The Flog – The Fabry Log

For those praying for my father, here's a quick update. Just got an email from my brother who lives near my parents--his wife is a pediatric nurse and knows many of the medical personnel at this hospital. My father completed his stress test with no difficulties. He's raring to come home, as they say in my neck of the woods. So there seems to be some improvement in his condition and I thank you for your prayers.

I also got an email from Phillip Rodgers--a guest we had in July who has written some excellent children's books. His father is having/had surgery today, October 31, so add him to the list of fathers to be lifted up.

Thanks for listening and caring. We really appreciate all who stop by for the latest.

I hate to be the human prayer list, but I heard last night from members of the family that my father is in the hospital with heart issues. He had a heart attack many years ago and has been going strong, but at 88, he's slowing down and we're all concerned. Please pray for him. If you don't hear me on the air you'll know I'm headed home.

On Wednesday's program, I talked about Bart Giamatti's essay on "The Green Fields of the Mind." It's just a beautifully written piece that hits at the heart. I'm not sure if that's where the following came from, but when I knew the World Series was winding down, I pulled out my own essay, part of my book, Dogwood.

This essay is actually a speech the main character gives in the chapel, to himself, because he can't attend the funeral. He's in prison when his father dies and the warden allows him this opportunity. This is not even a veiled attempt to hide my love for my father because most of it is about me. I'll include that section below if you want to read it.

My brother and sister in law were at the hospital and they don't have phones in intensive care, but they let me speak to him via cell. He had a hard time hearing me and thought I was my other brother. But guess what we talked about? He was watching the Phillies-Tampa Bay game. He was rooting for Tampa Bay, too.

Maybe your connection with your father was different--it could be bowling or fishing or any of a hundred things. Here's what I wrote:

“Talk to me of a father’s love and I will tell you of baseball. Tell me of a tender touch or a hug that lasts in your memory and I will kiss you with stories of our game. Walk with me in moonlight, tell me the ways your father expressed deep emotion, his innermost feelings, and I will tell you of pitchouts, squeeze bunts, and called third strikes.”

“The women of my life, my mother, my girlfriends, have never been able to touch the part of me that yearns for the fresh smell of baseball—the finely mowed infield. Deep brown dirt and snow white bases. The tough, pungent aroma of hickory and leather.

“In the cool of the evening, when his work was done, my father and I played catch to the voices of Al Michaels and Joe Nuxhall. We groaned together through the1971 season and rejoiced at the next and all the way to Oakland. I still hate Gene Tenace and Joe Rudi for taking that away from us, but it made the experience sweeter three years later when, in spite of Carlton Fisk, we beat the Red Sox in seven.

“It wasn’t the smell of my father’s pipe lingering in the air or the winning and losing. It was the game itself, spread out before us a hundred times and more each year, the same, yet changing. Baseball cast a spell that drew us together. Baseball was the closeness we shared. We were never able to express ourselves and enjoy each other fully, without reservation, except with baseball.

“As a child, I had no idea how my father felt about his work at the chemical plant where he worked. I still don’t know. I knew little about his childhood, the anguish of losing a mother and brother to the flu epidemic that spread through the country, the abuse of a stepmother, why he chose my mother as his wife, and a thousand other questions I should have asked.

“But I do know this. I know baseball. I know how he felt about the designated hitter, steroids, and the asterisk by Roger Maris’s name. Baseball became our connection, and each spring, when the sirens called, I felt the link grow even deeper and stronger.

“When I was a child, and we partook of the blessed sacrament of spring training results, my father and I would coax the sun a little hotter, a little higher and brighter in our West Virginia sky. We trembled beneath that vast, blue canvas, knowing it was the same sky that looked down on the green diamonds of the major leagues.

“In summer we sweated through each extra inning and blown save. We counted mosquitoes, jarred lightning bugs, and believed in our team. We were separated by years, tastes in music, food, clothes, and politics, but we delighted in baseball. We kept scorecards and statistics ready to recall the previous year’s Cy Young award winner, batting champ, or MVP.

“Fall came and we praised the God who created pennant races. We cursed the demon of the season-ending groundout or pop fly. Baseball was the glue that bound our lives and kept them coming back to each other. Baseball was each tender word never spoken. It was the pat on the back, the term of endearment whispered.

“The last morning we spent together, just before my sentencing, my father and I spoke the last words that passed between us. We talked about our walks in the woods—memories of walking sticks and an old dog, we talked about our town and the changes over the years, and we talked of baseball.”

