August 17 marks the beginning of the Janina Grey/Ten Bucks and a Wish book tour!
We start out in Herkimer and end in Herkimer, with lots of cool stops along the way. So if you cannot make it to either Herkimer event, don’t despair! I have locations throughout Mohawk Valley (and a few on Long Island, even!) so that everyone can stop by and celebrate with me! Stay tune for added dates- including a stop at Gerber’s 1933 Tavern in Utica!
Upcoming Dates and Locations for Book Signing Celebrations:
Saturday, August 17 1 to 3 p.m. The Java Shop 143 N. Main Street, Herkimer NY TEN BUCKS AND A WISH BOOK LAUNCH PARTY
Sunday, August 18 1 to 3 p.m Gerber’s 1933 Tavern 16 Liberty Street Utica, NY Stop in and have a drink and a bite to eat after picking up a copy of Ten Bucks and a Wish. I’ll sign while you dine!
Thursday, August 22 7 p.m. Selden Fire Department 44 Woodmere Place Selden, NY 11784 Selden Civic Association, Selden, NY I will be speaking about my days as a Suffolk Life Reporter covering the Brookhaven Town Beat, and how my experiences are reflected in Ten Bucks and a Wish. Hoping to see my old and new friends from Selden!
Saturday, August 24 10 a.m. to Noon Cella Bagels, 1198 Middle Country Rd Selden, New York 11784 Join me for a book signing and sale while grabbing a delicious bagel breakfast!
Thursday, August 29 6:30 to 8 p.m. Little Falls Public Library, Little Falls, NY Share in the celebration and pick up an autographed copy of my debut romance, enjoy some refreshments and participate in a Q&A after my reading.
We will take a few days to celebrate this Labor of Love on Labor Day Weekend, then we will be back at it on:
Thursday, September 12 6:30 to 8 p.m. Ilion Library, Ilion, NY Join me for a reading and book signing, giveaways, and refreshments as we continue the celebration!
Saturday, September 14 1 – 3 p.m. Frank J. Basloe Library, Herkimer, NY Join me for a reading and book signing, giveaways, and refreshments as we continue the celebration!
I’m so looking forward to this book tour – it truly is a dream come true. Thank you for making plans to share in my adventure!
Seven years ago, my mom and I gave birth to a few dozen potatoes. Someone had given some plants they couldn’t use, and lo and behold, a few months later potatoes were born.
I just didn’t know it until my mom happened to stop by. She stood over my meager garden (12 x 12) that boasted scallions, peppermint, spearmint, sage, tomatoes, a couple of raspberry bushes, and some very unfruitful cucumber and zucchini plants. It was ragtag and eclectic. Like me.
Funny thing is, everyone expects me to have a mega garden,
flourishing with enough food to last throughout the winter. I guess part of it
is that half of my genes sprouted in Tennessee from my mom’s side. The other
part of it is that I’m a tree-hugging hippy and I love plants and being outdoors.
Unfortunately, gardens and I have a love/pity kind of
relationship. I love the thought of having a garden, and the plants pity my
lack of knowledge and know-how.
Anyway! There I was, seven years ago, standing with my mom by my garden. She wore this forlorn kind of amused look as I picked peppermint leaves and shoved them under her nose. My tomatoes had yellow spots and were inedible. And I already told you about my cukes and zukes. Don’t get me started on the slugs.
So, she pointed to this big leafy collection of plants and
asked, “So when are you going to pick your potatoes?”
Did I mention I never grew potatoes before? I’d forgotten what I’d planted. I responded, “When they’re ready.”
She said, “They’re ready,” then ordered me to go get a
basket or bucket.
Then she had me bent over, yanking those potatoes up by the leafy stemmed bunches while she dug with a hand spade. Out came . . . POTATOES! I shrieked with excitement and let out a whoop I’m sure they heard all the way down in the village.
I plopped that bunch into the basket by her feet, and looked up to find her beaming with pride. I pulled out the next bunch, and the next, leaving gaping holes in the earth. I shrieked again, and kept at it ‘til the basket was full and that patch of garden was empty.
When it was all over she watched as I fondled the potatoes
in the basket she now cradled, oohing and ahhing over each little cherub, then
asked, “How does it feel?”
Without hesitation, I replied, “Like I just gave birth. And
you were there helping me push.” She put the basket down and we hugged and for
some reason I started crying. It was such a huge accomplishment, and my mom was
there with me to experience it.
We divided up our harvest, she taking the tinier spuds, leaving me the larger ones. Later that night she phoned to tell me those were the best potatoes she’d ever eaten.
Mom died the following year, in August, when the sun was bright but signs of summer’s end were beginning to show. She loved summer. But as she grew older, she confessed as we sat rocking on her back porch, she did not dislike autumn or winter any more. She said she felt just like the maple tree she had planted in her back yard, changing with the seasons. She held my hand and told me she felt like she was in Autumn heading into Winter.
And then she passed away a few weeks later.
I couldn’t bring myself to plant a garden since then. Every
time I thought about it, I thought about Mom. And the potatoes. And I just didn’t
know if I was ever going to be able to garden without crying for missing her so
,Then, through the miracle of technology, my long-lost cousin Timmy came back into my life, thanks to his wife, Tammy, and Facebook. One day, through text, he was catching me up on the life he shares with his wife and showed me pictures of their garden. He seemed surprised, disappointed, and probably down right shocked to hear I did not have a garden. That’s almost sacrilege for anyone with Tennessee blood in them.
His response was simply, “You gotta keep all things going no
matter what happens. Put a couple ‘mater plants out just to remind you of the
So, I did.
The next day my amazing husband put together my small
raised-bed garden. We went to Lowe’s and bought us some “maters” and a few
I had forgotten how healing it feels to sink my hands into Mother Earth. I healed with every plant I placed in the dirt, as I carried on a tradition my Mom had carried on, that her parents had carried on, and their parents had carried on.
For them it was a way of life. For me, it’s a memorial and tribute to my Mom, my Grandma and Papa, and my cousin Tim. And, especially to my Tennessee Roots.
My garden may be tiny, but it’s jam-packed with love. No
potatoes, but lots and lots of love.
Welcome to Bicolandia! A region located in the Southern part of the Philippines. This blog is dedicated to anything and everything we love about Bicol. Let me tell you about the things that I find interesting in my side of the world.