Physics

 

                 A Ninety-five Pound Wonder

                              Science is Useful After All

I must confess that when I was in high school, many long years ago, I did not choose physics as an elective.  I wanted to stay as far away as possible.  Why would I want to learn how fast an object of a certain weight, such as an apple, fall to the ground from a certain determined height?   So I chose geometry, which I have never needed either for my personal life, but did for my professional.  

But, physics was a lifesaver for Mrs. Abbott.  In 1886 her husband died leaving her with three children.  So she had to earn a living and she did in such a manner it baffled many here in Minnesota and elsewhere. 

In the Minneapolis Tribune in the October 15th issue of 1890,  Mrs. Annie Abbott was featured as a wonder and a genuine phenomenon.  One time she stood upon one heel of her No.1 shoe and could not be pushed off balance by six men.  She was attributed to lifting six to eight men seated on two chairs two feet from the floor. She could not be lifted by six men despite her only weighing 95 pounds.  

She traveled around the United States with her children putting on performances that stunned the audiences.  

The Minneapolis Tribune published her secret of using physics as her way of mastering these feats.  Later other people started to mimic her act but none rose to her level.  She died in 1915 and is buried at Milledgeville's Memory Hill Cemetery.  

Information is from Minnesota Mysteries A History of Unexplained Wonders, Eccentric Characters, Preposterous Claims & Baffling Occurences in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes by Ben Welter, Published by The History Press in 2013.

  

                            A Christian Put to the Test 

We have all seen the plight of the Ukrainian refugees. In World War II, six million to ten million refugees were going into France and then into Spain.

 

Let me tell you a true story. Does it have a happy ending? In some way, yes, and in some way, no. That is life.

 

In a small village in Portugal, twin brothers were born. One was Ceasar Whereas Aristides Mendes, and the other was Aristides de Sousa Mendes. Both boys had a life of luxury and graduated from law school in Coimbra, Portugal, in 1907. They were devoted Catholics.

 

Brother Cesar became Portugal's foreign minister. Aristides owned a lavish estate in his hometown and accepted diplomatic posts in Brazil, Spain, British Guyana, San Francisco, Belgium, and France, where we begin his story.

 

He was the consul general in Bordeaux, France. His office was on the second floor of a building where he issued visas, and he and his family lived in a large apartment on the third floor. It had to be significant in size as he had fourteen children when our story begins.

 

In June 1940, the Nazis rumbled toward Bordeaux. Thousands of residents of Belgium and Paris wanted to escape.  

 

People traveled by car, truck, bicycles, and on foot to Bordeaux. Aristides Sousa (from now on, I will just use his name, Sousa) invited people to sleep in his office, the hallway, the stairs, and in his apartment. He drove around the city. He saw the refugees in the parks, in tents, doorways, and any place they could find shelter.  

 

The refugees needed visas signed by Sousa to travel into neutral Portugal and from there to Spain, Lisbon, and then out of Europe.

 

Portugal's dictator, Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, ordered Sousa not to issue any visas to Jews, Russians, or stateless persons, as he did not want to anger Germany. 

 

Sousa saw his friend, a Rabbi, and his family. He told him he would make sure they would get visas. The Rabbi refused. He said he would not take something the other Jews could not have.

 

 Sousa went home and locked himself in his bedroom for three days and nights. Then he walked down to his office.

 

He began to sign vistas en masse. Desperate people stood in line for days and nights. It stretched down the street, around a corner, and down more streets. Sousa sent his secretary to gather handfuls of passports and bring them to Sousa's table in his office. A staff member stamped the visa on the passports, handed them to Sousa, who signed them with his last name, Mendes, and then the passports were handed back to the owners, and more were collected. This was done night and day for over a week. Many people did not have passports, but Sousa still issued them visas.

The Portugal dictator sent word to Sousa to stop. He didn't.

 

After a week, Sousa heard there were 10,000 referees stalled at the Spanish border. The guards were told not to honor the visas he had signed.

