Saint Francis of Assisi (Francie) Buchanan
In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, this newsletter features a little love story. And, like any love story, it’s emotional.
So, if you don’t like emotions, jump over the next block of text and head straight to the book reviews toward the end of the post. (You’ve been warned.)
First, Get Your Kleenex
When our youngest son left for college, our nest felt too empty. So, we did what any sane, albeit mildly grieving, parents would do–we found another baby. A baby born in a barn, which, if you think it over, has divine implications.
We always have named our dogs for saints or theologians. We’ve had Dietrich Bonehoeffer, Corrie ten Boom, and Blaise Pascal. Dietrich and Corrie came to sad ends, their sweet lives cut short by speeding cars (They both ripped right though our invisible fence with the mistaken idea that the grass was greener on the other side. Learn your lesson from them.) Blaise, a border collie running phenom, had to relocate to the country. She just didn’t have enough room even though we had a big yard.
So, we’d had our hearts broken three times when we adopted our next fur baby. But, it’s always a risk to love, isn’t it?
On that cold, gray December day, when we learned of a show Corgi who had dabbled with a Yorkie (these things happen), we knew we had to see this accidental designer dog. We drove over hilly, country roads to the western Kentucky farm and promptly fell in love with a fuzzy, fidgety, floppy-eared dynamo. In no time, we had a name for her: St. Francis of Assisi. We called her Francie.
Francie was a bundle of fun right from the first. When those Corgi ears eventually stood up like soldiers at attention, nobody could resist her charms. She was energetic, playful, smart, and compassionate–always ready to comfort me with those soft brown eyes when I was upset.
As you have probably figured out by now, this is a eulogy. We had to say goodbye to our dear girldog this week. She’d been faithful, loving, and adorably ornery for seventeen years, but she was ready to go to those green pastures where there are no fleas, where those big brown eyes of hers would be restored, her hearing renewed, and her dignity revived.
I’m crying as I write this. It’s just so hard, darn it. We miss her tap-dancing around the house. I swear she clicked each nail individually when she made her nightly rounds. We miss her cold nose nuzzling us into action. We miss her helicopter ears flapping in the night and her soft snore as she dreamed of rabbits and squirrels and birds. But mostly we miss her unconditional love. Joyful. Playful. Personality plus. That was our Francie.
There’ll never be another like her.
Okay, thank you for indulging me. We now return to our originally scheduled programming…
A Few Good Books Coming Out This Month…
As an author, any book about writers, novels, or the publishing industry is like catnip. Set For Life absolutely captivated me and, even though the protagonist was extraordinarily flawed, I couldn’t help but root for him. Andrew Ewell’s writing is gorgeous and his character development is spot on. Themes of marriage, friendship, failure, and success are explored against the backdrop of art, university life, creative productivity, and originality. Questions abound—who has the right to tell “your” story? being the primary one. But questions about fidelity, integrity, and morality are asked in every chapter, and the reader is tugged along by a man’s journey toward defeat or redemption.
The Painter’s Daughters by Emily Howes, Pub Date: 27 Feb 2024
Emily Howes delivers a beautiful, haunting story that explores family dynamics, mental illness, love, and devotion in The Painter’s Daughters. The painter is the renowned 1700s artist Thomas Gainsborough and his two daughters, who were the subject of many of his canvases, are Peggy and Molly Gainsborough. The sisters are as close as two sisters can be. When they’re young they play together, wandering the countryside to their mother’s dismay. They spy on their father together, learning things they’re not sure they understand. And they grow up together, navigating relationships with young men. But they also share a secret that began early in their lives when Molly begins to experience bouts of severe confusion. From the start of Molly’s mental troubles, Peggy feels compelled to manage things for her, to sweep reality away from everyone’s attention. With gorgeous language, Howes paints a portrait of two sisters’ relationship, revealing a complicated equation of love and control. The book rings with truth, insight, emotion, and candor. I loved it.