Saturday Snippet – John Culpepper the Merchant

Posted on June 13, 2015 by Lori Crane

My new book, John Culpepper the Merchant, takes place in the 17th century, both in the colony of Virginia and in the country of England. England was in the middle of a civil war, and John’s uncle, Sir Alexander Culpepper, was a knight in the king’s army. At the battle of Bridgewater, we witnessed how brave Alexander really was.

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John Culpepper the Merchant

July 1645, Battle at Bridgewater

“Advance the second cavalry!” Goring commanded.

The second group galloped down the hill.

That’s when Alexander saw them on the other side of the stream. Fairfax’s cavalry appeared out of nowhere, crossing the ford with nothing to stop their advance. There was no clanging of armor as with a regular group of horse heading into battle. Alexander knew these soldiers weren’t in armor. The weight would slow down the horses. He had to admit, Fairfax was a brilliant commander. There was no thunder of hooves as the horses were not galloping. The approaching men were dressed in leather jerkins and moved to a strange and ominous sound of marching hooves and creaking leather. A menacing sound sure to make even the most courageous opponent question his bravery.

They advanced four abreast, knee to knee, with four more behind, and four more behind that. There had to be hundreds of them. They looked like demons rising from the very depths of hell, bent on killing each and every royalist. What happened to the day of fighting with honor and valor? When did the parliamentarians stop taking prisoners? When did they start killing every man who crossed their path? The Welsh soldiers were gone. The light guns were gone. The only thing standing between success and defeat were the three groups of horse, two of which were not faring so well against Fairfax’s army.

“Ready your swords, gentlemen!” Alexander yelled to his men who were waiting nervously at the top of the ridge. Nearly half his men were not professional soldiers but farmers. They weren’t used to facing anything this terrifying. He wasn’t sure he had ever faced anything this terrifying. “Steady…” He watched the horses below him advance across the ford, and far in the distance, he recognized a figure dressed all in black astride a white horse. Fairfax. Black Tom, the royalists called him. The man sat tall in his saddle at the back of his army, looking like Satan himself. Alexander felt his adrenaline rise. Today would be the day General Thomas Fairfax paid for his decision to abandon the king’s men. Today would be the day Black Tom took a sword through his black heart.

Alexander’s men waited and watched, their horses prancing nervously. Fairfax’s group of horses easily destroyed Goring’s first line, scattering the men about the marsh like scarecrows. Even horses lay dead. Alexander grimaced as he watched more men fall and some of the horses run off. The second group fought more diligently than the first and Alexander thought for a moment they could win the battle. That’s when he saw the next group of Fairfax’s men on horseback, larger than the first, crossing the stream, again four abreast. There had to be more than two hundred of them.

“Ready, men!” He yelled to his group of sixty men.

Their swords glistened in the sunlight. This would be the day of their greatest victory or their worst defeat.

Alexander took a deep breath, braced himself, and from the pit of his stomach he bellowed, “Charge!”

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John Culpepper the Merchant is available in Kindle and paperback at Amazon.

For pictures, paintings, and documents of the people and places in the series, visit the Culpepper Saga Facebook page.

52 Ancestors #24 The Heirloom

Posted on June 11, 2015 by Lori Crane

This challenge is set forth by No Story Too Small and this week’s theme is “Heirloom.”

I wish I could say I have lots of old stuff, but alas, I have nearly nothing. I have my maternal grandfather’s old cigar box, and a silver makeup compact from my paternal great grandmother, but the most prize possession is now gone. For a while I had possession of my maternal grandmother’s sewing machine, but it was lost in a move years ago. She was an amazing seamstress and worked for the Burnley Shirt Factory in Meridian, Mississippi. I’m certain she’s in this Burnley employee picture taken in 1939, but it’s so small, I haven’t been able to find her. I don’t even know that I could even recognize her in a picture from 1939.

She died at the age of 59 in 1975 and is still greatly missed. This is her, holding me.

Ina Inez Burke Culpepper 1915-1975

It’s Monday! What are you reading?

Posted on June 8, 2015 by Lori Crane

It’s Monday! What are you reading?

“A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens!!

This is one of those classic works of literature that I somehow missed, so I decided to get caught up to the rest of the world.

