Location: Santa Rosa, Calif.

We didn’t raise our children to believe in Santa Claus. It wasn’t that we told them there wasn’t a Santa Claus; we just didn’t discuss him as a present-provider. We sort of punted on the subject, especially when we hung Christmas stockings.

My mother was shocked. “I can’t believe they won’t have Santa. Who will they think brings the presents?”

Me: “The people they can honestly thank.”

We attended Bishop Seabury Episcopal Church when my first children were toddlers, and I thought the church handled the Santa Claus issue beautifully. They celebrated the feast of St. Nicholas on the Sunday closest to December 6. Along with the pastor, one of the elders, clad in the traditional red and carrying a staff, walked down the aisle to start the service. He sat in one of the pulpit seats, and the pastor always preached a sermon about the historic man. That’s what the kids knew–St. Nicholas was a real man who brought gifts to poor children long ago.

We had many friends at the time who also didn’t bring their children up to believe in Santa Claus, and that resulted in one sweet Christmas story. As the days drew closer to December 25, a friend visited the commissary with her two little boys. The well-meaning clerk leaned over the counter to hand out candy canes and asked, “Who’s coming to your house soon?”

Josh grinned from ear to ear. “Daddy!”

The boys’ father came home the day before Christmas that year.

Santa used to ride on submarines as they came into port at Christmas time. Shouting, “ho, ho, ho,” he would hand out candy canes.

We explained to our children that some people believe Santa is real, therefore the kids needed to “play along” with the story-line and not dash anyone’s hopes. “It’s a pretend game.”

My children took the candy canes and politely thanked “Santa.”

Some of the best Christmases of their youth, however, were spent with my aforementioned mother, who struggled to honor our wishes but wanted to introduce her grandchildren to the “fun” of Santa Claus.

An old family friend, practically an aunt, made the rounds every year dressed in a Santa suit and toting an enormous bagful of treasures. During one of our visits, when the jingle of bells sounded outside my mom’s Southern California screen door, the boys ran to see what was up.

My mom got her wish: Her grandchildren had gifts to open from Santa. The boys pretended they didn’t recognize Santa. We all played with the toys and scarfed down the candy canes.

The boys hugged Santa and said, “thank you.” I did, too.

Some times you have to punt. Sort of.

Happy new year.

Location: Mainland, USA

Thanks to you, American taxpayers, my family spent four years sunning ourselves on the shores of Pearl Harbor while my husband rode his bike to work at the Navy base to repair submarines.

Christmas in Hawaii means finding a Yule-oriented T-shirt to wear with your shorts and trying to keep the tree alive until December 25. (All Christmas trees arrive in the islands by ship the day after Thanksgiving. Since they’re the only ones coming, you might as well get your tree while it still has pine needles).

All our friends in Navy housing were considered haoles, no matter their skin color, because they were not originally from Hawaii. That meant we were all in a foreign place together at Christmas.

Which brings me to the Christmas ornaments and other trinkets.

Our first Christmas in the islands, we sent home Hawaiian objects that reflected the holidays: a nativity in a coconut shell, shell leis, Hawaiian-fabric Santa hats, and a personal favorite: Waikiki Beach sand (spread sand on a cookie sheet, heat oven to 400 degrees. Bake five minutes. Run your fingers through the sand, and you can say you played in the sands of  Waikiki at Christmas).

And of course, the Christmas ornaments.

I’ll give you a sample of what we have. Some were gifts from other haoles, some we purchased ourselves. They all bring a smile to our lips as we remember the aloha spirit always bidding us, and you today, “Mele Kalikimaka.“

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

After my father’s death in 2002, we honored my parents’ memory by spending inheritance money on a family trip. My husband longed to visit Middle Earth, so once the college kids got out of school in December, we packed up and headed to New Zealand.

We camped in an RV and traveled from Auckland on the north island all the way to Milford Sound on the south island. We reveled in a land of rock-floating lakes, geysers, straight-as-arrow planted forests, dolphin-friendly swims and the hint of hobbits at every turn. (We were there for the release of The Two Towers, but that’s another story).

