Winter's Mourn by Mary Stone Introduces FBI Agent Winter Black With Extraordinary Skills For "Seeing" Deadly Issues!

 

BEFORE 

Pain was like a living thing as yet another contraction tore through the girl. “Help me.” It was a whisper. It was a prayer. It was ignored by the observer standing on the other side of the cage. The burning between her legs intensified as she bore down, her young body seeming to know what to do. The pain faded, but it would be back, she knew. And it was. How had it come to this? A stupid fight with her parents. She’d been so cocky, so sure that she was a professional at life and knew it all. She was a grown-up. Heck, she’d even had sex with Scotty Jernigan, the captain of the football team. At sixteen, she’d thought she had it all figured out. “I hate you!” Those were the last words she’d flung at the man and woman who’d brought her into the world as she stomped from the house, intent on doing things her own way. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the memory of their faces. And she was. So very, very sorry. She wanted to say more, make them hear her pleas from the ether, and maybe by some miracle they would find their way to her now. Because she needed them. Not just physically but in every other possible way. But before she could ask them for their forgiveness, pain sank its fangs into her again. She bore down, pushed, gritting her teeth. In the movies, there was a nurse counting to ten. There was a husband lovingly holding up one leg. There was a doctor ready to catch, ready to know what to do if things went wrong. And things were going very, very wrong. “Help me,” she said after the contraction abated. The observer didn’t react. Didn’t speak a word. Didn’t move. The burning grew even stronger, and she looked down, sure that her private parts had burst into flames. But instead of a red glow…there was a head, dark hair swirling wetly over the crown. Bursting into tears, she touched her child for the very first time. A baby. Even as her belly had grown bigger and bigger over the months, it still hadn’t felt real. The sickness. The exhaustion. The cravings. The movements under her skin. It felt real now. The vice contracted around her belly again, turning her attention away from the miracle of what was happening and back to the pain. The terrible, awful, body-splitting pain. She pushed again and again, screaming through the contraction, and the pressure increased. Swelled. Blossomed. Then it was over. Between her legs lay the bloody, squirming child. A girl. Reaching for it with shaky hands, she smacked its bottom, swept her finger in its little mouth. Her addiction to hospital TV dramas was paying off. There was a cry. Soft at first. Then it grew stronger as the baby’s anger and confusion at her new reality increased. “Shhh…” the girl soothed, sticking a finger in the baby’s mouth. She smiled as the little one began to suck. “That’s right, sweet girl. I’ll take care of…ohhh…” The pain this time was a surprise. Wasn’t that part supposed to be over? She had to stop herself from holding the baby too tight as she screamed through gritted teeth. The baby wailed again, and she laid it down beside her. Was there another child? Twins? Was that even possible? But when she looked down between her legs, she saw that the only thing she was delivering was blood. A river of it. She looked at the observer, her panic kicking in again. “Please help,” she cried as agony and fear stabbed through her. As she watched the key slide into the lock of the cage, heard the click of metal on metal as the mechanism opened, hope swept through her. Help was coming, after all. “Perfect,” the observer whispered, voice the very picture of awe. Gloved hands lifted her baby girl while shrewd eyes took in every inch. “Simply perfect.” The girl was weak now, but that didn’t stop her from trying to reach for her child. “Give her to me.” Cold eyes turned her way, making her shiver. As if that single shiver had triggered an avalanche of them, she began to tremble violently. So much blood. So much pain. Would it ever end? She looked at the observer again, clutched at the long black coat only inches from where she lay. “Help. Me.” She swallowed back the tears. “Please.” As she watched, the observer laid the child down. Scissors appeared, as well as two plastic clamps, and she watched in fascination as gloved hands quickly took care of cutting the umbilical cord, effectively separating her from the baby. She nearly wept as the bond between them slipped away. Those same hands then went to work wrapping her tiny baby in a blanket, placing a tiny pacifier in its mouth. All the time, there were the whispers of “perfect” and “I did it.” Other mumbles she couldn’t comprehend. When she cried out again, the knife of pain growing even sharper, the observer turned to her. “I won’t let you suffer.” Something was pulled from the pocket of the long coat the observer wore, a flash of metal that she immediately identified. No. Even as the word echoed in her mind, she looked at her baby one last time, then closed her eyes as the cold steel pressed to the back of her head. A click. Then nothing. The observer was right. She didn’t feel anything anymore.

~~~

Opening a book where a young girl is in distress as she responds to the fear and pain of an unwanted birth--or unexpected birth--automatically places the reader into a situation which is no longer a setup f0r a suspenseful mystery, but rather an increasing realization that danger is possible for any birth that is now happening in reality. And, as the girl in this story finds, there is for many in some states of our union, no help...for medical staff are now forbidden to do all they can to protect their patient...

I don't know why I keep choosing to read books that have now, in today's world, become depressing rather than a brief slide into a fantasy world where good always wins over evil... For, now, even when a book such as Winter's Mourn ends, and justice has been provided, there is still an underlying awareness that, for some, for those who have the misfortune of living in a red state, will, just as this teen who gives birth in a cage, be unable to have standard medical care available...just...across...a...state...line! At least for now.

But who knows just how far the moral deterioration of some American citizens will reach...and continue into further depths of depravity... For, consider the fact that a proven criminal, now under indictment, continue to be supported as the lead candidate for the republican party! How is that possible? Surely after the time period after January 6th, we have seen just how much greed, power, and lies have affected the many innocent americans tainted by the corrupt nature of politicians, judges and more that care nothing about anything but their own desires and power gained by falsifying everything that is happening in today's world, skewed by those who have no real intention of trying to "make American better..." Only their own vested interests...

Casually glancing around, Noah started walking toward one of the barns at the back of the house. “What are you doing?” She hurried to keep up with his long strides in the tall grass. “Just being nosy.” “Pretty sure that’s not okay as it pertains to warrantless searches of private property.” He’d already reached the barn doors and was glancing inside. “I’m not going in,” he pointed out. “Just taking a quick look at her setup.” Winter looked too. No large cages, just open pens. Still, electric tension raised the fine hairs on her arms. “Great. You looked. Satisfied your curiosity. Let’s go.” “You see that?” Noah asked, pointing farther out into the field. A yurt-like structure squatted in the wide-open space. It was round and low, with what looked like a tented top. “Wonder what’s in there?” He headed off in that direction. “Seriously, Noah, come on. We’re already on the edge with Max. What’s it going to look like when we’re caught trespassing? We’ll get pulled off the case.” His response was to whistle a couple of bars of the old Kenny Rogers song, “The Gambler.” Up close, the yurt looked old. The cream-colored walls were mottled with mildew on the outside. Grass had grown deep on all sides, and the semi-permanent decking that sat outside the front door was warped and weathered a grayish green. The door itself was made of thick wood and sounded securely locked when Noah jiggled the handle. He stepped down off the creaking deck and waded through the deep weeds to one of the windows set into the side of the canvas wall. The plastic was murky, yellowed with age, but he peeked in. “Check it out,” he told her. Winter had to go up on tiptoes, and the musty smell of the canvas tickled her nose, but she could make out a round room with benches ringing the walls, sitting on flooring made of the same decking material as the tiny front porch. In the center of the room sat a kind of podium, or altar, with a cross sitting on top. It was flanked by two tall candles. “I wish we could get in and see how fresh that candlewax is. It’s hard to tell, but the place doesn’t look like it’s sat empty since old Wesley’s time.” The sound of rapidly swishing grass behind them caught their attention at the same time someone yelled, “Hey! This is private property!” Rebekah Archer was struggling toward them through the field with a small child on her hip. Her face was red with exertion and fury. “She looks like she’d be immune to your charms right about now,” Winter whispered. Noah lifted a welcoming hand to the irate woman. “Just smile, and try not to look jealous, darlin’.” When he plastered a big, nonthreatening grin on his face, Winter had to admit, if he turned that wattage on her, she’d be inclined to forgive a little casual trespassing. “What are you doing here?” Rebekah demanded, her voice hard. “I saw your card in the door. It’s illegal for you two to be running around on my private property without my express permission.” “I’m sorry,” Noah said, his voice as smooth as fresh-churned butter. “Agent Black, Winter, told me the same thing.” He shrugged, looking almost boyish. “I’m afraid when I saw your cattle out there, it got me homesick, and I wanted to get out here and take a look at your spread. From a purely curious perspective, of course.” Rebekah’s eyes narrowed, and she set down the child she held, holding the little girl’s hand tightly. “Don’t feed me any of that down-home bullsh—” Noah cleared his throat, drowning out the last word. He hunkered down into a crouch and gave one of his winning smiles to the little girl beside Rebekah. Winter didn’t know much about children. She avoided them, usually, as painful reminders of the brother she’d lost. But this one was gorgeous. She looked to be about three years old, plump and sturdy. She had long, dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head, held in place with a little red bow that matched her red and white checkered dress. Her face was like a porcelain doll, smooth and perfect, with rosebud lips and large blue eyes ringed with dark lashes. “Mama,” she whispered, tugging on Rebekah’s hand. “That man ith pretty.” Noah chuckled. “You’re pretty, too, sweetheart.” “But you hath denth in your cheekth,” she lisped seriously. “Right here.” She pointed one finger to the side of her mouth. Rebekah’s face softened as she looked down at the little girl. “Jenna, it’s time to go up to the house now. Remember? We were going to make cookies this afternoon.”