I spent some of the weekend trying to write thank-you cards to the many people who have given to us the past few weeks. Ironic that I bought the cards at Target with a gift card someone had sent. Some of the people are from as far away as Alaska, and some are in our community, like the lady in our church who turned around after the service last week and handed me a check. "The Lord prompted me to give this to you."

I didn't know what to say. There are so many others in our country and community who are in a much worse situation than we are, but I took the check as another affirmation that God is up to something and that he is going to help us through this next season.

I can't help but think of the father in some distant land who is weeping now because his child is sick and needs medicine, something simple, and he can't get it. And here I am with a roof over my head and dealing with a home issue. It's humbling and challenging at the same time. Maybe you're going through something like this right now. Hang in there and let's see what God is going to do.

One of the teachers or administrators at our children's school contacted the local NBC affiliate about our home issue and early on they called Andrea. We haven't been in any condition to talk to the media about this, other than on my program, and even that is debatable. But the news crew is supposed to come today and do a video shoot. Our hope is that it will raise awareness of the issues we're facing and that some people might be helped. If they actually do the story, I'll provide a link here in the coming days.

I've also been getting good feedback about Dogwood. Thank you for those of you who have purchased a copy. Some old high school friends have bought a bunch of them and I'm grateful for that. (Obviously they hadn't read it before they purchased it.) But if you want to buy a copy from Amazon, click Dogwood.
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Busy, busy, busy. That's the way we live our lives. We rush from one thing to the next, trying to squeeze as much time as we can into the day to do more things and get more done. To what end?

Normally I'm a pretty laid back person. If I'm stuck in traffic, I try not to let it bother me. I look at it as a natural phenomenon like a storm and try to ride it out. But I had one of those days this week where I found myself rushing around, trying to get lots of things done. I even called my wife and asked if she needed anything from town.

"Oh, yes, Ryan needs his pants picked up," she said. "I'm so glad you called."

So that added meaning to my rushing. I was now on a sacred mission. I hurried to the mall, found the store's location, and parked in a perfect spot location to rush in and rush out. The store was just inside the mall next to Macy's.

I usually don't go into Macy's. It's a place I walk through rather than have as a destination. And I was glad the aisles were pretty clear so I could rush past the women's clothing and purses and jewelry and perfume and get to the mall doors, then purchase the pants and exit. The perfect hunt, kill, and run we men are so adept at.

I checked my watch. I was right on time for the next appointment. I slung the pants over my shoulder and headed back into Macy's, having memorized the route I would need to take to get to my car. However, right at the purses I was stopped by an elderly couple. They were walking slowly together, hand in hand. I checked the route and stepped left to go around them, through some nice looking sweaters, when something inside, something deep inside said to stop. Don't go around them.

Weird. I was in my man mode. My rush happiness. I was making good time. I needed to hurry.

But I chose to slow to a snail's pace. Painfully slow. Agonizingly slow. And I watched them. She was obviously in much better shape than he. Her strides were more vigorous. She stood taller and her skin tone was much more vibrant. Her hands didn't seem as gnarled as his. He was taking at least two steps to every one of hers. His shoulders were stooped and it looked like he could barely see over the brim of his hat. And still they walked, hand in hand, blocking the middle of the aisle.

They were talking to each other in that morse code of older people who have known each other a lifetime. Grunts and short bursts of conversation. I wanted to get closer to hear, and I could imagine some of what they were saying, but I didn't dare get so close as to interrupt their walk or make them feel...rushed.

Now we were three people walking slowly. The women from the dress department, about four of them, were talking loudly to our left. There was something about a price mismatch or a display that needed tending. The couple glanced their way but kept going. I could see my door coming up, but I lingered there, imagining them 40 years earlier rushing around and running errands and tending their children. White haired and lovely as the sun they now walked together, like two ducks waddling toward fresh water.

I finally peeled off to the left and passed them. He looked over at me, his face turtle like, his eyes fixed on my stride, as if he envied my quickness and youth and purpose. But I was the envious one.

I now have more dress shirts than I've ever had in my life. It happened like this. I received an e-mail from someone at Focus on the Family. It began something like this, "My husband recently lost a lot of weight." You know you're in trouble when you receive that as the beginning of the message.

