I Married a Beast

There's a moment in Disney's Beauty and the Beast that always makes me catch my breath. It's not the ballroom dance or even the transformation scene. It's earlier, quieter - when the Beast, nervous and awkward, throws open the doors to his library and watches Belle's face light up with wonder.

"It's wonderful!" she breathes, spinning among the floor-to-ceiling shelves.

"It's yours," he says simply.

In that moment, the Beast doesn't offer Belle jewels or gowns or empty flattery. He offers her what matters most to her - a room full of stories, ideas, and imagination. He sees who she really is. And in seeing her, he reveals himself. Two bookish souls, finding each other among the pages.

This is where their real love story begins, not with physical attraction or instant chemistry, but with shared passions and the slow recognition of kindred spirits. I had a moment like that soon after meeting my husband. I was dating the training manager at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour, and Keith was engaged. We decided to go to the beach one day after work, and he noticed my old beach towel. I joked about it - I come from a family that gets every last drop out of a bottle of catsup. The next day, there was a new beach towel on the driver's seat of my car. This was during the days when you didn't have to lock your car, of course. 

Beauty and the Beast has endured across centuries and countless versions because its core truth remains relevant: real love requires looking beyond the surface to see someone's true character. Belle doesn't fall for the Beast's appearance - she falls for his kindness, his growth, his vulnerability, and yes, his library. She sees the person beneath the curse. The beast would have given her a new beach towel.

I kid my husband, Keith, that we're Beauty and the Beast - though I should clarify, he's actually quite handsome, and I've been known more for brains than beauty. But he can turn into a bit of a beast when he's hungry (hangry is real, folks) or when he encounters difficult people. More importantly, like the Beast with Belle, he's fiercely protective of those he loves. He guards our granddaughters and me like he's sitting on that proverbial fence, watching for any threat, ready to defend. As he says, "You want me on that fence!"

Like the Beast offering Belle his library, Keith and I have built our own collection of shared passions after fifty years of marriage. DVDs fill our shelves. We have close to 2,000 books in our Kindle Library that we own and subscribe to Kindle Unlimited. We understand each other's protective instincts, our quirks, our hunger-induced mood swings. We've learned to see past the "beastly" moments to the person underneath - and to let ourselves be fully seen in return.

In our current world, where we swipe left or right based on a photo, where first impressions are formed in seconds from social media profiles, and where we're constantly judged by superficial metrics, this message feels more important than ever. We live in a society obsessed with surface-level perfection, yet starving for genuine connection. The Beast's story reminds us that transformation happens through patience, understanding, and truly seeing one another - not despite our flaws, but through accepting our whole, complex selves.

And like Belle and her Beast, I didn't fall in love with Keith immediately. Our story is more like Ashley and Melanie in Gone with the Wind - though that comparison might raise some eyebrows - they were cousins! Stay with me here. In Margaret Mitchell's novel, Ashley reflects on how he and Melanie are suited to each other because they share the same background, values, and understanding of the world. They speak the same language, he says - much to Scarlett's fury, as she could never understand that compatibility built on shared foundations could be deeper than passionate physical attraction. She's beautiful and surrounded by suitors. Why couldn't she have Ashley, too? She didn't discover until after Melanie died that he wasn't right for her. Melanie was Ashley's one true love.

Keith and I discovered we were cut from the same cloth, like Ashley and Melanie. Our backgrounds were similar. Our fathers were born in Colorado, a few hundred miles apart. We both had devout Catholic mothers and fathers who converted to the religion - an unusual parallel that shaped both our childhoods in similar ways. We both love to read, losing ourselves in stories the way Belle treasured every book in that library. We both love movies, sharing that joy of storytelling in another form. We even both played hockey - he played ice hockey, I played field hockey. These weren't superficial similarities. They were the threads of shared experience and values that wove us together. We're the same age, know the same songs, and can speak in "movie speak" as we call it. We constantly use lines from movies, books, and songs to communicate. We're passionate about the Olympics and Oscars.