~~~

Still, there is solace when so many writers are also seeing the proliferation of the loss of personal freedom, and writing stories to "block" its advancement...

Mary Stone is such a writer. Her characters are created within the realm of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, where the worst criminal acts against Americans are handled. Winter Black is the main character, with a back story that has driven her into the FBI, and which continues to haunt her even while she, as a new agent, is assigned her first case. One that involves the discovery of a body buried in a shallow grave in a local well-used park area.

Winter has returned to her home town where tragedy struck in the worst possible way. In turn, though, she was left with a bit of clairvoyance that adds to her image as a top agent... But will that continue coming back where once The Preacher was leaving havoc in the community? And when other graves were found, other officers knew that Winter would want to be involved...

When you get into women being used for research, held in cages, and then the children being taken from the mother, this requires a need to have the case blown wide open! And, that's exactly what happens, with a little bit of romantic interests beginning... And then I turned to check the last song...and found this... Shoulda found the "Stones" first... It really is weird right now... Isn't it?

She could still hear the band playing inside, an offbeat rendition of the Stones’ “Satisfaction,” and wondered if Noah had gotten the phone number yet of the waitress who had been eyeballing him all night. She smiled, thinking about it, but it hurt a little. It didn’t matter, so she pushed it away. The moon hung low and bright in the sky. A hunter’s moon, she thought it was called. That, or a harvest moon. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, bathing the parking lot in a pale, chilly glow. She shivered a little and wished she’d opted for her heavier leather coat instead of a light fall jacket. She clicked the remote to unlock her door and opened it awkwardly with her left hand, sliding into the driver’s seat and automatically hitting the car locks. Tucked beneath the windshield wiper was a note on lined yellow paper that fluttered in the light evening wind. At first, it looked like someone had gone around putting fliers out on every car. But the note was pinned face down so that she could see what it said. Just two words were handwritten in big, masculine-looking letters. Hello, girlie. You look beautiful tonight. It could have been from anyone. But the paper glowed faintly red, and her hands trembled, just once, on the steering wheel in response. She stiffened, her hand automatically easing inside her coat to touch the reassuring weight of her gun. The parking lot was brightly lit. Except for a couple making out a few cars away, there was no one else around. No shadowy figures lurked, waiting to see their message received. She started the car and waited, still scanning the parking lot. Instinct told her the man who had left the note was gone, but still, she waited until the car slowly warmed, pumping lukewarm air out of the vents. She’d left a stretchy pair of knit gloves on the floor. She slipped one on and unlocked her door, opening it just enough to reach out and grab the paper. Shutting the door and locking it again, she didn’t spare the note another glance, just stuffed it in the glove compartment and closed it. The red glow wasn’t visible, but she could still feel its presence. No big deal. Just a serial killer checking in. Reminding her that he was out there somewhere, doing whatever serial killers did in their retirement years...

GABixlerReviews

Rita Mae Brown Even Writes Political Novel: Feline Fatale: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery! A Fun Read! Or, Maybe Not...

 

An overview of the new characters...