Arriving the week before Christmas, we enjoyed not being inundated with ads for Christmas events. We saw Christmas lights decorating houses in only a few locations. Stores didn’t seem too concerned with the holiday, and we saw few mentions of Father Christmas or even toys for children. We liked it.

Christmas Eve found us at a bridge watching folks in Father Christmas hats bungee jumping. One woman had to be pushed off but came up screaming in ecstasy. I later saw her in a Queenstown church, no doubt thanking God she survived!

We had dinner that night in the only restaurant open: the Queenstown Hard Rock Cafe.  As we ate hamburgers and listened to a group of drunken kimono-clad Japanese businessmen sing, we felt very far from home.

That night most of us slept on a yacht owned by Winston Churchhill during World War II . Early Christmas morning we took a short cruise along Lake Wakatipu with our personal Commander (my former submarine commander husband) giving the yacht owner tips on craft. We exchanged presents–Kiwi items small enough to fit in our stockings brought from home.

Still not feeling very Christmasy, we finally found what we needed: the 10 o’clock service at St. Peter’s Church in downtown Queenstown.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the back row of the standing-room-only crowd, we sang Christmas carols with gusto, delighting in the clever differences in songs from down under. Here are the first two verses of  “An Upside-down Christmas:”

Carol our Christmas, an upside down Christmas;
The snow is not falling and trees are not bare.
Carol the summer, and welcome the Christ Child,
Warm in our sunshine and sweetness of air.

Sing of the gold and the green and the sparkle,
Water and river and lure of the beach.
Sing in the happiness of open spaces,
Sing a nativity summer can reach!

Following the service in The Book of Common Prayer, we relaxed into a liturgical worship service we well knew. Communion felt comforting and holy among the people of Otago Shire. The Christ-child is the same down under.

The service finished with happy New Zealand carols.  “The Southern Cross Looks Down,” (sung to the tune of “O, Little Town of Bethlehem”) made us laugh:

O little town of Bethlehem,
the Southern Cross looks down,
As once a star shone bright and clear
above an Eastern town,

The hearts of Bethlehem are cold,
the streets are hushed with snow,
The doors are locked, there is no room,
dear Lord, where will you go?

Oh, come sweet Jesus, come to us,
New Zealand’s shores are warm,
And here are loving hearts enough
To shield you from the storm.

Come we will give you all we have,
Each bird and flower and tree
The breeze that stirs the mountain tops
The music of the sea.

Our family loved New Zealand, a land filled with happy people and stunning scenery. We would love to visit again, but that trip convinced us we would rather be home on Christmas.

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

I’m stretching the time-frame for my remembered Christmas from childhood into my adult years, as I recall the most splendid toy given to me. I don’t think you’ll mind. Who can argue with the joy of a puppy?

He wasn’t particularly little. Albeit only eight weeks old, the half German shepherd, half golden retriever was a gorgeous dog with floppy ears, big paws and a happy tongue. My two-year-old son couldn’t stop giggling at the surprise.

The two-year-old who wasn’t potty trained.

Did I mention I was seven months pregnant?

My husband was so excited to bring home a puppy. I’d never been allowed one while growing up, and he knew, just knew, he was making a dream come true.

Really?

Who was going to clean up after this little boy? Er, this puppy? You know, out in the yard?

We lived in the country without any neighbors, up on a granite ledge in Connecticut that backed up to the U.S. Navy submarine base. Surrounded by woods, we were in a lonely spot. That was part of the reason for a dog.

My husband was about to become the chief engineer on the oldest nuclear submarine in the Atlantic Ocean.  ”I’ll be going to sea. It’s just you and the kids up here by yourselves. I’ll feel better knowing you have a watch dog.”

I looked at the puppy that already had wrapped his teeth around my slipper. I’d always wanted a dog…

We named him Diggory. He was an excellent watch dog.

A memorable Christmas gift that kept on giving? You can guess what I cleaned up for the next six months.

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa

“I typically go overboard when I research new projects.”

~Will Wright

In 2000, after five years of hard work, I realized I could spend the rest of my life researching my family history and never write it down. As each rabbit trail narrowed to dust, as I pulled the final book off the shelf of Virginia counties, as my husband asked if I’d ever be done, I’d wonder, “What if?”

What if I missed some fact?

