Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

Extra Special Treat – From Me

As you well know, Mother’s Day is just around the corner.  I thank everyone for their Mother’s Day contributions; please continue to send them in.  I have decided from the results of the votes, even though more of you voted for contests, this time around,

I am going to have regular submissions. 

The reason for this is that many writers felt a bit intimidated by the voting and were not sending in their submissions because of it.

Now we cannot have a newsletter without writers can we! In place of voting I will choose my favourite story from the group and it will be called publishers pick.  After we try this experiment, I will put it to the membership once again to see if you prefer a full-fledge contest or publisher’s pick.

Speaking of Mothers Day, looking for a nice gift for mothers of all ages?  Why not consider a gift that can last a lifetime, a gift that can be passed on from generation to generation, and a gift that will surely bring great joy?

I am talking about giving a book. I have a few books to suggest but the first one will be my own book no doubt.

Picking up the Pieces: A Woman’s Journey

Publish America

ISBN: 141371921X

Picking up the Pieces: A Woman’s Journey is my life story.  It was inspired by the many writers on Storytime Tapestry who convinced me to write!  Later it became a labour of love for my grandson Tyler Anthony Roach, who may never see his gramma again.  I wrote the book so he could share my sorrows and joys and through them get to know me. I wrote it for the rest of you to be inspired by this little girl who grew up in the ghetto and made something good out of herself.

Here are just a few reviews for the book found on the website www.publishamerica.com, or www.amazon.com

Review of "Picking Up the Pieces - A Woman's Journey" by Carol Roach.

Carol Roach introduces her book of survival with the most honest sentence she could have chosen for such a tale: I grew up poor in a dysfunctional family. Thus begins her story, a saga that begins long before the author was born and didn't end until Carol Roach courageously ceased to be a victim.

As in many memoirs, Roach begins by giving us a glimpse of the background history of the family. Unloved women, alcoholic men, abandoned children. Generations of pain. In spite of it all, the author was the lucky one. She ended up with her grandmother, a woman with her own problems but one who took this lonely child to her heart when nobody else wanted her.

This book of painful, harsh, and then joyous memories covers everything from the loss of family, racism, prejudice, discrimination, love, loss, birth, death to the day a cycle of lost women ended. It shows us friendships and relationships, the highs and lows, the misery and the healing, and the acceptance of a higher power who loves us in spite of it all.

Pet lovers will bond with the stories Roach shares of her pets. These animals give solace to a girl who always felt different; they now fill a special place in the "new" life of this extraordinary woman. Who could help but admire a person who breaks the housing rules to give a home to a poodle she named Tammy Twinkles?

In a section she titles, "The Next Generation," Roach carries us through her marriage, the birth of her son, divorce and the death of her beloved-angel grandmother. The son, Steven, comes to live full time with the author and is traumatized by the upheaval of his life--the father is on the fringes of the boy's life, the grandmother is gone forever, and there are behavioral problems. Through it all, Roach makes sure this loved child never suffers the same pain as the mother. And she works hard at making a life for herself and her child that will not take them down the same road as the past.

If you only purchase one book this year, make it Picking Up the Pieces. If you have never lived such a life, you will know how blessed you are. If you are going through such times, Roach will offer you the promise that you can survive. She carries us along with her, shares her guardian angels, and reaches out to support people who need her understanding.

For Carol Roach lifted herself up, earned college degrees in spite of a learning disability, and created a life she could finally call her very own. She continues to touch readers with the beauty of her poetry and the wisdom of her prose. This book will bring each of you, no matter what the circumstances, hope to build on the precious things in your life.
Barbara Deming

Second Review

 Heartwarming, October 25, 2004

Carol Roach bears her heart in this tender story of her life. Taking us back to before her birth, she shows how one family travels along a particular road and the effect it has on forthcoming generations.
In this work the author shares stories that are deep in emotional ties, as the characters are revealed aand their hearts are laid bare before you.
The stories brought forth many emotions in me. Some made me smile, some made me angry, others brought tears to my eyes, but in each I was brought closer to understanding the journey that life carries us all on.
The author goes beyond the past and takes us yet on another journey of making oneself into the person we know we can be, not the person others feel we are, or try to make us believe we are.
I enjoyed this read. I found it interesting and warmhearted. I also feel it can help others to forge ahead and know what is important in life and what is not.
A great read to cuddle up with, smile a little, cry a little and be reminded, not matter what our past maybe, our future is in our hands, and within ourselves we can obtain all we dream we can be.
Shirley Johnson
Senior Reviewer
MidWest Book Review

