Eva Pasco's Blog - Posts Tagged "rhode-island"
Guest Author Appearance
I am sharing the You Tube video of my guest author appearance from AN HOUR WITH BOB.
A popular Rhode Island-based Cable TV program hosted by Bob Venturini, each show is recorded in real-time (live-to-tape format). So, what you see is what you get!
https://youtu.be/4JoF7aWEBt4
A popular Rhode Island-based Cable TV program hosted by Bob Venturini, each show is recorded in real-time (live-to-tape format). So, what you see is what you get!
https://youtu.be/4JoF7aWEBt4
A Dab’ll Do Ya!
Part 1
A newly published author in 2008, I prioritized increasing my visibility, while adding to my credibility, by binge-writing my way out of obscurity. One way I sought to do this—operative word “one”—was to dabble in writing articles about my native state of Rhode Island (41 thus far), the setting for my novels in the genre of Contemporary. Since I incorporate historic landmarks, geographical locations, and regional culture/cuisine in my stories, this endeavor aligned itself nicely for expanding my author persona.
On that note, I’ll share one of my Rhode Reads, the subject matter of which will wend its way to my current work in progress, set in the rural community of Foster.
Rhode Read: RI’s Official Hotbed of Paranormal Activity (847 views at my web page, Authors Den)
An abridged version:
The Ramtail Factory Ruins
Deep in the woods of Foster, Rhode Island lay the ruins of the Ramtail Factory (Foster Woolen Factory). Founded by William Potter in 1799, and mysteriously destroyed by fire in the 1880s, it continues to haunt the hollows of a town fifteen miles from the capital city of Providence, situated on the extreme western boundary of Rhode Island, bordered by Killingly and Sterling in Connecticut.
Lure of the lore:
By 1813, William Potter expanded mill operations and made son-in-law, Peleg Walker, a partner. Walker, no pun intended, walked the beat as a night watchman, holding onto his lantern while making his rounds to all the buildings, and pulling the cord to sound the bell in the tower to summon workers for the day shift.
Supposedly after racking up mileage on his shoes over several years, an argument between partners brewed. Purportedly Walker retorted to the gist that “one day they’d have to grab the keys from a dead man.”
As prophesized, on May 18, 1822, Potter walked into the factory and found his son-in-law had hung himself from the bell rope with the keys visibly hanging out of his pocket.
Shortly after his demise, strange events occurred: the bell tower struck at the stroke of midnight though no one pulled the cord, prompting replacement of the bell; the townspeople witnessed the mill running without anyone operating it, whereby the water flowed in the opposite direction of the stream; the apparition of Walker making his night rounds holding a lantern; the mysterious fire.
Most of the villagers fled town in fear of the mill. Visitations by The RI Paranormal Group document both audible and physical manifestations as well as photographic confirmation which more than confirmed the area is quite active – “The feeling of being watched closely and followed is a given at Ramtail Factory!”
You Tube Video: Haunted RI – Ramtail Factory (6:17 duration)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISA1B...
Eva’s Byte #320 – A Change of Heart
Inevitably…
A change of heart is part and parcel of evolving. It stands to reason we will change our opinion about something.
Living in Rhode Island, the “Ocean State,” known for its abundance of fresh seafood, clams take the cake: clamcakes, clam chowder, stuffies, red or white clam sauce over linguine, steamers and fried clams.
For years, I’ve consumed steamers (littlenecks) by the pound in drawn butter, and fried clams with tartar sauce sandwiched inside a toasted hot dog bun.
Make those “whole bellies” every time.
These days my change of heart derived from overthinking the contents of a clam’s belly going down my hatch: all of its soft tissue—heart, vein, foot or digger; sand; poop.
True, one can rinse the catch several times with cold water to wash away the grit and sand on their shells. If you cover the clams with fresh cold water and let them sit for twenty minutes, they’ll expunge any excess grit in their siphons.
So they say.
No longer having the gastronomical fortitude of yesteryear, I’m sticking to my change of heart by swearing off steamers and fried clams. That still leaves plenty of Rhode Island’s clammy cuisine for me to indulge at whim.
In my capacity of a writer, I recently had a change of heart regarding one of the minor characters in my Contemporary work in progress. Backtracking to Chapter 75, I expunged his previous course of action.
At this point in time, I’m closing in on Chapter 77.
*May every change of heart be a decision without regret.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
A change of heart is part and parcel of evolving. It stands to reason we will change our opinion about something.
Living in Rhode Island, the “Ocean State,” known for its abundance of fresh seafood, clams take the cake: clamcakes, clam chowder, stuffies, red or white clam sauce over linguine, steamers and fried clams.
For years, I’ve consumed steamers (littlenecks) by the pound in drawn butter, and fried clams with tartar sauce sandwiched inside a toasted hot dog bun.
Make those “whole bellies” every time.
These days my change of heart derived from overthinking the contents of a clam’s belly going down my hatch: all of its soft tissue—heart, vein, foot or digger; sand; poop.
