Interview with author Joseph Lee Gilmore's daughter, Jody Ospina...

Joseph Lee Gilmore

Fancy this - a writing blog that is actually about writing again! Call it a throw-back Thursday, if you will. :)

Last week, during her visit to our lovely state of Florida, I was granted the opportunity to interview Jody Ospina, daughter of beloved author, Joseph Lee Gilmore (1929-2005).

First - a little more about Joseph Lee Gilmore…

He was born to Joseph P Gilmore and Westa Mae Reynolds on 1/31/1929. After graduating from Ohio State, he worked at the Lorain Journal and the Toledo Blade before settling in at Goodyear International as the Vice President of Public Relations. He married Donna Hanes in Huron, OH, on 8/8/1952. They had three children, Jim, Jody, and Billie. In the fall of 1969, he decided to take a prolonged leave of absence at Goodyear to write full time, seeing if he could "make it."He went on to write four stand-alone novels and 8 books for the Nick Carter spy series, all of which were published between 1973 and 1985. In the January 1972 issue of Redbook, Joseph was featured in a novelist interview, named "The Reunion."After a heart attack in late December 1969 and later issues, his writing took a back seat to his health. Joseph passed away on 12/5/2005, leaving a legacy of books, children and grandchildren, and memories. (See the bottom of the blog for a list of his books.)

My personal favorite, in the memories department, was the time Joseph and Donna came to our middle Tennessee home in 1989. I had written my first "book" before he came. It was during my second year of treatment for cancer - I was bald and embarrassed to even ask, but I so wanted to know the opinion of an "actually published writer!"He asked if I wanted real criticism or just a look - I wanted the real and raw. The next morning, he produced my manuscript - little notations in red ink all over. "Every draft needs work, but you have talent, Beth Ann." I think those ten words had me floating on cloud nine for the next month! I, of course, still have that copy, red ink and all - cherished!

The interview, with Jody (Gilmore) Ospina…

As we sat sipping our ever-healthy diet cokes at Mom and Dad's kitchen table, amidst discussions on how to best research genealogy and writing, I nearly let this opportunity slip by! My original idea to do the interview Jody was over a year ago, when my blog was centered solely around writing. My questions are in this boring black and Jody's answers are in red. (Please excuse the boring wording of questions - this is my first attempt at an interview!)

What did you think about your dad's career choice - to be a writer?
I was proud of him and amazed by it. I remember opening the Redbook and there was his name - amazing!

I know he had a full-time job during your childhood, so how much did he write and where?
When he was still working, he would write after we fell asleep - I remember falling asleep to the sounds of the typewriter. After he was writing full time, he would spend ten hours or so in a day, but not everyday. He was a loner, but an outgoing introvert. He built a little cabin out of plywood way in the back of our twenty acres. He had a little card table and chair out there.

His books weren't children's novels - were you allowed to read them as a kid? Have you read everything he wrote? What do you think about the books?
Oh, yes, we were allowed to read them. He wrote for the Nick Carter series. Then, he wrote a bunch of "dirty books" for esquire and such - Billie and I used to sneak into his office to read bits of it, we were a little  embarrassed, but he made good money doing it! I don't really remember Blue Flame, but I really loved Night Never Ending. Rattlers was made into a sci-fi movie and renamed "Rattled."

Speaking of Night Never Ending - there is quite a story around that one, even some danger?
(He wrote that with Eugenesz Komorowski, a Polish POW in WWII who was shot in the Katyn massacre.) Dad was drinking at the VFW - Komorowski was a janitor there. Someone suggested dad should buy the guy some drinks and get him to talk about WWII. It took a lot of visits and drinks to get him to open up to dad and talk. Somehow, he was threatened from the Russian secret service because it implicated them. So, he moved around the country and was too scared to talk. Obviously there was truth to that when we started getting harassed. It started with phone calls and someone speaking what we thought was Russian. Then, they would call and hang up, over and over again. Finally, a car would pull up into the driveway with lights onto the house at night and just sit out there. As kids, my sister, brother, and I didn't understand the extent or know the details, but Mom was afraid and Dad, less. After Night Never Ending came out, Reader's Digest was going to pick it up, but then decided against it - there were already Cold War problems and they didn't want to enflame things with Russia. The rights to turn the book into a movie have been bought a couple of times, but no one seemed to want to go through with that.

I heard that you discovered something in 2016?
We were going through some of Dad's old things and found a completed manuscript, titled "The Butterfly Doctor!" We didn't even know he had written another novel. It is completely different than his other books, with spies and suspense. It is about his brother, Jim, whose passion was to rescue animals and any living thing, including an injured butterfly - my favorite of his yet. We are in the process of getting that typed into the computer (it is all type written) and we'll see if anyone is interested in publishing it.