So, after a voice session, I met one of the engineers at Focus. Engineers in radio are like the Mother Theresa's of the world. They're kind. They don't have lots of words because they're working with tiny things all day. And they are compassionate. I've never met an engineer who wasn't friendly and helpful.

We walked out to his car and he grabbed what must have been 20 dress shirts, freshly dry cleaned, and two pairs of dress pants. The size was perfect. We talked a little about how he had dropped the pounds and I'm secretly hoping this will be a new weight loss program for me.

My son, Brandon, had a surprise yesterday as well. His 2nd grade teacher had heard what was going on and that all of his "stuff" was gone. So she and the kids got together and provided a basket of games and toys and "stuff" they thought he'd like. Uno cards and Chutes and Ladders and a Batman or two. He came out of school yesterday looking like the King of England.

"What did you say when they showed you the box?" I said.

"I just about screamed!" he said, pawing through it and finding more things.

These are the types of people we have met over the past couple of weeks. So giving and caring. I was flagged down near our home by a neighbor who asked if it was true we were out of the house. In the conversation, I discovered that her family had also moved out of the home they were trying to sell because of financial problems.

"But there's a desk and a couch we'd like to give you guys if you can use them."

Again, people in need who reach out anyway. This is why I refuse to give up on America. With all of the negativity about the future, the election, wars, financial fallout, etc., this is still the land of such giving and caring people, and as long as we remain that way, we have a good future and a hope ahead.

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There is a tree in our back yard, by the house we no longer live in, that is the most beautiful think you have ever seen. It's not that old. It's only been in a year or two, but the leaves on it are the most brilliant orange-red you have ever seen. The aspens are bright yellow, and the shrubs we put in a couple of years ago are burnt orange and brown. I'm getting a little nostalgic because I went by there today to walk alone in the back yard and cross the basketball court where we've played plenty of games of "21" and "PIG." There are two trampolines, lonely and unused. I also noticed that some voles or moles or some underground creatures have been digging along the sprinkler lines. That didn't happen when Pippen and Frodo lived there.

Something amazing happened with my son, Ryan. He's a senior at the local high school and heavily involved in music and drama. Some teachers and friends got together, took up a collection, and raised enough money to buy him a guitar, one of his passions and something we had to leave behind. He knew nothing about the gift until they pulled up in front of the music store and they handed him a card. He was overwhelmed and his music teacher helped him pick out a Taylor guitar which they sold to him at cost, with an amp and case and humidifier you need to make sure your guitar doesn't warp at this dry altitude. I wish you could read some of the things these teenagers said about my son. It made me proud to know him, let alone be his father.

Those words, like the music Ryan is playing right now, are the beautiful leaves that fall around us on the rocks and dry ground and make like so much richer and sweeter. At some point, I hope we will be able to let our leaves fall on you and pass this love back to those of you who have prayed and have been so generous. Thank you.
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Today on the program I'm going to talk about God being "up to something" in our lives. That's a quote from a Brandon Heath song that's meant a lot to me lately. Read on.

I just saw a comment here on the blog that a listener ordered 10 copies of Dogwood and got her Christmas shopping started early. I think that's a great idea (the humble author said) and I want to make an offer. If you order multiple copies of Dogwood and you want to participate, e-mail me your address and I will find a way to autograph those. There is something called a book plate that I can put in the mail and you can peel them and put them in the books you give for Christmas. See my email address on the right, and this is retroactive--if you've ordered a bunch of Dogwood already and want to give them away, let me know.

We just heard some sad news from friends of ours who live in a house nearby. I could probably throw a rock and hit their roof if had a better arm. They have beautiful children and have attended our church for a number of years. They've had some health problems recently and the mom actually sewed the curtain I use for my international braodcast studio. They have just discovered that they have the same problem as we do, only it's a little different type of mold. Their whole family is out of their house and displaced as well. I know, you're asking, "What's up with mold in Colorado?" This is a semi-arid environment with very little humidity. You think of mold in "wet" states. Well, this stuff can grow anywhere it finds a water leak. It's an insidious, unseen enemy. (Does that sound like a familiar parallel to our spiritual lives?) Pray for this family as they make the tough decisions we've had to make in the last two weeks. I know they would appreciate it.