Amanda Fields is a first-term Republican delegate to the Virginia statehouse, the House of Delegates. She is a smashing-looking former TV reporter in middle age. Bright, self-possessed, she usually knows how our political system really works. Aidan Harkness—Facile, in his late thirties, a rising star among the Democrats. Reasonably intelligent, good at avoiding the tough issues, he goes head-to-head with Amanda. He struggles to contain his emotions. Lucas Dennison is Amanda’s right-hand man, a dear friend from William and Mary days. He wears many hats: secretary, campaign planner, willing ear. He loves her deeply but is not in love with her. Ellis Barfield shoots Assembly meetings, which are streamed in real time. He makes a good living creating alluring videos for small businesses and individuals. The state job is steady money. He pays attention to what goes on on the floor and is good at capturing events and personalities. Reid Ryder is a fourteen-year-old page; like all of them, he is enraptured by state politics. He has been handpicked to be a page, which means he is an outstanding student.

~~~

And, oh yes,

Here's a clue to solve the mystery...

Ok, I was surprised when even Mrs. Murphy got into politics in Rita May Brown's latest in series, Feline Fatale...If you're feeling frustrated about politics lately, this may not be the book from Brown you should start with. On the other hand, seeing what happens, because I know you'll get a laugh out of the book, it may be able to break your frustration. Because Brown brings in an interesting bit of history in order to actually solve this political mystery...

If you have never read this series, you should know quickly that there are many more animal characters besides Mrs. Murphy. And that there are two women who are happily married and most times involved with the mysteries... "Harry" Haristeen is the amateur detective, while Susan Tucker has been Harry's friend since grade school and considers their love--as sisters.

In this story, Harry is supporting Susan as she, in turn, supports her husband. Ned is the politician--the district’s delegate to the General Assembly’s House of Delegates, the lower house. And if you don't know what that means, neither do I, so I can guarantee it isn't important to know for the book... LOL

What we do know is that there is something funny going on... And Ned who shares his concern with Susan who starts talking to Harry... Get the idea? Most of the time what Harry knows then Susan knows... But, when it comes to politics, does anybody really know anything??? 

So, what we do know is that Amanda is a first-term republican delegate... And in the Virginia Assembly, she has made quite an impression in the state house. Because, you see, she wears...well, I'm just going to share that quite extraordinary scene (or is it really extraordinary these days?)

Mr. Speaker, may I propose we form a committee to study hiring individuals to clear our roads, be it a terrific monsoon or a blizzard?” Amanda called out, “That’s a dodge. We don’t need a committee. We need numbers and a sense of weather cycles. That isn’t that difficult to find, despite what you and Delegate Harkness say. 

You Democrats, all you want to do is throw around money. We Republicans are far stronger than you are in rural counties. You’re just trying to buy them off.” “That’s bullshit.” Aidan forgot himself. The Speaker banged the gavel as poor Ned wiped his brow. Susan leaned to Harry. “Ned will hold it together, but look how red his cheeks are. This isn’t going to plan.” 

“How dare you swear in this chamber, which has seen far better public servants than you, you lowlife,” Amanda said. “Bitch.” He totally lost it. So did she. She flew out of her seat, ran over to him, and slapped his face. Then she slipped off one of her frightfully expensive shoes and beat him around the head with it. The page, Ryder, tried to stop the enraged woman, but couldn’t. Finally two capitol guards came in and pulled her off. She stopped immediately, flashing a radiant TV smile, then walked to her seat. “This chamber is in recess.” The Speaker banged the gavel, stood up, and left the podium. He was seething and needed to get to his small room in the back behind the podium to get under control. 

Meanwhile, the streaming service people were beside themselves with joy. Ellis Barfield, head videographer, slapped hands with two assistants. This would be watched by jillions. Amanda took a deep breath, stood up, and looked composed as she turned toward the cameras. She could easily handle millions, even jillions. Ned, on the other hand, put his arm through Aidan’s and forcefully led him up the aisle. “I’ll kill that bitch.” Aidan spoke too loudly. “If you give her enough time, she’ll dig her grave with her teeth. Now calm down. You know you are both going to be censured. That won’t help us and it isn’t going to help the party.” 

As Amanda walked out, the Majority Leader, who was from her party, fell in with her. “Amanda, that is going to cost us.” “I make you a promise, it will work for us. Trust me, Mr. Kilgore, I know the media.” He did not want to argue with her in front of people, but the Majority Leader was a strong believer in decorum, tradition. “I’ll see you after everyone calms down.” “Mr. Kilgore, I know how proper you are. You are such a good majority leader but do remember that John Randolph tore into Congress in Washington urging his pack of foxhounds into the chamber while he ran on ahead to beat with his crop those he felt deserved it. I promise you, Sir, I was out of order but still not that bad.” She smiled that melting smile. He nodded, knowing he really had his hands full. 

Susan sat there, stunned, as did most of the people in the gallery. “Harry, we need to go to Ned but I don’t know what we will find.” “I give him credit for not losing his temper.” “I do, too.” Susan breathed a stream of air out of her nostrils, then stood up as Harry joined her. They had to get to the Pocahontas Building, where Ned’s office and everyone else’s were. The snow was really falling now. Harry pulled on her coat, which wasn’t easy given her shawl but she was glad to have both. They zipped and slipped into the building, snow sticking to their shoes. “Oh dear.” Susan saw the crowd outside her husband’s office. “Why don’t we wait here until they disperse?” “Actually, this may be one of those times when my husband could use my presence. And yours, too. Okay, sugar. Time to remember cotillion.” Harry moaned. “Oh God.” “We are about to be the quintessential Virginia ladies.” 

Susan took a deep breath. They reached the crowd. Susan beamed. “Bill, haven’t seen you in far too long. Harry, this is Bill Donovan. I think of him as king of the Shenandoah Valley.” This made him laugh and those who heard it. Delegate Donovan took Harry’s hand when she extended it, and a few pleasantries were exchanged. Susan walked in. People parted. Harry stuck with Bill. “I am so proud of you.” She kissed Ned on the cheek. As most of the people in there were Democratic delegates, with only one or two Republicans, smiles greeted her. Aidan, still fuming, also smiled at Susan, although it was more like a twitch. Susan took his arm. “Aidan, you said what the rest of us think.” Everyone laughed, including Ned. The mood shifted. Aidan breathed less heavily. The delegates started talking about issues in front of them, plus the possibility of a committee. Harry realized although she had known Susan all her life, she often forgot how smart, emotionally smart, her beloved friend truly was. —

~~~

Now here's the part that bothered me... In this area, pages were young teens rather than older. When things got to be "chaotic," it wound up that one of those pages was affected. Drugs and "Moonshine" were involved... (Will our children ever be free from what happens to them due to "supposed" adults who are in it for money?)

We also heard from a friend of the affected page who had become close enough to date and she stated clearly that her friend was not involved in either drugs or drinking, nor would he be allowed to be a page if that was true...

So, the first mystery is what happened to that young page... The second mystery is what happened to Amanda's assistant that was so awful that he wound up living in a guest house and taken care of by Susan and Ned... while Amanda and a professional photographer wound up in jail...

This mystery was so easy for me to solve that I decided not to divulge much of the story...just enough to get you interested... If you are, then I think you will enjoy just how stupid it can get within state politics. If you aren't, then you've probably picked up on just how much crap is fought over between parties... 

