DECEMBER 2018 BLOG POST

CHRISTMAS 1986

DECEMBER BLOG POST FOR GAIN'S YESTERDAYS PAGE

AND ALSO

CHAPTER ONE: THE HOUSE OF THE LAUGHING GARGOYLES

DECEMBER BLOG POST FOR MAMA'S FLOWER GARDEN PAGE

CHRISTMAS MOUSE ORNAMENT ON JUDY'S CHRISTMAS TREE AT WENDY'S

DECEMBER 31, 2016

PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY HAZEL UPTON

     I took this photo one morning when Hammerhead and I were eating breakfast at the Clarksville Wendy's, as we usually did most mornings. Judy, the manager, and the other employees at Wendy's always had time to visit with Hammerhead. Judy always decorated the store for Christmas, and I took some photos of her ornaments that morning while they were still up right after Christmas.

CHRISTMAS 1986

     This first part of the December and Christmas 2018 blog post is copied from a diary entry I made in December 1986 when Gain and I drove down to Clarksville, Indiana to visit Mama and Daddy, as we did around Christmas time and also any other time we could. We lived about 180 miles north of Clarksville in Carroll County, Indiana. So whenever we had a few days off it was not that far to drive down and spend a weekend or a day or two with them. The photos I am using to illustrate this diary entry, which was originally handwritten in one of my diary notebooks that I kept, were taken by Mama and Daddy. I scanned the very old photos from their books into the computer so that they could be published and preserved for them. I am publishing them and the diary entry here for the first time. The photos are published in the order that they were taken that day. The first photo is of me cooking breakfast for us all before went to Grandma's house later to visit her and Helen, Mama's sister, and to take them Christmas presents.

MARY HAZEL UPTON COOKING BREAKFAST IN MAMA'S KITCHEN

CHRISTMAS MORNING 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

GAIN UPTON AND CLAUDE HENSON WAITING FOR BREAKFAST

CHRISTMAS MORNING 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

MARY HAZEL UPTON, GAIN UPTON, & CLAUDE HENSON EATING CHRISTMAS BREAKFAST

CHRISTMAS 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

CHRISTMAS FRAGMENTS OF MARY HAZEL’S DIARY

BY

MARY HAZEL UPTON

DECEMBER 25, 1986 THURSDAY CHRISTMAS

     I have a few minutes now this Christmas morning to start bringing the journal up to date. Mama is getting ready so we can go down to see Grandma and take her her Christmas presents. Daddy and Gain are down in the basement. Daddy is showing Gain how to use the jointer. Charles gave the one Daddy had given him back to Daddy to give to Gain. Charles just bought a Smith Shop, which is many tools in one, including a jointer.

     We started down to Clarksville about 1 P.M. yesterday. It had started sleeting and freezing rain sometime in the early morning and was still somewhat icy when we started down. It had warmed up some, but we wanted to get started down before the temperature started dropping. Every tree and bush and weed was covered with ice, giving them a white lacy look. Short icicles dripped from each road sign. As soon as we got south of Indianapolis, there was no ice, and it changed to just rain. We ran into some hard rain as we approached Clarksville. It has been very dark and wet and gloomy all day.

     Our starting mileage was 15,366.

     We ate supper at Bob Evans at the Columbus exit. Bob Evans is now on the blacklist for bland food. The entire Columbus exits are on the blacklist for poor selection of restaurants. That was the same place we’d stopped before at the first exit and there were no restaurants and went on to the second exit and there were very few.

     We got to Clarksville about 4:30 P.M. It was not dark yet, so we did not take our stuff in yet, but did so about an hour later as it was getting dark by then.

     We brought down boxes of groceries for Mama and Daddy and Charles and Anna Marie, as I did not get time to make any homemade goodies.

     I finished decorating the Christmas tree Mama had partially decorated while she fixed eggs and Sizzle Lean for her and Daddy, as they had not eaten supper yet. I also decorated the small tree. Mama added the ornament (blue ceramic) that I’d brought her. Mrs. Siddons, the nurse, had made ornaments for everybody at work for Christmas.

     We opened our Christmas presents. Gain had a box of food goodies and some paperback Westerns. I had house shoes, a hand towel and wash cloth, and pink sheep pillowcases. Mama had made these for me and I was really “baaing with joy” over them. I will have to get some pink sheets to use with them.

     We also watched a videotape—Captain Apache, that was pretty good.

     Gain and I went to bed at 10 P.M., as we were tired and did not wake up until ten till seven this morning.

     I was in my “cook mode” and fixed Sizzle Lean and eggs for Gain, Daddy and me. Mama had toast. Gain and I also had toast with orange marmalade and I had grapefruit juice. Plenty of coffee, of course. A very special breakfast. Mama took photos of me cooking and everybody eating to preserve this time and I am preserving it in my journal.

     Will close this entry now as the journal is up to date and everybody is ready to go now. Gain just carried his jointer up from the basement looking super jolly and is getting ready to carry it out to the car.

DECEMBER 25, 1986 (CONTINUED)

     We went to visit Grandma and take her her presents today. Mama had some house slippers and some juice for her. Helen had made a no-bake fruitcake made out of graham crackers. Gain and I sat at Grandma’s new dining room table in the kitchen and ate a slice of this very good fruitcake and drank coffee.

     After we left Grandma’s, Daddy suggested we go for a ride along the river. We drove down to the River Heritage Park and walked up on the overlook bridge built at the top of the flood-wall, behind the railroad tracks in New Albany. From this vantage point we could see the old shirt factory where Daddy’s mother used to work. The windows are partially painted over with white paint and the building is empty now. Next to the shirt factory is an antique gingerbread building frosted with pink paint. A church with a clock tower completes the trio. It is 20 after twelve. The wind is blowing and the sky is gray. It will always be 20 minutes after twelve on a cold winter’s afternoon in the small fragment of time where this memory will forever remain.

