Author Pamela Ellen Ferguson (Sunshine Picklelime) had just finished recording a session. “Louis Sachar is going to be here later! You’re in good company!”

I wondered if I could skip picking up my children from school to meet Sachar (Holes, Wayside School) as he would arrive the same time as the dismissal bell. No, my kids would kill me if they found out. We’d watched the movie of Holes together and later read the book at bedtime.

Mainly I worried I would have a coughing fit in the middle of recording Baby Dust, or more likely, burst into tears. At least I didn’t have to worry about how I looked. We would be hidden in little booths the whole time even though I was having a rare good hair day.

I was introduced to volunteers of Learning Ally, a local branch of a national organization that records books for use by people with dyslexia or visual impairments. They are currently in the middle of their Record-a-Thon, where local celebrities, authors, politicians, and others record one-hour sessions to raise awareness and help them fund the coming year.

“What is your book about?” one asked. “Is it a lovely little children’s book like Pam’s?”

I couldn’t bear to tell her that mine was about death.

I should have practiced saying the hard stuff then, though, as when Project Director Carter York led me to a booth to teach me how the recording would go, he said, “The first thing we’ll record is the dedication.”

Whew, boy. My little babies, all dead. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I could read a single page.

But Carter made the transition to reading the book super easy. I made mistakes, and laughing about them made reading the difficult material more bearable.

Afterward, I met some of the members of Learning Ally who actually use the services, listening to books that range from essential textbooks to beach reading. I wondered who might choose to listen to Baby Dust, and what circumstances they might be in. While my novel has been chosen as required reading for a college social work program in another state, I know it’s tough material.

I’ll be a regular at Learning Ally, which, I’m sure, is what they hope for from their Record-a-Thon.  I am thrilled at the opportunity to read my book aloud.

Before I left, staff took a million pictures. Me, in headphones. Holding my book. With volunteers. With another author. Someone whispered, “I should have done my hair!”

Yep, I was glad for the good hair day. And waterproof mascara.

To learn more about Learning Ally, or to donate during their Record-a-Thon to cover costs of producing audio books for people with visual or learning disabilities, visit: http://www.recordathon.org/

Back in the days of Geocities, it was all so easy. Toss in a few animated GIFs, make a little flashy text. Everyone was WOW, ZOINKS!

I learned some HTML. I bought FrontPage. I put up sites pretty quickly and had great fun with them.

Now, I seem to break them.

Flash, HTML5, mobile sites, JavaScript. I can’t keep up. I get by with WordPress and buying portfolio templates I barely know how to customize.

Today I broke a site totally. I’ll have to get someone to bail me out of this one as I knew enough to make it go blank, the giant text “FORBIDDEN” stretching across it like a banner, but not enough to set it right.

Someone take away my Internet connection.

But here, for your enjoyment, a link to the internet archive of one of my early sites. Too hilarious. (Yes, I was still married back then…)

http://web.archive.org/web/20010702232236/http://deannaroy.com/family/

But I do have plans for this year, hopefully on my timetable:

1. Complete Stella & Dane, my honky tonk romance that is a prequel to my published novel Baby Dust

2. Create a short story anthology of indie writers of middle grade light fantasy to benefit Dell Children’s Hospital

3. Complete Marcus Mender, the sequel to my published middle grade book Jinnie Wishmaker

4. Create an anthology of essays on loss by various leaders in the baby loss community to benefit a miscarriage/stillbirth organization

5. GET MARRIED! The big day is June 9 in Manhattan! Everything is already selected except the photographer. Sigh. The hardest part.

I hope your 2012 is eventful and full of joy!

The girls had been out camping, their father sending me a tense message when the sky began turning black. I couldn’t have been more relieved to see them.

We were driving up Loop 360 (Capitol of Texas Highway) near Westlake when we saw the skyline of Austin backed by smoke.

I just happened to have my Canon 5d Mark II in my lap because I had been shooting around town for holiday portrait locations.