 

Sousa drove to the site, and after talking with the guards for over an hour, the refugees passed through the gate. (I wonder what he told the guards so they would go against their orders.) He continued to sign visas.

 

Salazar, the Portugal dictator, forced Sousa to retire. He was promised a pension, but he never got it. He had difficulty finding any work. He sent two of his children to live with his brother as he did not feel he could provide for them. He lost his estate to pay his debts. By the end of 1942, Sousa, and the children, still at home, went to a soup kitchen for their meals. In less than a year, he went from affluence to poverty.

 

In 1945, he had a stroke that left him partially paralyzed. His friends, colleagues, and close relatives blamed him for his troubles.

In 1948, his wife Angelina died, and in 1949 he married his mistress Cibiai, who was pregnant with his 15th child. They lived in poverty, and Sousa died from a stroke in 1954. He was 68 years old.

 

He was buried wearing the robes of the Third Order of St. Francis. Followers of the order live by the example of St. Francis, who preached that God lives in every man.

 

Today, a group is tracing the number of visas, and to whom Sousa issued them. They estimate that between 20,000 to 30,000  visas were signed by him in just a few weeks. They have documented that 3,913 visas were signed by his last name, Mendes.  

 

These are a few people who had their visas signed by Mendes.

 

Jewish historian Arnold Wiznitzer

Spanish Republican Eduardo Neira Laporte

Banking magnates Edward, Eugene, Henri, and Maurice Rothschild

Salvador Dali and his wife Gala  - surrealists artist

Israel and Madeleine Blauschild - screen names were Marcel Dalio and Madeleine LeBeau. They both were in the movie Casablanca. Israel (screen name Marcel) played Emil the croupier, and Madeleine played Yvonne, who sang La Marseillaise with tears on her cheeks.

Archduke Otto von Habsburg pretender to the Austrian throne and 18 other people in his group.

H.A. and Margaret Rey escaped by building their own bicycle, and they brought their manuscript of Curious George to the United States, where it was published.

Rabbi Kruger and his family- he was the first person Sousa offered a visa, and the Rabbi said, "How can I take care of just myself? How can I leave my fellow Jews behind?" The Rabbi's words spurred Sousa to issue 20,00 to 30,000 visas. A few brief words entered Sousa's heart. The Rabbi and Aristides De Sousa Mendes saved tens of thousands from death. 

 

Sousa said, "I would rather stand with God against man than with man against God."

Sousa ran the marathon for his faith as in Hebrews 12: 1b-2.  Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. Verse 3  Consider Jesus who endured such opposition from sinners so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

  

These pictures are from the LA Times. They are as large as I could get them.  

Information for this blog is from the Smithsonian magazine, issue November 2021. The article has more information and pictures. Pages 66-82.

 

 

 

 

First Chapter of Slaves of Passion

                                                  Slaves of Passion

                                                                     by Patricia Stinson

                                                                 First Chapter

    A cool breeze swept through the open verandah door, swirling dust down a long, polished hallway where Yatima, the mulatto slave girl, placed table linens in a cupboard.  She welcomed the wind's breath and paused to wipe the sweat from her cream-colored face and to rub her stomach bump, which pushed her skirt slightly forward.  Walking silently on bare feet down the hall toward the back veranda, she wanted to leave unseen by anyone who might give her another chore to do.  Her heartbeat was faster as she thought of going to the tobacco curing sheds.  Will Atsah be in the shed today?  He said he would return at the third full moon, and that was two nights ago.  The veranda door leading into the library closed with a thud and popped open. She stopped in the hallway to listen.

    "Charles, we must talk now." Sarah Braddock entered the library and strode over to the settee where her hooped skirt brushed against the fine brocade upholstery.  I will not have her around here anymore.  You need to sell her at once.  It is a disgrace.  Word is going to get out our son is the father of that colored woman's pickaninny."

    "Sarah, I have already made arrangements with Foster Hicks to buy Yatima and the pickaninny after she delivers." Charles closed the door until it latched.