Anything more about your dad, about writing specifically?
When he was in his room or cabin writing, we weren't supposed to go in and bother him; but, if we did, he was never angry or annoyed. He was always so kind!

Which is exactly how I remember Joseph Lee Gilmore to always be - very kind! A special thanks to Jody for allowing me to interview her and to her sister, Billie, for being available to answer the unknowns!

Known Books, dates are publication dates-

"Nick Carter" Series:
Strike of the Hawk - 1980
War from the Clouds - 1980
The Treason Games - 1982
The Christmas Kill - 1983
Operation Vendetta - 1983
San Juan Inferno - 1984
Last Flight to Moscow - 1985
The Assassin Convention - 1985

Vendetta - 1973
Night Never Ending - 1974
Rattlers - 1979
Blue Flame - 1982

The Butterfly Doctor - hopefully sometime soon!

An additional "PS" to this - My mom and Jody have been close friends since they were 11 and 12 years old. My brother is named after a combination of both of their father's - William Joseph.

My next 30 years...

No, this blog is not about the Tim McGraw song. :O haha

Thirty years ago tomorrow (June 21st, but knowing my tomorrow will be crazy, I post this today!), I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocitic Leukemia. As a "high-risk" patient, older than the usual age of diagnoses, and it being the late 80s, my chances for leaving the hospital were a bit grim. All that being said - here I am, 30 years past expiration date - alive!

I was perusing the statistics on survival…the amount of us who have had secondary cancers and other life threatening illnesses due to the treatment of our cancers is mind boggling. I truly am lucky that all of my "long tern/late term side effects" of years of chemotherapy and radiation have been limited to chronic illnesses, auto-immunity diseases, and some geriatric issues! Then, there are the children - yet again, blessed to be in the limited group who have actually been able to bear kids!

Experiencing cancer and the thirty years that have followed - all of it has taught me a plethora of attributes and values that I doubt I would have gleaned without the experience, at least not at such a young age! Understanding the frailty of the human body instilled a true value of life and the importance of expressing to loved ones their value - to see the person inside, not the shell. It taught me patience - hours waiting for doctors, blood tests, procedures, and treatments will do that to a kid! Twelve hours for a blood draw, doctor visit, a unit of plasma, and chemo most definitely is only passed with patience!

Bravery and courage - the two are actually different. Bravery is having the mental and moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty. Courage takes that a step forward - it ventures, preservers, and withstands danger, fear, or difficulty. (Thank you to Merriam-Webster dictionary.) My experiences taught me both, in facing the truth of what was happening, of whatever bone marrow biopsy or spinal tap was on the horizon (bravery) and then to withstand it (courage).

Compassion towards others, true empathy and understanding, no matter how the person looks or acts, is something that became a part of me. Usually young kids and teens aren't around too many others who are missing an arm or leg, are bald, have odd scars on their bodies, or the likes. This was part of my life, whether in the hospital, at the clinic, or at cancer camp, I was surrounded by kids and teens who didn't "look" normal. Seeing past whatever is "different" about a person, seeing them - who they really are, is experience that I gleaned through those years and have held onto til this day.

Perseverance, despite the mountain looming ahead or the years it will take the climb it, knowing all the while that hardships will abound - again, something ingrained into who I was and became. This is something from my mom's journal and my after thoughts, added a few years later.  My mountain: two and a half years of chemotherapy, radiation, blood tests, surgeries, bone marrow biopsies, spinal taps, shots in the arms and legs, hospitalizations; with side effects ranging from nausea and vomitting to balding, weight gain, fatigue, hearing loss, and pain. It was my mountain with two and a half years to climb. (Mom in black, me in red.)

June 22, 1988 (Wednesday, talking about Tuesday) 6:41AM, at Oakwood Apartments

Yesterday was overwhelming. In the morning after, not much rest and fitful at that…Dr. Groncy came in and did the bone marrow test. Mark was there, too. God’s grace was so evident, Beth was great! But oh how I hurt and felt sick at what she had to go through. Lord, thank you for keeping her IV line open.

The things that I remember – My nurse put some meds in my IV that made me feel a little groggy, but not sleep. Many nurses came into the room with the doctor, apparently to hold me down (which was much scarier than the thought of a pencil size needle going into my help - I am so claustrophobic!) They agreed to not hold me down (I was on my stomach) as long as I didn't move. I didn't move an inch! Dr. Groncy had a very difficult time getting the marrow out and literally had to be on top of me to pull it out. A small piece of bone even dislodged! I remember that dad had to leave the room, red-eyed, and trying not to be sick. Mom also told me that she prayed that she wouldn’t have to throw up watching the test. I didn’t move at all and the nurses started to leave, one by one, which made me feel more at ease, even with the doctor grunting at the pulling!

