You’d think, being a minister, I’d wake on Sunday morning wondering what miracle lay in store for me that day. Unfortunately, more often than not I’d have the Saturday night why-did-I say-I’d-preach-on-Sunday blues. My colleagues and I lead our parishioners in choruses like “Victory is Mine” or classic hymns like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”, but many of us leave the ministry suffering from compassion fatigue or badly burned by well-intentioned dragons. I could have been one of those casualties but for a faith-reviving miracle.
From 2013-2015, I served as interim pastor to the United Presbyterian Church in Paterson, NJ, where I met an enthusiastic member named Diane Anderson. She wanted to hold an evangelistic service outdoors so members of the community could hear the message. For the benediction, we’d write prayers on index cards, tie them to helium balloons then release them. The Sunday of the service was warm and wonderful. We worshipped in the church parking lot and, at the end of the service, released our balloons as planned. They dotted a blue and cloudless sky.
The following Tuesday on our answering machine was a message from a woman who lived in Massachusetts just outside of Boston. She shared how one of our balloon blessings reached her backyard and was an answer to a prayer.
I called her back and had a wonderful conversation. It seems her father had recently died after a long bout with cancer. She’d gone that Sunday to his graveside and just talked to him, letting him know how much she missed him and didn’t know how she was going to go on without him. On Monday, as she was washing her dishes she glanced out her kitchen window and saw something stuck to a shed in her backyard. She went to retrieve it. It was a balloon with the following message attached: “Jesus, I am asking and believing in your name to continue to bless all those free of cancer and to those suffering that you will comfort them during this time.” She told me she wasn’t a religious person, but she felt sure our balloon was a sign from her dad that all was well with him and all would be well with her. Because our address was on the card she was able to track us down and thank us. She mailed the card back so I could share her thank you with the congregation the following Sunday.
I told Diane first. She had always wanted to do a service like this and thanked me for encouraging her to do it, despite the grumbling from the we’ve-never-done-it-that-way-before naysayers of the congregation. Diane now leads a ministry called Faithworks that feeds 500 people a month.
That balloon traveled 220 miles from our parking lot in Paterson to this woman’s Boston neighborhood. Ever since that call, I greet each morning with this prayer: “Thank you, God, for another day to be used by you for good.”
Coincidence or miracle? I believe the latter. What do you say?
One Breath Away
Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.
Wealthy, freeborn-Black, Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing the mysteriously exotic woman was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex. Hope ignites along with lust until the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…
Excerpt from One Breath Away
She circled around him as if he were an open bear trap. “What if touching you in those ways doesn’t give me pleasure?”
Her words sliced across his throat. He pressed a fist against his heart then sucked air through his mouth to recapture his breath. “Then I’m wrong…but I honestly don’t believe I am.”
She frowned. “I told you I’ve no experience when it comes to relations between men and women.”
“You’re a fast learner, remember?”
She looked down. Interest burned in the gaze that traveled to his crotch. His cock twitched under her scrutiny. She returned her attention to his face, stared into his eyes, searched a minute.
Eban held his breath.
Come on stars. Be right.
She tilted her head. “You’ll show me what you want? Guide me? Instruct me?”
“If you’re willing.”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Fine. Show me.”
He unbuttoned his fly, let his pants slip slowly down his legs, and blew out a breath as her gaze followed his movements. He discarded his underwear, swallowed hard as he exposed his member to her. Her eyes widened.
“Your first impression?”
Still clutching her shoe, she approached him, reached for his cock, let her hand hover indecisively.
“Touch it anyway you like.”
She knelt on the mattress, laid her shoe aside and took his genitalia in her hands. He closed his eyes, melted in the immediate warmth of her fingers cupping his balls. A drop of semen pearled from the head’s slit.
“What is this?”
He opened his eyes, observed then relaxed at the curiosity in her gaze.
“Sperm.”
She thumbed the substance onto her fingers, examined it, sniffed it.
“Planted in your womb it becomes a baby.”
She spread the precious seed along his cock slit. He stifled a moan as a delicious thrill tripped up his shaft. She stopped. He looked down into eyes filled with concern.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He shuddered, shook his head. “No. You’ve done something very right. Please, continue.”
