Nothing like family

Summer is a great time for vacations, travel and family gatherings. Our family reunion happens every other year in odd-numbered years, which means we are just returning from a wonderful time with our very own wonderful people.

Some years ago, we realized that, with family spread out from sea to shining sea, we would have to plan something formal. Otherwise, our only meetings would be at weddings and funerals. Not everyone can make it even to those. With that in mind, we began planning our first reunion.

Son John, who is in business and marketing, alerted us right away to the problem of calling it a reunion. "That sounds like a couple of maiden aunts sitting under a tree, sipping lemonade and gossiping. You need to call it something exciting, you know, like a rock festival, like a something-palooza." On that day, AylaPalooza was born. This past one was AP 8.

Forty-two of us met in a cozy lodge near Bear Lake, a beautiful, natural lake on the Utah-Idaho border. Our daughter, Rebecca, hosted and divided up meal prep so no one ended up stuck in the kitchen. We had the lake for fun, but also the local Raspberry Festival (yum!), ATV trail-riding in the hills, a few organized group games, and an impromptu family dance on our final evening. Mostly, we had each other.


At our first AylaPalooza 14 years ago, some of our group had doubts about how well it would work. For the second one, the doubts coalesced around the question, "Can it be that good again?" By the end of the third, AylaPalooza had become an established tradition. We already know the June dates and the place for AP 9 in 2021.

I love seeing the cousins playing together. I love it that when a baby cries (our youngest this year was ten months old), an aunt, uncle, or cousin is on the spot to lift, cuddle, and calm. I grin at the impromptu games that arise when a son starts quoting lines from old favorite family movies and a brother jumps in to one-up him. I love these people and our precious gatherings every two years are worth all the money, time and trouble they take. There's nothing like family.

Susan Aylworth is the author of 18 published novels. Her latest is SUNNY'S SUMMER, a romance set in the Sierra foothills near her northern California home in the aftermath of the devastating #CampFire. Watch for AMBER IN AUTUMN, coming in September. She lives with her husband of 49 years, Roger. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, susan.aylworth.author@gmail.com, or facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author. Also on Pinterest and Instagram.

It's an Ill Wind . . .

As the saying goes, "It's an ill wind that blows no one any good." The past month saw record-breaking high temperatures across the Midwest to the East Coast, from Kansas City to NYC, Baltimore, D.C., Hartford and Boston. On the heat wave's highest day, the east side of the nation baked under temperatures seldom seen outside the west.

Meanwhile, that "ill wind" blew cooler air to our home in northern California. During July, when we typically expect the 100-degree+ temperatures, our highs registered in the middle-90s. Most days were actually pleasant.

Decades ago, we lived in Connecticut during a heat wave and I remember the misery. Not only were our temperatures in the upper-90s, but the humidity was at 98-99%. That turns hot into unbearable. 

My thoughts have been with those suffering on the eastern side of the country, but (with some apology), I have to admit I'm grateful for the lovely days we've seen here. This week, when life is becoming livable again in the east and temperatures are rising in our hometown, we are AWOL, hanging out in cooler temperatures to the north.

We'll return to our home digs soon, knowing that the August heat will be there to welcome us. We can handle it. We've had a welcome break.

Susan Aylworth is the author of 18 published novels. Her latest is SUNNY'S SUMMER, a romance set in the Sierra foothills near her northern California home in the aftermath of the devastating #CampFire. Watch for AMBER IN AUTUMN, coming in September. She lives with her husband of 49 years, Roger. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, susan.aylworth.author@gmail.com, or facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author. Also on Pinterest and Instagram.

Nothing like Family!

By the time you see this, I will be on my way to a gathering of family. When we first conceived this particular gathering, our son, John, who has a better grasp on marketing than I, said, "If you call it a Family Reunion, that sounds like a bunch of old maiden aunts, sitting under a tree, drinking lemonade and gossiping." I had to give him props for that. His next suggestion? "You need a jazzy name, something that sounds like a rock festival, like . . . how about AylaPalooza?"

We now stage an AylaPalooza every two years with different family members hosting from one to the next. This year, our daughter, Rebecca, is the host of AylaPalooza 8. She and her husband, Jonathan, have found a resort lodge on the shores of Bear Lake in the northeast corner of Utah where we can all kick back, relax, and enjoy one another.

We will spend most of a week in the company of people we love. Since we'll be on the borders of two other states, we plan to visit caves in southern Idaho and a fossil dig in western Wyoming.