But our love wasn't love at first sight. It was the slow building of trust and understanding. It was finding someone who spoke my language. We met in February, started dating in July, got engaged in August and married the following February. 

That's the real magic of Beauty and the Beast. It's not about the spell breaking or the prince returning to his handsome form. It's about two people learning to be vulnerable enough to show their true selves and brave enough to love what they find. It is about loving the person who makes you feel comfortable.

And speaking of Disney love stories we cherish - I'm starting a new YouTube series - Writing is Life, and I'll use my storytelling skills to write the next chapter in some of Disney Studios' masterpieces. If you been wanting to become an author, or learn screenwriting from a different angle - or even learn more about AI and animation, visit https://www.youtube.com/@sandijerome and please subscribe! I'm not trying to make money on YouTube; I'm trying to promote my books and screenwriting career.

What's your favorite moment in Beauty and the Beast? Have you found your own love story in an unexpected place? Share in the comments below.

 

Joyful and Fearless

 

Can I be Fearless?

In 1992, 20th Century Fox handed director Barry Levinson a blank check. Robin Williams was at the height of his popularity, fresh off hits like "Good Morning, Vietnam," "Dead Poets Society," and the voice of the Genie in "Aladdin." The supporting cast included Joan Cusack, Michael Gambon, and Robin Wright. The film had stars, songs, a massive budget, and every ingredient that should have guaranteed a hit. 

Yet when "Toys" was released in December 1992, it opened in sixth place and limped away with just over $23 million at the box office, barely half its budget. Barry Levinson was even nominated for a Razzie Award for Worst Director. How could such a well-resourced project fail so spectacularly?

The answer lies in a perfect storm of missteps that began before cameras even rolled. Barry Levinson and his then-wife, Valerie Curtin, developed the screenplay in 1979, inspired by a newspaper article about Soviet naval intelligence studying American submarine toy models. The script itself became a victim of its own ambition. Despite twelve years of preparation, the screenplay seemed pulled in two directions. The producers kept describing it as "whimsical," while studios kept interpreting it as a dark comedy. 

Even Robin Williams seemed oddly restrained, playing it warm and cuddly when the film desperately needed his manic energy. The result was a film that critics found visually stunning, but the story was confused, and audiences simply couldn't connect with what they were watching. 

But there was one part of the movie I enjoyed: the song "Let Joy and Innocence Prevail," sung by Grace Jones.

I tell you of a girl, her husband was a soldier
Gone to war in some strange country far away
No word had come to her but the rumors of great battles fought
And dying in their thousands and the world full of fear
As the day would turn to evening she would light a pure white candle
And place it in a window bright from where it could be seen
As she placed it in the window softly without thinking
She said let this burning candle be a beacon
Let joy and innocence prevail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Believe that luck will never fail
Let joy and innocence prevail
And one night, asleep
She dreamed she saw her husband fall
In a great white cavalry charge
And waking in tears
She saw the candle burning in the window
She still had hope
And through the window
A man in the distance
But as he came closer
She saw he was a stranger
The stranger said, "I bring a message from a General
A captain has been wounded, his life hangs by a thread
He calls out your name and he wishes you to come to him
But the journey is a hard road and you may be afraid"
And she laughed and said, "No road could be too hard for I am fearless
A captain and a husband, I have gained this bright new day"
And she said with all her heart, she would fly to be beside him
And her love would heal his wounds, restore him to her
Let joy and innocence prevail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Believe that luck will never fail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Believe that luck will never fail
Let joy and innocence prevail
Let joy and innocence prevail!

"Toys" remains a fascinating cautionary tale about what happens when unlimited resources meet unclear vision. But there's another lesson in this film, one that Grace Jones captured perfectly in the film's haunting song. The film's central message, that we must choose joy and innocence over warfare and destruction, resonates today.

