is to report local news and issues relevant to the theme of human rights – the defining issue of our times.

 RED! – Human Rights is undoable an important aspect in everyone’s life, what is one way that a person can change in their day to day lifestyle, that might build awareness to the Human Right Issue?

Greg Flannery: Think about what you’re buying and where it comes from. Is the chocolate you’re eating the result of forced labor in Africa? Are your cheap appliances made affordable because workers in Asia make substandard wages? Is your landscaper forced to live in hiding because he doesn’t possess immigration documents? We are responsible for making sure our comfort and privilege as Americans don’t come at the expense of other people’s human rights.

 RED! – If you can leave us with a quote, mantra, or belief that gives you strength on a daily basis, what is that saying?

 Greg Flannery:  “When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Think of it always.” (Mahatma Gandhi)

Amanda says that this strong belief system helped her be the strong-minded person she needed to be to re-enter the community after being incarcerated. She was released after serving five years in February 2011.

Amanda completed over 50 re-entry and rehabilitative programs while incarcerated. For example, she completed her GED and worked for four years with two off-site work programs at Ohio Penal Industries and the Ohio State Fairgrounds. Amanda also completed two years in Tapestry, a segregated therapeutic community for addicts in prison. Even though she used hertime wisely, taking advantage of every opportunity inside, as she stepped outside the walls of prison with fresh hope and in anticipation of a new start, she was not prepared for the overwhelming discouragement and frustration. She submitted 60-80 job applications with only four job interviews. Because of her felony record, Amanda said there are too few resources for jobs and housing. She found out that “…no one wants to hire a felon or rent to one because, they think you’re trouble, it’s very discouraging and frustrating. It’s hard, really hard.”

Recently, Amanda was a resident in transitional housing and she valued this post-release living environment. She believes this enabled her to make a better transition back into the community because, Amanda said, “They offered a schedule, direction and the ability to totally re-locate yourself.”

Transitional housing facilities are a great place to live, but it’s still hard. The residents are expected to get a job, but a job search requires bus fare which is expensive and most women don’t have the money necessary. Amanda was able to secure bus fare with the help of her family and church community. She acquired a job and rode the bus 1-3/4 hour with four transfers each way.  As she noticed, “A lot of women don’t have this option and they return to old places, people and things…what they know… because old ‘friends’ will give them a place to stay and a meal, but they end up back in the same lifestyle that sent them to prison in the first place.”

While in prison, Amanda finished 2-1/2 years of college but on the outside, when she applied to three different colleges, she experienced discrimination because of her felony conviction. She found college admission offices difficult to work with and very rude once they knew her past. Amanda recognized that in order to get a better job she needed more education, but if she didn’t persevere that wouldn’t happen.

Again, she saw how discouraging it was to try and better oneself after being incarcerated and understood why so many women didn’t make it on the outside. The paperwork alone is overwhelming and, she says, “You have to explain yourself 50 milliontimes as to why you did what you did.” It was her faith in and her relationship with God that reminded her of who she is now.  She says, “Good thing I know the Lord ‘cause He had plans for me that nobody else could stop.”

_____________________________________________

Editor’s Note: Amanda Marks is doing very well in her new living environment. She is making positive contributions to society and re-connecting to family. RED! also acknowledges the superior work that Deb Scott does as a mentor to women incarcerated in prison in Ohio, particularly in Ohio Reformatory for Women and in Franklin Pre-Release Center.

In this very important meeting, on August 4, Brigg indicated that, in Ohio, under House Bill 194 which was recently passed in the Ohio legislature, “time procedure for early resident voting is to be cut in half,” she said. “The impact of ‘comprehensive voting changes’ in House Bills 194 and 224 now severely cut early and absentee voting, among other things.

Go to those sites above for more prominent information about the critical aspects of the Bills.

“These changes are going to be confusing to the voter,” Brigg said. “There are many changes and they’ve come quickly.”

