The first book in the making will be a sequel to my memoir. It will continue from 1990 when Marcus eventually returns to Switzerland, and Fabian and I follow him two years later. Our lives through the years will be explored on our many travels, adventures, plus finding our birth roots in Hungary and in Alberta, Canada, and meeting our past face to face. It will be full of many funny and memorable experiences that you won’t want to miss!
I’m also working on a a series of books titled: ‘Travels with the Crazy Cat Lady.’
My love of cats goes back to my paternal grandparent’s farm in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada, and my maternal grandparents in Wynndel, B.C., where there were always a colony of cats around, along with dogs and other farm animals. I eventually had my first cat, well, it was a house and barn cat that we all adopted, called Princess, when my mom and dad bought a farm north of Lethbridge. Princess was a prolific contributor to the cat population, producing two to three litters a year until she was found half frozen in a snow drift after giving birth to her last babies, a tired old soul worn to a frazzel from unwanted pregnancies- such a sweet thing she was.
Over the years, I always had a furry companion purring at my heels, and as time went on, I could not see life without one. Whether I was living in my home country of Canada, or spending the winters in Mexico or Portugal, or settling in Switzerland, I faithfully took in a rescue cat, being it a young one or a senior, often a neglected soul that no one seemed to want. Many were cats that I helped to feed and take care of in rescue shelters, or in cat colonies. My car always (& still does) has food and water in it in case I saw a hungry feline creature along the way. I also had my own furry friends and I loved each and every one of them as family. A few tears were shed along the way when the travel bug got the best of me, and one or two found another loving home.
The series of books will include my travels to Portugal, Mexico, Switzerland, Thailand, the U.S. and Canada, and my adventures and funny stories along the way. I hope to have the first book completed sometime in 2022. It also could turn into a book of short stories of my travels as the crazy cat lady. I’ll keep you in the grouve to my writings.
I have other stories that I’ve written over the years that I would eventually like to finish.
Stories about teaching people, young and old, how to drive. I owned and operated a driving school in Canmore, Alberta, in the Rocky Mountains near Banff many years ago. The antidotes and experiences that I had, many funny and inspiring, are stories that I always wanted to write. I promise they will keep you in stitches and be well worth the read with a lot of inspiration nestled in it’s pages. I’ll post one or two for you.
- A Memoir or non- creative book about our Indigenous heritage, possibly integrated into the sequel.
- ‘Our Chequered Past:’ How we were taken from our birth family and adopted into a loving family at a young age. Discovering our Metis history, coming to terms with it and integrating the two worlds.
..a few lines follow:
‘ My first memory as a child was sitting in the belly of a plane.
The air turbulence gently bounced us as we sat on the floor on something soft, cushions, maybe blankets- as there were no seats for us to sit on. My identical twin sister Joan was with me, and we could not have been more than one or two years old. Other children were sitting with us and a few adults. I am not sure where we were flying from, but it was probably Fort McMurray, a town in northern Alberta, Canada, where we were born, to Edmonton, a six-hour drive by car to the south. In the late 1940s, only open cockpit aircraft flew to and from the Fort carrying mail and supplies to the isolated town. We were probably headed to an orphanage south of Edmonton, the capital city of the province.
My second memory is looking at a large and foreboding house set on a hill in a field with green grass and tall trees. This was possibly the orphanage because years later I saw a photo of an orphanage outside Edmonton where hundreds of children were taken to from the many tribal bands around Alberta. The image appeared familiar to me. The orphanage was run by nuns, which was customary in those days. Although it has been said that the nuns abused many children, I have no recollection of any such events happening to me or anyone else. Maybe this has to do with our young age – maybe we were just lucky. They say children can’t recall life events at such a young age, so why would I remember this? Perhaps we were flying to Lethbridge to our foster home, but this took place when we were older, around three years. Did we really stay at this pallid place?
Even though the dates and locations are unclear, the events of those memories were so impressionable they stayed locked in my mind until now.’
I also write poetry and plays. I can’t seem to put my pen down, or maybe it’s my keyboard! I’d rather occupy myself with this than watching tv or partying- besides, my body can’t take it anymore!
I also enjoy painting when I find the time. Abstract art, usually in acrylic, is my medium. Aboriginal art from my heritage, or landscape paintings or buildings from the places I’ve visited. I’ll post them as I paint. I hope you’ll enjoy looking at them.
Thanks for reading!