So not only did you teach me about writing memoir, you also taught me about reading and thinking about how others write memoir. Thank you so much! Rebecca
Life is not what one lived, but what one remembers and how one remembers it in order to recount it.Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I come from a long line of strong women on both sides of my family, and I am writing about them.
I can start with my mother, Lois Robison Council, who bore seven children at home. She raised all of them using home remedies for almost all of their illnesses. One of her sons was hospitalized for a burst appendix, and another son had back surgery because of an injury incurred when he was in the Navy. For normal illnesses, she believed in letting your body heal itself. We only went to the doctor for major illnesses.
She used some over-the-counter meds when they were called for. Castor Oil and Grove's Chill Tonic were two favorites. The tonic was created by the same man who built the Grove Park Inn in Asheville. And we could not have made it without Watkins Liniment or Vicks Salve, now called Vicks VapoRub. We didn't have Alka-Seltzer or Tums. For tummy troubles, we took a teaspoon of Baking Soda in a glass of water. It still works well.
Mother saved my sister's life when the baby suffered from pneumonia. At that time, there were no antibiotics. Doctors gave up on my sister. But Mother decided to try a home-made method as a desperate last attempt.
She made a tar and tallow plaster that she placed on Gay's chest. As neighbors sat with her, Mother tried to prepare to lose her precious child. When everyone had given up, the woman holding my baby sister said, "Miz Council, I believe her fever has broke."
My sister is alive today and very healthy.
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A tar and tallow plaster (or salve) is a traditional home remedy primarily used to draw out infections and relieve respiratory congestion. Historically, it combines pine tar for its antiseptic properties with tallow (rendered animal fat) as a soothing carrier that mimics the skin's natural oils.
Respiratory Relief
For a sick person suffering from a deep cough, flu, or cold, a tar and tallow mixture is often applied as a chest poultice.
Chest Congestion: Tallow acts as a base to keep the chest warm, helping loosen mucus and soothe persistent coughing.
Warm Application: In traditional practice, the mixture is spread on a cloth, warmed, and placed on the chest to improve circulation and clear breathing.
Preventative Care: Historically, it was used to keep a severe cold or deep cough from progressing into more serious conditions like pneumonia
Monday, February 23, 2026
I am glad to see Scott Owens, poet, is back online with a website and blog.
He agreed, and from then on we were friends. He came to Western NC every year and taught poetry classes. He taught a great class last year in Hiawassee, Georgia. All of us in the class learned more about writing poetry, and we had a good time while learning.
Scott has published over 20 poetry books, including a poetry book for children. He also did a Meet and Greet and answered questions about himself and poetry for NCWN-West. Everyone enjoyed that event.
FALL FOR YOU -A Poetry and Prose Anthology, the most recent anthology by Old Mountain Press, is filled with poems and short prose from many writers I have known for years. I also discovered writers I will remember. This anthology is one of Tom Davis's best. I am honored to have a poem among those included here.
Tom Davis creates beautiful covers
This book makes a great gift for anyone who enjoys poetry or short prose. The theme is Fall and Christmas, and includes subjects during that time of year. My Poem is November Evening.
Donna Beal, Brenda Kay Ledford, Mary Ricketson, Sandy Benson, Linda Gifford, and Debbie Hooper, among other members of NCWN-West are published in this book.
I enjoyed the one-page prose pieces. The Christmas Doll by Nancy Sales Cash reminded me of my own childhood.
On pages 44 and 45, David Plunkett, novelist and poet, wrote Dying Tree, and Roswell, GA resident, Alan Frutchey's poem is Fall's Face.
At My Mother-in-law's Kitchen Window, for Mom, by Kerri Habben Bosman, brought a tear to my eye. I don't personally know this poet, but this poem brings lots of emotion to the surface.
FAll For You was nominated for the Pushcart Prize LI
Many thanks to Tom Davis for publishing these anthologies and sharing the work of beginning writers as well as poetry by Poet Laureates.
Writing Your Life Stories for Your Family or for Publication
Tuesdays, February 10, 17, 24, March 3,
6:00 - 8:00 PM
Zoom link will be sent after registration
Our life stories are a precious legacy. Putting them in writing is a gift to all who know and love us—they can be treasured and enjoyed for generations to come.
Facts bring us knowledge, but stories bring us wisdom.
If you are interested in writing family/personal life stories – those significant tales of adventure, transition, love, loss, and triumph, as well as the lovely everyday moments shared with loved ones from the past or the present, come learn specific tools and techniques to retrieve and record them.
Students will write a short piece each week and share it with the class.
Each student receives individual attention from the instructor.
I want to include some other poems from this book soon.
My poem, on page 4, was written many years ago while visiting the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia, Canada. We saw many wild animals on this trip and the Elk seemed to be everywhere.