With each book I write, I’m continually inspired by nature. Recently, I had a pair of Baltimore Orioles visit. They’re stunning birds, and I’ll miss them once they continue their journey north.
As hints of spring fill the air, with flowers beginning to nudge through the earth, and migration starting, I’m keeping watch for birds as they travel through, including the Blue Grosbeaks.
Walking through the woods, fragrant with the scent of pine, I spot birds that I see year-round, like the chickadee.
On a recent visit to the marsh, with the scent of salt and the sea filling the air, I saw these gorgeous does at the edge of the woods.
I enjoy watching the sunrise. There’s something magical about when the first rays stream through the sky, slowly illuminating the land. With the beauty that unfolds, as I never know what I’m going to see, each morning’s sunrise is like a gift. With each day, regardless of where I go, nature’s beauty surrounds me, and the sights, scents, and sounds are continual inspiration for my muse.
About Diana Cosby
A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers Series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.
After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers Series, The Oath Trilogy, and the first four books of The Forbidden Series, she’s now preparing for the release of book #5, Forbidden Realm, on 14 April, 2020.
Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
Contest
***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog post about, ‘Nature – Continual Inspiration For My Muse,’ on Delilah’s blog between 8 March 2020 – 15 March 2020. The winner will receive a signed copy of His Woman.
It’s release day!! Yes, my story, Brian released yesterday—but not because I was trying to get out ahead of everybody else. I was simply calendar-challenged when I selected my date. I thought I’d chosen a Tuesday. Which is really kind of stupid, because KDP gives you a little calendar to look at when you choose your date, but I had the 24th in my brain, so the 24th it would be.
Anyways, lots of great books to celebrate today: Mine (ahem, Brian), my sister Elle Jame’s (SEAL’s Vow), and the one I’m featuring here today, written by my friend and fab author, Reina Torres!
From Fab Friend & Author Reina Torres
Part of the challenge of setting a Romance in the early 1970s was giving it a different feel from the modern-day. The book didn’t qualify as a “historical” in the book sense, but since I was setting it back almost fifty years in the past, there were certain things that brought me back into the early 70s: Clothes and Music.
Clothes were fun: terrycloth, corduroy, denims—and all the fun that went along with those fabrics.
Music was a little more of a challenge…
I was born in 1973, and my mother has often told me that I sang before I spoke. I’m guessing she means in complete phrases or sentences, but she just repeats the same stories over and over. My mom and dad both worked for the United States Postal Service, so I think you can safely say that I’m a Postal Child. 🙂
My dad worked the day shift, and my mom worked the graveyard shift. So when my dad headed off in the morning to go to work, he’d put me in the passenger seat (remember, it’s the 70s), laid back and wrapped up in my favorite blanket. He’d put the radio on for the drive into downtown Honolulu, heading straight to the post office where my mother worked. She’d get in the driver’s seat, and my dad would climb in the back, and we’d drop him off at work before my mom turned toward home.
I’d doze the way there and back, singing to the radio the entire time to songs like this one…
When I started writing Jesse, I did a little brainstorming on the earliest songs I could remember, and then came the reality check while going through the songs and checking to see which ones were in the right time period and which came after 1973-1974. With a couple of “oops” choices, I actually managed to put together a list of songs that helped take me back in time.
Much like Richard Collier in the movie Somewhere in Time, surrounding myself with the music of the era helped take me back in time for the book. So, I hope you’ll enjoy a little trip back in time to see how Jesse Sutton and Etta Bradford met and fell in love.
The rest of the series will be the stories of their children as they continue The Suttons – An American Legacy.
The instant he said it, he tensed, expecting to feel her hand across his cheek.
When she didn’t, he gave her a curious look, doubling down on his stupidity, and a moment later he wished that she had cracked him across his jaw. It would have been better than the way her expression crumbled as she took a step back, breaking the hold he had on her hand, and her shoulders sagged.
He was an ass. That was clear.
What he needed to do was apologize.
Quickly.
But all the words he needed to say were stuck somewhere in the back of his mind along with the sense that should have helped him keep his mouth shut in the first place.
“I’ve been kissed before!”
What?
That wasn’t what he asked.
Not by a long shot.
But, then again, her answer was just as telling.