    "Foster Hicks' plantation is only a day's journey.  You must send them farther away.  Sell them at auction.  Do it now, before it is born.  Yatima should not have been brought here."

    "You know why I did."

"Yes! to rub my face in your brother's dirty carryings-on.  I merely flirted with Jacob before our marriage.  That was years ago, and you have never let me forget it."

    "Yours was not a harmless single flirtation.  You loved Jacob, but you married me because, as the eldest son, I inherited the plantation.  You thought you would stay in contact with him, and no one would think it strange for you to see your brother-in-law, all the while enjoying the luxuries I provide."  Charles forced himself to keep his voice from rising as he spat out the words. "You were engaged to me when he took that colored woman as his mistress, and she bore his child.  When she and Jacob died from malaria, I had to bring that young girl here."

    "Why didn't you keep Yatima in the slave quarters until she was old enough to go into the tobacco fields? You did not need to bring her into the house as a slave playmate for our son."Sarah spoke through clenched teeth.

    "The slaves knew who the child's father was, and most of the white folks did too.  How could I send her out to work in the fields?" Charles snickered to himself, recounting the enjoyment he received each time he witnessed his wife's reaction when she glanced at the child only to be reminded Jacob preferred a black woman over her.  He turned his back on his wife and walked to the bookshelf so she would not see the disdain on his face.  He randomly pulled a book from the shelf and leafed through the pages.

    "Now, sixteen years later, look at the mess we are in," Sarah said.  "Our son is the father of the pickaninny she is carrying.  What if he goes over to Foster Hick's place at night to visit her?  Word will get out.  Then do you think your special arrangement of combining two plantations into one with our son's marriage to the Patterson girl is going to happen? Not likely!"

    "We are not sure the child is Edward's."

"He is bragging about being the father.  You owe George Hanley money from gambling debts, don't you?" Sarah's voice showed her contempt for her husband.

    "Yes, and I will pay him. Why do you bring that up?"

    "Send Yatima to him now--as payment--and he can have the pickaninny as part of his compensation."

    "I owe more than the price of one house slave and her future offspring."

    "Then send other slaves with her.  His plantation is a month's travel from here.  Edward would not be able to be with her again.  Do it, Charles.  Do it, or I will make sure your plans for the Patterson marriage never happen."  Sarah Braddock stood.  She marched to the door and put her hand on the handle. "Count on it."

    In a flash, Yatima scurried down the hall and out the verandah.  She ran beneath the portico and down a grassy hill to a path leading into the dense woods flush with tulip trees, sweetgums, and magnolias bordered a wide river leading to the Mississippi.  Her bare feet made little puffs of dust rise from the dirt on the forest floor.  Every few paces, she turned her head to glance back at the main house to be sure she had not been followed.

    Her body jerked sideways as an arm pulled her off the path into a thicket of bushes.  A young, brown-haired youth held her against the rough bark of sweetgum.  He let go of her arm, leaving an imprint of his finger on her skin.  He smiled as he rubbed her belly.

    "That is mine, all mine."

    Yatima saw the cocky, proud as a strutting peacock look in his eyes.  As a child, she learned never to show her feelings but to act the way whites expected her to act.  She changed her expression from fear and worry and instead began to tease and flirt, which she knew pleased him.  Leaning toward him, she nibbled his ear and whispered, "What does it matter, Master Edward, if it is yours? Your father will sell me and send me away.  I heard the missus tell the Master she didn't want me around here where folks can see what we have done."
    Edward chuckled. "We do not want a pickaninny running about looking like the Master's scion, do we? Don't fret.  You will be brought back after it is old enough to be cared for by a mammy at the new plantation.  It will not even miss you.  There will be more babies with me."

    She leaned back against the tree as Edward bent his head to kiss her neck and shoulders.  He pulled her down onto the damp soil.  The smell of rotting leaves mingled with the sweat of their bodies.  Her body tensed.  She hoped he would not go too far in his heat as she had no way to refuse him.