What if I found another tiny piece that opened the story up like a field in the game Minesweeper?

What if Abraham Lincoln really did carry around a piece of paper in his pocket that said, “This is the list of all my relatives, particularly my descendants leading to Michelle?”

How could I risk it?

It came to an end in the Mecca of genealogical research: The LDS Family History Library in Salt Lake City, Utah. I spent ten hours the first day, eight the second. My husband pulled me babbling out of the stacks that last day, and I knew I had crossed the line. The research was done.

I stopped checking “one more fact” on September 1, 2000. I then finished writing the book.

The project I’m currently investigating has an overwhelming number of items to review and books to read. I have to steep myself in language, items, culture, religion and even a war. I could easily spend the rest of my life researching.

But I have other things to do and the book is begging to be written. I could let myself be bogged down in searching out one more interesting fact, but the story–the point–would never be told. There will come a time when I declare the fact-finding finished.

Of course I’ll continue to read and examine leads as they turn up. Google will remain my constant friend and fact-checker, but enough. I need to write.

Research is fun. Tools can be exasperating or thrilling. Odd facts spark the imagination. Stories intrigue and of the making of books, there is no end.

But then, of course, there’s still real life to live. You owe it to your family.

How do you know when you’ve researched enough? When do you decide you’re ready to write? What’s your favorite part of the researching process?

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa

“To do the writing, I have to have time to do research.”

~ Jean-Jacques Annaud

Modern technology provides wonderful tools for research if you know how to harness them. And not just electronic texts, library catalogs, Google and microfilm.

How about your cell phone or digital camera?

It turns out many research libraries have embraced technology and encourage readers to take a photograph with their smart phones rather than run an elderly volume through the copy machine. It’s easier on the book, cheaper on the pocket and much faster. What a concept!

While wending my unwieldy way through microfiche, I thought about the photography process and the dimes falling out of my pockets as fast as I could grab them. If I owned an I-pad, I could just take a photograph of the entire microfiche in one setting, then enlarge the page I wanted to read. Think of the hours that would save.

A genius at the Apple store confirmed the process works beautifully–he had used it himself with parts fiche at a store where he worked. The ever-faithful media librarian at Sonoma State Library was intrigued and willing to give it a try–until he realized we’d need a back light. We couldn’t find a microfiche-reading app, but that doesn’t mean one hasn’t been invented.

Meanwhile, back at the public library, I was thrilled to order microfilm from a special collection back east. But  I paused at the money and the manipulation I would have to do to review 650 items. When I mentioned my concern to the librarian, she brightened. “We have a new USB cord device. You still have to scan everything you want, but you can hook the machine up to your laptop, and the pages can go right onto your computer.”

Glory! I’m thrilled.

Even though I’ll still have to review all 650 items, I won’t have to shell out 650 dimes. It will still take hours to go through everything, but at least I won’t have to haggle with the photocopier–nor purchase an expensive I-pad.

I won’t be able to use a “find” program to look for specific words or items–everything will be written in 19th-century handwriting–but if it’s on my computer, I can read it at home. Not having to sit in a dark library for hours–as I did reading microfilm in the 20th century–will be wonderful.

What type of technology tools do you use in your writing and research? How do you save it  and manipulate it?

Better question–do you think I can justify buying an I-pad? 

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

“My writing has to support more than my research habit,

but I love to curl up with a book about some dusty corner of history.”

~Lynn Abby

Once I’ve found basic information electronically, I like to move over to books.

I start with Amazon.com.

Typing in “Luther Burbank,” I have 826 options to choose from.  I tend to work backwards, from the most recent until I can’t stand the hunt anymore. This provides an overview of the most recently written book about a subject–which is important when I write a proposal. Depending on my angle, I may type a more narrow topic, say “Burbank potatoes,” into Amazon’s search engine as well.

I use Amazon for a bibliographic overview and then head over to the local library’s web-based catalog. I reserve the books I want, and I’m on my way. (Our public library had 1,400+ works about Luther Burbank).

I’ve recently been researching events in the 19th century, and some books are difficult to find. That quest has taken me to nearby Sonoma State University’s (SSU) Charles M. and Jean Schultz Library (with its fantastic Snoopy retrieval system). Luther Burbank turns up in 57 volumes at the university library, but I can also search for him in scholarly journals, dissertations, theses and microfilm.