That is, one significant change is that early voting now begins two weeks before Election Day voting. House Bill 194 also eliminatea weekend voting. It also restricts hours of voting to Monday to Friday, 8:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m. and, on Saturday, 8:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.

Under the Bill, mail-in, or absentee voting, does not begin until 21 days before Election Day.

House Bill 194 prohibits poll workers from assisting voters. “People are needing to know their correct precinct,” Brigg said.

House Bill 194 also stipulates that a ”Presumption of Voter Error” would make “any error as the voter’s error or fault and not election officials’ fault,” according to Brigg.

HB 194 stipulates that military identification, a passport, current driver’s license or state identification will be acceptable identification.

It’s important to check the ACLU website for updates at www.acluohio.org

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A date of significance: Former Director of Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections, Dr. Terry Collins, will speak at Partners with Justice (PWJ) Thursday, September 1 meeting. The meeting will be held from 6:30 – 8:00 p.m. at Macedonia Living Word Fellowship Church. The address is: 353 Kemper Road, Cincinnati, Ohio 45246.  The church is located in Springdale, a suburb of Cincinnati. 

– Report by Diane Rogers, Executive Director of Partners with Justice (PWJ) www.partnerswithjustice.com

Just imagine the calories I would save! Wouldn’t it be a grand thing? I could say such things as: recently, for dinner, I attended a book discussion/signing. I was so full when I left. It was such a great feeling; I was satisfied but not stuffed (like after Thanksgiving dinner when you have to unbutton the top button).

Seriously, I just attended a book signing and discussion at Joseph-Beth Booksellers in Cincinnati, Ohio, of the recently published novel Caesura by author and practicing attorney Frank Hyle.

It is always a treat to hear authors speak in person about their writing and the process. It is even more so when I happen to know the author, as is the case with Mr. Hyle as I have had the pleasure of being one of his students. 

A “caesura” (pronounced ‘say-zur-a’) is a brief, silent pause occurring in music, poetry and sometimes life, in which time is not counted (Hyle, 2010). 

The novel evolved out of recollections of Mr. Hyle’s mother, who during the last stage of her life, experienced dementia. The story is written with compassion and hope and illuminates the unexpected but frequent shift that often occurs between parent and child as roles are reversed. I believe that many readers will be able to relate to it, as I had the pleasure of doing, having experienced the death of my Aunt Jenny to Alzheimer’s disease.

If we are called to minister to those who raised us, I can think of nothing better than to look to stories such as Frank Hyle’s Caesura for affirmation and reassurance. Even if you are not experiencing this particular situation, I recommend Caesura. It is about family coming together in support of one another and we all need that.

Frank Hyle has been practicing law for more than thirty years. He is currently working on his third novel.

RED! published a beautiful Slide Show on Youth  Uprising Center in 2009. Check it out.

Daniel Boone, one of the most widely known pioneers, is also someone with whom I share genetics. He is my 7th cousin.

Frank Spackman, a cowboy who was a skilled rider, fought with Teddy Roosevelt; one of the Rough Riders at San Juan Hill, he was also my relative and great-grandfather. Chief Red Feather, a Miami Indian, whose blood runs
through my veins - a kindred spirit and my great-grandfather, stilllives in me today.  All three men were culturally distinct in their own right; and all are men who make up my family tree.

Cowboys and Indians, once partners in trade and sometimes foes, are now all mixed into the same bloodline to make up my personal biology and the landscape of our early American heritage. I grew up in a family where bullet making and gun cleaning seemed as normal as eating and a bath. My father, who claimed to be an Indian fighter, was married to my mother, who came from Midwestern Miami Indians. We grew up believing that he was an American hero and she
tolerated his wily ways because he was a handsome gun slinger who was our protector and provider.

Some of my fondest memories are stories told over the task of cleaning guns. I watched my father dismantle a collection of guns each week, as he told stories of hunting down the enemy, of course bad and uncivilized Indians. He ran a smooth cloth inside each barrel while rubbing the guns clean with oil.  The guns, once cleaned, were put away
and locked until the next week, where he continued the ritual of methodical care and storytelling. We went from his large wooden desk, where he kept the pistols to the high work bench where ammunition was made for the shiny tools of the trade. 