    "You do not have complaints, do you?" Edward said with a laugh.

"Complaints? No.  Tending to the house is easy compared to a field hand's life.  I was raised by Mammy Jem in the kitchen, and I have looked after you since you were able to walk."

    "Yes, we played together when we were children, and we still play together, don't we?" Edward nuzzled Yatima's neck.  "After I marry Milicent Patterson, I'll unite her property with ours, and someday I will inherit both plantations.  You will stay in the upstairs quarters and serve the house.  Of course, you can keep all our babies, not in the main house, but I will not sell them.  You can go to them anytime you want in the slave quarters."

    "Miss Millicent won't allow me in the house."

    "She will not have any say in what I do.  Many owners have their black mistresses live in the big house for their Master's convenience.  No one says anything.  I love you, Yatima.  I could not live without you."

    "Miss Millicent is beautiful.  You will love her someday."

    "Oh, I will do my duty to her and give her babies to carry, and I will want a son by her to inherit the two plantations, but I will not love her as I do you. Never!"  Edward drew back a little and stared at Yatima's mischievous eyes.  "It is my baby, right? You did not betray me?"

    "Master Edward, everyone knows I belong to your daddy.  No one would touch me without his say so."

    "I noticed the way you eyed that mountain man who stayed at the overseer's house some months ago.  You had plenty of chances to be with him."

    "I peered at him because I never beheld anyone like him before.  He wore clothes made of animal skins, and he had a lot of hair on his face and past his shoulders.  But he ain't been here for months.  He traveled down the river to sell his furs and then go back to the mountains.  He ain't going to remember me."

    "If father did not want to extend his holdings across the Mississippi, he would not have invited that barbaric creature to stop here.  However, I want to know for sure this is my baby."

    "Why, what would you do if he were the father, Master Edward?  She giggled at her own saucy retort. "Are you jealous?"

    "Yes, I am jealous.  I am jealous of anyone who beholds your beauty and puts his hand on you.  I would kill you, the pickaninny, and him if I thought you could lie with a Yankee heather."

    "Why is he a heather?"

    "He is half Indian."

    Edward rubbed her arm and then caressed her breast over her apron.  He moved his body against hers.  Yatima read his eyes; his desire deepened with each moment he looked at her.

"Don't, Master Edward; you'll hurt the baby, and your daddy would be upset.  I've been sent to get the bossman at the wharf, so I must go.  If you want, you could make up an excuse to come to the kitchen house later, and we could sneak out for a few minutes."

    "All right, Yatima, for now.  However, you did not answer my question."

    "What question, Master Edward?"

    "Who is the father?"

    "No one else but you.  You're stud enough.  A girl can't want any other after you.  " Her smile gleamed and enhanced her beauty.

    "True, Yatima!"  Edward smiled, and his eyes danced to the flattery.  He kissed the hollow spot on her neck as she gently pushed him away.  They got up from the damp soil.  He lustfully stared at her swaying skirt as she swished her hips back and forth.  He headed up the track to the main house while whistling in the glory of his touted manhood. 

                                                   *          *          *

This is the first chapter of Slaves of Passion.  Yes, it is available on Amazon. So, you might ask, "Why didn't you let folks know before Christmas?  They could buy copies for gifts."

I didn't do that as I do not want to be part of commercialism. I want to remember what Christmas is, not to make money, but celebrate our Savior's birth.

Having said that, I admit I am a hypocrite as I enjoy buying gifts.  The Wise Men brought gifts (not on the day Christ was born, however), and I like to give to others in that spirit. 

So, if you are interested in my book, it is at Amazon, and there are birthdays, Valentine's Day, and other celebration times for gifts.  And you may want to read the story for yourself. There are happy times and sad times, as there are in life. 

For each book sold, I get royalties, and 10%  goes to the MS Society. My sister and a niece have MS. There is no cure. 