And now for an excerpt from the book just to whet your appetite:

Little Girl Neglected

The year was 1916, and George was so proud of his new baby girl. Little

Doris was just two pounds, a miracle baby, and George was only too happy

to parade down the streets of Montreal with his little angel. Things would be

different now that he had his baby girl. Let the mother, Myrtle, take care of

those worthless boys. After all, she wanted them and she protected them, so

let her take care of them. Doris was his child—the only one he ever wanted.

George had two older boys: Georgie, who was four years old, and Vernon,

who was two; both were weepy little brats. Doris, on the other hand, was not

going to be like that. She was going to be tough and strong. “No one will push

her around,” reasoned George that day as he took his daughter from place to

place showing her off to all his drinking buddies.

“Congratulations,” they all spouted. “Now you got your girl. That should

make up for the loss of the other baby, now shouldn’t it?” George just

shrugged it off, the loss of that boy—the oldest of the lot—was not his fault,

so he reasoned. It was Myrtle’s fault since he told her to stay home that night!

For a moment his mind drifted back to that God forsaken evening when he

lost his son and his Myrtle forever. Myrtle was young and stupid; he never

knew why he married her in the first place. Seventeen years old and a mother

of a sick two-year-old with whooping cough, and she needed to go out ice

skating.

“Why would she listen to that old woman anyhow? What right did my

mother have to tell her that she could go ice skating and leave that baby with

me! That meddling old fool of a mother of mine is bedridden, she couldn’t do

anything for that sick kid; yet she tells Myrtle it’s okay to go out and enjoy

herself because she has been working way too hard taking care of the kid.

Who gave her the right to say that I would look after him! I’m a man and it

ain’t my place to be doing woman’s work.

“Myrtle listened to her. She didn’t listen to me! I told her I wasn’t gonna

look after that baby for her so that she could have a good time. I told her and

 I meant it. When the kid started coughing, the old woman would not stop

yelling at me to see about it. But what the heck did she want me to do? I’m no

woman or no darn doctor. It’s not my job, so I let the brat cough and cough and

cough while I drank my rum. He coughed and coughed and coughed until he

could cough no more.”

George did not get to see Myrtle when she came through the door; he was

still fuming at her for leaving the baby. He didn’t see her but he heard the

agonizing scream, when Myrtle’s precious son, her only child at the time, lay

dead in his crib.

They say that Myrtle never was the same after that. She hated George

immensely but she had nowhere to go. She was enticed to leave her home in

Nova Scotia to come to Montreal, Quebec, to marry George, and by doing

that she was disowned by her own family who disliked George from the

beginning. Although she stayed with him and had three other children—

Georgie, Vernon, and Doris—she was miserable. She could not go back.

Some folks said she went crazy in the head. George blamed her for the death

of their son, and although she provided him with two more sons and a

daughter, he would never forgive her.

The bright, spirited, young girl from Nova Scotia ceased to exist and so

begins the legacy of the little girl neglected.

Myrtle really wasn’t right in the head, as everyone had said. The senseless

death of her son tormented her soul and took hold of her mind. Her first

attempt to rescue herself and her three remaining children from her husband

was spoiled when she tried to leave him and return to Nova Scotia. George

was able to get a warrant for her arrest, and Myrtle and the children were

apprehended before they ever had a chance to enter Nova Scotia.

George forced her to move out of his house but without the children.

Myrtle was afraid for the welfare of her children when she left the house. She

devised a plan to kill both her children and herself, thereby being free of

George at last.

She went back to the house one day when George was at work and told the

bedridden grandmother that she wanted to visit with the children. She said

she would take them to the park. Instead, she took them to her flat where she

locked all the doors and windows and turned on the gas. Fortunately for the

children, a neighbour smelled the gas and alerted the police. After the

investigation was over, Myrtle was banished to Nova Scotia and told never to

return or she would be arrested for attempted murder.