He wasn’t just an ass. He let his mouth get way ahead of his brain. A fucking stampede ahead of the stage.
“I’m not talking about the playground, Etta. I’m talking about a kiss.” His voice had dipped dangerously low, vibrating through him like a tuning fork and making him just as hard.
He took a step closer.
Etta countered by taking a step back. They danced that way across the sidewalk until he knew he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Against the wall.
She knew it too. Her palms flattened against the wall at her sides and her shoulders pushed back. She raised her gaze up to meet his as if she was trying to tell him that she wasn’t nervous, but he saw the way her breathing shallowed, her skin flushed, and her lips parted as he moved even closer.
And he continued until the toes of his boots were almost nudging the tips of her shoes. He raked his gaze up over her feet, the hem of her dress, over the tantalizing rise and fall of her breasts and back up along the flushed skin of her chest, neck, and face.
He lifted a hand and gently touched her cheek. “First,” he smiled at her, “one, or both people, have to move their nose out of the way. So, we’ll go with both here.” He put the tiniest bit of pressure on her cheek and tilted her head a little bit. “Next, we’ll keep teeth out of it, unless you want to bite a lip… that could be fun.”
She swallowed and he swore he could hear the soft sound echoing off the thick concrete walls. “Is that all?”
“All?”
Etta nodded, but he didn’t see the motion, he could only feel it against his fingertips. “The rules?”
The corner of his mouth lifted and he leaned in closer, bracing his free hand on the wall just above her shoulder. “Those aren’t rules, Etta. Just a few things to make it easier.”
“Easier?” She echoed the word with a tight, breathy voice. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t,” he sighed and trailed the hand against her cheek into her hair, enjoying the feeling of it against his skin, “but I’m going to show you.”
She blinked up at him. “Okay.”
If she didn’t stop looking at him like a sacrificial lamb, he was going to lose his mind.
“There’s a time and place for hard kisses, sweetheart.”
Etta nodded as if she was making a note in her head. So beautiful and if he was any judge, innocent in so many ways.
“But tonight,” he moved closer until his lips were close enough to hers to feel the heat of her skin, “we’re going to start with gentle.”
“Gentle…” her lips were so damn close and he could hear the curious plea in her tone, “okay.”
He couldn’t wait another moment. He touched his lips to hers and felt her tense. He waited until her body eased into the sensation before he moved away.
Her eyes fluttered open. And she looked into his eyes as her brow pinched ever so slightly.
He smiled at the curious question he saw in her eyes. “What is it, Etta?”
She swayed closer. “Was that… all?”
“You want more?”
She opened her lips to answer and he swept in to kiss her again. Press in closer until he could feel the way her lips pressed back against his. Plump. Plush. Made for this. Made for him.
Contest
Pick your favorite song from my list above, and I’ll select a random person to win a download of Jesse!
I love Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein II musicals. I grew up watching them as movies on television. While not all their storylines have held up over time, I’m still moved by songs like “Something Wonderful”, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and “You’ve Got To Be Carefully Taught”. I am grateful to this prolific team for their heartfelt lyrics and beautiful music, but my deepest thanks goes to R&H for introducing me to Juanita Hall.
Growing up in the sixties, I hungered for images of Black women on the silver screen whom I could name and admire. R&H let me see a Black actress strut her stuff in some of the earliest examples of casting without regard to race.
Hall had been performing on Broadway since 1930. She even took a turn at directing in 1936. By the time R&H cast her in 1949’s South Pacific, she’d performed in no less than eight Broadway plays including Green Pastures and St. Louis Woman. R&H decided they needed someone with the voice and acting chops to bring the character of the Pacific Islander Bloody Mary to life. Juanita Hall filled the bill. She reprised the role in the 1958 film, although I have to listen to the original Broadway cast album to hear her sing “Bali H’ai”. In 1958, R&H used her in a second instance of casting despite race. She created the role of Madame Liang in Flower Drum Song. Hall recreated her role for the movie in 1961.
For a Black kid growing up in the East New York section of Brooklyn, knowing this Black woman wouldn’t be pigeonholed because of her race was inspirational. I like to think there’s a bit of Hall in One Breath Away‘s Mary Hamilton, a woman hemmed in by society’s expectations, but with the potential to break through them if given the chance. Besides her stage and film career, Hall cut albums, performed in nightclubs and directed choruses and choirs. You can learn more about her here: https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/hall-juanita-1901-1968/.