It’s amazing how our contemporary thought process has changed from not long ago. We’ve become a 30-second sound-bite society, more interested in the quick information than in the whole story. I realized while reading this book that I tend to read quickly. I just want the story. Dickens made me slow down. He took me back to the days when reading was for savor and pleasure, not merely to finish the story. His descriptions are lengthy and vivid, and he breaks nearly every current-day writing rule, but you won’t be able to say you couldn’t see precisely what he was relating. It’s like an old movie where the human relationship and the dialog are prominent, instead of one where things are blowing up in a flaming ball of excitement.

If you have the time to savor a classic work and have not yet read this, I highly recommend it.

It is available for FREE on Amazon…click HERE!

Saturday Snippet – John Culpepper the Merchant

Posted on June 6, 2015 by Lori Crane

If you read the first book in the Culpepper Saga, “I, John Culpepper,” you’ll remember the red-headed wench John’s father was flirting with at the Blackwall Inn the day John was born in 1606. I was tickled to included her in the second book, and in an off-handed way, she is instrumental in saving John’s family at the end of the book.

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“John Culpepper the Merchant”

January 1643, Oliver Cromwell

John and his brother rode through a cold and damp fog into London and went for an ale at the Blackwall Inn. They removed their hats and scarfs and took a seat at the dank, corner table nearest the soot-encrusted fireplace that was glowing warm with embers. A scrawny boy placed a few logs into the fireplace, and the brothers watched the red embers grow into a roaring fire. They ordered a couple pints of ale, and once the barkeep delivered the mugs to the table, Thomas began to fill John in on all the unrest in the land that John had missed over the previous year.

“JC wrote me of the king trying to arrest those five members of the House of Commons and of his raising his standard at Nottingham, but what happened in between?” John asked.

Thomas took a drink and sighed. “Did he tell you about Cromwell?”

John shook his head.

“After the fiasco in the House of Commons, the king fled London and was ambushed in Birmingham.”

“JC told me that.”

“That attack was instigated by Oliver Cromwell.”

“Who’s Oliver Cromwell?”

“Exactly. He’s a nobody, a man of modest means, barely inside the gentry class. He’s sat in Parliament for a few years but has been pretty much useless and quiet. His only claim is that he led a single cavalry troop some years ago, and for some reason, Parliament thought that enough to elevate his status. They placed him in charge of their cavalry. He’s a committed Puritan with deep-rooted desires to take the king down because of his past religious rulings. After remaining quiet and never participating in Parliament’s dealings for years, somehow he convinced Parliament to pass what he called the Militia Ordinance, proclaiming the people of London are bound by law to join Parliament’s militia if called, and he immediately began recruiting men of low birth.”

“What’s the punishment for not joining?”

“Beheading.”

John exhaled and shook his head in disbelief.

Thomas continued. “He’s not recruiting military men or men of gentry, he’s recruiting anyone he can get his hands on. He’s not a trained military leader, so from a strategic standpoint, it’s difficult to guess his next move.”

“How many men does he have now?”

“Probably twice as many as we do. He took over the king’s royal army in London and is recruiting men by force.”

“Have the members of Parliament lost their minds?”

“Apparently so, but not all of them. Many members have disappeared to their country homes. They refuse to participate in taking down the king. The ones who are left, like Cromwell, are now jockeying for position in what they think will be a new country. Parliament is supposed to represent the people, but sadly, the citizens are now afraid of Parliament and the king is nowhere to be found to protect them. Without an option, they’re joining Cromwell’s militia in droves.”

John groaned and looked down into his mug.

An older woman with slivers of gray in her long red hair set two more pints on their table.

“Thank you,” John said.

“You’re Culpeppers,” she said, unquestionably.

John nodded.

She looked into John’s eyes. “You look just like your father.”

“Excuse me, do I know you?” John asked.

“No, you don’t know me.” She smiled and pointed at the mugs. “These pints are on the house. Tell your father to come by and visit.”

“Our father is long dead, madam,” Thomas said.

She spun her head to look at Thomas, shock in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” A flash of sadness crossed her face and she looked back at John.

John wondered how this lowly, tavern wench knew a man of his father’s importance. She was middle aged with soft wrinkles around her eyes, but he could tell by her prominent cheekbones and full lips that she had probably been quite beautiful in her younger days. Perhaps this wench was the reason his father remained in London for lengthy stretches of time so many years ago.