We immediately pulled into a business park with a view of the city. Unfortunately, a hill of dirt partially obstructed our view. Here is that shot:

The girls wanted to scale the fence and climb the hill, but trespassing was not the order of the day, so we instead drove back to our original sighting on the highway. By that time, the fire was actually a little more dramatic. Here is an unfinished and uncropped version of the image.

Here is a Google Map of the location. The time stamp on the image is 5:18 p.m. on Monday, Sept. 5. I bracketed the shots, intending to do an HDR (High Dynamic Range) image from it. The grayness of the air made the image lower contrast that I would have liked and it was a little yellow, so I knew it might need adjustment. The wind was terrible and the side of the road didn’t feel too safe, so I jumped back in the car, knowing color and contrast was an easy fix.

When we got home, studying for tests and making dinner intervened. I definitely did not have time for an elaborate HDR from handheld frames, and almost didn’t do anything with the shot at all. But my fiance asked if I’d upload it to Facebook, so he could share it with his family in California.

So I hurriedly copied the shots to my computer. I cropped out the guard rail and bumped up the contrast so that the cityscape would show through the haze. At the last minute I tossed my web site on there, planning at that point to maybe blog about it, but also to differentiate my image from the hundreds I expected would be taken of the same scene.

I had no idea that this particular image was ephemeral, and that within a few hours, the smoke haze would spread so far and wide that the city skyline itself would almost disappear.

I uploaded it quickly to Facebook. Just a few hours later the phone began ringing.  Television stations, wanting to use the image on the evening news.

I’ve had some 1500 messages, calls, emails, and comments in the last 40 hours. Most every news organization has contacted me. CNN featured it on the home page and now I’ve gotten calls about it being used in television ads for the Red Cross. I have not accepted any money for it, nor am I doing prints or selling the file.

Sometimes I stare at the photograph and wonder why it affects so many people. I see the truly amazing images coming out of the wildfires — incredible feats by fire fighters, homes that are down to pipes and bricks, and think — this is nothing.

But I suppose that maybe the photo turned the tide somehow. People saw it and thought, this isn’t a small thing. It’s big. It’s bigger than the city. And for two days, that particular fire has been 0% contained. When the photo was taken, some 30 homes had been destroyed. Now it’s 500 and counting. I think this picture made people realize — they need help.

So I hope most of all that if you see it, you donate to the Red Cross of Central Texas. They need it. People need it. There are so many ways to lose things in this life, but fire is all encompassing. There is nothing left to dry out or collect or salvage. It’s gone. Everything. Gone.

If you are connected to a fundraiser or other event for the evacuees of this fire, the answer is yes, yes, of course you can use the photo. As long as you are using it to good purpose and not reselling it, I’m okay with it. Run with the file you have or ask me to send you one resized to fit your project (most 8.5×11 flyers will be fine with what you saved, but bigger projects or high def video need a higher res.) You can comment or email or link to it so I can see your wonderful work, but honestly — I’m just amazed by what you are doing — so go, make your own difference in this crisis.

I am a part of a group of photographers who will be donating family portraits to families who have lost their home so that they might begin rebuilding their memories.

For photographers wanting to participate in this endeavor led by Jennifer Marie Photography and Heather Evans Photography, join the Facebook group or click the “join” button at this site.

For families applying for the service, click “apply” at http://recapturingmemoriesproject.org/.

