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Winner of the February “My Gutsy Story®” Contest

March 14, 2013 by Sonia Marsh Leave a Comment

My Gutsy Story 1st place

Congratulations to Sandra Bornstein, the winner of the 2013 February with an amazing 304 votes, more than 50%. I think this may be a record # of votes since the contest started.

 

Sandra Bornstein Cover -Munnar- stop on way to hill station

Sandra, I love reading about adventures abroad, and admire your teaching in India. Good luck with your memoir.

Sandra, a quick request: Can you send your fans over to vote for my “Ticket to Give”  so I can  give TOMS shoes to poor kids in need?

In 2nd Place with another 222 votes, amazing, is Anne Loney with her story of courage and how she is now helping other women who are in abusive relationships.

My Gutsy Story 2nd placew

 

Anne Loney
Anne Loney

In 3rd Place, Diane Danvers-Simons. She has overcome fears in life and is now starting her own workshops called, “Own it, Feel it, Live it.”

My Gutsy Story 3rd place

1-Diane Danvers Simmons Head shot-001

In fourth place with a heart-warming true story of long-lasting love, is Douglas Cooper

Douglas Cooper
Douglas Cooper

Thank you so much to all four of you. You are all winners.

 ***

Please help me out and vote for my “Ticket to Give”  so I can  give TOMS shoes to poor kids in need? See more about it here.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®.” Please see guidelines below and contact Sonia Marsh at: sonia@soniamarsh.com for details.

Please read and share our first  March’s 2013 story by Bonnie Kassel,and our second by Owen Jones.

You can find all the information, and our new sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

***

 

“My Gutsy Story®” Owen Jones

March 11, 2013 by Sonia Marsh 15 Comments

Ready to go...

“The Russian Dissident Viktor Fainberg and Me.”

I studied Russian Language and Soviet Studies at Portsmouth University (UK) between 1972 and 1976. Never having studied Russian before, I had to do the Russian ‘A’ Level in the first of the four years.

Part of my course was the history of the Soviet Union, which obviously included Russia. The Russian history lecturer was Dr. Pavloff, who had studied at Berkeley University, California.

Dr. Pavloff was no fan of the Soviet Union and was heavily involved in the Russian dissident movement. In our second and third years, we were allowed to go to the Soviet Union for six weeks a year to improve our language skills.

The trips were always accompanied by a lecturer and my first trip was to be led by Dr. Pavloff. However, the Soviets refused to grant him a visa, so he couldn’t go.

He and I got on very well and a few weeks before we were to go, Dr. Pavloff asked me if I would meet a friend of his Viktor Fainberg, who was a famous Russian dissident (see Wikipedia for details).

Mr. Fainberg had become famous for demonstrating on the Red Square with Larisa Bogoraz, Konstantin Babitsky, Vadim Delaunay, Vladimir Dremliuga, Pavel Litvinov, Natalya Gorbanevskaya and Tatiana Baeva in 1968 against the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia.

Mr. Fainberg had spent years in corrective camps and psychiatric wards for dissent against anti-Semitism and dictatorship. Anyway, I met Viktor with Dr. Pavloff in the Wiltshire Lamb public house in Portsmouth in the summer of 1974 when I was 19.

We talked in a mixture of Russian and English, partly because my Russian was not good enough and nor was his English and partly to discourage eavesdroppers overhearing our conversation. Dr. Pavloff translated both ways for us too.

We talked about this and that for about an hour then Viktor asked me if I would do a favour for him when I went to the Soviet Union. I agreed, so he gave me a sealed envelope within an open envelope. He said that the inner envelope contained a letter to his son, who was still trapped in Leningrad.

The inner envelope carried no address for security reasons, but the outer one bore contact details. I was to memorize them and destroy it before boarding the plane. He described his son in some detail and told me about his background so that I might better recognize him as he was shy and retiring.

He also asked me to distribute a dozen Russian Bibles for him, which he would get to me later. I knew that Bibles were banned in the USSR. Dr. Pavloff would supply them just before we set off for Leningrad.

One day, about two weeks into the trip, I met a girl on the Nevsky Prospekt. That happened several times a day, because foreigners stood out by their clothing. She asked me if I would like to go back to her parent’s flat for a meal and help her with her English homework. She was about 21, so I supposed she was a university student too.

I went with her and while she cooked, I talked to her father. We got on well, but that is another story. Just before leaving, I had a brainwave. Public phones were traced, so I asked if I could use his. I rang Viktor’s son and arranged to meet him outside our hotel in 30 minutes.