     After we left the park we decided to drive on along the whole length of the river. We went to Clarksville and stopped several times to look at the river. We admired the houseboats and the river cabins. One old trolley was parked overlooking the river in Clarksville. It was being restored, probably for a summer cottage. We drove on through Jeffersonville also and looked at the river from there.

     A very nice drive and a special memory we will always treasure.

     When we got home I used the computer for awhile and typed and printed the Thanksgiving installment of the journal. While I was typing the journal Gain and Daddy brought the new computer center up from the basement, and did a little finishing work on the top. After I was finished using the computer, they set this new computer desk up where Daddy’s old desk was. Daddy says I can have his old desk.

     I helped Mama fix supper—ham, mashed potatoes, roasting ears, and green beans. A very delicious Christmas supper.

     Mama and Daddy washed the supper dishes while Gain and I sat in the living room (“old and tired”, of course) and listened to the radio and looked at 2 of Mama’s photo albums. One for 1985 and 1986 and one of Florida 1977. This was really neat. Looking at the 1977 photos was like looking through the window of a time machine.

     After supper, we all watched a videotape—“Cry Of Battle”. A good movie—an old black and white World War 2 movie set in the Philippines.

DECEMBER 26, 1986 FRIDAY

     Last night after the movie I had copied an ad out of the newspaper about a house for sale. Daddy and I checked the map and found the location, so we all decided we’d go and look at it Friday morning before Gain and I had to leave.

     We ate breakfast at Hardees and then looked at the house. Gain and I decided against buying it.

     We started home about 9:30 A.M. Mama and Daddy had to take Grandma to the doctor—the doctor just told her that she has cancer and will need an operation, but it is not scheduled yet.

     We got home about 1 P.M., after eating lunch in Kokomo and shopping at Fleet Supply.

     Napped from 3:30 P.M. until 7:30 P.M. and Gain left on his trip to Tennessee at 11 P.M. I have to work, but will “camp” in my room this weekend.

     Our special times this trip were cooking Christmas breakfast, the river drive, and Gain and me looking at photos, and Helen’s fruitcake.

HELEN’S NO BAKE FRUIT CAKE

1 CAN (13 OZ.) EVAPORATED MILK

1 LB. MINIATURE MARSHMALLOWS

1 LB. GRAHAM CRACKER CRUMBS—FINE

1 LB. SEEDLESS RAISINS

1 PT. MIXED CANDIED FRUIT

4 C. CHOPPED WALNUTS, PECANS, OR HICKORY NUTS

HEAT MILK OVER LOW HEAT, ADDING MARSHMALLOWS TO MELT. (CAN BE HEATED IN THE MICROWAVE, 3 MINUTES ON HIGH POWER, STIRRING AFTER EACH MINUTE.) STIR IN GRAHAM CRACKER CRUMBS, RAISINS, CANDIED FRUIT AND NUTS.

GREASE A BUNDT CAKE PAN OR AN ANGEL FOOD CAKE PAN. LINE THE PAN WITH ALUMINUM FOIL, LIGHTLY GREASING THE FOIL, LEAVING EDGES OVERHANGING FOR EASY REMOVAL LATER. MAKE A DESIGN IN THE BOTTOM OF THE CAKE PAN USING FRUIT AND NUTS. PACK BATTER INTO PAN TIGHTLY. COVER AND LET SET AT ROOM TEMPERATURE FOR 2 DAYS. UNMOLD AND SEAL IN AIRTIGHT CONTAINER OR WRAP TIGHTLY IN FOIL. REFRIGERATE FOR STORAGE. WILL KEEP FOR SEVERAL WEEKS.

FROM “CHRISTMAS IN INDIANA”

PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC SERVICE INDIANA

House In New Albany

Floyd Knobs Phone Area Code—812

$7,900--$1900 Down, Assume payments of $107 monthly, for approx. 7 l/2 years. Small one—two bedroom cottage. Structure sound but needs interior remodeled. 1105 Griffin Street. 923-3368 evenings.

Ad From “The Tribune’s Tri-County Extra” (Published weekly on Wed. by The New Albany Tribune)—Dec. 24, 1986

Serving—Floyd, Clark, and Harrison Counties.

MARY BELLE WISEHEART

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

Mary Belle Wiseheart is my grandmother. Helen Pankey is her daughter, Mama's sister, who lived with Grandma. The other people in this series of photos are: Claude Henson, my Daddy, Hazel Henson, my Mama, Gain Upton, my husband, and myself, Mary Hazel Upton. The photos of the Christmas breakfast were taken at Mama's and Daddy's house in Clarksville, Indiana. The photos of the visit to Grandma were taken at Grandma's house in New Albany, Indiana. The scenery was taken that Christmas Day in New Albany, Indiana. All of the photos except the two of Mama and Daddy together were taken by Mama. The two of Mama and Daddy standing by the bridge were taken by Gain.

HELEN PANKEY

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

CLAUDE HENSON AT GRANDMA'S HOUSE

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

GAIN UPTON EATING FRUITCAKE AT GRANDMA'S HOUSE

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

MARY HAZEL UPTON EATING FRUITCAKE AT GRANDMA'S HOUSE WITH HELEN SITTING IN CHAIR

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

VIEW FROM PEARL STREET OVERLOOK NEW ALBANY, INDIANA

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

HAZEL AND CLAUDE HENSON

NEW ALBANY OVERLOOK

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY GAIN UPTON

HAZEL AND CLAUDE HENSON

NEW ALBANY OVERLOOK

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY GAIN UPTON

GAIN AND MARY HAZEL UPTON NEW ALBANY OVERLOOK

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

VIEW FROM PEARL STREET OVERLOOK NEW ALBANY, INDIANA

CHRISTMAS DAY 1986

PHOTOGRAPH BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

 In the old book of photographs of this day that I found, Mama had two photos of this overlook scene that looked exactly the same to me. I don't know why she had two copies of what are apparently the same photos in this book, but since they were obviously intended to be part of the same photo series that she made to record this day, I scanned and saved them both separately, and am publishing both here for the Christmas 1986 diary post.

