About the Author

I was born in 1944 in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and quickly became the apple of my mother’s eye.  I didn’t meet my father, John Apple,  until I was 18 months old.  Mom says I quickly won him over, though, because he couldn’t resist his very independent little girl with masses of blond curls.

My father was military and we went where he was stationed.  At the age of 5 I was on a ship sailing from NYC to Guam to reunite our family.  With mother and my younger sister in sick bay, I roamed the ship talking and being quite social.  The sea air agreed with me.

New assignments brought us back to base housing,  first in California and then Idaho.  My father retired when I was 19.  He  was busy planning to make his dream of living in sunny California a reality when he unexpectedly died.

My first big adventure happened a year after I married a Canadian man.  We left Idaho in 1964 and moved to Canada where most of my friends believed I’d have to exchange my car for a sled.  I quickly had three children but was divorced when the youngest was five.  Full-time work as a coordinator of volunteers in a regional hospital coupled with motherhood was the toughest job I’d ever had.

In the late 80s I took three kids kicking and screaming into the “bush” clutching their television sets and digging their heels in all the way.  Back to the land, living simply…whatever you call it, I did it.  I planted, harvested, preserved, stockpiled.  I hauled water, cut firewood, raised pigs and chickens, and learned to cook on a wood stove.  A part of me loved it; another part wanted out.  I eventually left and ended up in Victoria where I was given the opportunity to move a retirement residence from pre-opening to full occupancy.  I loved the job and the people.  I learned a lot about aging; every day I was given love and a hug.

The creative part of my job was finished.  The retirement residence was at full occupancy.  I grew restless.  I was approaching 50 and I wanted more travel.  Travel has always been about me wanting to be somewhere else.  I’m never happier than when I’m packing for a new adventure.  My first foray out of North America was a trip to China in the late 80s where it was impossible to avoid being involved in all the life swirling around me.  I saw, felt, tasted, and experienced things I never knew existed. A woman in an open market tried to give me her baby; daily life spilled onto the streets where I saw women and men shaving, washing themselves and children, getting haircuts, and doing their laundry in the river; and the food smells of China permeated the air day and night.  I wanted more so I traveled to Greece and then Ireland, Scotland, Indonesia, Singapore and the Philippines.  Still, I hadn’t gotten the wanderlust out of my system.

In 1994 I took a huge risk.  I quit the job I loved, sold my house, packed only what I needed and left for Japan.   China had whet my appetite and I wanted to experience more of Asia.  My plan was to work awhile, save money and then set off traveling the world.  Friends arranged host accommodation and assured me I would have no trouble finding work. I believed them.  On October 14, 1994 I stepped out of my comfortable Canadian life and into the unknown with little more than a couple suitcases and an abundance of faith.

Japan was one of the best things to happen to me.  My first two years were lean.  Work was sporadic.  I always had what I needed, not necessarily what I wanted.  There were daily lessons on trust.  I never went without.  Somehow I knew I was supposed to be there.  I later discovered why. I met Takeshi Fujibe.  While I didn’t come to Japan in search of love, I fell in love, married, and retired with Tak in 2000.

That retirement took us to Ajijic, Mexico, just outside of Guadalajara on Lake Chapala.  We would still be there if it weren’t for scorpions and environmental poisoning.  I got sick so we returned to Canada to begin my recovery.

After meeting Tak and living in Mexico a storyline began to gel. I didn’t start out to write a children’s book but that’s what happened.  In 2007 I met a publisher who liked the story, signed me, and shared my joy at launching FLY CATCHER BOY in the fall of 2009.

Publishing at age 65 is challenging.  Energy isn’t what it used to be.  Learning new skills is a stretch most times.  Today’s youngster is quite mature and very savvy.  They know a lot more than I do, that’s for sure!  But I think the older we get the younger we become!  I credit my grand girl with igniting me with energy, vitality, and a love for the silly.

I’m now working on my second book and looking forward to finally being able to devote full-time to my passion.  When people ask for advice I tell them to be persistent and patient.  Keep moving forward.  Seek advice.  Behave like the writer you will become.