I stood on the corner about five minutes early and saw a very nervous-looking young man walking towards me. His eyes flicked from side to side and at me. He fitted the description, so I took a step towards him when he was about four feet away.

Suddenly, I was tapped on the shoulder and the nervous man changed direction sharply and walked away. I turned to see a well-dressed man with the looks and physique of a film star standing there beaming at me. He held out his hand:

“Hello”, he said, “I am Viktor’s son. How is my Dad? You just rang, so I dropped everything to meet you. Let’s go in here and you can tell me everything over a cold beer”.

This man spoke with an American accent, but the man on the phone only spoke Russian. This man was confident. The man on the phone had been frightened and this man was leading me into a valuta bar, a foreign currency only bar, where Russians were not allowed to go.

We talked for an hour and he kept ordering more beer for us. He wanted to know where ‘his father’ was; what he was doing; was he still insane; did he still hate the USSR etc, etc, but all in a jovial off-hand way as if he were talking about a wayward, silly child.

I told him a few things that I made up but did not give him the letter. I shook his hand and took his contact details which I said that I would pass on to Viktor, which I did do.

He paid the bar bill and we left the hotel bar. A car pulled up immediately and he jumped in. He was waving as it sped off.

I was left on the pavement, thinking about what had just happened. Viktor’s son’s phone must have been tapped – I hadn’t thought of that.

I was thinking that it might be better to ponder it over another beer, when I saw the first man across the road. He was walking up and down a 10 foot stretch very quickly, turning on his heels to walk back and forth, but his gaze never left me.

I ran across the road and as he turned to run off, I grabbed him, said in Russian ‘Your father is thinking of you’ and stuffed the envelope into his hand. He looked at me from a few inches with tears in his eyes and he took off without looking back.

I don’t know whether the nervous man was Viktor’s son or not, but I know that the film star definitely wasn’t.

Owen Jones Bio: Owen Jones was born in Barry, South Wales, where he lived until going to Portsmouth to study Russian at 18. After finishing his degree, he moved to s’Hertogenbosch in the Netherlands where he lived for ten years.

At 32, Owen moved back to Barry to work within his family’s construction company, first as a painter and then as a director, or, as the bank once corrected him, a painter and decorator. He was also office manager for ten years.

At the age of 50 Owen moved to Thailand to live with a Thai girl that he met while there on holiday. He married the woman and now lives in her village of birth in remote northern Thailand.

Owen Jones Book Cover 1

Owen Jones published  ‘’Behind the Smile’’ and you can visit his website here.

Sonia Marsh Says: This is an intriguing “spy” story. Your life seems to be full of “gutsy” adventures. I know you live in a small village in northern Thailand today which sounds interesting to someone who lives in a crowded city.

***

 VOTE NOW for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story®” submissions.

Please vote for your favorite story. You have until March 13th to vote, and the winner will be announced on March 14th.  Good luck to all your great stories.

SCROLL DOWN ON SIDEBAR (right underneath the Anthology Book Cover) TO VOTE. Only ONE vote each.

 MyGutsyStory

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®.” Please submit to sonia@soniamarsh.com.

You can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

 

 

“My Gutsy Story®” Bonnie Kassel

March 4, 2013 by Sonia Marsh 23 Comments

1-Bonnie-Kassel

“Crossing the Sahara”

The pool at the American Embassy in Khartoum was the only place to go to escape the heat. It was 137 degrees when we arrived. My friend Barbara and I were so eager to see the city, we decided to ignore the temperature and went out exploring. When we didn’t return for six hours, the staff at the embassy was worried. There was no shade anywhere and we’d crawled under an uncoupled train in the yards to get out of the sun and passed out. After that, we joined the crowd and sat at a table under an umbrella on the embassy patio for most of the day. They had cold lemonade and it was the gathering place of everyone who wasn’t Sudanese. If there was another pool anywhere in Khartoum, it was a well-guarded secret.

We were excited about the prospect of crossing the Sahara from Sudan to Ethiopia, but unprepared for the information we received. In order to get the necessary permit, the vehicle had to be four-wheel drive and we needed proof we were in a convoy of at least three. Our only preparations had been splurging for a Michelin map so detailed it showed every sand dune in the desert and the wide-track tires they had talked us into getting back at the auto factory in West Germany. We planned to buy a compass in the city, but I thought the store prices were outrageous and decided we could just follow the sun.

One afternoon, two tall men in dark sunglasses sat down at our table and without introductions, bluntly told us we should get out of Khartoum. Apparently a rumor was going around town about a “surprise” coup, and there was a great flurry of activity when we arrived at the transportation ministry to try to talk our way into getting a permit to cross the desert. We lied and said we were in a convoy, they threw some papers at us, we paid and left. No one even came outside to check our vehicle. So at five o’clock the next morning, after changing a rear tire that had gone flat, we left to cross the Sahara in our red Volkswagen. Without a spare.