Here are ways to help:

Make a cash donation to the Red Cross of Central Texas, who can most effectively use the money to get needed supplies and assistance: http://t.co/LoDBLXC

Most needed: bottled water, canned food, baby food, clothes, socks, dog & cat food, crates, litter

If you want to drive things out, take them to:

Rundell Business Park: 704 W Highway 71 Bastrop 78602 call: 512-332-8661

Places in town to bring things:

• The Thrift Shop at the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection is accepting donations for victims. The shop at 2008 Justin Lane will take donations of clothing, housewares and toiletries, which will be taken to distribution centers.
• To help the families affected by the Steiner Ranch fire, Austin Christian Fellowship is taking donations of bottled water, sports drinks, non-perishable snacks, toiletries, work gloves, heavy duty trash bags, flashlights, batteries and pet food. Donations can be taken to 6401 River Place Boulevard.
• Collections are also being taken in the Liberty Hill area. You can call Chuck Licata at 512-466-7751 to help.
• Anyone in Hays County hoping to volunteer or donate water and food for firefighters or evacuees can contact Volunteer Coordinator Lidia Contreras at 512-393-7302.
• The OASIS on Lake Travis has announced it will be a drop off point for the Austin/Bastrop fire victims. The restaurant is accepting donations as well as water, work gloves, toiletries, non-perishable food items, clothing, trash bags, and flash lights with batteries. Boxes and donation jars will be in the lobby area starting Monday afternoon.
• The Austin Disaster Relief Network is currently assisting victims of the fires. Organizers say donations of food and clothing can be taken to any local food bank or charity.
• Lutheran Social Services of the South, Inc. Disaster Response (LSSDR)is accepting monetary donations for the fire victims here: www.lsss.org/give-now
• Cash donations should be made directly to the Red Cross of Central Texas.
• Foundation Christian Ministries in Cedar Creek is setting up a donation/supply center on its campus located at 177 Union Chapel Rd. E., Bastrop, TX 78602.
• Catholic Charities of Central Texas will accept donations for wildfire victims on Tuesday, Sept. 6. Donations can be brought to the Diocese of Austin Pastoral Center at 6225 Highway 290 East from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. and from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. Donations will also be accepted from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. at Catholic Charities of Central Texas in Austin at 1817 East Sixth Street. Organizers are asking for donations of the following items:
• Medical Supplies
  • BP Cuff
  • Nebulizer
  • Thermometer
  • Glucometer
  • Pen lights
  • Tongue Depressors
  • Ibuprofen
  • Gauze Wrap
  • ACE Bandages
  • Neosporin Cream
  • Bandages
• Other Supplies:
  • Sleeping Bags
  • Blankets
  • Pillows
  • Towels
  • Shampoo
  • Body wash
  • Toothpaste
  • Paper Plates, Cups, Napkins, Plastic Utensils
  • Deodorant Sprays for men and women
  • Disposable Razors
  • Shaving Cream
  • Baby Wipes
  • Size 4 Diapers
  • Baby Shampoo
  • Sanitizer
• Donations can be taken to the Click Computers of Georgetown store, located at 1102 S Austin Ave, Suite 109, Georgetown, TX through Friday, Sept. 16.
• The Capital Area Food Bank of Texas (CAFB) is requesting assistance in the following ways: Financial donations to CAFB can be made at www.austinfoodbank.org. Funds raised will go directly to helping CAFB in this disaster response.  The relief effort will be long-term and monetary donations will be necessary for many months.

  CAFB food donations can be made at the following locations:

• CAFB warehouse located at 8201 S. Congress Avenue, Austin , TX 78745 (8-5 p.m. or leave in boxes on dock outside of those hours)North Donation Spots for CAFB
• Georgetown – Caring Place at 2000 Railroad St., Georgetown, TX 78627 — 512-869-473
• Round Rock Serving Center at 1099 East Main St., Round Rock, TX 78664 — 512-244-2431
• SVDP Round Rock — 620 Round Rock West -Round Rock, TX 78681 — 512-255-2330
• To hold a food drive at your workplace, school, church etc., CAFB has large food donation boxes available for pick up at their warehouse. Once filled please return to CAFB or call 512-282-2111 to arrange for a pick up.Most desired food donations are healthy, non-perishable items such as:

  -       Water, Gatorade

  -       Ready to eat meals preferably with pull up or pop tops, e.g. chili, stew, canned pasta w/sauce

