Blog Archives

The passion of fridges

When I was very small, we had a small refrigerator, and my mother often perched me on top so I’d be out from underfoot while she made dinner. It was high enough to give a good view and keep me

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Louis Braille’s pocket ego

The summer I was nine, I lived mostly on biographies. I’d ride my bike to the Westfield, NJ public library and laboriously pick out the four books I was allowed. The Signature series featured a medallion with the Famous Person’s

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Posted in Just life

Why blind mice?

Years ago when we lived  in Italy I brought Italian friends a jack in the box for their daughter’s one year birthday. I’d gotten it at an American store, assuming this was a classic international toy. FYI, nope.  Since the young

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Posted in Intercultural relations, WWWS

Wonder under the street

              A plain summer day when I was seven stretched out for my girlfriends and me. We were walking along Dorian Road in Metuchen, looking for adventure. Suddenly, there it was, like the mythical gold on American streets. I’m talking

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Days of the glass-bottomed sea turtle

I was sick for more than a week when I was eight. I don’t remember the diagnosis. I only remember fever, racking waves of coughing, towels and pans for catching you-know-what and a vaporizer running constantly, infusing the sheets, my

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The vanishing decorated Spam

My grandparents raised their family during the Depression on a very small, intensely cultivated “farm” in Garden Villa. The name bespeaks opulence, but we are talking $800 soggy plots outside Houston. They didn’t go hungry but opulence there wasn’t. Another

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Pecans and cranberries find love

Here’s the cranberry pecan pie I made for my friend Roz who was so kind as to proof my last draft. When I lived in Italy, my less-sweet pecan pie triumphantly crossed cultures. “Will you have that American nut pie?”

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Those darn European kids

Here’s a political theory that my father would term cockamamie, but since I had it while gardening, it might be true. The theory is that the isolationist tendencies of the current (outgoing) administration, particularly of aging Boomers, have roots in

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Yes, I’m following you

I was 40 when I moved to Italy and determined to learn the language. First stop was a 6-week intensive, 20 hours per week. More work followed. No kidding, a big job. But there are little triumphs along the way. 

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Lost wallet, moonshot

Recently, I noticed my husband’s wallet on the cutting board in the kitchen. This was clearly a one-off for someone who pretty much never loses, misplaces or forgets anything. How very odd. But that event reminded me of another lost

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Announcements

Sunday, May 6, 2pm reading from latest work at Hexagon Brewing Company, Knoxville, TN.

Thursday, May 10, 6-8 pm presentation on research on the historical novel, Blount County Library, Maryville, TN.

When We Were Strangers, Italian translation, to be presented in Pescasseroli, Italy, August 2018.

Recent Review
“Absorbing and layered with rich historical details, in Under the Same Blue Sky, Schoenewaldt weaves a tender and at times, heartbreaking story about German-Americans during World War I. With remarkable compassion, the author skillfully portrays conflicted loyalties, the search for belonging, the cruelty of war, and the resilience of the human spirit.”—Ann Weisgarber, author of The Promise and The Personal History of Rachel Dupree

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