But, the methodology used was interesting to unfold... You decide! By the way, I've been a fan of this series for years... Find the author in my right column to discover quite a few mysteries that I highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Nicole Wallace, MSNBC Strategist Presents an Exciting, Extraordinary Trilogy! Honing in on Characters... Eighteen Acres, Madam President, It's Classified!

 

It's been awhile since I read this funny, ironic and simply unbelievable set of stories... Yet, it is now when it seems the best time to talk about these books... You see, the books, which are clearly character driven, spotlights women in politics... A female president, for instance... She's in office as the trilogy begins... And, it is quite possible that a female president will be elected later this year. Will she have the same stamina and guts as the female president in this book? I enjoy watching Nicole Wallach's news program and was not surprised that she had a much-needed handle on the entire political process to be able to craft a realistic setting...

Melanie

Call me Charlotte—I insist,” she’d said. She was smart and funny and self-deprecating. She’d seemed to have been handed a briefing paper so detailed about Melanie’s career that Melanie wondered if the FBI had been involved. After some small talk about the current unusually cold temperatures for Washington, Charlotte had told Melanie that she’d seen her on the Today show years earlier and that she had admired and tried to emulate her cheerful toughness in her own television appearances. She’d praised Melanie’s decision to have the president do weekly press conferences in media markets around the country instead of from the White House. She’d said she agreed with the outgoing president’s decision not to campaign on her behalf because of the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which she must have known had been Melanie’s advice to the president. Melanie’s defenses had been down. She was feeling more and more flattered by the minute. And the idea of being the highest-ranking staff person for the first female president in America’s history did capture her imagination. Despite the fact that in the recesses of her mind, she understood that it was all part of an elaborate scheme to entice her, she’d said yes on the spot to serving as chief of staff to the nation’s forty-fifth president. That was three years ago. Melanie fingered the smooth gold chain around her neck and stared at the reflection that the diamonds made on the wall of the Oval Office. “If you’re still in there, Melanie, you’re welcome,” the president said, waving her hand in front of Melanie’s face. “I’ll see you tonight. We need to talk about the campaign. I’m sorry I’m missing your party, but at least I’m taking Ralph off your hands.” “Party? What party?” Melanie groaned. “I told them you’d hate it, but as usual, nobody listened to me. Act surprised. Sam and Annie have been working on it for weeks.” The president turned back to her desk. “Sam, please tell the speechwriters to get on the helicopter. We have to write a new speech.” Melanie turned to leave and smiled sympathetically at the speechwriters who were huddled in front of Samantha’s desk. “Good luck, guys,” Melanie said. “I’ll throw Ralph under the bus later. She’s just being melodramatic. Roll with it.” Melanie endured the senior staff singing “Happy Birthday” to her at their seven-thirty meeting. She took calls from most of the Cabinet members, wishing her a happy birthday and from many of the reporters she’d known from her eight years as press secretary for the previous president. Her parents sent a dozen white roses mixed with white tulips, her favorite flowers. But nothing could have prepared her for her own reaction to the slide show that the White House staff assembled to pay tribute to her fifteen years of service. Thank God the lights were dimmed and the music blaring. Against a soundtrack of depressing spinster ballads from Natalie Merchant and Tori Amos, the images flooded the room. There she was at twenty-three—in the group photo of all the White House interns—smiling and oblivious to the three chins she’d had in those days. President Phil Harlow was the first president Melanie had worked for. She’d lied about being a student to get the internship, since the White House intern program was only available to college students earning credit for their free labor. When a spot opened up for a junior press aide, she’d confessed about graduating the year before, and they’d given her the job. She spent nearly three years in the same cramped fourth-floor office in the Old Executive Office Building, across the driveway from the West Wing. The next images were from her days as a campaign aide to President Harlow’s nephew, Christopher Martin. He’d surprised everyone when he announced a run for the presidential nomination during President Harlow’s last year in office. Melanie had signed on as his campaign press secretary. Everyone was shocked when he won the nomination and, eventually, the presidency. President Martin made Melanie his first press secretary, and at twenty-six, she’d been the youngest White House press secretary in history. The pictures of Melanie as President Martin’s press secretary made her cringe. Fortunately, her clothes, hair, and figure improved with age. There were pictures of her sleeping with her mouth wide open on Air Force One, plenty of shots of her fielding questions from the podium in the White House briefing room, and images she recognized as having been Photoshopped to remove all evidence of Matthew, her husband for a brief period during the Martin administration. Photos of Melanie as Charlotte’s chief of staff made up the last and longest part of the slide show. She’d been around the photographers so long that she didn’t notice them anymore, but there she was: speaking to Charlotte as they walked across the South Lawn to board Marine One, being summoned by Charlotte as she stepped off Air Force One, whispering in her ear in meetings with foreign leaders, hiking with her at Camp David with the dogs, and laughing with her in the Oval Office over one of their many inside jokes. Melanie stood and applauded when the slide show finally came to an end. “Thank you so much. It has been the privilege of a lifetime to serve this president alongside all of you. Thank you for this great surprise. I don’t know what to say, other than thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She stayed and thanked everyone for coming and asked the stewards to bring the leftover cake to the residence. She and Charlotte would eat it for dessert. Fifteen years, three presidents, and seven executive assistants later, Melanie thought to herself as she walked back to her office. “And all I’ve done is move forty feet.” Around eight P.M., Melanie heard the sound of Marine One as it neared the South Lawn. She loaded her BlackBerrys and phones into her purse and walked down the hall toward the residence where she and Charlotte would have dinner. Charlotte had been bugging her for an answer about running her reelection campaign for weeks. As the chopper came closer, her mind flashed back to her first ride on Marine One. It fell on her twenty-sixth birthday, and she had been nervous and excited about joining the elite group of top staffers who rode on the presidential helicopter instead of driving the short distance to Andrews Air Force Base. They’d been traveling to Detroit that day to talk about the economy, and President Martin’s poll numbers were almost as battered as Charlotte’s. More than a decade later, Melanie still remembered how her stomach had churned and the sweat from her underarms had soaked her blouse that day. She had heard the sound of the helicopter as it neared the South Lawn, and she’d raced down the hall to the Oval Office. President Martin had looked at her, clearly enjoying her anticipation. “You ready?” he’d asked. “I’m ready,” she’d said with a grin. He’d flung his arm around her and walked out to the South Lawn, where the helicopter was parked. He’d waved to the cameras and the crowds and mouthed “Thank you” to the friends and staffers who had gathered to see him off. Melanie had walked on her toes to keep her heels from getting stuck in the muddy grass, but it wasn’t enough. She lost one of her Stuart Weitzman pumps in the mud and was too afraid to stop and pick it up with the cameras rolling. She’d boarded Marine One and taken a seat across from the president. “You sit here—you won’t bump into me the way these thugs would,” President Martin had ordered, referring to the male staffers who would bump into his knees if they sat in the seat across from him. “Yes, sir,” Melanie had agreed as she sat across from the president and peered out the window of the helicopter. Melanie had no idea what to do about her shoe. She hoped that no one would notice. She’d send someone to buy her a new pair in Detroit. Ernie Upshaw, President Martin’s deputy chief of staff, noticed her bare muddy foot first. “Where is your shoe, Melanie?” he’d asked. “Uh, it fell off.” “Where?” the president had asked. “Somewhere between the Oval Office and the helicopter,” she’d admitted, her cheeks and neck turning hot. The president had howled with laughter and sent Buckey, his personal aide, out to find her missing shoe. The shoe was wedged so deep in the mud that it took Buckey about five minutes to find it. The helicopter pilots had eventually powered down Marine One, and all three of the cable news networks had carried the shoe hunt live. Melanie’s BlackBerry had filled with new messages. Her assistant: “They aren’t looking for your shoe, are they?” Her mother: “All the news stations are calling you Cinderella. Why didn’t you wear flats?” The White House chief of staff: “Way to go—the president will be late, but you will have your shoes.” He is such a jerk, Melanie had thought.  