  -       Single serving snacks such as protein or granola bars

  -       Lunchables or other single serving foods that do not require refrigeration

  -       Diapers

  -       Baby formula

• Other locations taking donations:

350 Discovery Blvd in Cedar Park

Paul Mitchell The School: 15635 Vision Drive, Ste 107, Pflugerville

Hill Country Bible Church: 12124 Ranch Road 620 North, Austin

Catholic Health Association: 6225 E. Highway 290

St. Williams Catholic Church in Round Rock

I hadn’t paid close attention to the fires until that moment. I immediately began clicking on maps (Weather Underground was the best). The fires weren’t super close, but the wind was blowing their direction.

“Thank God for phones with Internet,” came the next text. He knew where the fires were, which direction they were going, and what roads were already closed so they could make their way out. The wind changed direction while they were packing and blew the smoke away.

The next text message came at 1 a.m. when a friend told us, “There is a fire in your neighborhood.”

The map showed a fire only a few blocks away. (This map shows us at the yellow star, the girls’ campground as the pink star.) We stepped outside, but the fire must have already been put out. Most likely something in someone’s back yard. We looked online and saw we were now in a barbeque ban —- no outdoor cooking for Labor Day. The whole city was kindling after months of drought conditions. Even a cigarette butt was dangerous.

Our plans today included a drive around town looking for locations for my annual Christmas shoots for my photography clients. As we drove down Loop 360 on the west side of Austin, we saw this scene and stopped so I could take the shot of the Bastrop fires behind the skyline:

I picked up my daughters, safely home and animated about the drive back from the campground, a ride through varying intensities of smoke.  As we drove away from this image of downtown and toward the south, we saw the smoke from the Steiner Ranch fires. Elizabeth, who is nine, said, “It needs to rain or all the world will be on fire.”

LEARN HOW YOU CAN HELP THE EVACUEES

READ MORE ABOUT THE PHOTO AND VIEW OUTTAKES AND UNCROPPED VERSIONS

Use of this photo for causes related to fundraising for the wildfire victims is fine (flyers, newsletters, blogs, web sites). News media should email me for a higher res file.

It began at 3 a.m., as all annoying events should.

Plop.

What?

Must’ve been a dream.

Plop.

Nope, my forehead is wet.

Plop.

Oh geez.

I got up to turn on the light. The rain had been relentless for three days.

I peered at the ceiling. You could still make out the trail of the repair job, spackled and repainted, from when carpenter ants invaded, broke through the plaster, and began landing on my bed.

I’d take the rain any day.

But apparently the damage was more extensive than we realized, as at the very end of the old ant trail, water had seeped through the paint, creating a slit that looked like a winking eye, and–

Plop.

I didn’t think I had enough room to move the bed away from the drip. I certainly wasn’t going to fix it or call anyone. It was the middle of the night. I was tired.

I did what any reasonable person would do–went into the bathroom, got a big fat beach towel.

And slept beneath it.

Matt is a tandem instructor at Skydive Spaceland, a flight school outside of Houston where both ordinary people and extreme-sport junkies hang out to jump from airplanes.

Matt is very good at what he does — strapping newbie after newbie into harnesses, cracking jokes to keep us calm, and getting uncoordinated, clueless people safely back to earth.

I am quite sure he pegs people like me right off — a hapless soul unable to follow directions even if her life depends on it.

And when you are hopping off a plane at 14,000 feet, it does.

I really wasn’t that nervous. I’d already done the scary part — informed my parents (and my kids) that I was going. I felt some flutters when we arrived at the hangar and people were dropping out of the sky, but I quelled them and strode up the walkway like something out of Top Gun.

Then I saw the instructional video.

I’m not sure who thought it was a good idea to show an ambulance leaving the landing area, lights flashing with some crushed body most certainly inside, but it definitely made the point: You Can Die. Or at best, break your leg landing badly.

But then, as we first-timers were told how to arch our back, read our altimeters, and interpret hand signals, came the kicker:

I was expected to pull my own rip cord.