The woman’s eyes became misty. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I was rather fond of your father. Well, if you ever need anything, my son owns the fishery in Maidstone, right on the River Medway. His name is Waller and the place is called Waller’s. You tell him his mother sent you.”

John and Thomas looked quizzically at each other and then Thomas said, “Um, Waller’s. All right. Thank you for the information, madam.”

“Of course.” She nodded at Thomas and slowly backed up from the table, stealing fleeting glances at John. “Just like your father,” she mumbled.

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“John Culpepper the Merchant” is available in Kindle and paperback at Amazon.

For pictures, paintings, and documents of the people and places in the Culpepper Saga, please visit the Culpepper Saga Facebook page.

52 Ancestors #23 Halloween weddings

Posted on June 4, 2015 by Lori Crane

This challenge is set forth by No Story Too Small

This weeks prompt is “Wedding.”

The one wedding date that sticks out to me is that of my 2nd great grandparents William Henry Blanks III and Martha Lettie “Mattie” Carpenter. According to the Lauderdale County, Mississippi Marriage Brides Book 1, page 430, they married October 31, 1867. He was 21 and she was 18. He had lost both of his parents before the age of thirteen, and she had lost her father in the Civil War when she was only fourteen, so I assume they had a deep connection because of that. I wonder if their parenting style was unemotionally cold or over-protective due to their own losses. There is no way they escaped losing their own parents at such young ages without carrying deep emotional scars.

The reason the date sticks out in my mind is because my trophy husband and I share the same date. After losing both my father and my great grandfather on October 31, we decided we needed some good family mojo on Halloween, so that’s the date we chose. I didn’t know until years later the date was shared. Everything I had seen on William and Mattie said their wedding date was November 1st, but when I finally saw the document, it was actually October 31. I also wonder if our picture will look as awful as their picture in another one hundred forty years. 🙂

It’s Monday! What are you reading?

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Lori Crane

It’s Monday! What are you reading?

I just finished “Firefly Hollow” by TL Haddix.

What a sweet story this was! The characters were rich and compelling, the setting was beautiful, and the story was magical.

Set in the mid 1950s, Sarah lives in Kentucky, a place called Firefly Hollow. As a teenager, she trespasses onto her neighbor’s property and discovers a pond where she likes to be alone and reflect. The owner of the property, Owen, admires her beauty from afar, but doesn’t want her getting too close and learning his secrets. As the years pass, the two find themselves thrown together as young adults and they quickly fall in love. His secrets almost destroy them, but eventually he trusts her enough to let her in on his family heritage. There are adult situations, violence, and sex in this book.

Filled with Appalachian folklore, Firefly Hollow is a magical romance.

Check out her website HERE and her books on Amazon HERE.

Saturday Snippet – John Culpepper the Merchant

Posted on May 30, 2015 by Lori Crane

My new release, “John Culpepper the Merchant” is the second book in the Culpepper Saga. It begins in England in 1642 at the onset of the English civil war. The king had been angering his people for his entire reign of seventeen years, and the opening chapter of the book sets the scene. It is one of the catalysts of the war.

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John Culpepper the Merchant

Chapter 1

January 4, 1642, London, England

The king marched into the room unannounced. He walked through the middle of the active session of Parliament and was greeted with stunned silence. Never before had a monarch entered the House of Commons uninvited, and the nearly two hundred members present froze in place as if someone had painted their portrait, capturing the moment complete with paper strewn across tables, pens held in the air, and faces turned to pose for the painter. The king did not return their shocked gazes.

From his seat at a table in the center of the room, JC watched the king walk past him, easily slipping between the unmoving members of the House. JC’s jaw fell open when the king sat in the speaker’s chair. JC looked back toward the door, wondering how the king had entered the room without warning and saw the king’s sergeant at arms blocking the doorway. Behind the intimidating man stood the king’s soldiers—hundreds of them as far as JC could tell.

After a lengthy and excruciating silence, the king rose from the chair. The knuckles of his right hand turned white as he gripped the ball on top of his walking stick. His left hand remained at his side, balled into a fist.

“Gentlemen!” The king narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized each face. It was obvious he was not going to stay as he had neglected to remove his wide-brimmed hat, which matched his black velvet cloak. Underneath, he wore a red doublet and breeches, almost the same shade as his face. “I am sorry to have this occasion to come unto you, and I apologize for violating your parliamentary privilege.” His beard twitched as he clenched his teeth. “But those guilty of treason have no privilege.”