Nowadays those movies are critiqued for not hiring someone of Pacific Islander or Chinese background to play these roles, and rightly so. It hurts to see someone not of your race or ethnicity representing you. Boys and girls of all races need role models in whom they can see themselves and be proud of the way I was able to see myself in and be proud of Juanita Hall. I can’t ignore or minimize the wounding caused by casting a Black woman to portray someone of another race. The pros and cons of this “colorblind” approach are passionately debated. What I can do is celebrate that in 1949, by casting Hall in a musical whose plot revolves around race prejudice, R&H helped make Black History. Juanita Hall not only won the 1950 Tony for her role but, by doing so, became the first African American ever to win a Tony award.
One Breath Away
Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.
Wealthy, freeborn-Black, Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing the mysteriously exotic woman was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.
“Because someone like you only looks at someone like me out of pity.”
Of course. His aunt put him up to this. Anger warmed Mary’s ears.
“Let me go.” She made to pull away. “I want to sit.”
“Please. Not before the music stops.” He timed his plea to the rhythm of the waltz. “I’ve waited all week for this moment.”
Mary gritted her teeth. Heart hurt joined her injured pride. She needed no one’s charity.
“That was cruel of you, sir. No one counts the days until they can ask me for a dance.” Tears pooled behind her closed eyelids. “Anyone in town could tell you that.”
The grip on her hand tightened, forcing her eyes open. The light in his gaze darkened. “Anyone who’d lie to me like that would be taking their life in their hands.” He leaned in so his mouth nuzzled her ear again. “And if you use that I’m-not-worthy tone of voice again, I’ll be forced to prove you wrong with a kiss.”
Alarm shuddered up Mary’s back. “Is—is that a threat?”
“A certainty.”
A chilly thrill replaced the alarm. She blew out a breath to steady herself. Threat or certainty, both treated her to a delicious revelation—she wanted that kiss. She eyed his lips, imagined their soft yet demanding press against hers. Once more the voice of caution repeated its warning.
Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.
Oh, to be forced to flee from such a devil as he. She sighed. What a wonderful problem to have.
I enjoy my walks and love the incredible inspiration from nature. And, I never know what amazing things I’m going to see.
As I travel along the beach, marsh, or through the woods, the beauty of nature relaxes me and refills my muse.
An amateur photographer, in addition to the fun challenge of seeing what nature photos I can take, I’m honored to share them with my readers on my Facebook Romance Author page.
In addition to seeing the beautiful birds that live in my area, it’s exciting seeing birds that are migrating through.
Inspired by my walks, when I sit down to write, I do so with the beauty of nature, of the scents, sights, and sounds vivid in my mind, memories that at times are woven into my stories.
About the Author
A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.
After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion — writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series, The Oath Trilogy, and the first four book of The Forbidden Series, she’s now working on book #5, Forbidden Realm, of the five-book series, which will be released April 14, 2020.
Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
Contest
***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog visit about, ‘Inspiration From Nature,’ on Delilah’s blog between 14th February 2020 – 23rd February 2020. The winner will receive a signed copy of His Woman, book #2 in the bestselling MacGruder Brothers Series.
A couple of days ago, I was archiving my 2019 author interviews and guest blogs and it occurred to me that every interview began with the question — “What inspired you to write your book?” The next question asks about our characters — “Are they based on people we know or pure imagination?”“Was the story planned or did it grow as the chapters increased?” And, every author has a different story concerning what inspired him or her to write their story. That’s the beauty of books, each one is new and unique for the reader, taking us on an adventure from the first page.
My first attempts at writing were full of enthusiasm and scenes in my head but lacking in the essential substance – inspiration.