I nearly fainted. I thought this was a joy ride. Strap me to some experienced jumper, smile for the camera, and sail down on their very competent skill set.

The video ended and my legs took me out the door, but my mind was adrenaline buzzed, trying to focus my errant memory on the important points. Did they say 5,500 feet to pull? Or was it 6,000? Which hand? Was the wave part important?

Matt introduced himself and handed me a suit. I smiled and acted brave but, still, I was shocked — I had to pull my own rip cord! I looked up at the friendly bearded face, and thought — please, Matt, say it ain’t so! But no, he was cheerily going over all the points on the video again. Check the altimeter, when it reads 6,000, look up, wave, reach behind him and pull the golf-ball shaped release.

As I tugged on my suit and Matt started buckling a harness on me, Ori Kuper, the video man, peppered me with questions — how high are you going? When do you open the chute? How fast will you be falling? When I kept shrugging, he just gave me all the answers and laughed, tilting the camera at crazy angles for effect.

Suddenly I’m past what I thought would be a thorough and repetitive set of instructions, hardly having understood anything more than “arch your back,” and we were loading in the plane.

I watched my altimeter creep upward, Matt and the others still cracking jokes. Ahead of us, solo jumpers disappeared from the front of the plane like synchronized swimmers diving into a pool. We slid forward on the narrow bench for our turn. The worst was to come, I knew, standing on the precipice of disaster, staring down at the ground, and maybe, maybe refusing to jump.

We moved forward again and Matt told me to stand up. Before I could even remember if it was ready set GO, or ready set go … and then GO, we turned sideways, and then — as simple as falling out of a chair — we were belly down in the air, arms outstretched, hurtling in a way that felt more like a wind storm than a freefall.

In the rush of the air, I could scarcely think. I was misinterpreting hand signals like a newborn chimp. Matt kept having to push my hand one way or the other, trying to get me to angle with him. I waved at Ori, the videographer, who plummeted alongside us. We reached out and shook hands.

Matt forced me to bring my altimeter to my face. It already read 6,000! I was supposed to reach behind him and pull the rip cord, but gosh, the instructional video was eons ago and by the time I remembered — oh yeah, I tug a golf ball and a parachute is supposed to come out — Matt, having a vested interest in the chute opening — pulled it himself.

Everything slowed down for a while. I was flying — literally flying — and it was impossible to do anything but look and look and look. The air slipped from chilly to cool as we passed through a cloud, then suddenly grew warm again. Matt showed me how to control the handles of the chute and do 360s and by God, I could DO them! Never had anything so deadly and beautiful — especially that bright flutter of fabric that kept me aloft — been so easy to control.

About that time I realized that despite my utter incompetence, I was not going to die after all. The ground came closer and Matt patiently reminded me how to land. We went through the sequence again and again so that when the grass did arrive, I easily lifted my legs, pulled the cords to slow the descent, then set my feet down.

I hugged Matt, grateful that even though I have the memory of a fruit fly and the attention span of a gnat, I could do something as fun and crazy as skydiving without disaster. I was relieved also to learn that even if in a fit of torrential clutziness I had whacked my tandem instructor on the head as we left the plane and knocked him unconscious, an altimeter-controlled device would set off the reserve parachute.

I highly recommend Skydive Spaceland. And get the video. Ori did a killer job — a really fun little edited film – and if you don’t think you can handle skydiving, just come watch mine. After witnessing poor Matt tap me, signal me, repeatedly grab my hands and arms to MAKE me do what I supposed to do, you’ll quickly see that if Deanna can do it, anybody can. Even if you forget the rip cord.

Photos by Ori Kuper

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.

I suspect most of us who attend class reunions find this to be true.  Last weekend I went to my own 20th high school reunion in the little town of Archer City. Of the 31 people in our graduating class, 18 of us attended.