In the recent case of my own project, I’ve had to travel–at least mentally–further afield.

Through online library catalogs, I learned a university library back east has an entire collection of papers from the principals involved in my story–including a diary. I knew I had to get my hands on that diary and examine all the other items in the collection: 650 in all.

Before I became too involved in my plans to travel back east, I learned the special collection section was closing for renovation, and the collection would be unavailable for four months.

But that diary would give voice to my character . . .

On a chance, I sent an e-mail to the librarian, explaining what I sought. He wrote back to say I was out of luck for examining the collection physically, but the whole thing had been microfilmed.

Did you hear me screaming? I drove directly to the Sonoma County Library and ordered the microfilm. When I explained why, the local librarian joined me in my enthusiasm.

That left me with only one major book unaccounted for. I had to read it, and then my primary research would be finished. A first-person narrative, this book also would give voice to another major character. The SSU librarian was helpful and sent me a link listing all the local places that owned a physical copy of the book: Pacific Union College, UC Berkley, even the San Francisco Public Library (“Hey, maybe you could get that through Inter-Library loan?”).

The book is 400 pages long and densely written.

I went to Google Books (FYI, 223,000 references to Luther Burbank) where I could read excerpts, but not the full book. I couldn’t download the book to my computer, so that wasn’t going to work.

I went back to Amazon to check the price of buying a copy.

Free download to my Kindle.

Even the SSU librarian was shocked. “How can that be?”

The book was first published 150 years ago and is out of print. I guess.

In the past, I’ve had good luck with Google Books, but the March 2011 settlement seriously cut into how much material is posted online. As a writer, I’m delighted; as a researcher, I’m disappointed. Old books I could access easily in the past are now off limits, while a 1986 book I happily purchased is posted almost entirely on Google Books. I don’t know how they decide how much to post.

But Google Books is an excellent place to do obscure research, adjusting your search criterion as narrowly as possible and using many different variations. If nothing else, it will suggest other places to look for information.

What magic findings have you made in librarires electronically? How do you handle electronic libraries? Is there anything researchers should be wary of?

And did anyone notice some of the real heroes are the LIBRARIANS?

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

“I basically did all the library research for this book on Google,

and it not only saved me enormous amounts of time

but actually gave me a much richer offering of research in a shorter time.”

~Thomas Friedman

Does Thomas Friedman’s quote seem like cheating to you? Should you do all your research on Google?

Probably not.

But you ought to start there.

The simple way is to type in your project’s main word or name and see what happens.

Then figure out which of the 2,984,538,432 website hits suit you best.

Let’s use as an example a Santa Rosa local hero: Luther Burbank.

The first hit of 105,000 comes from Wikipedia and provides plenty of basic information about the botanist. In this case Wikipedia produces a list of sources to check and examine–from books and magazine articles to ten different external links. Once I understand the basic information, I like to visit those external links and see where they take me.

This is a treasure trove. I can examine all Burbank’s writings on digital format from the University of Wisconsin. Depending on the angle of my project, I can skim the work or  read all twelve volumes. The best part is I can do it from my own home!

The links also suggest Burbank had a complicated personal life and knew an unusual array of people. Indian Yogi Paranhansam Yoganama devotes a whole chapter to Mr. Burbank. Burbank knew Mexican artist Frida Kahlo (see painting) and was a member of the National Inventors Hall of Fame. 171 works about him or by him are available at World Cat and will tell you what libraries to find them in.

And that’s just from the Wikipedia link.

Anyone who has done research on the Internet knows how you can get caught up in investigating link after citation after idea until the entire day is gone and your eyes no longer focus.

So how do you manage the plethora of information available?

I try to stay in one area at a time and/or set a time limit for how long I’ll be on Google. Otherwise…well, you know.

I mostly scan websites until I find something pertinent to what I want. With any luck, I can cut and paste information into a Word document, include the Internet “address” and return to hunting. I’ll come back later to more closely examine what I’ve found. I don’t dig deep into what I’m finding unless the information is important. There’s so much to read, I need to be careful in my references.