That's in addition to a day on the lake, family game night, a kids' talent show, posing for family pictures, and a variety of other silly, fun, share-the-love activities. This year I'm packing bubbles and beach toys for the little kids, puzzles for the slightly older ones, and a variety of nonsense photos to play 'Remember This?' with the teens and grown-ups.

The future of AylaPalooza will also be on the agenda. As the next generation grows up, will they want to take turns hosting? Will we recycle the hosting sequence we've run through once already? We will have plenty to talk about. Then, as we drive away at AP's end, my husband and I can look at one another and say, "We started all this!"

Past AylaPaloozas have seen us gathered on the shores of Lake Almanor in northern California and on the shores of the great Pacific in Baja. We've gathered in mid-summer and once, at Thanksgiving. The planning takes up plenty of time and there's expense involved for everyone, but the moment AP8 is over, we'll be planning for AP9. It's worth it. There's nothing like family.

Susan Aylworth is the author of 18 published novels. Her latest is SUNNY'S SUMMER, a romance set in the Sierra foothills near her northern California home in the aftermath of the devastating #CampFire. She lives with her husband of 49 years, Roger. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, susan.aylworth.author@gmail.com, or facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author. Also on Pinterest and Instagram.

Ablaze with Color!

It's crape myrtle time here in northern California, and our city is ablaze with color. Trees loaded with blossoms line many city streets and most yards. The blooms come in shades from pale lavender to deep burgundy red. Some are even stark, brilliant white. The trees are everywhere!

I exult in crape myrtle time and look forward every year to the summer weeks when our world fills with color. When we chose the landscaping for this home, you can guess what I chose. These are the views looking both ways from my front porch.










It's possible there are folks who don't appreciate these trees as I do. Maybe they're allergic? I suppose that would justify turning one's back on this glory. For me, when the crape myrtle are blooming and my roses follow suit, it's easy to overlook much of what's wrong in the world. A world this beautiful must also have a great deal of good in it.

For fourteen months in 2017 and 2018, my husband and I lived in Kayenta, Arizona in the heart of the Navajo Nation. Our Navajo friends have a traditional ceremony called the Beauty Way which admonishes us to "walk in beauty."


Wherever you are this summer, may you also walk in beauty.

Watch the language, please

I’m a sucker for a good story.  It’s an occupational hazard for fiction writers, but a great story line wins me over easily. Two of my favorite movies are Moonstruck and As Good as it Gets, both unusual rom-coms, both with Oscars for best scripts. I love a good story in other genres as well.

Designated Survivor seemed like a natural. I loved it—for the first two seasons. Did the show get new writers in Season 3? Or did the producers, seeing their ratings in decline, simply decide it was time to up the ante with saltier language? I put up with it for a couple of episodes. Then, when the F-bomb was dropped four times in the first three minutes, I was done.

Some apologists explained such language was “realistic” in the pressure cooker of the real-life White House. Although I’d love to deny it, I suspect that’s the truth. Who cares? If I wish to be assaulted with obscenity, I’ll take a walk on the campus of our local university. Besides, don’t we all want the people who hold the fate of the world in their hands to be better than that?

To be clear, it isn’t just the language that got me. Characters I had come to care about, even love, were suddenly behaving in uncharacteristic ways, using language we hadn’t heard before, but also changing job titles and love interests, and in one case, moving into a completely new story arc.

Suddenly, instead of watching “people” I cared about, I saw actors reading lines and being moved around on a set. The suspension of disbelief that lets us slide into fictional worlds went out the window. That transition started for me when their version of the White House began sounding like an NFL locker room.

In my first career as an academic, I learned to use ten-penny words when two-penny ones work fine. As a writer of romantic fiction, I’m sometimes tempted to use those words, since they now come fairly naturally. When I catch myself, I deliberately dial it back—not to dumb it down, and not because I don’t respect my readers. I do, very much.

I choose not to use words that draw attention to themselves, words that pull my readers out of the story. I want my characters (and even my narration) to use language that moves the story forward. In effect I’m saying: “Dear Reader, please love my story, not my impressive vocabulary.”

As a consumer of other writers’ fiction, I ask the same when it comes to obscenity. If that’s the natural speech for your characters, I’m not your audience anyway. If you suddenly need to up your ratings, please do so with a fascinating twist in your story line, not with verbal assaults or manipulating your characters. You’ll win me over easily when you do.