     The next part of this blog post is the first chapter of Amy's Gothic romance novel, The House Of The Laughing Gargoyles, that I wrote many years ago. I published a hard copy of the book with Bookemon, my hard copy book publisher. The hard copy book is for sale by Bookemon, but the whole book is free to read online at Bookemon. I am, starting with the December 2018 blog post publishing it again as a serial here on my own website. The hard copy book is very nice and is, of course, more permanent than the digital copies, but the serial I am publishing here will have additional photos that would have cost too much to include in the hard copy book. Bookemon lets writers add as many photos as they want to to their books, but then, of course, it costs more to make the hard copy books. So I just have a front cover and back cover photo on the hard copy book, which are included in the regular book price. In this first chapter of Amy's book, I am just reprinting the photos I used on the hard copy book. However, Mama has many many books of more photos she and Daddy took. They specialized in photos of old buildings, especially ones they heard that were going to be torn down, so I am not sure what neat old buildings and other historic photos I may find in those books to illustrate future chapters. I will have fun looking. None of the photos are of Stone River Manor, the Gothic house in Amy's story, because it is completely fictional. However there are many similar houses, but unfortunately without the neat gargoyles on them, along the Ohio River. In this story the fictional River City is really Jeffersonville. Amy's hometown, the fictional Rivertown, is really Clarksville. I am Amy--I always get to be the heroine in all my stories. Lawrence is Gain. He always gets to be the hero. I always get to be young and pretty too, and he is my always young and handsome true love, the way I remember him when we were first married. Most of the other characters are fictional.

     These chapters will all be blog posts for the Mama's Flower Garden Page, which is her memorial page, because without her saving the only handwritten copy of this manuscript, it would not now be published. I threw all my copies away long ago after I got discouraged sending them out to publishers and decided they must be sending the story back because it was no good.

OLD MAN FACE ON ODD FELLOWS BUILDING IN GREENSBURG, INDIANA

AUGUST 19,1977

PHOTO BY HAZEL FERN HENSON

CROPPED FROM ORIGINAL PHOTO 

FIRST PUBLISHED BY BOOKEMON ON COVER

THE HOUSE OF THE LAUGHING GARGOYLES

(CHAPTER ONE. ANOTHER CHAPTER TO BE PUBLISHED EACH MONTH)

BY

MARY HAZEL UPTON

COVER PHOTOGRAPH

BY

HAZEL FERN HENSON

CREDIT FOR COVER PHOTOGRAPH

     The cover photograph for this book is of a carved stone face of an old man that was on the Odd Fellows Home in Greensburg, Indiana. It is not quite a gargoyle, but is the closest that I could find to use for the cover of Amy’s book.

     The Odd Fellows Home was an old mansion that was later converted into a nursing home for the elderly Rebekah members. The Rebekah society is for the women members of the Odd Fellows. My grandmother, Bertha Henson, was a member of the Rebekah society and when she became unable to live alone due to a stroke, she moved into the old Odd Fellows Home that had been converted into a nursing home.

     Daddy and Mama went up every month to visit her—they would have gone more often, but it was a long drive. She was there for several years before she died.

     The old building was later torn down, a piece of history gone. I think Mama said that they built a new building. I went up with them one time when I was visiting Mama and Daddy and was privileged to see the old building while I was visiting my grandmother.

     This cover photograph was taken by my Mama, Hazel Fern Henson, on one of hers and Daddy’s visits to the Odd Fellows Home to see his mother. It was taken August 19, 1977. I found this photograph in one of Mama’s very old photo books. There are many more photos of their trips to the Odd Fellows Home in that book. Since I could not find any gargoyle photos that they had taken; I used this one, as I thought it seemed suitable to illustrate Amy’s book. As well as stone faces, gargoyles were also often stylized animal statues. I think only the waterspout kind are properly called gargoyles, but this was as close as I could find. Daddy usually took, and often developed, black and white photos, while Mama took color photos and slides so, although I don’t know for sure that Mama took this photo, she gets credit for most of the color photos and Daddy gets credit for most of the black and white photos.

     The photograph of Mama, Hazel Fern Henson, on the back cover of the book was taken by my Daddy, Claude B. Henson. She is sitting on the steps of one of the entrances to the Odd Fellows Home. That photo was taken in 1978. I have used her photograph on the back cover of this book because she saved the only hand written manuscript of this book and without her saving it, there would be no published copy now.

FOR MAMA

WHO SAVED THE ORIGINAL HANDWRITTEN MANUSCRIPT IN HER SEWING ROOM, THE ONLY COPY STILL IN EXISTENCE, ALONG WITH HER OTHER SPECIAL TREASURES,

FOR ALL THESE YEARS

AND LEFT THEM FOR ME TO FIND

WHEN SHE BECAME AN ANGEL

AND ALSO FOR MY BELOVED HUSBAND, GAIN,

WHO IS LAWRENCE IN THIS STORY.

HAZEL FERN HENSON ON STEPS OF OLD ODDFELLOWS BUILDING 1978

GREENSBURG, INDIANA

PHOTOGRAPH BY CLAUDE B. HENSON

THIS IS A CROPPED PHOTO MADE FROM THE ORIGINAL PHOTO

FIRST PUBLISHED ON THE BACK COVER OF THE HOUSE OF THE LAUGHING GARGOYLES

By Mary Hazel Upton

Published by Bookemon

EXCERPT FROM

THE HOUSE OF THE LAUGHING GARGOYLES

     As Amy approached Stone River Manor, she could see that it was encrusted with gargoyles and hideous stone faces. There was a leering gargoyle, one of those waterspouts once so common to Gothic architecture, on each of the four corners of the house. As if that wasn’t enough, the theme was carried out with a frieze of demonic faces all around the house. Each face and each gargoyle was different, each seemingly more hideous than the last. Coming closer to the house, Amy could see the gargoyle closest to her clearly now. It was bleak gray stone like the house, carved into a tormented, leering demon’s face with its tongue sticking out. As Amy looked at the gargoyles it seemed to her that they were laughing—cold, hard, silent, mirthless stone laughter. Looking at the gargoyles, Amy felt a weight of sadness descend on her heart, sadness such as she had never felt before, sadness so deep that it felt like fear. In panic, she looked around for a way to escape, but the iron gates were closed. Breaking eye contact with the gargoyles seemed to break the spell and the unreasoning panic receded.