God is up to something in our lives. There is hope for you and me, no matter what the circumstance. No matter what the brokenness or loss. They say if you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. The truth is, we're not here because we hang onto God so tightly, he holds us tightly in his sovereignty and grace. He made his plans for the world long before it was created. He made his plans for you long before you were born. And the plan he has for us is not finished, no matter how bleak the outlook. That's what I take from Brandon Heath's song, Wait and See. God is involved. He has a future and a hope for you. You and I are not here for our own pleasure or how much stuff we can accumulate. We do not live a random existence. There is a purpose for your life. He has a purpose for me. And if we will allow him to do his perfect work in us and through us, the world is going to be a better place when we're gone. Our story is part of a much bigger story being written by the Author of our lives. Success is our ability to submit to his plot and align our story with His story. I love thinking about life that way because not only is it true, but it makes sense of some of the senseless things that happen. I can't make sense of the health struggles we've had the past 17 months. But if God can use this to help others and save them from going through the same thing, I'm onboard. I want to ride that train to the end of the track.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend with your family. We are going to try and get the kids around some hay and pumpkins this weekend. Also, if you are in Colorado Springs, I'll be at the Mardel's store on Powers from 12-2 tomorrow, Saturday the 18th. My friend, Travis Thrasher, will also be there so interrupt our conversation!
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I was on Mark Elfstrand's morning program from WMBI today and had a conversation about our experience since October 4. He had some good questions and I tried to give the answers. There's so much we don't know about the future, but we know who holds the future in His hands.

Thanks for your prayers and concern. I know many in Chicago will be hearing about this for the first time. Keep praying for wisdom on our next steps. One day, one step at a time.

If you want to do something tangible, rather than sending us something, find a copy of Dogwood and purchase it. Either at your local bookstore or online. Here's a link to Amazon for Dogwood. That really is a vote of confidence about where I feel God has been leading me the past few years, to tell redemptive stories in a genuine way that shows the reality of sin and reflects the love of God.

Brandon Heath's song "Wait and See" from his current album has meant a lot. The chorus to that says, "There is hope for me yet, because God won't forget all the plans he's made for me." I believe he's not finished with this story. He's not finished with our family. In fact, He's just begun.

Thanks for reading and listening. If you want to email me, the address is chrisfabry@comcast.net.

I mentioned Pippen in the interview and just found a picture of him on my computer. You can see Frodo's ear in the picture. Pippen was Colin's diabetic buddy. Pippen was diagnosed exactly one year before Colin and he watched him go through 2 shots a day to keep him healthy. We were talking the other day that Pippen and Frodo are probably frolicking together, running free, no mold, no blindness or diabetes. Thank God for dogs.

We had some good news yesterday afternoon when the toxicology report came back. We tested 6 kids and Andrea for the presence of stachybotrys in their systems. This kind of mold causes cancer and many other maladies. Only two of the children had levels of the mycotoxins for stachy and those were at small levels. We think we will be able to help detoxify them without going to Arizona and a doctor there who specializes in this.

That, coupled with the report about the house, gives us hope that we may be able to bring it back to "habitable," but probably not for us. The cause of this recurrence may be trace elements of mold that the kids and Andrea are more susceptible to because of their huge exposure in the last 17 months. It's kind of like an allergic reaction to some kind of oil--you only have to cook something close to it in order to have a reaction. This makes us wary of bringing clothes and other porous items out. However, we may be able to salvage some electronics and other non-porous items after cleaning. That's a judgment call and some of you who have been through this know the risk is not worth the reward if it means cross-contamination and beginning all over again.

More testing will have to be done down the road on the house to make sure anyone coming in there would not be harmed, of course. The last thing I want to see is anyone getting sick like we've been in the past couple of years.

Thanks for your prayers and emails. They really mean a lot. In the midst of displacement, we are blessed.
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We don't deserve the kind of care we've been given. Saturday and Sunday some friends moved lots of furniture so the home we're staying in doesn't look like a wasteland with bags of clothes lying around. Couches. Chairs. 2 tables. Food. More food. Toys. Puzzles. The game of Trouble. I think I've played that one.

I was out on Sunday night late, making one more run to the store for lunch bags, sandwich bags, fruit snacks and such, and Andrea said Colin was listening to his radio to the local Christian music station. Normally he would listen to Adventures in Odyssey, but all of those are back at the old house. He said, "Hey Mom, I just heard them say something about giving to the Fabry family whose house had mold."

As I said, we don't deserve any of this. We've eaten 8 dinners at 7 different houses in the last week. People have been so generous with their time and their funds to help us. We had nothing except our cars when we left last Saturday night and now we have so much. We feel so fortunate in all of this--sounds counter-intuitive and totally backwards, but it's true.