If you don't buy a book, it is okay.  I won't know, and I really do not care.  I have fun writing. 

I hope the New Year is going well for you.  Stay well.  

    

    

Merry or Happy

                            Merry or Happy Christmas?

Do you realize at the end of T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house... ends with A Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night?  It is not a Merry Christmas.

Queen Elizabeth of England does not want to be wished a Merry Christmas.  She prefers a Happy Christmas.  Why?

Merry was the word used for the peasants and lower class of people.  It implied riotous, behavior, and drinking.  The word happy was for the elite and more sedate behaving aristocrats, the upper-crust of society who would behave in a proper manner.

The first record of Merry Christmas may have been in 1534 when a bishop wrote a letter to Thomas Cromwell and ended it with Merry Christmas.  Could the good bishop be sending a message to Mr. Cromwell?  And how about Mr. Scrooge's nephew when he wished his Uncle Scrooge, Merry Christmas?

Perhaps, we should wish people a Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year.

It seems many people behave that way now.  Just a thought.

Christmas Post

                          Christmas Greetings to All

Dear Pat's Snippets Readers,

When I was teaching full time, I accomplished so many holiday activities of decorating, card writing, baking, visiting, advent time, shopping, and wrapping.  Now that I am retired I don't have the time to do many of the holiday activities. Isn't that odd?  

I have not been able to send the November and December posts as I planned.  So, this will be my final post for December to give you a break to do what is important to you during this joyous season.  However, I do want to share this Christmas greeting with all of you.

                                Christmas Cup of Tea

There is a warm Christmas tradition

I've come to cherish every year.

It fills my heart with gratitude

and reminds me God is near.

I wake before the sun

and brew a cup of Christmas tea

Then we sit and have a chat-

just the Lord and me.

I thank Him for the ones I love

both family and friends

for each breath He's given

and the peace and joy He sends

God reminds me of His faithfulness,

of blessings sent my way,

and answers I'd forgotten

to the many prayers I pray.

And when my teacup's empty

I rejoice in what I know:

in light of all God's gifts to me

my cup still overflows!

Poem by Sandy Lynam Clough

One of God's blessings to me has been you for taking the time and interest in reading my blog.

Thank you, one and all.  

If you celebrate Christmas, may you have a Blessed One.  If you don't celebrate, may you have a Blessed whatever you celebrate or do this season.

And may you all have a Happy and Blessed New Year, All Year.

Merry Christmas,

Pat

November 3 Post Interview

 An Interview with the author Patricia Stinson by                              Eileen Moynihan

"Hi Everyone, my name is Eileen Moynihan.  I live in Ireland, and I write children's books and poetry.

"I would like to introduce you to Patricia Stinson, a writer living in Minnesota, in the United States.

"Pat, will you answer some questions?"

"I am happy to answer your questions?  Fire away."

"Please tell us where you grew up and a bit of your background."

"Happy to do so, Eileen.  I was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the United States of America, and grew up in the small suburb of Columbia Heights.  After elementary and high school, I went to Augsburg College in Minneapolis and earned a BA degree in Elementary Education and later a Master's Degree in Elementary Education at the University of Minnesota.

"I taught first through fifth grades in my forty years of teaching, including a country school in Lansing, Minnesota, city schools in Minneapolis, and I went to New Guinea for two years as a lay missionary teacher."

"Why would you go to New Guinea, Pat?"

"I have tried to put Christ first in my life and follow what I believe is His direction.  I heard the mission field needed teachers to teach in English to the children in New Guinea.  In the area where I worked, there were 300 different tribal languages so by having the children learn to read, write, and do math in English, the Australian government hoped it would unify the area.  It was a great experience for me to live in a completely different culture.  In their culture, they lived in fear and did not know God or that He loved them.  I saw how blessed I was to know my Savior."

"You write fiction, yet there seems to be some history in each book.  Why is that?"

"Boredom.  Pure and simple.  When I was in high school and college, I learned about the wars, the dates, and just a bit about the causes. 

