Take Another Look At It

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: A brand new visitor to the Reds' world today–and we are so thrilled to welcome her! And  the amazing Rhodi Hawk is asking a very provocative question–see what you think at the end.


“When the Mirror Hangs Upside-Down”

by Rhodi Hawk


On a snowy Colorado night in the 1970s, I tore up the stairs, screaming, to escape my aunt’s basement. You’d think my sister and I had found a man wielding a bag of bones down there. But no. We had merely watched something scary on TV.

The thing is, it felt like something had happened to us. The terror burned its brand onto my psyche. Forty years later, I remember every detail. The red and gold weave of the sofa as I hid my eyes. The scent of coffee, cigarettes, and heating oil. The way my sister finally burst from her seat in a dash for the stairs, which mobilized me from frozen terror to galloping terror. I can feel the imprint of the textured linoleum beneath my fingers as I clawed stair treads, vaulting up to safety with hands and feet.

Fast forward twenty years to the 1990s. That same show came up again in the TV listings, and I resolved to face my fear with a friend, this time in my sunny living room. I warned her it was going to be terrifying.

Well. The show was ridiculous. Pure camp. In the climax, a cursed broach comes to life as a rat the size of a Mastiff, but it just looks like a big stuffed animal. My friend and I were palsied with laughter. Also, I was mystified by my little-girl terror, which made no sense in my new reality twenty years later.

The show was called Night Gallery, an anthology like The Twilight Zone. Both featured Rod Serling. The name of the episode was “A Feast of Blood,” based on the short story by mystery writer Dulcie Gray.

Now, in the 2020s, three more decades have passed, and I have yet another perspective. I see that the writing was actually quite good—it’s just that the monstery climax fell victim to cinematic limitations of the day. And it starred Sondra Locke—something even my twentysomething self didn’t pick up on despite having seen her in several Clint Eastwood movies.

It amazes me how our perceptions change over time. Sometimes there’s contrast even in the short term. 

After a neurological disease put me in a wheelchair, I gained a new delight in small things. 

An enlargement of matters I’d previously breezed past. Favorite old novels inverted themselves to reveal fresh layers.

Even new novels: I read Lisa Jewell’s None of This Is True twice in three months, and the second reading felt like an entirely different book. A straight murder suspense became an investigation into vagaries of intense relationships. Though I clocked these things in both readings, they morphed in detail and emotion. I understand, of course, that the change in me informed the change in what I read. It was as if the mirror had been hanging upside down, then got flipped.

In my new novel This Town Won’t Tell, a roadhouse waitress perceives herself as a lone wolf in her snowy mountain town. That perception changes after she is preyed upon by dangerous people, forcing her to reach out to the townsfolk who have always been

waiting for her to let them in.

Have you ever read something, only to re-read it later with an entirely different experience?

I’ll confess something to you. For all my maturing, and despite my newly evolved analytical lens, as I typed the words “A Feast of Blood” just now, I still felt a whole-body tension—coupled with giddy hysterics.

HANK: SO interesting!~ I am not much of a re-reader, I have to admit, but I saw the musical Miss Saigon many many years ago, and thought, yes, fine, this is fine. And then last year-ish, I saw it again, and was knocked out with the depth of it. Certainly the show had not changed–but I had.

And in high school they forced me to read Our Town, the play by Thornton Wilder, when I was in high school and I thought it was so silly and melodramatic. Now I cannot even think about it without crying.

How about you, Reds and Readers?


Rhodi Hawk is the International Thriller Writers award-winning author of several novels, including her latest, This Town Won’t Tell. In recent years, a motor neuron disease has left Rhodi a wheelchair warrior with impaired cognitive ability. That neurodivergence informs Janey’s struggle with reading in This Town Won’t Tell. Devoted to wildlife and the natural world, Rhodi lives in piney woods with a pair of vultures, her dog, Frankie, her cat, Pumpkin, and her husband, thriller writer Hank Schwaeble.


Connect

The book: This Town Won’t Tell

Rhodi Hawk’s newsletter

@rhodihawk on Instagram, Facebook, and more

RhodiHawk.com

 

The Hostess with the Mostest...cleaning to do

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: When we talked about our summer plans, I mentioned the kick-off for my season is hosting Youngest and the Very Tall Dutchman (they're coming over on KLM; does that mean I can call him the Flying Dutchman?) Of course, I want to make a good impression, and more importantly, he has allergies, so I'm attempting to remove as much dust/soot/cat hair as I can from the premises. It doesn't help that I burn wood all winter long and that the family room carpet is covered with a gentle sprinkling of bark and twiglets.

 

 

This isn't the first important guest I wanted to impress, of course.  Ross and I hustled like MAD when his father visited us at This Old House for the first time. It was a scorching hot day in August, and of course, we also had to deal with a two-year-old and a seven-month old while dusting, weeping, polishing, etc., etc. When Dad arrived, I dropping my rag and spray bottle on the kitchen counter, and yelled, "Honey! Come on downstairs!" Ros reaching the foyer just as I opened the door to greet my father-in-law -- and my husband promptly vanished upstairs without a word and didn't reappear for a good half hour.