I keep waiting for the boils to pop up. Or my wife to start getting really cranky.
It's not happening yet.
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We moved into a house that has never been lived in Thursday. We are all here now, the six children and two adults. Our other three children are living out of the home now. I slept between Colin and Brandon on an inflatable bed--really comfortable actually, but it lost some air in the middle of the night and when I woke up, I was in the middle with the two of them squished tightly next to me.

Friday we had a meeting with Carl Grimes of Healthy Habitat who confirmed, due to the timeline of illnesses and looking over the remediation we've had, that it was vital that we move from the house. We've been out a week now and the symptoms have lessened in that time, which Carl thought was a hopeful sign.

Monday we'll hear about other tests on 7 of the family members in regards to the stachybotrus. We had high levels of this in two rooms of the house and we believe it spread to the rest of the house.

This is an involved story and changing all the time. We're trying to make good decisions about the future of the house, of course, but our main concern is the health of the family. We have had support throughout this process from the health insurance provider, working with us and trying to figure out all of the problems the kids have had over the past two years.

From Carl's assessment, it appears that we may be able to save some non-porous things in the home, but there is a risk of cross-contamination with anything we bring from that home.

We're in a good place and healthy and together. The financial end of this scares me, but God owns the cattle on a thousand hills and though I don't need any cows, he knows exactly what we do need. Thanks for your prayers and support.
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I just moved all of our worldly possessions from the hotel where we were staying to the home where we'll now rent. It took me 10 minutes to move everything. By myself. We signed a lease last night--the kind folks are letting us rent it month by month. It is a beautiful new home, never lived in, so the concerns over problems with this new house and the health of it are nil.

We sent samples to be tested in Texas at a lab that will tell us if we have toxins in our systems. We should know something Monday about whether or not we have the stachybotrus in our systems. I'm worried most about the children because they seem more susceptible.

Through it all, we've been so encouraged by loving family and friends. Thanks for your prayers. We are going to try and sleep in the new house tonight and are hunting for a good deal on mattresses.
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"Remember it is because He loves us that He waits. Immediate intervention would abort the far greater thing He has in mind. Trust Him for the greater."

My friend from the Chicago area asked if she could hijack this blog. I'll get to her in a moment. First another update:

We have some friends with a house they've never lived in. It's something like 3800 square feet with a nice view. Only 3 bedrooms, but at this point we're not looking for a floor plan, we're looking for a floor. I'm supposed to go over tonight to sign papers, etc.

Thanks for your kindness and prayers. From the emails from listeners I can tell God
is going to do something really good through all of this. And in his own time.

Now, here's what my friend, Sherry, wrote:

(Hey, Chris - Can I borrow your blog to speak to my fellow listeners for a moment? Thanks!)

Hello, fellow listeners!

I know there are a lot of you who, like me, would like to come alongside the Fabry family in a tangible way as they deal with this major upheaval in their lives, so I thought I'd pass this along: To help meet some of their immediate needs, Moody Radio is suggesting that we purchase gift cards to major chain stores (Walmart, Target, Kohl's, etc.) and mail them to the following address:

Moody Radio
Attn: Amy Rios
820 N. LaSalle Blvd.
Chicago, IL 60610

Moody will make sure that Chris and his family receive these gifts in a timely manner.

I hope this is helpful to those of you who want to express your love and encouragement in this way, and let's remember to keep uplifting the Fabry family in prayer during this difficult time in their lives.

Thanks for caring enough to read this blog. Last Saturday, as I was coming back from Tricia Boyle McMillan's wedding, Andrea called and said, "We have to get out of the house." Eight little words that changed our lives.

On Sunday morning we talked with a toxicologist who urged us not to re-enter the house, which we've owned for 8 years. I won't go into all the details, but it is infested with black mold or stachybotrus. (I'm not sure of the spelling and at the moment I don't care how you spell it.) So we left with the clothes on our backs and have not returned. I still work out of a room next to the house but it is not attached with vents.

We have had the home remediated for mold twice. The second time, a hygienist did air samples that came back at unbelievably high levels of stachy. He'd never seen those levels before. Others in the remediation business have said, "I've been in abandoned buildings with mold growing up the walls where the levels aren't that high."