Bonnie Kassel Crossroads
Crossroads. Photo credit check Bonnie Kassel’s website

Everyone should experience true desert once in their lives. It begins with no roads–just a myriad of tracks heading in all directions without a single structure for a landmark. Not one thing interrupts a completely empty horizon which makes navigating a challenge even if drivers have a good sense of direction, which Barbara and I did not. At first you playfully zigzag, such freedom to drive anywhere you want! And then the heat hits you and you stop fooling around. Travel is only for morning and late in the day. Midday we sat under an improvised blanket tarp fastened to the open car door. We had gallon containers of petrol, a trunk full of tinned food, and water that no matter what we tried, turned hot. Drinking hot water when you’re desperately thirsty keeps you alive, but not from longing for something cold.

But the nights; ah, the nights. When I was a child my parents bought me a globe at the Hayden Planetarium that they’d plug in my room and I’d fall asleep under a ceiling of constellations. It was like that. Without the sound of a bird, a leaf or branch to rustle, or the din of traffic in the distance, we experienced absolute silence for the first time in our lives. It didn’t seem we were still on planet Earth.

During my first crossing of the Atlantic on a French freighter, I loved to stand alone on the deck surrounded by nothing but the sea. You get the point quickly that we’re pretty small and much of what we spend our time doing is meaningless. The Sahara Desert of Sudan embodied this feeling. One leaves these places determined to spend more of your life doing what you love. Without having to live through some crisis, I’d learned at the age of twenty-four what really mattered to me.

When we saw five huge sand dunes on our left, we realized we were lost. The only similar sand dunes on our map were way west of where we should have been, so the “we’ll just follow the sun” plan wasn’t working very well. Barbara had seen a program on TV with tips on how to determine direction if you find yourself in a situation without any equipment. Looking for moss on a tree trunk wasn’t an option, so we tied a string to the eraser end of a pencil, planted the pencil point down in the sand, held the string taut, and indeed it cast a shadow. When I asked Barbara which direction was the shadow and she said she didn’t remember that part, we couldn’t stop laughing.

About two hours after turning and driving towards what we guessed was approximately east, we saw camel tracks in the sand and decided to follow them. No animal could survive alone, there had to be people. The two men were fabulous in their billowing indigo blue robes and white muslin head and face wrappings and they motioned for us to follow them. Back at their camp, women with jewelry-laden wrists would only peek from behind the tent opening. Before we left, the men crouched on the ground and drew pictures in the sand with their fingers to show us the way towards the Ethiopian border. As a departure gift they presented us with a tin of halvah; we gave them a large tin of canned peaches in return. They mounted their camels and through our rearview mirrors watched them running behind the car waving goodbye as we drove off. Today the thought might cross my mind that they could take all of our things, bury us and the car, and no one would ever know. But it never would have occurred to us then, and I know it never occurred to them either.

 Bonnie Kassel Bio:  I have been an artist and traveler all my life. Sketches I drew in Mayan jungle temples and Ethiopian Coptic churches remain a source of inspiration. The blazing saffron silks of India and copper markets of Turkey influenced my palette and led me to work in metal. Kitchens in Belgium, Morocco, and Syria changed the way I cooked. Most of the milestones in my life played out in other countries. Only when I was older did I realize how deeply I was marked by my travels and how everything I am and do grows from them.

Please check out Bonnie’s website, and like her Facebook Page

 Bonnie Kassel Book Cover

 

Sonia Marsh Says: I can visualize both of you, inexperienced drivers in the desert, giggling and being “gutsy” without truly realizing it at the time. In those days you simply viewed it as an adventure; today we would consider it dangerous. I love the realization that you came to Bonnie, in your twenties.

“You get the point quickly that we’re pretty small and much of what we spend our time doing is meaningless. The Sahara Desert of Sudan embodied this feeling.”

VOTE BADGE

February has 4 amazing “My Gutsy Story” submissions.

Please vote for your favorite story. You have until March 13th to vote, and the winner will be announced on March 14th.  Good luck to all your great stories.

SCROLL DOWN ON SIDEBAR (right underneath the Anthology Book Cover) TO VOTE. Only ONE vote each.

 MyGutsyStory

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®.” Please submit to sonia@soniamarsh.com.

You can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

Vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story®”

February 28, 2013 by Sonia Marsh 4 Comments

VOTE BADGE

This time I made a quick podcast.