True, one can rinse the catch several times with cold water to wash away the grit and sand on their shells. If you cover the clams with fresh cold water and let them sit for twenty minutes, they’ll expunge any excess grit in their siphons.
So they say.
No longer having the gastronomical fortitude of yesteryear, I’m sticking to my change of heart by swearing off steamers and fried clams. That still leaves plenty of Rhode Island’s clammy cuisine for me to indulge at whim.
In my capacity of a writer, I recently had a change of heart regarding one of the minor characters in my Contemporary work in progress. Backtracking to Chapter 75, I expunged his previous course of action.
At this point in time, I’m closing in on Chapter 77.
*May every change of heart be a decision without regret.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Eva’s Byte #329 – Therein Lies the Difference
Besides the six-year age difference between my younger sister and me, we have a different way of navigating life. Till this day, she has always been a daredevil. I’m the fraidy-cat.
Therein lies the difference.
During childhood and adolescence, I can recall my reluctance to embark on the family’s weekly trip to an amusement park during the summer. My sister lived for getting her thrills on the grown-up rides which required my dad to accompany her. I was more interested in pressing my luck at the game stands. I did enjoy the merry-go-round. And, oddly enough, the Ferris wheel, where my sister deliberately rocked the seat whenever we were stopped at the top.
During my sister’s previous summer vacation here on the East Coast, she and my grandnephew were the only two daring enough to strap themselves in for the Soaring Eagle Zip Ride 115 feet above Roger Williams Park Zoo. I was part of the spectator crowd on the ground below cheering them on.
This year, on Tuesday, all of us—my sister, brother-in-law, and grandnephew—went to Newport, a seaside city on Aquidneck Island in Rhode Island. We toured The Breakers, the grandest of Newport's summer "cottages," and a symbol of the Vanderbilt family's social and financial preeminence at the turn of the 20th century in America. The video shows most of what we explored, traversing the stairs up to the balcony, and another set of stairs to the servants’ quarters. We didn’t have to break a sweat and there was no imminent danger.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v13IB...
In my capacity as a daring pantser, I’m on the final leg of my journey with drafting my Contemporary work in progress. Having finished Chapter 82, the last chapter, I am now composing the epilogue with both feet firmly on the ground beneath my desk.
*However you navigate through life, may you enjoy the ride.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Therein lies the difference.
During childhood and adolescence, I can recall my reluctance to embark on the family’s weekly trip to an amusement park during the summer. My sister lived for getting her thrills on the grown-up rides which required my dad to accompany her. I was more interested in pressing my luck at the game stands. I did enjoy the merry-go-round. And, oddly enough, the Ferris wheel, where my sister deliberately rocked the seat whenever we were stopped at the top.
During my sister’s previous summer vacation here on the East Coast, she and my grandnephew were the only two daring enough to strap themselves in for the Soaring Eagle Zip Ride 115 feet above Roger Williams Park Zoo. I was part of the spectator crowd on the ground below cheering them on.
This year, on Tuesday, all of us—my sister, brother-in-law, and grandnephew—went to Newport, a seaside city on Aquidneck Island in Rhode Island. We toured The Breakers, the grandest of Newport's summer "cottages," and a symbol of the Vanderbilt family's social and financial preeminence at the turn of the 20th century in America. The video shows most of what we explored, traversing the stairs up to the balcony, and another set of stairs to the servants’ quarters. We didn’t have to break a sweat and there was no imminent danger.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v13IB...
In my capacity as a daring pantser, I’m on the final leg of my journey with drafting my Contemporary work in progress. Having finished Chapter 82, the last chapter, I am now composing the epilogue with both feet firmly on the ground beneath my desk.
*However you navigate through life, may you enjoy the ride.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Eva’s Byte #382 – Dust
This week I’m dwelling on dust. It’s everywhere! Not to the extent of the devastating Dust Bowl depicted in Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, but it’s prevalent enough. As every state in New England is experiencing a “flash drought,” the upheavals of breaking ground for a new apartment complex next door, and the process of repaving Route 114 have intensified the distribution of dust.
Dust settles on windowsills and leaves a sandy patina on vehicles in the parking lot. Diligent landscapers brandishing leaf blowers further stir the pot.
Dust, be gone!
You might say, I’m waiting for the dust to settle through the hope of much needed rain to replenish reservoirs, reduce the occurrences of wildfires, stem crop loss, and nourish threadbare lawns. Lo and behold, bouts of downpours over the course of two days brought some relief—in addition to flash flooding.
In the capacity of a writer, dust has settled in the draft of chapter 17 (1726 words) of my Contemporary work in progress. I’m stirring the pot as I draft chapter 18 (304 words thus far).
*May each of us let the dust settle before making major decisions.
My sincere appreciation for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Dust settles on windowsills and leaves a sandy patina on vehicles in the parking lot. Diligent landscapers brandishing leaf blowers further stir the pot.
Dust, be gone!