I was nervous all out of proportion to the event, partly because I had missed the 10th reunion, and partly because I’m anxious about anything Archer City-related. Like most people who blow out of their small towns as a teen, I felt beyond my element, strangely separate.

Looking across the cafeteria (which was almost completely unchanged–it still had green linoleum and the SAME water fountain from when I first arrived there in second grade, 1977), I really did get the sense of my personal history.

Tressa walked in, my best friend in elementary, a natural fit since she lived next door. We so often got tangled up crawling through the barbed wire between our properties, that our dads made a gate for us. We recalled our many exploits — trying to make a waterbed out of trash bags, throwing rocks over the garage and accidentally knocking the window out of my mom’s car.

Michelle arrived, carrying her four year old. She moved to AC in 8th grade and became a new best friend as she lived in bicycling range. I knew her house better than my own (SHE always had strawberry Haagen Dazs ice cream in her freezer) and we were notorious prank callers.

When my family moved into town in 9th grade, Darci and Trisha became my friends. We often spent Saturday nights out on one of their trampolines, and as we got a little older, boys would come by to visit us in the night (ha, our parents might be reading this!)

Angela also arrived in time for high school, and by virtue of our many debate trips as extemporaneous speakers and a mutual love of drama (the acting kind — okay, all kinds), we became best friends. There was virtually no boy-disaster I didn’t call her up about, and she is probably the most complete repository of my life secrets as we have kept in touch in the intervening decades, easily taking up the confessionals even if years pass between the times we can get together.

Despite all this, the majority of my social life was held elsewhere, as I dated outside of my hometown. I had learned the hard way that what one boy said about me could discolor everyone’s view, and that in a town that small there is no escaping a mistake — one you actually made or one that was made up.

But my senior year I could not resist one of my “own kind,” a boy from Archer City, and ended up attending events (oh those Shack parties) with my own high school classmates. I learned in that year that all my silly hangups were unfounded, and I truly did feel I was part of everything around me. (Of course, 20 years later half the class now knows — thanks Gary for hosting the reunion after party with a whole lotta beer – exactly why I was late to Mrs. Campbell’s class every day after lunch.)

But none of that stopped me from diving headfirst into the vastness and anonymity of big-university life at UT, a decision I will never regret, and one that definitely ensured that I could never go “home” again. But I feel a little better about where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.

If a high school reunion has anything going for it other than finding out who is still skinny, who still has hair, who got rich, or who married the bad boy, it’s exactly what Nelson Mandela says–you can see exactly what made you who you are, and how the very thing you ran from is exactly what got you where you are today.

View the entire gallery of reunion images at http://www.deannaroy.com/photogalleries/achs/

Classmates who didn’t get a copy of the group picture at Gary’s can email me at deanna@austin.rr.com. I’ll send you the file to print yourself (or if need be, I can mail you a copy.)

I sent letters to some twelve members of the City Council, Zilker, Parks and Recreations, and Mayor Will Wynn. The letter was cosigned by a number of members of my professional photography group, ApNet.

Stuart Strong, the acting director of Parks and Rec, simply said the fee was a way to “monitor and control” our use of the gardens. He did not address my request for an annual pass.

Some of you may have noticed that last Thursday, the Statesman ran an article on how the city is now proposing to charge fitness trainers who host running classes or yoga or even the “stroller mom” groups who jog together with their babies a $500 annual fee for the right to train in parks or on the trail.

I understand the city is strapped for cash, but the amount of money they make off these fees is so insubstantial when you add in the processing and personnel to do it. And the cost to the goodwill of the citizens of Austin and their view of their city and parks is enormous.

I’ll be speaking to the Austin Professional Photographers Association in a couple weeks in hopes they will join forces with my own group to fight the city. I’ve been communicating with the Statesman reporter about this as well. Even if we lose, we’re going to make some noise, and help ensure that sneaky measures get attention before going through, and to ensure the new City Council members (the run off election is June 14) take a good long look at how they are eroding the quirky, open, fun reputation of our city.