Mom and Billy, Mark, Beth, and I all went to a conference room after the bone marrow. The social worker, psychologist, and Jo (the nurse) were there as well as Dr. Groncy and Cindy, our day nurse. Dr. Groncy said that Beth has leukemia. Today we will find out the specifics for treatment and chemo will begin today.

I remember this, as well – I think the main reason why I remembered was because there were a lot of people in the room and everyone was so somber, minus me and my brother, who now goes by William. I didn't understand the gravity of how ill I was or exactly what was beyond the horizon, though. I just felt that finally, after months of  feeling unwell, something was going to make it better.

10 :40PM, June 22nd (Wednesday), 1988 – the Hospital

Beth had a rough day – blood work drawn, the bone marrow, a nuclear (injected) heart study. 

Today we got Beth’s treatment schedule from Dr. Groncy. It sounds so scary.

For that, I was a bit bored, quite frankly. Mom and Dad were handed a thick stack of papers with drugs, schedules, side effects, and the likes. I could see mom was overwhelmed, though – even though she tried not to act like it. I didn't grasp the gravity of what I was looking at - literally, the next two and a half years of my life were written in ink. 

If I continued to divulge the many lessons learned through those years, it would become pages of a book - which it very well may become someday! My last thirty years: all the above, finishing school, traveling the world and living in four more states, marrying my college sweetheart, giving birth to three miracle children, writing a novel, teaching high school homeschoolers, homeschooling my own kids, creating and running a non-profit for pediatric bone marrow transplant kids…being a part of an amazing family, meeting and cultivating life-long friendships, growing hair (!!), and being alive! As for my next thirty years? Who knows - watching my kids grow up and have lives of their own, witnessing various penned pages publicized, growing old with my husband, still having hair (!!), and alive!

Here's to all of our next 30 years!

The birthday boy...

I woke feeling a bit dizzy this morning, attempting to wrap my mind around having two teenagers in the house. (I won't count the one who thinks she is a teenager!) Teenagers? It feels like Shane and I were teenagers a few years ago - so, how are we old enough to have two of our own? It is irony - the passage of time…when you are a kid, Christmases seemed years apart, yet as adult, mere months.

Today, my "little man" turned thirteen. He was a baby last week - big blue eyes locking with mine, happily cooing and smiling. He was a toddler yesterday - flooding the kitchen, lining his toy trucks, and running circles around me. I love the teen that he has become, though. He is courteous and thoughtful, my right-hand-man helper…his comedic faces entertain us. He sings like an angel - I SO wish he would publicly duet with me…maybe he will some day. Pushing tones up from the diaphragm, always in tune - he can belt it out perfectly - the kind that would make Mrs. P proud.

He leaves tomorrow - a week in northern Georgia with the boy scouts. It wasn't long ago that the thought of sleeping outside, amidst the bugs (forget the wild animals, it is the bugs - haha), worried him.  He is my worrier - concerned about the "what next" and "how long" - the logistics of every event. Schedules, not the fluidity of life, are what ground
him. Yet, off he will go. He doesn't consider himself brave, but I see that he is.

My son - my boy-sandwhich, born between two girls, is now a teenager. Happy birthday, Evan - Mom will always love you.

Blinded...

When I was in upper elementary school, the teacher gave us a type of compassion assignment for a half day. Each of us were given something - whether we needed to be in a wheelchair, couldn't talk, couldn't hear, or couldn't see. Already 50% deaf in my left ear, receiving "blind" was a bit disorienting, to say the least. I discovered later that the assignment was meant for the other students to be more compassionate and understanding towards me, the bald kiddo with cancer.

Fast forward to this morning. My eyes were aching and rather dry this morning. This has happened a couple of times in the past and my eye doctor gave me some prescription drops to use. After I drop three balls of the liquid into each eyeball, I am supposed to keep them shut for at least fifteen minutes.

Drop…Drop…in walks my youngest. "Here, Mommy, I brought this for you!" She apparently was holding a bowl of cereal.

I told her that I couldn't open my eyes for a bit and sat up in bed. I asked her to place the bowl in my hands and explained why…she proceed to tell me the color of the bowl, type of cereal, and how all the smaller spoons were dirty, so it was a big spoon. (I didn't ask her anything, but she volunteered the information.) As I was eating, we were talking and I was reminded of that assignment from years ago.