Please listen and vote for your favorite “My Gutsy Story®”

February has 4 amazing “My Gutsy Story” submissions.

Please vote for your favorite story. You have until March 13th to vote, and the winner will be announced on March 14th.  Good luck to all your great stories.

SCROLL DOWN ON SIDEBAR (right underneath the Anthology Book Cover) TO VOTE. Only ONE vote each.

Our first story of the month is from Sandra Bornstein

Sandra Bornstein Cover -Munnar- stop on way to hill station
Sandra Bornstein

Our second Story is from Anne Loney 

Anne Loney
Anne Loney

Our third story is from Diane Danvers-Simmons

1-Diane Danvers Simmons Head shot-001
Diane Danvers-Simmons

Our fourth story is from Douglas Cooper

 

Douglas Cooper
Douglas Cooper

I’d like to share a photo of meeting some wonderful authors from the GIP (Gutsy Indie Publishers)  Facebook Group, which we’d love to have you join if you are a writer, indie author, indie publisher, or simply have questions about self-publishing.

Kas Sartori, Shelley Miller, Sonia Marsh, Elaine Masters Lois Joy Hofmann, Pennie James, Mary Gottschalk
Kas Sartori, Shelley Miller, Sonia Marsh, Elaine Masters Lois Joy Hofmann, Pennie James, Mary Gottschalk
Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®.” Please submit to sonia@soniamarsh.com.

You can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

“My Gutsy Story®” Douglas Cooper

February 25, 2013 by Sonia Marsh 10 Comments

Douglas Cooper
Douglas Winslow Cooper

 Together Forever…At Last

 Fear separated my beloved Tina and me in June 1964. Courage reunited us, in marriage, twenty years later.

Tina Han Su and I fell in love in February 1963 at Cornell University. I met her when she joined the half-dozen of us in the introductory Chinese class. Tina had started the class mid-academic-year because as you might guess from her name, she is Chinese-American and had already learned some of her parents’ native language at home. I was taking Chinese to fulfill my language requirement with something more interesting than the French and Latin I took in high school.

Tina and I enjoyed our Chinese class together six mornings a week, at 8 a.m. Often she and I then went for tea at the student union. I found her to be not only beautiful but intriguing, considerate, thoughtful, artistic…. She was a pre-med freshman and I was a junior majoring in physics. Each been “stars” in our small-town high schools, but each had to work hard to do well in this much more competitive Ivy League milieu.

Cornell was scenic and challenging, though a somewhat cold place. We provided our own warmth. We went hand-in-hand wherever and whenever we could…around campus, down to Ithaca and back, over the bridges across the gorges, sharing breakfast while looking at Beebe Lake, attending an occasional concert or lecture.

There were few Asian students on campus. Inter-racial couples were rare, but we experienced no hostility…at most an occasional stare. We had many mutual friends.

Apart that summer, we returned for my senior year, Tina’s sophomore year, knowing we might have only our three semesters at Cornell in which to be together. For my birthday in December 1963, she wrote:

Dearest Doug,

You asked me what I would think of these sixteen months a few years from now. My reply–now, after one year, after fifty years:

She then quoted much of John Donne’s, “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning,” one of my favorite poems, the poem that I later read to Tina at our wedding in June 1984.

In it, Donne likens the connection between separated lovers to a draftsman’s circle-drawing compass, its moving foot representing the lover who must travel away, while the central “fixed foot” always leans and “hearkens after it.” The poem ends, in our case prophetically,

“Thy firmness makes my circle just,

And makes me end where I begun.”

Why didn’t Tina and I get engaged, in 1964, or even get married?  In 1964 such marriages were much rarer than now. In the 1960s, some states still had laws against interracial marriage, “anti-miscegenation” statutes. We feared that our mixed-race children would not be accepted fully by many members of either race.

We were 20 and 21 years of age, too young to marry with confidence. A long engagement might have been feasible.

Both sets of parents were against our pairing, for reasons ranging from the practical to the ethnocentric.  Tina was an obedient Chinese daughter. I was less obedient, but I did value my parents’ greater experience. Our marrying would have caused much family dissension.

Tina's son
Tina’s son, Phil Chiang

If marriage to a successful Chinese professional who loved her would be better for Tina and eventually better for any children she would have, it seemed selfish of me to stand in the way. Tina felt the same about me and my best interests.

I had been Tina’s first love. We parted in June 1964, still in love, but afraid to marry.

Where’s the “gutsy” part of our story? By February 1983, nineteen years after we parted, I had been married and divorced, engaged and disengaged. I had reason to believe that Tina’s marriage of fifteen years to a university professor of Chinese extraction had not been going well. Passing through Chicago, where they lived, I called Tina. I had to know whether she still felt for me the love I still felt for her. “Nothing has changed for me in twenty years,” she replied.