There was a collective gasp from the room, and a trickle of sweat dripped down JC’s back. Parliament had not been convened for nearly nine years, as the king thought it his royal prerogative to rule the country alone, but after Scotland had invaded the north in retaliation for the king’s religious rulings, he desperately needed money to fund his army. The only body that could legally raise taxes to fund an army was Parliament, so the king was forced to call on it. It denied the king’s request to raise taxes, and instead compiled a list of over two hundred grievances against the king, demanding he address them. The document had been delivered a month ago but Parliament had never received word as to the king’s reaction.

JC had not participated in the writing of the grievances. For the last nineteen years, he had worked in the king’s service, just as his family had done for many kings and many generations. He would never contribute to anything as treasonous as telling the king how to rule. During his service, JC had never seen the king’s demeanor this threatening. This unannounced visit to the House of Commons was not going to end well for someone.

The king lifted his hand and gestured for his sergeant at arms to enter the room.

All heads turned toward the door, and all eyes followed the sergeant as he walked to the middle of the room and unrolled a piece of paper. He held it with both hands in front of his face and turned clockwise as he read aloud. “I am commanded by His Majesty, my master, upon my allegiance that I should come to the House of Commons and request from Mr. Speaker five members of the House of Commons. When these gentlemen are delivered, I am commanded to arrest them in His Majesty’s name for high treason. Their names are Mr. Denzil Hollis, Sir Arthur Haselrig, Mr. John Pym, Mr. William Strode, and Mr. John Hampden.”

The sergeant rolled up the paper and stuffed it back into his breast pocket.

JC witnessed a scowl cross the king’s face while the sergeant read the names. The five men were the authors of the list of grievances.

“Mr. William Lenthall,” the king bellowed.

A man wearing a black cape with a white collar emerged from the crowd and knelt before the king. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Mr. Speaker, where are these men we seek? Do you see them in this room?”

Lenthall kept his eyes to the floor. “May it please Your Majesty, I have neither eyes to see nor tongue to speak in this place but only as the House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am.”

The king stared at the top of Lenthall’s head. Lenthall remained still. No man risked a glance toward another or even dared to breathe for fear of attracting the king’s attention. The king sighed and said, “I see all the birds have flown.”

With a flick of his wrist, the king flipped his long hair off his shoulder and marched past Lenthall, leaving him kneeling in front of his own empty chair. The sergeant at arms followed the king from the room. When the door slammed, everyone exhaled.

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“John Culpepper the Merchant” is available in Kindle and paperback at Amazon.

For pictures, paintings, and documents of the people and places in the series, visit the Culpepper Saga Facebook page.

52 Ancestors #22 Middle Temple

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Lori Crane

This challenge is set forth by No Story Too Small,

and this week’s challenge is “Commencement.”

Since “commencement” has to do with school or beginnings, I chose to write about my 10th great grandfather and his brother attending a law school in London, a place called Middle Temple. The photo is a drawing by Thomas Shepherd in 1830, but my guys attended there in 1621. The Honorable Society of Middle Temple is/was a prestigious law school in England, one of the five “Inns” where the rich kids attended. There are only four today, but they still boast the exclusivity of being the places where students are trained to become barristers or lawyers.

My grandfather, John Culpepper, was admitted ‘specially’ to Middle Temple on May 7, 1621 as “Mr. John Culpeper, second son of John Culpeper of Astwood, Worcestershire, Esquire.” His brother, Thomas, was admitted the same day as “Mr. Thomas Culpeper, son and heir apparent of John Culpeper of Astwood, Esquire.” John was fifteen. Thomas was nineteen.

Thomas graduated from the school and embarked on a professional career as a lawyer, but John did not pursue law, probably to the dismay of his lawyer father. John instead purchased a ship and became a merchant. His father did not help him with financing. It was his brother who stepped up to assist him. They named the ship the Thomas and John and John ran a successful merchant business between England and the Virginia Colony. There is some evidence he also sailed to Barbados.

The Inn at the time of their schooling consisted of a group of buildings like a campus, and most of the school is the same today. The center of inn life was Temple Hall (photo that looks like Hogwarts) which was used as a dining and meeting room. Today it is used for banquets and weddings. William Shakespears’s Twelfth Night reportedly had its first performance here in 1602.