It was by chance while sitting in the doctor’s waiting room that I picked up a three month’s old journal and read an article on how a person’s true character emerges when faced with life-threatening danger or massive upheaval. For example, the tough guy turns to water and runs, the small insignificant person steps up and takes charge. An idea was forming in my head, and again, by chance, I was sorting through old family papers and came across my grandfather’s World War One military record. He served with the Australian Imperial Forces in Belgium and France and was involved in some of the bloodiest battles. He came home but was never the same, and it was years before he could talk about the horrors of that war. I decided to research the events leading up to the German invasion of Belgium in August 1914, and what followed was called The Rape of Belgium. I was reading the atrocities my grandfather spoke about. There was the inspiration and the setting for my first book, Behind the Clouds.
Behind the Clouds
Barely tolerating each other, Adrian and Gabrielle Bryce are trapped in Belgium as the clouds of war loom over Europe.
Plunged into a nightmare of lies and betrayal they flee for their lives as the Germans cross the border. Narrowly avoiding capture, witnessing death and atrocities, they reach safety as two different people – only to face charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see Adrian dead.
Excerpt…
He’d barely slept because of this throbbing foot, and he was as thirsty as hell. Hobbling to the canal he drank the murky liquid, then dipped both his feet into the cold water. He let out a slow sigh as the cool water soothed his aching extremities. Gabrielle knelt at the water’s edge beside him to wash her face and push wet fingers through her hair to slick down the untidy curls. Her voice was low and angry.
“What was she like?”
“What are you talking about?” he scowled, dreading what was coming.
“Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,” she snapped back.
“What are you trying to do Gaby? Force an argument?”
“No, I’m not forcing an argument. I really want to know. You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive. Are you proud of yourself? And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?”
Adrian clenched his jaw and turned away, angry and embarrassed.
“I’m waiting,” she persisted. “I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.”
Something snapped inside him. His face was tight with fury as turned back to face her.
“If I could get up and walk away, I would. Just what are you trying to achieve? We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed, and you want to know if I showered her with gifts. Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me? Now for Christ’s sake leave it alone.”
“You want to get up and walk away?” her voice dripped scorn. “Did I walk away from that lonely empty life in that big lonely house? Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own. Did I show such contempt for our marriage vows?”
“You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,” he snarled and flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.
“Yes, your home,” she yelled. “I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home. I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home and your expensive, treacherous harlots!” Her hands clenched into fists. “Yes, Brian did share my bed. You were never there. You couldn’t care less about me or our children. You were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on. She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.”
Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her. “If you hit me again, you will be sorry. You want to know what she was like. I’ll tell you…She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and yes, she had expertise in the bedroom. She could drink me under the table and she could discuss politics like a man. She was exceptionally clever and yes, you are right, I was exceptionally stupid because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister, or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself. And I hope to God we’ll get back to England so you can do whatever you want, and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue. Are you happy now?”
“Oh yes, very happy, thank you. Who wouldn’t be, sitting here with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,” her eyes glittered with contempt. “How does it feel you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her? I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewelry and gifts to remember who gave her what.”
He pulled his feet from the water and stood up. “I’m not listening to your ranting anymore, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.”
“You can’t face the truth, can you?” she shouted at him. “Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife. And, if we get out of here, I don’t want anything to do with you. Not even a Christmas card.” Her lip curled. “A gentleman never breaks a business contract but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.
Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him. “I can’t face the truth? It’s a pity you didn’t marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me! Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage but look where it’s got me! Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive. And why? Because I had the temerity to marry you.” He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse.
“I’m leaving. Are you coming with me or staying here?”
Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words. Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning, she burst into tears. “I have no choice,” her voice was raw with emotion. “All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again.”
Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other. If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it. If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two. Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.”
He heaved himself up onto the driving seat knowing damn well they were suffering huge reactions to the events they had witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it again and again. How could he have been so bloody naïve? It wouldn’t matter how loudly he protested his innocence, the fact remained his mistress had wheedled far too much information from him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good, God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the Prime Minister, related to the Foreign Minister. That old fool must be nearly seventy, and you Bryce, are the biggest fool of them all.
What a phenomenal man Martin Luther King Jr. was. Each time I read his essays and sermons and speeches written fifty to sixty years ago, I marvel at his prescience, his forethought, his ability to inspire as well as be inspired. Asked to find a reading for my church’s 2020 MLK Jr. service, Dr. King’s sermon, “Birth of A New Nation”, called to me.