We were ecstatic. We communicated by telephone and mail. Soon, Tina told me she was afflicted with multiple sclerosis, though her symptoms were then minimal. I read about MS and was shocked: there was a substantial probability that she would become quadriplegic and ventilator-dependent. My poor, dear Tina! I spent a sleepless night considering whether I could handle such an outcome, decided I could, determined I would, and the next day by telephone, not having seen her in sixteen years I asked Tina to marry me, and she accepted.

Gutsy?  “Love casteth out fear.”

When we met a month later, we were both delighted with the person each had become, both glad we had made our commitment.

Doug Cooper wedding
Wedding with Prof. and Mrs. G. J. Su, Tina’s parents, Doug and Tina, Mrs. P.T. Cooper, Doug’s mother.

We married in June 1984, twenty years after having parted. Our wedding rings were inscribed, “A dream come true.”  Even our parents now approved. Tina’s father’s wedding toast was: “Love conquers all.”

We have had twenty-eight wonderful years of love-filled marriage. The mixed-race aspect has not caused significant trouble. Step-parenting has gone very well.

Health? For the first decade, Tina could walk slowly, drive adequately, enjoy life fully. Then, in 1994, breast cancer struck, treated successfully with a mastectomy and some chemotherapy. Later that year, MS finally took away Tina’s ability to walk. With some help, I cared for her at home.

Doug his wife, Tina and his stepson
Doug his wife, Tina and his stepson

Twenty years into our marriage, in 2004, Tina nearly died from an MS exacerbation that led to a raging systemic infection. After 100 days in the critical care unit of our local hospital, Tina was dangerously weak, quadriplegic, permanently dependent on a ventilator, not expected to live more than a few months, and given the choice of “home or hospice.”

We chose home, with around-the-clock skilled nursing care, and we have had the gift so far of eight additional very happy years.

Engraved on the gold heart charm I gave Tina for her bracelet in celebration of our 25th  wedding anniversary is our motto: “Together forever!”

We have never regretted our “gutsy” choice, to pledge to marry…sight unseen.

 ***

Douglas Winslow Cooper Bio: Douglas Winslow Cooper is a freelance writer and retired physicist, currently helping to manage round-the-clock care of his wife, Tina, who has multiple sclerosis and is quadriplegic. Cooper earned his A.B. and M.S. degrees in physics from Cornell and Penn State and a Ph.D. in engineering from Harvard. He served at the U.S. Army biological warfare labs at Ft. Detrick, MD. An idealistic, rational optimist, he has been active in politics, and his professional life centered on environmental issues. He served as Assistant and then Associate Professor of Environmental Physics at the Harvard School of Public Health and was Research Staff Member at IBM‘s Yorktown Heights, NY, Watson Research Center. Dr. Cooper was elected Fellow of the Institute of Environmental Sciences. Semi-retired, he enjoys reading, walking his dog, listening to music and writing. In 2012 he completed his first book, Ting and I: A Memoir of Love, Courage, and Devotion, now available in ebook or paperback from amazon.com, outskirtspress.com, or through his web site:  tingandi.com.

Douglas Book Cover

Dr. Cooper recently  established a business as a writing partner for those who wish to publish. With his co-author Marie Elizabeth Foglia, he published in 2012 the memoir Ava Gardner’s Daughter?  and with co-author Lenny Golino the memoir The Shield of Gold, both also available from outskirtspress.com, bn.com,  and amazon.com.

You can follow Doug on Twitter @douglaswcooper, and view his blog . Doug has a writing partner site.

Tina has her own blog,  and if you wish to find out more about their memoir, please click here.

Sonia Marsh Says: Yours is a real-life “fairy tale” of everlasting love against all odds. In today’s society where divorce is as common as marriage, nothing can come between the love you have for one another.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story®” you’d like to share?

NOW is the time to submit your “My Gutsy Story®” and get published in our Anthology. Please contact sonia@soniamarsh.com for details.

You can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story®” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here

VOTING for your favorite February 2013 “My Gutsy Story®” starts on February 28th, and ends on March 13th. The winner will be announced on March 14th. We have a two new sponsors, Carolyn Howard-Johson, who is offering her e-book as a prize: The Frugal Editor, and Angela Ackerman offering a copy of The Emotion Thesaurus.

Please check out the following January “My Gutsy Story®”

  • Sandra Bornstein
  • Anne Loney
  • Diane Danvers-Simmons

 

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