I was part of the bullet making process. I was allowed to hold an iron pot with a thick handle as it melted the lead. When melted, I poured the lead into molds to form bullets. The lead was cooled and then pressed with powder into a shell.
A bullet dropped out of the mold, then placed into a carrier, ready for the next Indian encounter.  The process seemed dangerous because something hot enough to melt lead was surely not a toy. I was a trusted part of the Cowboy line in our family as I learned this trade and it became part of my nature. I can’t remember if my brother and sister
were part of the tradition, but I do remember them being more interested in shooting the bullets.

I did not like target practice or hunting, but I liked the exciting stories, many of which took place on
the Ohio River where my father grew up. Our family dog was a part of this world as well. He was a hunting dog, so along with my father he was in on the action and became part of the family lore. My mother was soft spoken and slight. She represented food and discipline and first aid. While thrashing through the woods during our days at
play, we were left with many a wound that this little “Indian” mom took care of. We ate what she cooked, and feared her hand of discipline, as she was little but mighty. During the evenings, we sang along with my father as he strummed his guitar. We sang songs about the cowboys and the streets of Laredo. These songs were the lullabies I heard as I drifted off to sleep each night. 

Life was good and calm; cowboying seemed like the way of the world, my world anyway. In my twenties, I moved near the Ohio River where I kindled the love for the Indian side of my family. I visited every Indian mound, read every true story and history book I could put my hands on. I even danced with like-minded strangers on an ancient Indian burial mound. I trudged through fields where I found many arrowheads, feeling secure that I had now connected to those who made the weapons. I made it a goal to find a Tommy Hawke and other tangible artifacts that helped me to understand a lost people - my people.  I visited reservations where I talked to strangers, walked through their homemade museums, felt connected, but saw a culture that ”once was” and was no more.

As I raised my children, my father’s influence did not miss a beat with my oldest. My son sat in the bathtub with his cowboy hat on, while my dad, wearing the same, strummed his guitar, singing the songs I had sung as a child. Wild Turkey was the soothing balm that grazed ailing gums as babes. More stories and added generational tales were told.
My children were raised to play in the woods, too. Armed with backpacks full of food and homemade weapons, they stayed in the creekbed for most of their childhood days. Rock hunting, animal tracking, mud slides, and fort building were their favorite tasks. They made forts out of leaves and branches and swung on vines just as their grandfather, my father, had done in his youth. They found their own treasures and now have their own stories to tell.

It seems that everything changes in life, when nothing really does.

I own a farm on the Ohio River, not far from where my father and ancestors lived. I took a long walk just the other day, with my son-in–law, a descendent of Russian rebels. He led the trek through the woods, as he was the initiator of the exploration that day. A fisherman, he wanted to find a pond that lies on our property. He asked if he could clear land and settle a cabin for himself and my daughter. A pioneer! Just like Daniel Boone, a new generation felt the call.

As we walked, he turned over almost every stone saying, “This could be something,” meaning, he, too, was overtaken by the rawness of the land and wanted to look for artifacts or bits of history that might be a clue to who lived here last. We did not lose sight of what we were touching and seeing along my property line. The very rock walls that Irish immigrants had laid only generations before were still standing, just like the stories my father had told many years before. All alive, all part of our world today.
My daughter, who hiked with us, carried the tiniest member of our tribe, a little boy whose name is August.  August comes from Frank Spackman, an English American cowboy, Chief Red Feather, an American Miami Indian, Daniel Boone an American pioneer, Lottie Pierson, a German American baker, and Edmond Britton, an American preacher. All of
these people a part of the mix of my genetic batter, now combined with my son-in-law who comes from Russian rebels, makes an elaborate smorgasbord of heritage. Out of our giant melting pot or mixing bowl of genes comes another generation of life: little August.