There is also Fountain Court (photo), Temple Library, and Temple Church which was erected by the Knights Templar in the 13th century and still stands today.

Members of the gentry class, holding British properness and manners in high esteem must have risen to the occasion, learning the art of persuasion and rhetoric and arguing. One can only imagine the verbal sparring that took place at the time in this hall and around this fountain. Their words had so much more meaning than ours do today.

The Right to Free Speech vs. the Right to Not be Offended

Posted on May 26, 2015 by Lori Crane

The Right to Free Speech vs. the Right to Not be Offended

First… The right to free speech is a constitution right. The right to not be offended does not exist. There are limits to free speech such as lies (yelling “fire” when there is none), derogatory statements about race or gender (which can be construed as hate speech), using obscenities on the radio and tv, and a few more you can look up yourself.

Being an author, a blogger, and an artist, I’m strongly attached to this issue. There is an important discussion going on in this country regarding our right to free speech, and many organizations are circling the wagons, but there seems to be some major confusion between “recognizing bad taste” and “being deeply offended.” There was recently an incident of a satirist being accused of sexual harassment over a college newspaper article published on April Fool’s Day that stated a new college building was being constructed in the shape of a vagina. The charges were brought about by one person, the Coordinator of Women’s and Gender Studies, because she was offended. Apparently, she was also ignorant that it was April Fool’s Day and does not recognize satire. Maybe the article was in bad taste, maybe not. I didn’t read it. But being offended by a satirical piece is a choice, keeping in mine that satire is supposed to be offensive. That’s the whole point. When did America become a place where we have to edit everything we say and write so as to not offend anyone? By the way, that’s impossible. I eat meat. The vegans are livid. I don’t drink coffee. Starbucks just lost their minds.

There is no constitutional right to not be offended. Being a blonde, female, mother, I could be offended by dumb-blonde comments. I could be offended by bad women driver posts. I could be offended by Yo Momma jokes. Being a survivor of abuse, I could be offended by people sticking up for the perpetrator in the recent Duggar scandal, but it’s a waste of my time and energy to allow myself to be offended by someone’s opinion. Some topics such as race, politics, religion, etc. run deeper than hair color or driving habits, but it’s still a waste of your time to be offended by someone’s comment, article, blog, joke, satire, or Facebook post. You have to learn to recognize the difference between opinions, trolls, ignorance, hate speech, and plain ole bad taste.

The silent majority

On the side of simply having a difference of opinion, how many of us remain silent in the face of ignorance or bad taste because we know we’ll be pummeled by nasty remarks from the other side. Are we intentionally and willingly giving up our right to free speech out of fear? What are we afraid of? I’ll tell you what we’re afraid of—there is no longer civil conversation in this country, no debate, no respect. Our problem isn’t speech, it’s lack of respect. How far can disagreements spiral downwards? Arguments, throwing fists, death threats? Why can’t we listen? Why can’t we agree to disagree?

Two distinct issues

I think there are two distinct issues here. The first is the illusion that you have a right to not be offended. There is no such right. If you’re offended, it’s your choice. I play an adult burlesque-ish dueling piano show. I always tell my audience that our job is to offend everyone throughout the night and if they haven’t been properly offended by the end of the show, come talk to one of us in person and we’ll be happy to offend them face-to-face. I’ve never had anyone leave the show or talk to us afterwards. They laugh. They don’t take offense. It’s their choice.

The second issue is the lack of respectful discussion in our culture. Many would rather be right than be nice, and many of us would rather unfriend you than offer our opinions and spark your rage. Is that a problem of lack of respect or of fear or both? Do I allow my fear of your anger to squash my right to free speech? Is it okay that I give you that power? Does your lack of respect give you more rights than me?

Solution

The same answer applies to both issues…be respectful.

From a communication standpoint: Speak, write, show the slightest bit of taste and respect in your ideas. There is a difference between trying to instigate anger and insulting people when they disagree and creating a thoughtful open dialog with respectful and honest communication.

From a receptive standpoint: Be open to other’s thoughts; perhaps you can learn something. Stop labeling and judging, and certainly don’t slam people when they represent an alternative idea. When did we start labeling groups with the sole intent on squashing them? When did our culture shift from meaningful debate to us vs. them? There is no us or them, and we are all members of the same group…human.