     Amy walked up to the door of Stone River Manor and rang the bell. A person with only ten dollars in her purse was in no position to quit her job because of a lot of carved stone faces.

CHAPTER ONE

     It was snowing the first time Amy Taylor saw Stone River Manor. The short December afternoon, made even shorter by the falling snow, was rapidly drawing to a close. She stood outside the iron gates for a long time, hesitating before she rang the bell for the gate keeper to let her in.

     Amy hadn’t wanted to take this job in the first place, and now that she had seen Stone River Manor, she wanted to less than ever. There was a coldness about this place that was deeper than the December chill that made her draw her coat closer and pull her white and purple knitted hat down farther over her short blond hair. Beyond the iron gates was a driveway bordered on either side by trees that seemed to be made of the same black iron as the gate. In the summer they would be a privacy screen, keeping the mansion from being seen from the road, but now Amy could see its grotesquely ugly outlines carved in massive stone. Just beyond the house was the Ohio River, a wide expanse of gray waves churning against the shore.

     This was Amy’s first job although she was twenty-two years old. She barely remembered her father, who had died when she was three years old. Her widowed mother had never remarried and she and Amy had been very close. Amy had loved her so much that, as a child, she had never thought about leaving her mother to marry someday. In her imagination of the future there had only been herself and her mother. Later, when there had been vague thoughts of a possible husband someday, Amy had imagined them living next door to her mother and her own life going on pretty much as it always had. The possible future husband remained merely a pleasant distant possibility, something for which there was no hurry, and the boys she dated were merely pleasant, but not permanent companions.

     In the meantime there was her art. Second to her mother, art was Amy’s great love, and she knew that someday she would become a great artist. All her teachers had encouraged her and she had sold quite a few of her paintings.

     What Amy hadn’t planned on was her mother leaving her. Her mother had died last spring leaving a life insurance policy, that had seemed large to her when she took it out, but that had only been enough to pay one semester’s tuition and living expenses at the college Amy attended. Just before she died, she had told Amy about the cancer, carefully kept from her only child, and made her promise to continue her education.

     “I don’t want you to grieve for me, Amy. I’m going to join your father and we’ll still be watching over you,” she had said. “Promise me you’ll go on with your studies.”

     “I will, Mama.”

     Amy had tried to go on as before, refusing to think about her loss, and rapidly becoming busy with a painting, or the housework, or going to a movie with one of her friends whenever dark thoughts crowded her mind. The money had run out when Amy still had one more semester of college left.

     Fortunately, Miss Wickfield, her favorite teacher, was also influential in the college. When Amy had explained why she must leave after this semester, Miss Wickfield had arranged for Amy to take her final exams early, and so obtain her diploma. She had also arranged this job for Amy as governess and art teacher to eight-year-old Jane Evans. Amy hadn’t been enthusiastic about a job as live-in governess. It sounded so Victorian. She had a job lined up teaching art at the local elementary school starting next fall, but in the meantime, there was no money.

     These things went through Amy’s mind as she stood hesitating outside the gates of Stone River Manor. If only Mama was still alive, she would never have let Amy get into this horrible position! Resolutely, Amy pushed the unpleasant memory of her loss out of her mind and replaced it with a picture of her mother, smiling and happy, as she had looked before her illness. If Mama was really watching her now, as she had said she would, she would be ashamed of Amy for acting like such a baby. Firmly, Amy pushed the button to summon the gatekeeper. After all, this job was for less than a year. No matter how horrible it was she could stand it for that long. Soon, when she was a famous artist and didn’t have to work for anybody, she would look back on all this and laugh. Laughing was the farthest thing from her mind right now, though, but she refused to think about it.

     “Yes?” the stooped old man in a shabby jacket, standing on the other side of the gate, inquired.

     “I’m Amy Taylor. I’m the new governess.”

     The old man stood there silently for a long moment, looking Amy over. At first Amy thought he wasn’t going to let her in. Finally, he unlocked the gates and swung them open.

     “The house is up that way, Miss,” he said, pointing up the drive. He made no move to escort her, or help her with her suitcase, so Amy started walking up the long avenue of winter struck trees.

     She could feel his eyes on her all the way up the drive, and once when she looked back he was still standing in the middle of the drive, watching her. When she looked back a second time, he was gone, evidently gone back to the gatehouse, the small cottage just inside the gates.

     As Amy approached Stone River Manor, she could see that it was encrusted with gargoyles and hideous stone faces. There was a leering gargoyle, one of those waterspouts once so common to Gothic architecture, on each of the four corners of the house. As if that wasn’t enough, the theme was carried out with a frieze of demonic faces all around the house. Each face and each gargoyle was different, each seemingly more hideous than the last. Coming closer to the house, Amy could see the gargoyle closest to her clearly now. It was bleak gray stone like the house, carved into a tormented, leering demon’s face with its tongue sticking out. As Amy looked at the gargoyles, it seemed to her that they were laughing—cold, hard, silent, mirthless stone laughter. Looking at the gargoyles, Amy felt a weight of sadness descend on her heart, sadness such as she had never felt before, sadness so deep that it felt like fear. In panic, she looked around for a way to escape, but the iron gates were closed. Breaking eye contact with the gargoyles seemed to break the spell and the unreasoning panic receded.

     Amy walked up to the door of Stone River Manor and rang the bell. A person with only ten dollars in her purse was in no position to quit her job because of a lot of carved stone faces.

     The door was opened by a woman in a black uniform and starched white cap. It was impossible to tell how old she was by looking at the bland unwrinkled face. She was one of those women who seem perpetually neither young nor old.

     “Yes?”

     “I’m Amy Taylor, the new governess,” Amy explained for the second time since her arrival at Stone River Manor.