So we have left and are considering options. Lots of questions remain. Is there any way to "fix" the house so that we could move back in or sell it? I would not want to do either unless totally assured the problem is cleared, and if the toxicologist is right, demolishing the house and starting over is the best idea. Like most people, I don't have the funds to do that. Unless I'm wrong, the insurance company doesn't cover this type of loss. We could take legal action, but I'm told this type of case is complex and expensive. Plus, I don't like the thought of going through a court battle, but that may be the only way to get relief.

Amidst all of this, the outpouring of prayer and support has been amazing and humbling. I can't thank you enough for your care and concern. Keep praying. I think God is walking with us through the midst of this. No, I know he is.

Some people have emailed and offered us money. Thank you. I think there is a trust fund being set up by a church in our area. Other than that, if you want to pick up a copy of Dogwood on Amazon or at your local bookstore, I promise that all the proceeds of the royalties of that book will go to the Fabry Family fund.

Thanks again for caring and for your support in prayer. It really means a lot.
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What a treat to walk down Wells Street again. My wife and I moved here in 1983, 6 months after we were married. We had everything we owned (except for some furniture) in the back of a 1978 Toyota Corolla Hatchback (which is still running somewhere, I believe). We were following God's call, wherever he led, and we wound up at Moody Bible Institute.

Walking down Wells, I remembered Kristen Kent who was killed here walking back from a job she had. They were filming a movie near the street where she lost her life. The Cabrini Green housing projects are mostly gone. Many students went there to mentor or befriend young children in the neighborhood, but it was a rough area. Now it's been leveled and there are so many buildings going up. The economy may be slowing down, but Chicago is filling up.

The thing I like coming back here is the people. I just spent a few minutes talking with Mike Kellogg, who has meant so much to listeners over the years. Yesterday, Greg Wheatley and I spoke about the Detroit Tigers of the 1960s. I have no earthly idea why because I hate the American League.

Greg now hosts Prime Time America, but a few years ago we used to host a morning program together. There are not two more opposite people on the planet, but I love him like a brother...which means I want to sneak into his room at night and scare the living peanuts out of him.

Then we talked about my book, Dogwood, and his perceptions of it. He mentioned that someone had told him a tidbit about a scene and he wanted to know more. This is a man who does not read the kind of books I write, but that's okay, because my main readership is women who want to dive in to a good story, see themselves on the pages, and come out the other side with some of God's love displayed on the page.

If you haven't read it yet, order a copy or pick one up from your local bookstore.



And then call Greg Wheatley and tell him about it!

By popular demand, here's a new picture of Tricia and Nate. They will be married this Saturday in Illinois. I'll give you details about the wedding Monday.

Winter statistics:

98% OF AMERICANS SCREAM BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD. THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM COLORADO AND THEY SAY, "HOLD MY Coffee AND WATCH THIS."

It snows 5 inches and you don't expect school to be canceled.

You'll wear flip flops every day of the year, regardless of temperature.

You have no accent at all, but can hear other people's.

'Humid' is over 25%.

Your sense of direction is: Toward the mountains and Away from the mountains.

You say 'the interstate' and everybody knows which one.

You think that May is a totally normal month for a blizzard.

You buy your flowers to set out on Mother's day, but try and hold off planting them until just before Father's day.

You always know the elevation of where you are.

You wake up to a beautiful, 80 degree day and you wonder if it's going to snow tomorrow.

**You don't care that some company renamed it, the Broncos still play at Mile High**

Every movie theater has military and student discounts.

You know what a 'trust fund hippy' is, and you know its natural habitat is Boulder

A bear on your front porch doesn't bother you.

Your two favorite teams are the Broncos and whoever is beating the Raiders.

I'm headed to Chicago for a few days and on Saturday, October 4, I will watch our producer, Tricia Boyle, and her intended, Nate McMillan, be united in holy matrimony. This is a special deal for me because when I first met Tricia and Nate, they were producing and engineering Open Line. I could tell there was chemistry between them, but I wasn't sure where it would lead. They seemed to laugh a lot together, which is quite important for a future married couple.

Then, next week, on October 7, I'll be in Birmingham, Alabama at a conference for the Booksamillion chain. They have chosen my novel, Dogwood, as something they're going to feature in November. If you're in the Birmingham area, I'd love to see you on the evening of October 7 at 7 PM at the store located at 1624 Gadsden Highway in Birmingham. I'm excited that many people are reading the book and telling others about it. There are some plot twists and arcs of characters that I think will keep readers guessing. If you'd like to order it, click on the link below.