Buckley had finally returned to Marine One with Melanie’s muddy black pump in his hand. The president thought the whole episode was hilarious. As they lifted off from the South Lawn of the White House and flew over the Washington Mall, Melanie had felt as if she’d been transported to a different world. The Tidal Basin glistened in the morning sun, and the Washington Monument jutted out of the ground. The flags that surrounded it flapped in the wind below her window, and the tops of the buildings on the mall looked like doll houses. “It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” the president had said. “Amazing,” Melanie had replied, not moving her eyes from the sights below. “How could that have been eleven years ago?” Melanie thought, not realizing she’d muttered to herself until one of Charlotte’s agents spoke to her. “Ms. Kingston, is everything all right?” “I’m sorry; I’m fine. Losing it, perhaps, but fine. Is she upstairs yet?” “Yes. She said to tell you to come on in.” Melanie walked past the table...

~~~

But, first, I was saddened by Joe Biden's decision to not continue to run for 2024. I believe he would have and frankly, if his own party members had not turned against him. I am wondering about the democratic party for the future. Of course, I have found that I would never vote republican based upon all that I have discovered from political-related books. So, we now have a woman who, in essence, is beginning her candidacy for the president, with such a short time to gain the required support needed... Joe Biden had said that only the Lord All Mighty could stop his running. I believe that Joe did hear His guidance. I know it was a hard decision and I am so proud of President Biden for putting our country first...

Eighteen Acres gave me new information in that it is exactly Eighteen acres of land upon which the White House is located. The books are written from the POV that changes constantly as the story moves forward. Charlotte is the president and is a rich blend of smarts, guts and, sometimes, coldness... Toward her husband. Melanie has taken the Chief of Staff position. They are a well-tuned thinking machine that almost speaks on behalf of the other... But, Melanie is a better writer and Charlotte has come to depend upon her to guide her through those difficult times when she's not quite sure what to say... Melanie then takes over with the speechwriters and succeeds quickly to meet the needs of the president... 

Charlotte has a good reputation and so when she decided to run again, her campaign seemed to be a piece of cake...until two issues exploded across the nation. It was reported that Charlotte's husband was having an affair... And, at the same time, her closest security adviser made a tragie error in judgment. Charlotte had to ask him to leave his position...

So, how does a president and her campaign staff save her from failing?

What happens next could never have been predicted even in a great mystery book...

Charlotte decided to make another first in history... When her VP decided it was his time to step down, he recommended that she work to make a splash... She hired the first female VP! Tara is almost the opposite from Charlotte. She dresses sexy, talks quickly and often and becomes the most popular person in this administration... Melanie had already explained to Charlotte that she would not continue as Chief of Staff and planned to retire. But Charlotte offered Melanie a job she could not refuse! She became, probably the first, Secretary of Defense! And the troops loved her as she spent time traveling and meeting with our soldiers who were stationed overseas... At the same time, Charlotte was still not sure she could live down the loss of her senior advisor who committed suicide!

“Just tell me when your go time is and I’ll have her down here,” he said. “I guess five A.M., so we aren’t too rushed. Is that too early?” “No, of course not. She can do this, you know. I mean, she just needs to get through this adjustment period and she’ll be fine,” he said. It was the first nice thing he’d said about his wife all evening. “I think she’s doing just fine now,” Dale said. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Tara asked, appearing suddenly in black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. She was wearing socks but no shoes and Dale hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. She wondered how long Tara had been listening. “How you are going to knock these interviews out of the park tomorrow, baby,” Marcus said with a phony smile. Tara walked to his side and said something Dale couldn’t hear. He nodded and said, “I’ve got it. You get back to your prep. You need it.” Before he left the room, he grabbed a roll of fat from around Tara’s stomach. “After we conquer the morning shows, we’re going to focus on this,” he said, looking at Dale while he spoke. Tara looked mortified, and Dale could hardly keep the horror off her face. She couldn’t decide which one of them was more shocking: Marcus for being so mean, or Tara for standing there and enduring his abuse. Dale felt like hurling her empty coffee cup at him. “Dale here doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her, do you, Dale?” Dale looked at Tara sympathetically and tried to think of something funny to say to deflect Marcus’s verbal assault. “I have a mouth full of cavities and stringy brown hair. I’d kill for your wife’s perfect teeth and gorgeous head of hair.” Tara smiled gratefully and Marcus let go of her. Dale continued. “Mr. Meyers, while we are honored by your company, we have a lot of work to do tonight before we can all go to bed,” Dale said. “No problem. It’s time for me to spin off a cool thousand calories. The music doesn’t bother you does it? Helps distract me from the pain.” “No,” Dale said. Her eyes were on Tara as he made his way down the stairs in his spinning shoes. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dale heard him turn up the volume on the stereo. Eminen started blaring from the lower level. Tara looked like she might cry. Dale wanted to tell her to ignore the asshole she was married to, but she knew better than to insert herself. Tara had taken a seat on the same sofa where she’d been sitting before. She looked like she was trying to pull herself together. “I have an idea,” Dale said. Tara looked up. “Shoot the prick?” Tara said, with such a straight face that Dale was too stunned to say anything. She laughed. “Insanity defense,” Tara added with a sly smile. Dale laughed it off but filed it away in her I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life file. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” “I know what it must look like.” Tara sighed. Dale waited for her to continue. 

When she didn’t, Dale spoke. “Madam Vice President, the American people are trying to figure you out. People are mostly interested in you because you seem too normal for politics. That makes you more intriguing and appealing, in a lot of ways, than President Kramer,” Dale said. Tara contemplated this. “That’s why I tried to work some of your struggles—with weight, with motherhood, with work—into the answers. I think that’s how we dig out of this little hole we got you into. Let the American people inside the struggles and maybe they’ll help pull you out.” Dale was trying to sound reassuring. She didn’t like what the meat grinder was doing to Tara. She prayed that the vice president would regain some of the grit she’d displayed during the campaign. “Can I tell you something?” Tara asked. “Sure.” Dale thought for a second that she’d confide in her about whatever was going on. “I am such a huge fan of Caroline Carter. I’ve watched Wake Up, America since I was in college and I feel like I know her, you know? You must think I am so lame. I mean, you know all these people.” “I don’t want to shatter your image of her, but Caroline is dumber than my shoes,” Dale said. Tara looked crushed. Then she started to laugh. “Take that back, Dale. I won’t let you take away all my heroes.” Dale laughed and breathed a sigh of relief that Tara’s sense of humor had returned. “How about another round with the index cards? No theatrics. We will just go through all of the questions and answers until you’re comfortable with the content?” Dale asked. “Let’s do it,” Tara replied.