     “Oh, yes. Come right in. Mrs. Evans is expecting you.”

     She led Amy down a long hallway that made several L shaped turns to a large living room.

     “Mrs. Evans. This is Miss Taylor, the governess.”

     The tall slender woman with long black hair laid her magazine aside, rose from her chair, and came toward Amy. Amy guessed her age to be only a few years older than her own. The chubby rosy cheeked little girl with long blond braids came over to join her mother.

     “You’re Amy Taylor?” the woman asked. “Have you ever done this kind of work before? You look so young, not much older than my Jane here. Won’t you take your coat off and sit down?”

     Turning to the servant, she went on, “Mrs. Baker, take Miss Taylor’s coat and suitcase up to her room. She’s to have the Blue Room.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Baker took Amy’s things and waited for further instructions. Unlike the gatekeeper’s obvious curiosity about Amy, she betrayed not the slightest personal interest in the new governess.

     “That will be all, Mrs. Baker,” Mrs. Evans dismissed her.

     Turning back to Amy, she repeated the question she hadn’t given Amy a chance to answer.

     “Have you done this kind of work before?”

     “No. This is my first job. I’ve been in college. I thought Miss Wickfield explained all that. I’m sure I can do the work, though. Miss Wickfield showed you some of my sketches, didn’t she? I have some more in my suitcase if you’d like to see them.” Amy wondered if, in spite of her suitcase having been sent to the Blue Room, she was going to be allowed to stay.

     “No. No. That won’t be necessary. Miss Wickfield showed me your sketches, and I remember now, she did say something about this being your first job.”

     “Your sketches are very good. That’s just what we wanted for Jane here.” She drew the child closer to her. “Jane loves to draw and we wanted a teacher who knew something about art for her.”

     Jane had been watching Amy with bright interested eyes ever since she had taken her hat and coat off. At last she said, “Your hair is the same color as mine, Miss Taylor, except that it’s so much shorter. Cut that way it makes you look like a boy.”

     “Jane!” her mother exclaimed. “Where are your manners?”

     “Except that you’re too pretty to be a boy,” Jane went on, unperturbed.

     “That’ll be enough, Jane. Go and sit down while I talk to Miss Taylor.” To Amy, “I must apologize for Jane’s bad manners. She’s a very outspoken child, but she means well.”

     “That’s all right. I’m used to people noticing my hairstyle. Either they like it, or they hate it, but I like it this way, and it’s easy to care for, so I wear it this way, “ Amy said. Her blond hair was cut very short in a smooth little cap with bangs, emphasizing her delicate fine boned face and her big blue eyes.

     “Miss Wickfield said that you’re a very good artist,” Mrs. Evans went on, returning to the previous subject. “That’s what we want for Jane. You look so young, though. The only problem with having you is that you might leave us suddenly. That’s what the governess we had before did. Never a word to anybody, but just suddenly one day she’s up and gone.”

     “I wouldn’t leave without giving you proper notice and I have no other plans right now except to work.”

     Amy didn’t add that she was promised a job in the fall at River City Elementary School. That was about a year from now. She hadn’t lied, she would give Mrs. Evans proper notice when the time came, and she didn’t have any other plans right now. If she even suggested that she didn’t plan to spend the rest of her life as the dedicated family governess, though, Mrs. Evans probably would not hire her, she thought angrily, looking around the expensively furnished room, and she had no money and nowhere to go. She had to have this job. From what Miss Wickfield had told her, she’d thought that she did have the job, but now Mrs. Evans was trying to act doubtful. She pushed down the waves of anger and continued smiling sweetly while Mrs. Evans appeared to make up her mind.

     “Well, what do you think, Jane?”

     “I think we should hire Miss Taylor, Mama. I like her.”

     Mrs. Evans laughed and pretended to take the child’s opinion seriously.

     “Then I guess you have a new governess, Jane.”

     Turning back to Amy, she went on, “I’ll have Mrs. Baker show you to your room. Dinner will be at eight, so you’ll have some time to rest before then.” She looked at her watch.

     “It’s only a little after four now. We eat breakfast at nine. We don’t have lunch—just tea around three or four o’clock. We had tea early today. Jane is allowed to snack before then if she gets hungry and you can eat then too if you wish.” She smiled. “A custom I picked up when my husband was stationed in England. He’s in the army.” A shadow passed across her face. “He’s in Viet Nam now. Oh, when will this terrible war be over?”

     Regaining her composure, she went on, “You will be in complete charge of Jane, of course, so establish your lesson plan as you wish. The only thing I insist on is an emphasis on art. I’ll show you the classroom tomorrow.”

     As Amy followed Mrs. Baker up the flights of thickly carpeted stairs to the third floor, she tried to get control of her anger and humiliation. When she was a rich and famous artist, no one, and especially not the high and mighty Mrs. Evans, would ever put her in this kind of embarrassing situation again!

     After politely refusing Mrs. Baker’s halfhearted offer to help her unpack, and waiting for Mrs. Baker to leave, Amy curiously began looking her new room over before beginning her unpacking. The only thing she could say with all sincerity was that the Blue Room was certainly blue. The walls were a deep blue with matching royal blue bedspread and heavy draperies. The effect was somehow oppressive to Amy, who had never cared for heavy colors, preferring light spring-like pastels.

     At least it might help to open the draperies and let in a little daylight she thought, tugging on the drapery cord. Her bedroom window overlooked the river. She could see it closer now than she had from outside the house and the expanse of gray waves, churning wildly against the shore, looked even wider, and colder, and more depressing. The snow was falling thicker now and beginning to cover. Between the river and the house was a white painted latticed gazebo, probably used for summer picnics. Amy tried to tell herself that Stone River Manor was probably a very nice place in the summertime. She and Jane could sketch and eat lunch in the gazebo then. It was no use, though. On this dark December afternoon summer and happiness seemed like a fairy tale.