I’m also on the lookout for controversies. I know how important it is to read both sides of a story–even if one side doesn’t match my thesis. I don’t have to include a mystery or inconvenient fact in my story, but it gives me background and insight when I write if I know things may not be quite what they seemed.

One Google hit for “Luther Burbank women” brought up an article called “Luther Burbank Infidel.” The genius ran into some spiritual issues in 1926. That certainly would affect his character and might prove a stumbling block for some publishers. I need to investigate the oddities, but I don’t have to embrace them.

I also look at Google Images. Luther Burbank turns up in countless different poses and with his wives. You can see things named for him, from potatoes to junior highs. Cruising through just the first couple of pages suggests further ideas of where to research.

Depending on the nature of your project, Google may be sufficient. If you need to check the weather in Santa Rosa on a given day in 1915, Google  probably can provide the information. If you need to know how to plant a potato or how Shasta daisies were developed, Google can help.

And if you want to find your way to Luther Bubank’s gardens, just check here. They’re beautiful in the spring.  :-)

Do you have any tips on how you use Google? Have you been frustrated with the search engine, or is there another one you prefer?

And is there anything cautionary about Google that writers should be aware of?

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

“Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.”

~ Zora Neale Hurston

Location: Santa Rosa’s main office

Conventional wisdom tells us that during the Great Depression (1929-1939), Americans flocked to the movie theaters to escape their drab lives through the music and dancing magic of Shirley Temple, Fred Astaire, and Ginger Rogers.

True, but those films weren’t exactly happy tales void of difficulties. When my family and I watched all the Shirley Temple films one summer, we joked at the start of each one, “How do you think her parents will die this time?” She may have had a happy ending, but Shirley usually had tragedy in her past. And Ginger? Always a broke store clerk or a woman down on her luck. Things turned around when Ginger found Fred and twirled away on her very high heels. And they all lived happily ever after.

But while moviegoers sought escape in song and dance, what types of books did the readers buy? The best-selling novel of 1931 and 1932 was Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth, the story of a poor Chinese farmer during turbulent times. The 1931 nonfiction list included books about games, biographies and several political and/or current event books. (These best-selling book lists come from a 2006 class taught by Professor John Unsworth at the University of Illinois’s Graduate School of Library and Information Services,  ”20th Century American Best-Sellers.”)

One of the best selling writers during the Depression and World War II era was the Lutheran pastor, Lloyd C. Douglas. Among his novels written during this time period were Magnificent Obsession, Green Light, White Banners and The Robe. The Robe, which examines events connected to the cloth Jesus wore at his crucifixion, was on the best-seller list for three straight years during World War II.

On the nonfiction list, one of the big sellers in 1933 and 1934 was 100,000,000 Guinea Pigs: Dangers in Everyday Foods, Drugs and Cosmetics by Arthur Kallet and F. J. Schlink. See? There’s nothing new under the sun. Biographies and narrative nonfiction-type stories fill the ranks, with books about war clouds growing in Europe appearing with greater regularity toward the end of the decade.

Another big fiction seller during the Depression was Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind–an historical novel set during the Civil War, which emphasizes Scarlett O’Hara’s pluck and opportunity-grabbing ability. Plenty of escapist literature appeared on the list: Anthony Adverse, a swashbuckling story that topped the list in 1933 and 1934; Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s true tale of adventure:  North to the Orient; and Clarence Day’s domestic comedy: Life with Father. A.J. Cronin medical dramas appear almost yearly.

The fiction lists generally hold at least one mystery (often by Mary Roberts Rinehart), romantic suspense novels, tearjerkers, American historical fiction and usually one humorous book.

What sort of conclusions, if any, can we take from lists like these? Is it possible to take historical information and apply it to today?

During times in my life when things aren’t going well, when death or fear drags me down, I don’t want to read heavy stories. I read to escape from my turbulent life into a place that may also be unruly, but at least is guaranteeing me a happy ending. That may be why I always read the last chapter of the murder mystery . . . before I should.

Which brings us to today.

In a time of pressing financial need, chaos around the world, frustration with government and sagging moral institutions, what type of book do you want to read? What would be the felt need for a large enough component of the reading public to make book sales soar?

Or, what type of book do you NOT want to read during trying times?