Eating a bowl of cereal when you can't see it…really, not that difficult, although I did find myself holding the bowl under my chin between each bite. When I thought it was empty, I sat it down next to me as we talked a bit. After about fifteen minutes, I moved my hand to the side and knocked the bowl over. Instinctively opening my eyes, I saw that milk was spilled on the bed. Ugh. I didn't sip it dry!

Maybe it is because I rely so heavily on sight to compensate for loss of hearing (pretty much deaf now in the left ear…sporting my hearing aid…not enough loss to warrant the cost of one for the right ear yet), but not being able to see to read people's lips or take in the colors and contours around me? I honestly can't imagine. Even if I could hear perfectly, I couldn't.

I have a great aunt who has macular degeneration. According to the American Macular Degeneration Foundation, "Macular degeneration is caused by the deterioration of the central part of the retina, the inside back layer of the eye that records the images we see and send them via the optic nerve from the eye to the brain. The retina's central portion, known as the macula, is responsible for focusing central vision in the eye, and it controls our ability to read, drive a car, recognize faces or colors, and see objects in fine detail."*

My great aunt receives intraocular shots (needle into the eyeball) that do help, but there is no cure. The last time I visited her house, she showed me this magnifying devise that makes the letters on the keyboard HUGE. She is a spitfire, a full of spunk lady that doesn't allow her diagnosis or deteriorating condition affect her life (other than the obvious constraints). You wouldn't even notice that her vision is impaired, when sitting in her comfy living room, chatting! But, then again, she has always been an amazing woman. She was a nurse in the school system and began a shoe fund, which still puts on yearly fundraising spaghetti dinners. She was one of Bush senior's 100 points of light award recipients! So, it shouldn't be surprising that she would take loss of sight in stride.  When I have permission to use her name, I will edit and name this incredible lady. (Meant to do this weeks ago - but the name of that lovely aunt is Esther Ryan!)

Now that this blog has morphed into another subject…I will sign off! Happy Tuesday to you all!

Had entirely too much fun with this app!

*  https://www.macular.org/what-macular-degeneration

Double Standards…

I haven't brought politics into this blog... and this isn't intended to be political, per say, but here it goes…

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and all other social media users - I get it! You are upset about the double standards in our society. Trending latest - Why Rosanne was cancelled after a twitter, but the same network hasn't cancelled The View? Each week, something new sprouts up and the glaring double standards stir the social media feeds.

But here is the thing - there have always been double standards in our country - this is nothing new! From the moment the pilgrims and puritans stepped off their boats, there were clear double standards. Whether it be man/woman, fat/thin, white/color, immigrant/native, republican/democrat, rich/poor, religion/religion, etc. - double standards!

Double standards remind me of a Bible verse - very loosely translated: Why do you see the speck in someone else's eye, but not notice the log in in your own eye? Isn't that also the definition of a hypocrite, though? When you have/practice a double standard, it is a type of hypocrisy. The encyclopedia definition of the word means: the practice of claiming to have a moral standard or belief,  but not conforming to the same. Hmm…

Since Rosanne is the latest, let's talk about racist comments - If you morally believe that racism is wrong…then it should be wrong across the board, correct? (To be clear, I do believe it is wrong.) However, if you ignore a racist comment from someone you normally agree with, yet make a public outcry when the same is said or done from someone you don't normally agree with, isn't that hypocrisy? Is it not also a double standard?

The speck and the log…we see, or don't see, what best fits our beliefs and opinions of the world around us. All too often, we overlook or ignore the faults of one person, yet microscopically dissect and announce the SAME faults in another. Unless you are a saint, those are the facts.

So, what do we do, assuming we want to change something? Let's face it, posting and sharing indignant comments on social media accomplishes nothing more than fueling those who believe the same and ruffling the feathers of those who don't. There is the civic way - to write a congressman or vote against or for something that promotes a double standard. (Although, this may not give the satisfaction of 50 "likes" and 20 "shares" that feeds self esteem. :O) How about an inward searching of the heart? What do I do or say that is a double standard, a form of hypocrisy? Do I allow my thoughts on color, gender, appearance, political alignments, religion, etc. to cloud my judgement of an individual? Do I factor that in when forming an opinion?

For parents - this gets passed along, from one generation to the next…a form of heredity. Your kids absorb the comments that you make, whether verbal or with body language. When you make a derogatory comment about one person, they also may assume this should be applied to all people like them! It creates the "ALL" way of thinking - all Christians are…all people of color are…all men are…all, all, all. It creates the stereotypes and mindset to judge by that grouping and forget that each person is different and individual…and it feeds into creating another generation of double standards and hypocrisy.

Off the soapbox and onto the sunset…have a wonderful weekend!

The sunset last night was purple! (No, that isn't my finger print on the lens, it is apparently how the camera processes a screen! haha)