     Amy started to leave the window when something made her open it and lean half way out so she could look up at the roof. Her third floor room was very close to the roof and Amy looked straight up into the leering face of what had to be the mansion’s very ugliest gargoyle. She felt her blood run cold with horror and, once again, she felt that same weight of sadness so deep it became panic. It was as if her heart had turned hollow. It was impossible to look away, though, and for what felt like eternity she looked at the gargoyle laughing its cold, hard, silent, mirthless stone laughter. Behind the laughter it was as if the gargoyle was trying to tell her something, something very important, if she could only stand to concentrate long enough to understand. It was only a fleeting half-conscious impression, though, quickly swept away when the gargoyle’s silent laughter became audible and a kind of demonic howling. That broke the trance-like state Amy had been held in, though, and shivering, she quickly drew her shoulders back through the window, shutting it to keep from hearing the gargoyle’s terrible laughter. The howling went on, though, seeming to come not from outside, she now realized, but from somewhere deep from within the house, as if the house itself was really only an extension of the gargoyles instead of the other way around. Abruptly the sound ceased.

     Quickly Amy drew the heavy blue draperies and got a sweater out of her suitcase. She sat on the edge of the bed until she finally stopped shivering. If she was going to work here, she was going to have to stop letting her imagination run away with her and scaring herself with her own silly fancies. Whoever had designed this grotesque mansion had had a weird imagination, but the gargoyles were only pieces of stone, nothing more, and there was a logical, probably very simple, explanation for the sound she had heard.

     Amy got up and began to unpack her suitcase, mentally considering the matter closed, although she couldn’t completely shake off the feeling that if she could only learn why the gargoyles were laughing she would have learned something very important.

     It only took her a few minutes to hang up the pastel, mostly shades of lavender, mini-dresses she favored wearing and the few other things she had brought. Amy shivered again. She might be glad of the few pants suits and long skirts she had brought, although she didn’t really care much for them. Even central heating couldn’t take the chill off this old mansion.

     After unpacking, there was nothing left to do and Amy suddenly felt very tired. Carefully setting her small travel alarm, she laid down to rest until dinner time.

     When the alarm startled her awake, Amy wasn’t sure at first where she was. Then memory flooded back. Of course. She was at Stone River Manor to start her new job and it was time to get up and dress for dinner now.

     Once out in the hall, Amy realized that no one had told her how to get to the dining room. She had been so angry at Mrs. Evans’ arrogance that she had forgotten to pay attention to the way Mrs. Baker had brought her upstairs and now she didn’t even know how to get back downstairs. The hall stretched out in shadowy length on both sides of her, both ends ending in a curve beyond which she couldn’t see. Amy decided to walk to the right first and see if that would bring her to the staircase leading to the first floor. Closed doors, so many she lost count, lined both sides of the hall. In between the doors were portraits, evidently of ancestors of the present owners of Stone River Manor. Amy didn’t take time to examine them closely, though. It was already certain she was going to be late for dinner even if this proved to be the right way downstairs.

     Once around the curve in the hallway, Amy could see that the hallway continued on, snaking out of sight in another curve farther along. She hesitated. Surely this couldn’t be the right way. This hall seemed to be leading deeper and deeper into the old house and surely Mrs. Baker hadn’t brought her down a hall this long to the Blue Room. She couldn’t be sure, though, so she decided, since she had come this far, to continue to the end of the hall.

     Amy had lost track of how many twisting turns the hall had taken and was just about to turn back when she heard the hideous howling she had heard earlier in her room. Her first impulse was to run, but then she realized if she didn’t discover the source of this horrible sound, she would have to continue half believing it was made by the gargoyles. That alternative was even more horrible than discovering its true source, so she continued.

     The farther along the hall she got the louder the sound became. Amy had never heard anything like it. It was eerie and blood chilling. She was tempted to go back, but she forced herself to go on.

     The sound was very loud now. She must be almost to whatever was making it. She paused for a moment, leaning against the wall, gathering up her courage to go on. She couldn’t get over the feeling that shortly she would come face to face with one of the gargoyles, come to life. She looked back the way she had come. The long hall dissolved in shadows, the electric candle shaped lights barely penetrating the windowless corridor.

     Amy felt something furry brush against her ankles and, at the same time, heard the demonic noise right beside her. Screaming, she jumped away.

     “Did Snowball scare you?”

     Amy looked up to see Jane standing in front of her holding a Siamese cat, now contentedly purring.

     “Snowball doesn’t usually meow like that,” Jane explained. “Just sometimes. She doesn’t usually like strangers either. She runs away as soon as she sees them. You must have scared her now, though. Would you like to pet her so she knows you’re still friends?”

     Feeling extremely foolish and still shaky, Amy went over to pet the beautiful cream and brown cat in Jane’s arms. “I’m sorry I was so silly. I’d never heard a Siamese cat before. They don’t sound like other cats.”

     “No. They don’t,” Jane agreed. “Michael says they sound like demons. He says they sound like the gargoyles on our house would sound if they had a voice.”

     “Who’s Michael?” Amy asked, feeling somewhat stunned at having her own fancy shared by someone else.

     “Michael’s my uncle. He’s my youngest uncle. Lawrence is the oldest. He’s my other uncle. Come on, though. Mama will be waiting dinner on us. When you didn’t come downstairs she thought you must have turned right instead of left and she sent me to bring you down.”

     There were a hundred questions Amy wanted to ask, but Jane hurried her along the twisting hall with easy familiarity.

     “Here she is, Mama. You were right. She turned right instead of left.”

     “I’m sorry to be late and to have caused so much trouble,” Amy apologized.

     “It’s perfectly understandable in this huge old house!” Mrs. Evans was smiling and her mood seemed to have improved considerably since this afternoon. She was wearing a long wine red velvet dress and diamonds sparkled at her throat and on her ears.

     Perhaps, Amy thought charitably, she hadn’t meant to be mean. Perhaps she had been depressed about her husband being away and perhaps she had received a letter from him today. That would explain her changed mood.