~~~

And everybody was shocked when Tara had hired her own news rep without talking about it to anybody--Dale was the woman with whom Charlotte's husband had had an affair... Wow... Can it get worse? Yes, it can... For one, when Dale took the job in the White House, rather than accepting the home which had just been bought for her, the relationship with Charlotte's ex-husband got cooler and cooler... Dale had been working with Tara to handle meetings... But when Tara was left to hold down the fort and went AWOL too many days without explanation and when she showed up, she was not, shall we say, able and ready to do her job? Something had to be done... Secrets, Secrets, Secrets... Politics is full of them!

Family life for Charlotte was, really--well, it sucked, mostly. Peter had been involved with Dana for years and even Charlotte knew it before it exploded... But, what really bothered her was her daughter's response to her and then her actions...

Peter was about to say something when Brooke and Mark barged into the Oval Office. Sam followed close behind and tried to redirect them into the Cabinet Room next door. “It’s fine,” Charlotte assured Sam. Brooke and Mark wouldn’t have stayed out even if she’d asked them to. “Char, it’s not that bad,” Brooke offered. “You saw it?” “It’s on the Internet,” Mark confirmed. “Anyone who has ever had a teenage daughter will totally sympathize with you,” Brooke added. Charlotte smiled ruefully at her friends and recognized that their arrival had guaranteed that the simmering tensions between her and Peter would have to be addressed another time. “Sam?” she called. “Yes, ma’am?” “Please ask Craig, Dale, and Marguerite to come back in here.” They appeared instantly, and Charlotte wondered if they’d heard everything that had transpired. “Madam President?” “Craig, I think we should be as blasé as possible about Penny’s statement. Say that she’s a young adult with her own opinions about politics and policy and everything else. Maybe we wrap it into a larger statement about just how difficult it is to be the child of a president. We could touch on the fact that the debate around reproductive rights can divide, and sometimes unite, families. Have the press office say something about how I appreciate Penny’s feelings about this issue and the other issues she raised on Facebook.” Dale and Craig looked at each other. “What’s wrong? That covers everything, doesn’t it?” Charlotte asked. “Madam President, the first thing the press is going to want to know is whether you’ve spoken to Penny,” Dale said. “Oh. Right.” She glared at Peter. “We’ll call her now,” he said. “I need to do this alone,” Charlotte told him. She walked into her private dining room. The call went straight to voice mail, and Charlotte dialed again. This time, Penny picked up. “Dad?” “It’s your mom,” Charlotte said calmly. “Before you say anything, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought the Secret Service would keep my page private. I didn’t think that anyone other than my friends would see it.” Charlotte resisted the temptation to scold her for blaming the Secret Service. It was something a ten-year-old would say, not a college student. “Are you ready for the media attention that’s about to come your way?” “What? No. That’s not why I did it!” “Well, you should turn on MSNBC or CNN in a few minutes, because it will be all over the news. You will be the big story today.” “That’s not what I wanted.” “Really?” “No!” She sounded panicked, and Charlotte was starting to feel sorry for her. She rubbed her forehead and listened to Penny’s pathetic excuses as her mind played through all the instances in which she’d ignored her responsibilities to the twins to do one more thing at the office. She felt a hundred years old all of a sudden. “Listen, Penny, the press will move on to something else by tomorrow so let’s not lose perspective.” “I’m really sorry, Mom.” “I am, too, for whatever I did to deserve this.” “It’s been building up,” Penny confessed. “Obviously.” They were both quiet for a moment, and it sounded like Penny had started to cry. Charlotte felt herself soften a bit. “Do me a favor, and stay off Facebook today.” “I will.” Charlotte felt her heart twist into a different shape inside her chest. She desperately wanted to rewind the last ten years and get a do-over with Penny. Charlotte would change everything. She’d be there each day when Penny got home from school to hear about her day. She’d be the mom who drove the carpools so she could listen to Penny and her friends talk. She’d be the mom who took all of the kids skiing or to the beach. She’d be the mom who all the other kids knew they could talk to. She wondered which mom had been there for her daughter when she wasn’t. Despite her anger at Penny for taking her hostilities public, she felt a dam break inside her chest. “Mom?” “I’m here.” “Don’t blame Dad. He asked me not to write anything.” “I know.” “It’s not his fault.” “I’m not mad at Dad. I’m still mad at you.” “I’m really sorry,” Penny said. “You’re not a little kid anymore. You can’t just say sorry and move on.” “What do you want me to do?” “For starters, a lot of reporters are going to write stories about what you wrote, and they are going to want to talk to you about it. They will find your e-mail address, and they will figure out how to reach you through your friends. Some might even show up at Google or outside your apartment. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk to any of them.” “I won’t.” “I’m going to have someone from the press office call you in a few minutes. I’d like for you to do exactly what they tell you to do.” As she uttered the words, Charlotte realized that Penny must have suspected that it was possible her post would receive attention from the press. Most likely, it was also why she’d overheard Peter explaining to Penny earlier that morning that Dale’s e-mail address was the same as it had been. It made Charlotte wonder: Had Dale had an e-mail relationship with her daughter while she’d been romantically involved with Peter?” The thought had never entered her mind, but upon reflection, it was possible. Charlotte felt nauseated by the thought, but she did her best to sound the perfect combination of disappointed and forgiving as she hung up with Penny. Even though she was already late for her speech, she allowed herself to wallow for an extra moment about the fact that Penny had become so distant. She wondered exactly when and how it had happened. Charlotte was racked with guilt about the huge chunks of her children’s lives that she’d missed. Where had all the years gone? It felt like just yesterday that she’d brought the twins home from the hospital. They’d been so tiny, but even as a newborn, Penny had demanded so much of Charlotte’s attention. She would use her teeny fingers to grab onto Charlotte’s hand, and she’d cry whenever Charlotte put her down to take care of Harry. Penny did everything before Harry. She walked first. She talked first. She was the first to join in with other kids at the playground. Harry liked to watch his sister. He watched Penelope walk around their small Pacific Heights apartment for weeks before he took his first steps. And he let her do all of his talking for months before he opened his mouth to say “Mama.” Where in God’s name had eighteen and a half years gone? Charlotte wondered. She was already late for her speech at the Women’s Museum, but she wanted to make one more call. She dialed Harry’s cell phone. He was probably still asleep. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Hi, Mom,” he said groggily. “Can you call your sister today?” “What did she do?” “Go online when you wake up.” “OK.” He yawned. “I’m going to be out there in a few weeks. We’ll have lots of time to visit, if you can make time for your boring old mom.” “Of course.” “Go back to sleep. I love you.” “You, too.” He was still sweet. He didn’t get straight As like his sister, and he didn’t do a dozen extracurricular activities like Penny did, but everyone loved him. Charlotte retouched her lipstick and smoothed her hair with her fingers before she returned to the Oval Office. Peter was sitting on the sofa with Brooke and Mark, and Craig, Dale, and Marguerite were huddled near her desk. “How’d it go?” Peter asked. “Fine.” She didn’t want to rehash the conversation in front of her staff. “Dale, you can tell the press that Penny and I spoke and everything is fine. We plan to spend some time talking politics when I visit later this month. I also spoke to Harry.” Dale was scribbling furiously in her notepad. “Do you want us to address whether she intended for the post to be made public?” Dale asked. Charlotte thought for a moment. Penny had said that she intended the post for her friends, but certainly, she must have known that it would get out. “You’d better not,” Charlotte said. “Madam President, would it be all right with you if we touched base with her to make sure that she and her friends know how to send every inquiry from the press to us, no matter where it comes from?” Craig asked. “Yes. I told her to expect a call from the press office. Peter, maybe you can hold her hand through the process?” Charlotte asked. “Sure,” he said. “Mr. Kramer, we’ll need you to make clear to her that she needs to be highly suspicious of every e-mail, text, and Facebook message she gets today. The press will be relentless in their efforts to engage her. Perhaps Dale can jump on the line for a quick second just to assure her that the press office is here to field all of the calls on this today,” Craig suggested. Peter nodded and looked at Charlotte. “That’s fine,” she said. “Madam President, Marguerite and I will come with you to the speech. We should leave as soon as possible,” Craig said. “I’m ready.” Sam handed Charlotte a fresh copy of her speech, and a Secret Service agent held the door open. Brooke and Mark headed straight to the president’s limo, affectionately called the Beast, for its size and weight.

~~~ 

When I started reading the first book, my mind went back to the excellent show, that I loved, "Madam Secretary." I so enjoyed watching a woman have a significant post in our Government... And, to a great extent, the character that played the Secretary of State had a personality much like Charlotte, our President of this Trilogy. A president, no matter what sex, has a life outside of the position... Yet, it doesn't. Both must be considered. Sometimes that is impossible and a family breaks apart. Most of the time, I believe that when an individual chooses to serve their country, it must be on the basis of the Country coming first... 

I've purposely left out a lot of narrative of these books. There are many other reviews that you can check out. I found that, this morning, after having the loss of my president's decision sink in, my mind went to this trilogy and what happened... That book ends by Madam President going to the opposite party and seeking suggestions for her new Vice President, which would be another woman...

Already, this white male, that white male, or this other white male has been named as a possible candidate... If I had any way to recommend what was to happen, I would whisper to Kamala that she might want to consider a woman, Liz Cheney... Another person whose life was destroyed by the former president... And, if we are ever going to move forward beyond what has/is happening in America, we should try to move away from the republican cult and restore our two-party system. It may have been troublesome sometime. But at least it would still be a democratic nation... Cheney has the credentials and the spirit we need to win... And it would be a move forward by having both the president and vice-president filled by women... Especially after the destruction of women's health care via the republican-appointed Justices. No, I didn't get the idea from these books, but they certainly combine family and the political world in an outstanding, informative manner... Thoroughly enjoyable... Check them out!

GABixlerReviews

Gary Hart, Retired Democrat Senator, Presents The American Republic Can Save American Democracy - Getting Back to the Basics!

 

An Interesting Article Related to Joe Biden

This particular publisher, perhaps because of its being an essay and shorter than most books, does not permit sharing an excerpt even in reviews. I hope you will take the opportunity to listen to the videos I found related to Gary Hart's latest book. What I do in my excerpts is try to share one or more of the most important parts of nonfiction writings--sometimes, I know, it may be the only opportunity for my readers to know what so many writers are saying during this chaotic and, I have to agree with many, dangerous time in America.

Hart concludes his book by spotlighting what happened on January 6th! How many of you remember that time--to me it was worse than 9-11 since those on 9-11 were from another country, while it was homeland terrorists incited by a former president on January 6th.

Hart stated that after 12 years within Congress, he watched the "barbarians" who invaded the Capitol. He wept... Going on to clarify, "it was worse than a bad movie!" He then talked about the "barbarians" sitting at his, or a very near desk of his, rifling into papers, throwing them around, reading and screaming... Further, they demeaned the desk of the presiding officer... and then finished that "vulgar" acts were also committed there... I can see why he cried... It was his life being destroyed by "barbarians" Me, I just got angrier and angrier... Especially, knowing that the VP at that time had refused to do one last thing for his president...overthrow the election... We all know that there were fake electors named and attempted to get to the VP...

I thought it was quite ironic when Hart went on to describe the US Capitol as the "temple of democracy." Why? Because as Christians, we are told that God's Holy Spirit abides in each of us if we accept His love. Now we watched as many carrying or wearing shirts supporting the Nazis and other white supremacists garb, using the American flag to maim or kill... As Hart talked about it being a temple not only for Americans, but also for many world-wide citizens who look to the United States as a country they wanted to be like... Now, as recently as within the last month, three countries--Iran, U.K. and France have voted to remove those far-right extremists from holding office... Will they now be succeeding in working toward a stronger or firm democracy? While some Americans strive to destroy our democracy? What a catastrophe for all of us!

Hart begins his book with what many writers are talking about--retaining our republic as a democracy! And why shouldn't more be talking? Indeed I did have a civics class when I was young. For whatever reason, surely a political reason, that class has been removed from our educational system? Why? Now we are in a mess when our young people don't even know what the Bill of Rights are... Our Constitution? Doubtful... It had never been important, it seems, because all of our past presidents, prior to 2015, was dedicated to the Constitution. 