"To me, dull smells hot tar mixed with sour milk.

"I want to know more than the bare bones and facts of history.  People make history with emotions and personalities, which influences events.  Knowing the people makes history come alive.  Many readers do not want to read history as they consider it dull.  My goal is to write the history mixed into the fiction story because it adds more interest to the story and more interest in learning history.  I don't blame the schools for the lack of exciting events as there is so much history, they can't teach it all."

"Can you give examples, Pat, as to how you include history in your books?"

"Love to, Eileen.  I based Range War Legacy on the true events in the late 1800s and the early 1900s in Crook County, Oregon.  A young girl and her parents were on a picnic in a meadow when several riders wearing gunny sacks over their heads, with the eyes in the sacks cut out so the riders could see, rode over the ridge and killed three sheepherders, two dogs and ran thousands of sheep off a cliff to their deaths.  Everyone in the surrounding towns knew the girl, and her parents could identify the murders by their horses and other identifying features.  But, they never said a word.  Even when the girl was in her eighties and all the participating people died on that terrible day, she would not name them.  Many of my friends did not know our country ever had a cattle and sheep war.  So, I wrote Range War Legacy with fictitious characters going through these events and showing what life was like in that time and how it influenced the girl and her parents to never came forward with the names."

"For my book Wild River, I researched what happened after the defenders at the Alamo were killed by General Santa Anna and his vast army.  The Americans and Mexican- Americans living in the surrounding villages and towns were in extreme danger.  They ran with what they could carry ahead of the military to the Sabine River, which separated the Texas border from Louisanna.  I also researched how Santa Anna was defeated and captured and what happened to him later.

"I  included information about Kit Carson (a Western Hero to some but not the Navahos) and the massacre at Dragoon Springs.

"I wove the historical events into my book with fictional characters and showed how history affects attitudes and prejudices of that time."

"In Slaves of Passion, I wrote what life was like for a pregnant slave teen who wanted her child to be born free.  The story is set before the Civil War and shows the conditions the slaves had to endure.  I researched the lives of slaves in the 1840s and the Nez Perce Native American life in the 1880s.

"This book covers the struggles of three generations, starting with a pregnant slave teenage girl.

"I write primarily western fiction with some history, so I thought I should include a picture of my pal Hickory.  I don't own him as I live in the city, but he is gentle fellow.  I have ridden western and English styles for many years."

                                                      Hickory and Pat

"I hope I have answered your questions, and I am always happy to respond to anyone who sends me an email at pstinson23@comcast.net, and I have a blog where folks can make comments or ask questions.  The address is https://gogoreadgo.blogspot.com. My website is https://www.patriciastinsonwriter.com/writing water.  If anyone is interested in reading the first chapter of my books for free, they are welcome to do so at Amazon Books.com.  If anyone purchases a book they will be helping the MS Society. I donate 20% of my royalties to the MS Society as my sister and niece have MS.

"Thank you so much, Eileen.  This has been a wonderful time for me, and I hope you enjoyed it too."

"Thank you for spending some time with us, Pat.  Now I will close this session conducted by Eileen Moynihan, author of children's books and poetry.  Bye, all."

November 2 Interview with Eileen Moynihan

 Interview with author Eileen Moynihan

Pat Stinson, Interviewer.

"Hello, Everyone.  Today I want to introduce you to the author Eileen Moynihan.  She writes children's books and adult poetry.  Let's find out a little bit about her."

Eileen Moynihan

"Hi, Eileen.  Would you please tell us a bit about your background, such as where you grew up, your family, and your career?"

"Love to, Pat.  I was born in Chelmsford, Essex, England, U.K.   I was fortunate to have an Irish father and an English mother.  When I was three, my family moved to Newport on the Isle of Wight, which lays off the south coast of England.  When I was twelve, we moved to the town of Shanklin. I loved living near the sea and the buzz of summer tourists.  My parents ran a Bed and Breakfast, and my father also worked as a male nurse, and my mother was in charge of the local school kitchen.  By this time, there were six of us children.