     Amy quickly took the place at the table next to Jane indicated for her. The only other people at the huge polished walnut table were Mrs. Evans and a young man of about twenty-five, whom Amy guessed must be one of Jane’s uncles. He was carving a huge standing rib of beef roast and Amy took the opportunity to study him while he was occupied with this job. There was something compelling about him that immediately attracted Amy, an intense quality that matched his tall dark good looks. His hands looked strong, with slender fingers, as he handled the carving knife. An artist’s hands, Amy decided. His black hair was combed straight back and looked as shiny as a raven’s wing.

     “Will you have your meat rare, medium, or well done, Miss Taylor?” he asked, suddenly looking up from the roast and straight into Amy’s eyes. There was a mocking look of devilment in his brown eyes as if he had known that Amy had been looking at him and had read her thoughts.

     “Well done, please,” Amy managed to reply, blushing and quickly looking down at her plate.

     He placed a thick slice of roast beef on Amy’s plate and handed it back to her. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my manners,” he apologized in the same mocking tone. “I’m Michael Reese, Marjorie’s, your employer’s, brother. Our older brother, Lawrence, is staying at his other house tonight. He has his studio there. He’s a writer, a famous writer." He put a faint emphasis on the words other and famous. "Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

     Amy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I haven’t.”

     This appeared to please Michael.

     “How astounding. How utterly astounding. I never thought I’d live to meet someone who had never heard of my famous brother.”

     His mood suddenly seemed to change as he caught Jane’s mother looking at him in disapproval. The look of devilish merriment went out of his eyes and his face became somber and brooding and just as attractive as before.

     “You’ll have to let me show you around this gloomy old palace one of these days,” Michael told Amy, before beginning to eat and remaining silent for the rest of the meal.

     A curious feeling of elation and that perhaps Stone River Manor wasn’t going to be such a bad place to work after all, now that she’d met Michael, filled Amy’s mind through the rest of the meal. She tried to tell herself that Michael had only been being polite and that this rich young man, obviously a lady’s man, who could have his pick of dozens of young ladies of his own class, could have no interest in the governess. At least no honorable interest. Still the happiness persisted, making the plain roast beef, baked potatoes, and fresh peas taste, not like plain, but excellent food, but exotic dishes of the privileged rich.

     A maid came in and cleared the table; then brought strawberry shortcake, made with fresh, not frozen berries.

      “Too rich for me,” the slim Mrs. Evans said. “If you will excuse me, I think I’ll go up to my room. I’m rather tired.”

     Turning to Amy, she went on, “Jane’s bedtime is at ten. Until then she’s allowed to watch television in the family room. She’ll show you where it is. Her bedroom is right next to yours. I’ll show you the classroom tomorrow after breakfast and we can work out your schedule then.”

     Addressing Jane, she said, “You’re to mind Miss Taylor. Whatever she tells you to do, do it even if you think it’s unfair. If you have any complaints, you can take them up with me later. Is that clear?"

     “Yes, Mama.”

     After Mrs. Evans left, Amy sat staring at the rich cake and berries smothered in whipped cream, too stunned to lift her spoon for a few minutes. Mrs. Evans expected her, not only to be Jane’s teacher, but her twenty-four-hour babysitter as well. Amy wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected the title of governess to cover, but certainly not this much. Not that she cared really. Jane seemed to be a nice child and there wasn’t much else for Amy to do with her time in the dead of winter here at Stone River Manor. It was just the arrogance of the woman! Evidently she didn’t want to be burdened with the care of her own child! Oh well, if she was going to be a servant for a year, she’d better start behaving like one. Servants didn’t resent their station in life. Amy picked up her spoon and began eating. The job did have a few compensations. For a while she could live like the rich, with fresh strawberries in December, and there was also the exciting possibility of getting to know Michael better. Amy felt a strange tingle of happiness. She looked over to see if Michael was still in his sullen mood, now that Mrs. Evans was gone, but he had finished his dessert and was gone too.

-END OF CHAPTER ONE-

-TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT MONTH'S BLOG POST

PURPLE POINSETTIA AT KROGER'S

DECEMBER 6, 2016

PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY HAZEL UPTON

RESEARCH FOR DECEMBER 2018 CHRISTMAS BLOG POST

Started and completed this research on November 27, 2018 Tuesday. Proofed and corrected manuscript on November 28, 2018 Wednesday.

Note: I am starting a new way of posting the research and links for the blog posts this month. Instead of posting the research and links throughout the blog post, and may still do that sometimes, I think it would be better to post the whole research document at the end of the regular posts, but just before the diary entry. I will see how this works out.

1. News And Tribune

This is the main website page for the News And Tribune:

https://www.newsandtribune.com

Note: This is all I could find. Evidently, as I figured, unless Mama saved a copy, if she ever had one, of the “Christmas In Indiana” newsletter published by Public Service Indiana with the fruitcake recipe, it is lost forever to time. I have no idea if Mama ever had a copy, but if she did, it would still be in the Time Machine Room. All of Helen’s things were long ago thrown out after she died, as most people’s are. I have no more time to search for this obscure newsletter on the Internet now. I could also find no mention of the Tribune’s Tri-County Extra where the ad for the house Gain and I looked at, but decided not to buy, was so this link for the present day News And Tribune, formerly The Evening News and The New Albany Tribune, will have to suffice as credit for the ad. I think, but am not sure that Public Service Indiana is now Duke Energy, and that Public Service Indiana is no longer in business. So I am unable to give them credit for reprinting their fruitcake recipe since I could find out nothing about the newsletter they published and was also unable to find out if Duke Energy was formerly Public Service Indiana and had no time right now to pursue this line of very obscure research. I found a lot of interesting information in this search, but not what I was looking for, but I bookmarked everything in case I ever get time to go back and continue this search. I found a bunch of other no bake graham cracker fruitcakes and other no bake ice box cakes while I was searching. I did not have time to look at these now, but bookmarked some of the search pages to go back to later. Looked like there were a lot of other good recipes there for both the graham cracker fruitcakes and other tasty looking ice box cakes. I don’t think I ever used Helen’s recipe, but maybe I might get time to use it next Christmas! I have not even begun to look through all Mama’s old papers, but when I get time, I will also look there. If she ever had a hard copy of the newsletter with the recipe, it would still be in the Time Machine Room.

