Lorraine Heath's Blog

​For many years, I worked for the IRS. I began as a tax examiner, responding to correspondence from taxpayers who were dealing with erroneous refunds, expected refunds not received, name changes, penalties—any sort of problem you can imagine that arises when people are dealing with a government bureaucracy.
 
I was new to the unit and so was an older gentleman—I’ll call him Bob. He was struggling to understand how we could bring up a person’s account on the computer and determine why the problem arose and what we needed to do to fix it. A lot of information was coded. We had to learn to read the codes. Of course, it being the government, we had to handle volume quickly. And Bob was frustratingly slow and had so many questions. Our instructors would lose patience with him when he kept asking the same questions, when he seemed unable to comprehend how to access the information he needed or how to apply the information to resolve the taxpayer’s issue.
 
Then Veteran’s Day arrived. The first time I experienced it as a government employee I was overwhelmed. Of course, it was a holiday for us. But the day before, every former serviceman/woman arrived at work wearing his or her uniform. A ceremony was held in the courtyard and all the ex-military gathered in the center to salute the raising of the flag while those of us who had never served—never put ourselves in harm’s way—stood at the outer edge of the circle and acknowledged their service.
 
And there was Bob. In his dress blues, with ribbons and medals pinned to his chest. Bob, who up until that day, people in our unit had not truly appreciated. Bob, whose efforts on our behalf, gave us the freedom to lose patience, to be jerks, to forget that we can’t always know everything about the guy who sits at the next desk over.
 
We don’t always know his struggles or his sacrifices, his courage or his fears. When our servicemen and women are out of uniform, we can’t easily identify them to say thank you. Which is the reason that I take a moment to say thank you and shake the hand of any serviceman/woman with whom I cross paths. To a one, they always say, “My pleasure, ma’am.”
 
Today is a day for remembering our veterans. But in truth, we should remember them every day. They are the best of us.
 
Thank you to those who served and those who continue to serve. You are appreciated more than words could ever express.

I’m reluctant to admit it but “Must visit Scotland” wasn’t even on my bucket list last fall when Cathy Maxwell invited me to join her on writing retreat in Scotland. But I thought, “This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.” And I’d known Cathy for years, knew she was a blast to hang out with, has the most infectious laugh, and the others she invited would be just as wonderful. I was right.

Fellow Avon author Kerrelyn Sparks would be my roomie for most of the week as we shared a room at the hunting lodge. I’ve known Kerrelyn for some time, always enjoy her company, and she was the perfect roomie.

I’d never really researched Scotland because I write stories set in Texas or England and that’s where I’d always focused my research. But interestingly, as I was writing my May 2015 release, The Duke and the Lady in Red, my heroine was making plans to move to Scotland and I decided my subconscious was urging me on. Who knew what research or ideas would fall into my lap if I just opened myself up to the possibilities?

My first glimpse of Scotland happened from the plane as we descended out of the clouds. Ah, the green! The green! Presently my neighborhood is on watering restrictions. We can water every other Tuesday. So to look out the window and see such deep green was breathtaking.

Five of us were on the flight: Cathy, Kerrelyn, Bonnie, Deb, and myself. We caught up with Elizabeth Essex at the airport. Denise would join us later that night.

Customs was interesting. The agent looked at my American passport and said in a heavy Scottish accent that took me a moment to translate, “I see you were born in England.”

“Yes.”

“Have you a British passport?”

“No.” I do have dual nationality but I’ve never applied for my British passport.

“Good then. I’ll let you in.”

Ooookay. Not everyone is a fan of the English, apparently.

Then we grabbed cabs, muddled through the traffic. Once we checked into the Grand Central Hotel we were off to explore Glasgow. The statue of Wellington is famous for always having an orange cone on his head.

A light misty rain began falling, so we hopped on the city tour bus. It was damp and chilly, exactly what I expected of Scotland. We stopped for a bite to eat at A Play, A Pie, and a Pint. Kerrelyn talked me into sampling haggis balls. Much to my surprise, I found them tasty. Washing them down with a half pint helped. It was the first of many half pints I enjoyed throughout the trip.

A grand time was had in Glasgow. 
Place mouse over photo for caption In the cabbie driving into Glasgow proper Haggis Balls Kerrelyn Sparks made me do it. Walking the Glasgow streets Dr. Who phone booths everywhere Statue of Wellington famous for having a traffic cone on head