"I went to catholic schools on the 'island,'  and at the age of sixteen, I went to the local state high school.  Later I went to the Catholic College of Education in Southampton to become a teacher.  During this time, my parents moved to West Cork in Ireland, and after I received my degree, I went to Ireland.  After some time, I was hired to teach children with Special Needs in Bantry, County Cork.  It was here I met my husband, Pat.  After we had a boy, we bought a house in the village of Drimoleague, and our daughter was born.  Later we built a bungalow in the village of Baltimore, and our youngest son was born.

"I later became a Resource Teacher. My father died in October 2005, and my aunt passed away in November 2006. This was a painful time for me but also a turning point. My husband, Pat, and I sold our house in 2009 and moved to where I live now on the border of Counties Roscommon and Longford in a small village called Tarmonbarry on the river Shannon.

"Since my early retirement, I have been self-publishing children's books and poetry."

"You certainly have had an interesting life with your moves to different places in the U.K. and Ireland. Having your own children and teaching children is a rewarding challenge.  Have you always been interested in writing?  What draws you to writing?"

"By the age of seven, I was penning little stories about animals and fairies.  And I love the rhythm and rhyme of poetry, especially in A.A. Milne's When We Were Very Young' and 'Now We Are Six.

"I am drawn to writing because it was something that seemed to come easily to me at school, and others seemed to enjoy my writing.  This was encouraging.  I also love letting my imagination run riot and see what is created from the ideas thrown up in my head and the character voices that speak to me.  I always enjoyed fiction over fact, although I have always found anything historical, interesting."

"I am glad to see that your characters speak to you.  My characters come at night and speak to me, so I don't always get the sleep I want. How many books have you written?  Tell us what they are about."

"I have written 7 children's books and a collection of poetry for adults."

"A children's book of poetry about wildflowers and trees found in Ireland, with Irish names added.  It is illustrated with fabulous flower fairies painted by Angela Corkey.

The title is Rory Gumboots.
Rory Gumboots is a hedgehog who wears red gumboots and lives in the quiet, tranquil woodlands known as Noddinghead Nook.  One day the peace of Noddinghead Nook is shattered by the threat of Monster Machines.

Eleanor wonders where dreams come from.  Her mother tells Eleanor about the Dreamsmith.  Eleanor meets the magical Dreamsmith and learns all about the unique ingredients used in dreams and how dreams are made in the book The Dreamsmith.

The Reckolahesperus  Sam is an only child who lives in the country.  He loves to explore and play outside, but his mother isn't fond of his messy ways.  One day Sam's mother says something strange to him, which leads him to make friends with an extraordinary creature.

Hattie and Jacques Love London

When Hattie, a mouse from London, England, meets Jacques, a mouse from Paris, France, an extraordinary friendship begins. They join the French au-pair Sophie and the twins Boby and Bella on a trip around London.  They visit many landmarks and have some adventures on the way.

Frances Darwin Investigates

One day Frances Darwin finds a bit of torn paper on the ground.  This excites Frances as she would love to be a detective.  This bit of paper sends Frances on a 'wild goose chase' that leads her to find a stray dog called Bouncer and other events leading to dog-nappers. 

"My latest book is Bunny Bob and the White Stuff. This is a picture book for young children.  Bunny Bob discovers snow for the first time and is very puzzled by it.  He goes to explore it and gets lost.  He makes friends with a bird called Pip, who helps him to get home."

"I think it is great you are writing for young children.  It will spark their interest in reading.  What would you like your legacy to be?"

"Pat, I hope people will go on enjoying my books long after I have gone.  I hope I have touched people's lives through my books and my teaching.  I may well be remembered for my failings, but I hope people will remember any good I did as well."

"Thank you, Eileen, for taking the time to visit with us. I hope you have the very best on all your future writing projects.  God Bless."

The books are available on Amazon.