You might say, I’m waiting for the dust to settle through the hope of much needed rain to replenish reservoirs, reduce the occurrences of wildfires, stem crop loss, and nourish threadbare lawns. Lo and behold, bouts of downpours over the course of two days brought some relief—in addition to flash flooding.
In the capacity of a writer, dust has settled in the draft of chapter 17 (1726 words) of my Contemporary work in progress. I’m stirring the pot as I draft chapter 18 (304 words thus far).
*May each of us let the dust settle before making major decisions.
My sincere appreciation for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Eva’s Byte #433 – All the Way!
One of the many highlights during my sister and her family’s annual visit to our native state of Rhode Island was making a pit stop for wieners at Olneyville New York System Restaurant.
Wieners are reddish ropes of meat consisting of pork and veal, squared at the ends for a snug hug inside a steamed wiener bun—a bread bunting with crusted sides.
The Rhode Island thing is to order one or two “all the way”: a hot dog buried under meat sauce made from a secret recipe, topped with onions, mustard, and celery salt.
That’s just what the bunch of us did.
In the capacity of a writer, I’m progressing all the way to the near end of chapter 38 (1309 words thus far) along the draft of my Contemporary work in progress.
*May each of us go all out to harness our creative energy.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Wieners are reddish ropes of meat consisting of pork and veal, squared at the ends for a snug hug inside a steamed wiener bun—a bread bunting with crusted sides.
The Rhode Island thing is to order one or two “all the way”: a hot dog buried under meat sauce made from a secret recipe, topped with onions, mustard, and celery salt.
That’s just what the bunch of us did.
In the capacity of a writer, I’m progressing all the way to the near end of chapter 38 (1309 words thus far) along the draft of my Contemporary work in progress.
*May each of us go all out to harness our creative energy.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Eva’s Byte #477 – Chowdahheads
Far from signifying “a person regarded as stupid” which is the definition of chowderhead, this hardy New Englander/native Rhode Islander is broaching a clammy subject:
Chowdaheads—folks, like myself, who step right up to the window of a clam shack to order a cup or bowl of chowdah, a rich soup containing clams, potatoes, and onions.
And, I ask: what’s a serving of chowdah without a side of clamcakes?
In the Ocean State, there are three kinds of chowdah:
Rhode Island - our traditional clear-based broth, served mostly along the south coast.
Manhattan - tomato-based broth
New England - milk or cream-based broth (my favorite)
In the capacity of a writer, I’m rounding the bend to the finish line for drafting chapter 59 (1400 words thus far) and closing, along my Contemporary work in progress.
*As summer approaches, may each of us step right up to indulge our every whim.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Chowdaheads—folks, like myself, who step right up to the window of a clam shack to order a cup or bowl of chowdah, a rich soup containing clams, potatoes, and onions.
And, I ask: what’s a serving of chowdah without a side of clamcakes?
In the Ocean State, there are three kinds of chowdah:
Rhode Island - our traditional clear-based broth, served mostly along the south coast.
Manhattan - tomato-based broth
New England - milk or cream-based broth (my favorite)
In the capacity of a writer, I’m rounding the bend to the finish line for drafting chapter 59 (1400 words thus far) and closing, along my Contemporary work in progress.
*As summer approaches, may each of us step right up to indulge our every whim.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
Eva’s Byte #494 – A Moose, I Deduce!
The mighty moose is uncommon in my native state of Rhode Island due to the ease of hunting them with muskets during the Colonial period. The Narragansetts called the moose, “moòsóog” or “moose”.
My recent moose sighting occurred the morning of October 10, 2024:
Driving along Route 114S, the two-lane, also known as Wampanoag Trail, I espied a majestic, golden brown moose running on the narrow, grassy lane parallel to the highway.
Presumably, the highway hipster made it to the densely wooded area just beyond.
I’ve not mistaken a moose for a reindeer, prevalent in my neck of the woods. Its scalloped, open-hand shaped antlers confirm my sighting as such. Besides, I’ve watched enough cartoon episodes of The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends to know it’s so.
In the capacity of a writer, I’ve finished drafting chapter 4 (1466 words) of my Contemporary work in progress. I’ve begun drafting chapter 5 (114 words thus far).
*May self-confidence outshine self-doubt.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
My recent moose sighting occurred the morning of October 10, 2024:
Driving along Route 114S, the two-lane, also known as Wampanoag Trail, I espied a majestic, golden brown moose running on the narrow, grassy lane parallel to the highway.
Presumably, the highway hipster made it to the densely wooded area just beyond.
I’ve not mistaken a moose for a reindeer, prevalent in my neck of the woods. Its scalloped, open-hand shaped antlers confirm my sighting as such. Besides, I’ve watched enough cartoon episodes of The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends to know it’s so.
In the capacity of a writer, I’ve finished drafting chapter 4 (1466 words) of my Contemporary work in progress. I’ve begun drafting chapter 5 (114 words thus far).
*May self-confidence outshine self-doubt.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