August sounds like a cowboy name to me. A modern gun slinger, explorer or even farmer, he will live a similar yet different life than his forefathers. Growing up in Kentucky along the river, August will see and feel the natural beauty of being an American mix of Cowboys, Indians and more.

All of my forefathers knew the value of living and loving. They knew the cost of freedom and being an American. They fought hard for it, sometimes side by side, and sometimes one against another. All recognized that future generations would inhabit the same land they had shared, lived and fought for. Only four generations from my parents
lived my grandfather who rode-rough to free people.   I now wonder what challenges and gifts lay ahead four generations later. It will seem trite to say, “Life goes so fast,” but it does. It was within my generational reach to know the life of Cowboys and Indians and their struggles. It is now within August’s reach to see the same history and to write a new page of it. The cycle keeps going, the story never ends.

Giddy-up, Cowboy!
Karyn Alexander
Executive Director, Winfield House (Winfieldhouse.org)

Winfield House brings the good news of Jesus in a practical way, giving
hope to God’s people.
Voice of the Nations: Rev. 5:9 “With your blood you purchased men for
God from every tribe, people, language and nation.”
Send questions or comments to: KarynBAlexander@aol.com

 Today I sat outside to get a little sun and to relax. I live in a rural area of Kentucky, where the hills are rugged, the trees are vast, and humanity is scarce.

There are no modern conveniences. Even water is not available. As my neck of the woods tries to modernize even a small amount, nothing really changes.

This afternoon, something did change. I heard an alarm siren: the kind they have in the city to warn for storms or attacks. It had my attention. It wasn’t distant, but sounded as though it were at the bottom of my hill.

Curious, I stood still to hear the new invasion of modern technology.

 As soon as the siren began its call, something began to answer.

The wail began with one howl; it was an animal. I recognized the sound of a coyote. It was the middle of the day, rare to hear a coyote at that time.

The sound soon turned into moaning, kind of a low rolling howl. The crescendo of the voices began screaching, and it was deafening. The natural howl of a pack of coyote became a large orchesta of what sounded like hundreds. The noise echoed through the valley and flowed to my backyard.

It was a matched tone and quality, rivaling the volume and intensity of the siren. It was as though the animals were calling back to what they thought was their “mothership.” The intended communication was in full tilt.

I was surprised that this natural animal was answering a call unlike its own. It responded to a “like” voice, but found no brotherhood in it.

I was also surprised that a crafty animal could be falsely lured by a voice of another’s making; a false voice.

This same scenario unfolded in my life once before. It wasn’t the call of the wild, but the call of a spirit.

I was alone; I was a child, and I heard and felt a voice call. It did not speak audibly, but through the spirit.

I followed the voice into my kitchen one night and found a bright light staring back at me. I heard and responded; I was perhaps four or five-years old at the time.

After its intentional call, I spoke back to the light with my spirit, but spoke in fear. Like the coyote, I found no brotherhood in this voice.

It drew me in though. Closer and closer, it pulled me to itself. I learned to obey the voice, as it became my master for many years.

As frightful as the light and spirit voice were, I cooperated with its call. I interacted with the spriit voice, as it had become familiar.

The fear it produced was my unwanted companion for many years. Its instructions were not only for me, but included my sister. She, too, heard the voice. Unlike the coyote, we connected and obeyed the voice for most of our childhood years.

The voice was not authentic, it lured us, like the siren to the coyote; it was a false voice, an imitation of the real true voice.

A spirit has power, and it has dominion and can fool, just like the storm alarm that my four-legged friends heard. It will reach out to anyone who will listen.

A true and safe spirit will not bring fear, but peace and love.

When listening or even calling to the great unknown, use the authentic, safe connection. Use the name of Jesus. He is the only true voice.

He is life, and is one with us in brotherhood. Amen.

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To read more about this story, “Familiar Spirits” is a book written to help guide those who are lured by the false voice of the enemy. It is a compelling story of deception and danger. The truth comes in an amazing way, as children are used in the battle of good and evil.

Karyn Alexander

Executive Director, Winfield House