By the end of 1956 Dr. King had gained national attention because of the success of the Montgomery Bus boycott. In 1957 he, his wife Coretta Scott King and a number of prominent African Americans were invited to witness the independence ceremony of Ghana from Great Britain in March 1957. Moved to tears and joy by the experience, Dr. King went back to his congregation — the Dexter Avenue Baptist church — and in a sermon entitled “Birth of a New Nation”, told the history of Ghana’s struggle for independence and the personal history of its first prime minister, Kwame Nkrumah. Dr. King shared how Ghana’s non-violent ousting of the British intersected with their own fight against segregation. He told his congregation, “Ghana reminds us that freedom never comes on a silver platter.” He warned them to be ready to be spoken about badly, to possibly have their homes and their churches bombed because “freedom never comes easy. It comes through hard labor and it comes through toil” while also reminding them that the aftermath of nonviolence is the beloved community and redemption and reconciliation.
Reading as well as listening to this sermon provided a critique to my mind of many MLK Jr. services I’ve attended over the past thirty-seven years. So many gloss over the hardships Dr. King and those in the civil rights struggle endured but chose to face, so the world could be a better and more just place. Very few acknowledge, as Dr. King did, the connection shared by all struggles against oppression and the importance of making alliances, of fighting not only for your rights but the rights of others. Too often these services focus on the dream portion of his 1963 speech, but not on the bounced check that motivates the fight to make the dream come true.
I hope the portion of this sermon that I chose to share will inspire those attending our MLK Jr. service as the examples of Ghana and Kwame Nkrumah shared by Dr. King inspired the members of the Dexter Avenue congregation. I hope after hearing his words and the songs we sing and the reflections shared, we’ll leave this year’s service with “We Shall Overcome” ringing in our ears, not as a wistful prayer but as a declaration to fight against the injustice anywhere that is a threat to justice everywhere.
May you all have an inspiring MLK Jr. Day, too.
Better To Marry Than To Burn
Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.
Excerpt:
She sidled up to him, cupped his erection and fondled his balls.
“Ready for bed or ready to bed me?”
He moaned, placed his hand atop hers and increased the pressure. Already hard, he hadn’t imagined he could get any harder.
“Is that beautiful brass bed new?”
He gulped. “Ye—yes. Bought it—bought it for the honeymoon.”
“I’m ready to be bedded now,” she whispered. “Or is that something we must negotiate?”
All thoughts of dinner vanished.
“No,” he rasped, leaning forward, as hungry for her lips as he was to be inside her.
“Good.” She stepped back, out of reach. “But, let’s be clear…” She bent over, so her butt protruded toward him. She massaged each buttock so her crack parted invitingly. “Tonight it’s the Greek way or no way.”
He blinked, stunned by this demand to be taken anally. His master had had books filled with drawings, depicting naked Greeks wrestling. Those pen and ink depictions flashed before him now. Arms constrained by arms, legs entwined with legs, butts and groins enmeshed in snug contortions. He’d love to take Queen that way, experience first- hand the erotic intimacy etched in the men’s struggle-laden features.
He took one step toward her then stopped. No. One day, he would…but not tonight. Not their first time. Their first time would be the nose-to-nose, chest-to-breast, cock-to-vagina coupling he’d hungered five years for.
Hall had been performing on Broadway since 1930. She even took a turn at directing in 1936. By the time R&H cast her in 1949’s South Pacific, she’d performed in no less than eight Broadway plays including Green Pastures and St. Louis Woman. R&H decided they needed someone with the voice and acting chops to bring the character of the Pacific Islander Bloody Mary to life. Juanita Hall filled the bill. She reprised the role in the 1958 film, although I have to listen to the original Broadway cast album to hear her sing “Bali H’ai”. In 1958, R&H used her in a second instance of casting despite race. She created the role of Madame Liang in Flower Drum Song. Hall recreated her role for the movie in 1961.
A couple of days ago, I was archiving my 2019 author interviews and guest blogs and it occurred to me that every interview began with the question — “What inspired you to write your book?” The next question asks about our characters — “Are they based on people we know or pure imagination?” “Was the story planned or did it grow as the chapters increased?” And, every author has a different story concerning what inspired him or her to write their story. That’s the beauty of books, each one is new and unique for the reader, taking us on an adventure from the first page.
