Years ago, I was seeking employment with a recruiting firm. The person interviewing me opened the meeting with, “Tell me about yourself.†Now, there’s a dreaded question most people have faced at least once in their lifetime. What does one say? How do you answer that question without sounding too perfect or shooting yourself in the foot?

Somehow, without a moment’s hesitation, I came up with an answer to his inquiry. I replied, “I believe I have the best of both of my parents in me. I have my father’s analytical, logical brain and my mother’s fun personality.†My response immediately gave the interviewer a clear understanding of who he would have on his team if I were on board; however, I don’t believe the interviewer expected such a quick and decisive answer. He needed a moment to absorb it.

I have used those words to describe myself ever since. It is the perfect way to sum up who I am and how I function. I love my ability to think, reason, and react in a make-sense manner and often with a laugh. I can see the humorous and often quirky aspect of almost anything.

The interviewer proceeded with more inquiries and then asked me to take a personality test. I had no objection to filling out the form and answering the many probing questions. I was interested in how the test would analyze and describe my personality and how I function in a group setting. And I was eager to see if I agreed with the findings. Shortly after I finished the exam, he received the results, and we reviewed them together. The analyses revealed a few surprises, nothing major, but provided primarily spot-on descriptions of how I function and react to situations and people daily.

As I was perusing the report, I saw a -2 near the top of the page. A bit surprised, I asked what it indicated. He replied that it was my level of patience. I knew I was an impatient person, but a -2? He then quickly added that it was a “good thing,†as people with a low level of patience get things done. He then added, “You are perfect for this job.â€
It’s true. I have little patience for many situations and plenty of patience for others. I know when I’ve come to the end of my rope, but I never let people know I have; it’s enough that I know.

Did I get the job? Yes. He called my home the next day and offered me the position; however, I turned it down. By the end of the second interview, I could tell I didn’t have the mindset, much less desire, to work for a young, overly confident boss who wanted total control over his employees. My instincts told me his business structure had no room for individual thinking. When I turned down his offer, he immediately said goodbye and hung up—no hurt feelings on either one’s part. I went on to find employment in an environment that appreciated my personality and abilities.

Later in life, I reinvented myself, turning my passion for decorating, a long-time hobby, into a business. We all have various talents buried inside ourselves; however, one never knows when the opportunity will arise, either serendipitously or out of necessity, and we find ourselves involved with a passion that has been waiting to become a part of our everyday lives.

When working with clients, I can easily spot when someone needs time to absorb and envision my recommendations; after all, it is their house. Not everybody is quick to follow my logic, although the majority can. Logic and common sense are the foundation of all successful decorating.

I always give sound reasons for my suggestions for a client’s home décor. It’s part of who I am. There is a reasonable degree of teacher in me, and many of my clients say they have learned so much about decorating by listening to my logic and reasoning. Stepping back and being patient, allowing the client to come to their own conclusions is easy. What I don’t have patience for is stupidity, but who does?

After years in the decorating industry, the onset of Covid slowed business. I soon found another strong interest rising to the surface; a desire for writing stories. That is why you are reading my writings on this site. Now, I write and do some design work. Long-time design clients still call upon me to help with whatever projects they want to tackle, and I have more time to devote to writing. I’m happy to be able to keep my hand in one of my favorite things to do while creating stories.

Writing for me began several years ago when I met two women who were genealogists; they were my clients and members of the National Association Daughters of the American Revolution. Describing their research and the aha moments they experienced upon discovering long-lost ancestors and learning the true meaning of patriot, I began my own research to find my mother’s father’s side of the family. Mom’s parents divorced by the time she was a year old. Three years later, her mother remarried, and her stepfather raised her. She never met her biological father until after she married my dad. It was a short-lived reunion.

After much research, I found the ancestry thread that led from her biological father back to my mother. To my great surprise, I discovered that I, too, had a patriot in my lineage. He was a man on my maternal great-grandmother’s side of the family. His name is Gaspard Falcon. I am the only member in the Chandler, Arizona, DAR chapter with a patriot from the state of Louisiana.

People who research their genealogy are passionate about the process; however, it doesn’t mean the younger generations will follow suit. Many women say no one in their family is interested in taking over their books and files after they pass away. I concluded that old photographs, pedigree charts, and ancestorial trees online are not enough to interest the younger generations. And that is why I started writing stories. Nothing makes a long-dead ancestor come to life more than a story that weaves together the threads of relationships.

That is where my writing began. I wrote down the fond memories I have of my favorite relatives. I wrote about family events, many seemingly insignificant yet meaningful to me. I have enjoyed every minute of recording childhood memories. I have respectfully written stories of events that came to light years after they occurred; secrets once hidden are now in the light of day. Learning about my relatives’ early lives after they left the earth has given me a new love, respect, and admiration for those who came through the mental and physical storms and disdain for those who created havoc and despair. I’ve written them down, all of them, the good and the evil; I’ve told the truth.

Then one day, a friend told me about her family, her grandparents, who owned a generational family bakery in the little town of Martinsville, Illinois, and the rest is history. In my next post, I will tell how the book began. I think you’ll find it interesting.