2. New Albany, Indiana

This is the main website for New Albany, Indiana. They have a nice website.

https://cityofnewalbany.com/

     A. River Heritage Park & The Old Shirt Factory

The New Albany website lists all the parks in New Albany with photos and videos. The River Heritage Park is not listed and none of the photos shown are of the park I remember. Evidently this park is also gone. I found some information and photos of the old shirt factory, but not sure it is the right building mentioned in this diary entry—location doesn’t seem right, so did not save the websites or search further at this time. Will do more research on this subject later after I sort out more of Mama’s papers and see what information I can find that she has saved.

3 .Clarksville, Indiana

This is the main website for Clarksville, Indiana. There is a lot on this website.

http://www.townofclarksville.com/

4. Jeffersonville, Indiana

This is the main website for Jeffersonville, Indiana. There is a lot on this website also.

https://cityofjeff.net/

5. Kroger

This is Kroger’s main website. They have a very nice website, plus lots of free recipes!

https://www.kroger.com/

6. Wendy’s

This is Wendy’s main website. They also have a very nice website.

https://www.wendys.com/

7. Bookemon:

This is Bookemon’s main website. This is the place to go if you have books to publish. It is free to use their website to make your books. You only pay if you want to order hard copy books, one or more, and they keep your manuscript on the website for future orders. You do not have to order any hard copy books unless you want to, and you can keep your books private online or share them with others online. If you want them to, Bookemon will also sell your hard copy books for you on commission on their website. So far, nobody has bought any of my books, but then I haven’t advertised them either. Some of the authors only include a free sample of their books online, but many, as I do, include the entire book free for everyone to read online. So even if you do not have anything to publish, you can find lots of nice online books to read here. Bookemon will also make a free PDF copy of your book that you can download and share with family and friends when you tell Bookemon your book is ready to publish. Their prices are good. You can get an actual bound hard copy book from them for less than printing out a manuscript copy on your printer. I have been doing business with them for several years. Their service is prompt and the books are well made. This is a family friendly website. Many of the writers who use it are children, publishing their books, with permission from their parents, so you will never find any objectionable material on this website.

https://www.bookemon.com/printable.php?utm_expid=5608999-17.z9QSE4v9SpmUlrF27zQoQQ.1&utm_referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.bing.com%2F

     A. This is my Bookemon Book Store on the Bookemon website:

https://www.bookemon.com/store/429242

     B. This is the link to The House Of The Laughing Gargoyles published on Bookemon. You can read the entire book online here for free:

https://www.bookemon.com/read-book/691932

HAMMERHEAD AT WENDY'S

DECEMBER 17, 2016

PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY HAZEL UPTON

MARY HAZEL'S DIARY

DECEMBER 4, 2018 TUESDAY

     It is just after 3:30 P.M. and I have been working on getting the December blog posted for most of the afternoon, with a few short breaks. It looks good, but I need a break now. I don't think, as much as I've already posted, that there will be much room for a diary entry this month anyway. But I will at least try to mention what is coming up next month and post a photo of Hammerhead for this month. So if you find mistakes or some of the links don't work, I haven't finished proofing the blog yet!

     It is almost 6:30 P.M. now and just finished eating supper--a Salisbury steak Hungry Man TV Dinner. It has been dark now for nearly an hour. The neighbors across the street and also next door have lots of Christmas lights up now, though, so that is pretty. One house has two large lighted snowmen in front of their house. Later this month when there are more decorations up I will walk around the neighborhood one evening to look at them. I probably will not be able to completely finish the blog tonight. I will at least get everything posted, though, and just leave the proofing for tomorrow.

     I was unable to post anything in October or November. I went in to get new glasses last September and found out that I would have to have cataract surgery. Everything went well, although I was terrified that it wouldn't, and now I can finally see better than I have in years. Only have to wear glasses to read and use the computer now. Because of that, though, I got very little done in October and November, and was unable to post anything to the blog for those two months. I had some material to post for those months, but since I was unable to do any writing, I filed it for next October and November. Hopefully, now I will be able to start posting to the blog every month again.

     I was also unable to do anymore work on the next chapter of Mariette's book, so I will publish more of Nightmare House as soon as I can. For now I am going to start posting one chapter a month of Amy's book, The House Of The Laughing Gargoyles. I will also, besides the monthly chapter of Amy's book, try to post something else for that month. I have more of Mama's diary entries to post as well as lots of short stories and articles of my own that I can use.

    Next month I will post Chapter Two of Amy's book, The House Of The Laughing Gargoyles. In this chapter Amy and Jane enjoy the snow and ice skating on the private pond at Stone River Manor. Amy also meets Lawrence and she is beginning to think that maybe her new job as governess will not be so bad after all. But she still fears the gargoyles, who seem to be becoming more menacing, and she begins having strange nightmares about Stone River Manor's past. So come back next month to read more of her story!

     Next month I will also publish a January entry from one of the diaries I kept from 1986 to 1988 when I worked at Logansport State Hospital, also called Longcliff. It is titled "January Fragments Of Reflections From The Looking Glass World", originally published January 2, 2017 on Writers-Network. I will try to do a little more research on Logansport State Hospital and maybe find links to historic photos. I have none of my own--cameras were forbidden to protect the patients' privacy. I have lots of photos of Mama's to illustrate the next chapter of Amy's book, though, and will look for them. I may even get a little time to do some research on gargoyles--if not, will do it later and publish it with later chapters.

     1:20 P.M. December 5, 2018 Wednesday. The blog is now proofed and finished! All links work!

     Until next month. Merry Christmas. Thank you for reading my blog and Amy also thanks you for reading her story!

GINGERBREAD MAN ORNAMENT ON JUDY'S CHRISTMAS TREE AT WENDY'S

DECEMBER 17, 2016

PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY HAZEL UPTON