What occurred during the past administration was bad enough as many of our regulations for safety of our citizens who work in dangerous environments, for instance, was eliminated... Anything that could affect the bottom line of major corporations was stopped, apparently. Nobody could do anything about it, especially when it was instigated by the president, and supported by one political party, and then later, after having added 3 Supreme Court Justices, was able to even remove laws! Hart knew what would happen if America was controlled by an authoritarian president. In essence it would result in no government other than as controlled by that office. Think Putin's presidency which is a controlled election in which he always wins... And if, the last opponent who tried, he was imprisoned and "died" there... Hart is specific, authoritarian leaders undermine and subvert the principles of government. And that the best ways to avert that is to be found in the republican principles and ideals as expressed in our Constitution. So, as a reminder, here's a quick or full presentation of our Constitution...

If you do listen to the original you will learn that, at that time, some people living in America were not even considered a "whole person..." Many changes have been made to improve individual citizens standings since then. Thank God! But at least you will learn how things began...

Hart does a great analysis starting with Civics 101, you might say... "We The People..." and all that... In my opinion, he was so upset (as most Americans were) that when he saw January 6th incited by a president, that he quickly began to germinate just how he was going to write another book...  You might say, that when a former Senator sees that overthrowing an election had been planned, implemented and resulted in an insurrection, he felt that he'd have to start from the beginning...for these "Barbarians." (Again, his word not mine, but you don't see me disagreeing, do you?)

Then Hart starts talking about the threats to our democracy. Wait for it... we all know that it would be "Equal Rights! Or at least the majority of our citizens, especially those that had to fight for rights (and are still fighting--you know, women who have just lost control of our own bodies; Indigenous citizens and All Non-White citizens who are still harassed, hated and often killed just for being the color they are! Or having a different religion than some people...) And, People, Citizens, Let me Tell You It Can Get Worse! Have you heard of Project 2025? I recommend you do some research on this 900-page plan of action if the past president gets to be our next president!

Hart goes over a little history, such as the McCarthy period--no, not the first leader of the house, who was quickly removed, etc as well as the second... Anyway, the first political McCarthy who made a name for himself was calling everybody communists...and the government spent a lot of time and money "policing" who was accused... He points out that both parties have had some problems, but it was most the far right who really got into who had/did support Hitler and a Fascist government... Funny thing is this seems to have reversed this time... That last big chaotic shakeup didn't work, so this time they'll try something else... like, White Supremacy/Hitler's dreams... Then Hart gets specific pointing out that Donald Trump was doing exactly what had already been tried, but in the opposite game... His closure is simply, An authoritarian, strong leader's solutions are always simple, draconian--of great severity), and wrong... And, that they are wrong, simply because they are outside the bounds of democracy, where we the people are guaranteed certain inalienable rights--life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!

Hart's ending is also expected... We MUST save our democracy! He notes that he is writing this book simply because many have not been involved (like me, pre-2015) and are not aware of the very real loss of all of our promised rights under our constitution if an authoritarian--a dictator is elected... I, for one value my freedom for myself and for all other citizens. For me, that means all of God's children--red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight!

Hart joined Keep Our Republic. I just checked and they have general info but also for the 3 swing states of Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin... I've asked for more information to share here if possible... 

Hart's book may not be new in content. What I found most important was that a retired Senator openly admitted that he cried as he watched January 6th...  I was in shock during the actual activities, but had been so involved in news and books related to what was happening, I, just like Gary Hart, turned to activism... I hope that each person who stops by Book Readers Heaven will talk about what is happening. Perhaps referring to something you have learned here. No, I refuse to read books sharing the opposite viewpoint. I no longer am a reviewer that accepts books for review, so have no limitations on what I read--only on what impacts my life, my friends and family's lives and the country that has been good to all of our citizens, even if we had/have to keep fighting those who have different viewpoints... For me, I've read books by people of many races and/or religion. I think I have a good handle on the way the majority feel about their lives and how they feel about what is happening. I believe in the Democratic party now in Office. There may be issues that could be of concern, as I read in my last book about Identity Politics. But, having learned that, I took time to listen and include, for instance, Biden's speech at the NAACP... As Biden says, I believe he has become wiser as a result of his last eight years with President Obama and in our present Administration with Kamala Harris. Specifically, I believe he is so adamant about continuing because he knows that we are already going backward as a result of Trump's court changes and does not want to see more of the America he has supported all his life be destroyed...

A final note, when a comedian's monologue as he begins his show is not funny, you know he and many others are concerned... I've included some of my favorite and most relevant videos for me, in my life... What do you think? Want to share about your concerns? Let's talk via Comments below...

GABixlerReviews

It's Avi's 3rd Birthday - I'm Telling Him - How Much Is a Little Boy Worth? - by Rachel and Jacob Denhollander -Wonderful!

Fearfully and wonderfully made to be loved,Valuable just ’cause you’re you,Uniquely designed, you are one of a kind. Little boy, do you know this is true?

Snuggle up and remind your little boy how special and treasured he is.

Your worth doesn’t come from being in charge,Or from money or fame to be won.Your value is found in how you were made―Worth everything, even God’s Son.

I really enjoyed this book. It has a hard cover at a, in my opinion, reasonable price. I was thankful to find that the publisher provided selected pages to allow us to see the beautiful, colorful and fun pictures that you will find! And, I greatly appreciated the pictures (not here) of many colors of children throughout the book. I always recall so many of my school day friends that were a precious part of my own life... The joy of childhood is a very important part of each child's life. Help them realize, also, the significance of Jesus as one of His friends...

Each of the poetic messages are specifically written to allow young boys and other readers to know that Jesus is always a special part of every child's life. Of course, I had to add it to Avi's personal library... This is a book that I highly recommend! And, by the way, there's also a girl's version...

Jesus and Gabby

Loves

AVI