 

He later explained he didn't want his dad to see him all sweaty and sticky. and he didn't understand why Victor and I kept laughing about his disappearing act.  (If you've heard people say, "There weren't any autistic people being born in the 1950s," let me introduce you to my husband...)

 

 

However, I admit I was even MORE frantic a few years later, when my mother came to stay for three days. (She never lingered longer than that, holding to the old adage about fish and guests.) I was so freaked out about the mess, and the dust underneath the mess, and the dirt under the dust, that we hired a professional cleaning service to come in and basically power wash everything. 

 

 

It was ridiculously expensive compared to our budget, but the peace of mind it gave me was priceless. I didn't hear a single critique while she was visiting! (Well, not about the house. She had a few things to say about my hair and my parenting.)

 

 

Of course, many of you will remember we were known for our huge Christmas dinners. We hosted twenty to forty friends every year between 2003 and 2019 (excepting '16 and '17.) It got easier prepping the house every year, as the kids grew older and were able to genuinely assist in the run-up. Also, since it was an annual affair, we all knew the drill. 

 

However, inevitably, there was enough "what the heck do we do with this" stuff to fill a basket or box, which would get stashed up in the attic. Did we ever reclaim those boxes? No, no we did not. I was in the attic yesterday, looking for old children's books to pass on to baby Paulie, and stumbled across a few. At this stage, I think it's best to not even look at what's inside; out the door and straight into the trash bin will be best.

 

Dear Readers, have you had V-I-Vs (Very Important Visitors) or a high-profile event at your party? How did you carry it off?

In the Swim

DEBORAH CROMBIE: When I’ve turned in my book (soon, soon, I promise!) my daughter wants to take me for a day at a multi-pool spa place. Apparently there are all sorts of different mineral pools at different temperatures in which you can lounge to your heart’s content. And there are food and drinks and other fun spa things. It's called World Springs and doesn't it look fab?? Check it out, seriously. I'm very excited.

But my very first thought was I’LL HAVE TO GET A NEW SWIMSUIT.

And that is a big ugh because I don’t think there is anything worse than shopping for a bathing suit–unless it’s shopping for jeans. (Guys, you may be exempt from this particular trauma–unless you are torn between boxer trunks and, dare I say, the Speedo?)

Does anyone else still say bathing suit, by the way? I have a suit, and I’m pretty sure it still fits. What I don’t know is whether the fabric will have disintegrated since the last time I wore it… Obviously, I need to get in a pool more often.

Does everyone do their swimsuit shopping online these days? My email inbox is stuffed with swimsuit ads from Land’s End and LL Bean, but the suit I have, a cute Marimeko print with a matching cover-up, I bought at Target. I quail, however, at the thought of trying on suits in the cubicle of a store dressing room.

Reds, especially the swimmers among you, what is your favorite place to shop for a suit, and what style do you prefer?

LUCY BURDETTE: I’m waiting eagerly for good advice on this topic, because my suit is also disintegrating. The question is where to find a suit that doesn’t expose bulges that I swear weren’t there last year? My sister in law wears a bikini and she’s older than I am–not a chance for me!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I still call it a bathing suit, Debs! I have three. One is for when I’m swimming for exercise at the Y; it’s a standard one-piece, very boring but it stays on and stays up, which is an important quality if you have bosoms. Which I do. The second one is my Official New England Old Lady suit, a sort of short empire dress with the rest of the tank underneath. I famously wore this at the nude beach in Hawai’i, and was quite comfortable doing so. The dress is VERY forgiving of anyone’s figure flaws. 

Finally, I have the “oh, no, everything else needs to be washed” suit. We’ll see if the elastic has hung on for one more season when I bring down the summer clothes from the attic.

I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever have to buy a new suit. Probably order twenty online and try them on in the privacy (and more forgiving light) in my bedroom. Thank goodness for free returns.

JENN McKINLAY: We have a swimming pool that I live in during the AZ summer months. Every spring, I usually buy two bikinis (I’m too tall for a one piece - rides up constantly - very uncomfortable!) at Target and by the end of summer they are worn out. I try not to overthink it! 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Yes, I love Land's End. There's a really cute tankini that seems to work. High cut pants, separate top, flattering. (I guess...) I still I also have a high-necked (yes) scuba looking suit which is kinda cool. But with all my heart, if I never had to wear a bathing suit again I would be happy.

And I can tell you, sisters, I will NEVER got to a store and try on bathing suits ever again. I mean, I am not a masochist.

DEBS: Hank, this is one place where online shopping was a boon to woman kind. And Jenn definitely has the right attitude! Writing this blog post got me in gear, too. When a Land's End ad popped up in my email first thing this morning, I picked out a suit for half price. Hope it fits because it was non-refundable! I went for a two-piece tankini because if there's anything worse than trying on swimsuits, it's trying to get in and out of a wet one-piece. It's similar to the one in the photo above, but I couldn't copy Land's End's ad photo.

Now I will be prepared to celebrate book-finishing in the mineral pools!

How about it, dear readers? Are you swimming this summer, and what are you swimming in?