Canadian Rockies in October
By Glenda Council Beall
Beware. Elk are mating, we’re
told.
A child is dead, sent by his
father to pose
for a photo with an elk on
the courthouse grounds.
Glacier fed lakes abound
among
snow-covered peaks. We walk
on
Athabasca Glacier, drink
glacier water
so cold it numbs the lips.
We hang our hats for several
days
in a cabin in Jasper, B.C.
A bull elk with huge rack,
grazes
outside our door. He won’t be
driven
away. He lies down and holds
us captive.
A green truck appears in the
gathering dusk.
A forest ranger wielding a
hockey stick
laden with plastic streamers
shakes it overhead.
The bull bolts into the dark
forest, afraid of anything
"I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” – James A. Michener
When I speak with writers, I find that most of them began to love writing as soon as they received their first paper and pencils for school.
When did you fall in love with writing? By the time I was in fourth grade, I had several spiral notebooks filled with my stories. I built myself a platform in the chinaberry tree in our backyard so I could sit up there among the birds, hidden by the limbs and leaves. I guess you could call that my first writing studio.
I remember looking out on the green pastures of summer, seeing cattle grazing and feeling the slight breeze moving through the tree top.
Since I dreamed of having my own horse some day, my stories always included a horse that was beautiful and that loved me. Many young girls fall in love with horses at a young age. Some people say horses are wonderful for girls between toys and boys. But my love for horses never left me. I read all of the books on horses, and especially loved The Black Stallion books.
Today, if you visited me you would find a painting of the horse I finally owned after I finished college. I loved her so much and she lived to be 32 years old. On shelves you would see figures of horses heads and full body forms. On the mantel is a photo of Barry, my husband, on one of the horses he owned. He learned to enjoy horses after we married.
Horses and writing were my hobbies when I was a child and continued until I no longer had a horse and writing became more than a hobby. Like many women I know today, I decided I wanted to be a writer after seeing the movie Little Women. Jo March inspired me.
But I didn't tell anyone I wanted to be a writer. I felt my brothers would laugh and tease me and I would not dare share my writng with any one of them. When I was in college, I shared a poem I wrote with my sister, June. It was free verse because that was what English teachers taught at the time. June would never hurrt my feelings, but she had learned poems by the old masters, rhyming poems, and she didn't really enjoy my poe try. Neither did my other sister. I loved the rhyming poetry, especially Robert Frost, and I loved hearing Max and Ray, my brothers, recite Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven and many other poems they memorized in school.
I kept secretly writing poetry, short stories, and non-fiction tales about people I knew. I kept a private diary and I have to smile when I now read the pages of a college girl in the 1960s, who poured out her heart about the boys she liked, the ones she wanted to love but didn't, and how hard it was to deal with being a grown up in the world.
I think writing saved me from falling into deep depression several times when I was in college. My closest friend at the University of Georgia was my sister and she had a busy life.
She didn't really like school, but she joined the Modern Dance Group and loved it. So I held my feelings in except when late at night, they flowed out on my journal pages where no one else would read them.
Now in my new stage of life when I am often alone, I write again. I teach and enjoy reading the stories written by my students. I am glad I have learned from knowledgeable teachers in North Carolina and north Georgia for the past thirty years and I can help beginning and intermediate writers get past those roadblocks that pop up when you first start to write for others to read.
It seems to me that writers are more curious than other people. Writers are extra sensitive to their surroundings, to the people in their lives, and often more intuitive.
I always want to know the story about the person, about the situation, why and how things happened. Everyone has a unique story and when we write our stories we often develop a new perspective on what happened. As we age, mining our memories opens our eyes to what happened, not just what we thought happened.
If I were teaching in elementary school today, I would make sure my students learned to write. Not to prepare them for being a best-selling author, although they could. But when we pour out our thoughts and feelings on paper, it is therapy for us. It helps clear our minds in a good way. Often it cures our anxiety, our fears, and creates a clearer picture of our world.
Have a lovely Autumn here in the USA or wherever you live, enjoy every day because they are precious.
Leave a comment and tell me when you began writing or if you want to be a writer. Write on!
This poem calls to me. Although I moved to the city a year ago, I have been living, in my mind, in my mountain community in North Carolina with good friends where I spent the past 30 years. My heart has been there, but my body has been here.
I finally decided it was time to DIVE.
I am resigning as Program Coordinator for NCWN-WEST at the end of this year. I am beginning a new life here and will find more ways to meet people. I am a people person. I thrive on the energy of others.
I will continue to teach writing online several times a year. But there is more I want to learn so I will take classes at the Roswell Adult Learning Center in Roswell and I will continue to take online classes. I hope to write more poems and work on my own memoir.