A decade ago, my own husband faced his own battle: triple bypass surgery, then a stroke two years later. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for two weeks of physical therapy, but he wanted to come home. He complained about the noise that prevented him from sleeping, the lack of regular meals, and they hadn't started any physical therapy. I was fearless enough to sign those release and liability forms and take him home, even though he couldn't walk and I could barely get him out of the car. 

I became his personal physical therapist, watching YouTube videos and working with him all day. I put my programming projects on hold. In two days, he no longer needed the walker. In two weeks, he was walking to the mailbox. In two months, he was back at Disney, walking three miles a day. Like the woman in Grace Jones's song who said, "No road could be too hard for I am fearless," I learned that fearlessness and joy are not opposites; they are partners. You can be brave enough to defy the doctors, bold enough to bet on love and healing, while still holding tight to the joy and innocence that make life worth fighting for. "Toys" failed because it lost sight of that balance. My husband had lost the part of his brain that gave him balance and the doctors said he'd probably never walk again without a walker, but we've had a decade of travel and spending days at Disney. The walker still sits in the corner of the closet.

I'm writing the 4th book in my Kira and Henry series, War Games, while my husband is fighting his health battles again. When I write YA novels and screenplays, I use the Save the Cat! structure, and unlike Toys, I always know what my story is about and how it should be told. I become fearless and disciplined, but keep the joy of writing, because in life, in love, in the moments that truly matter, we cannot afford to lose it. It is time for me to be fearless again. And it is time to let joy and innocence prevail. 

Note: My April 2021 blog about my fearless granddaughter, Suby, tells the story of my great, great-grandmother on the Cook side of the family, who was truly fearless and went behind enemy lines to bring her captured husband home during the Civil War. 

The above picture is of my granddaughter, Tulaasi, on Mount Cook in the Ben Ohau Range of New Zealand's South Island. She and my oldest granddaughter, Chandra, fearlessly worked for years in Australia, New Zealand, and throughout Europe. My granddaughter, Vrinda, who is required to wear snake-proof boots to work as a field biologist in the Florida wilderness, is fearless. More about them in future blogs

I have been writing this monthly blog for over 6 years, every month - and I have so many stories I've yet to tell!

Happy Holidays to all of you!

Extraordinary Stories

Sometimes the most extraordinary stories begin with the most ordinary moments. In 1973, my husband, Keith and I were honeymooning in the quirky mountain town of Jerome, Arizona, a former copper mining boomtown. While exploring the local historical museum, I snapped a photo of what seemed like just another genealogy chart. Little did I know that dusty display would eventually lead to a decades-long journey culminating in my new book, Churchill's Mum: The Story of Jennie Jerome, an American Heiress.

That museum chart revealed something remarkable: the town of Jerome, Arizona, was named after Eugene Jerome, a wealthy New York financier who invested in the United Verde Copper Company. More intriguingly, Eugene Jerome was a cousin of Jennie Jerome, Winston Churchill's American mother. Through family lore and later genealogical research, I discovered that Keith's Jerome family connected to this same lineage, making Winston Churchill our fifth cousin (with a few "twice-removeds" thrown in for good measure).

What began as a honeymoon curiosity evolved into a passion project spanning decades. As a genealogist, I traced the Jerome family connections back through the Victorian and Edwardian eras that had always fascinated me. The more I learned about Jennie Jerome, the more convinced I became that her story deserved to be told with all the vibrancy she brought to life itself.

In 1873, nineteen-year-old Jennie Jerome from Brooklyn met Lord Randolph Churchill at a sailing regatta on the Isle of Wight. Three days later, they were engaged. Seven months after their wedding, she gave birth to Winston Churchill, a half-American son who would one day save Western civilization.

But this wasn't just another arranged marriage typical of the era when approximately 200 wealthy American heiresses crossed the Atlantic to marry into titled European families. Unlike the "cash for class" arrangements that dominated the headlines, Jennie and Randolph's was a genuine love match that defied both families' initial reluctance.

Jennie Jerome was no ordinary American heiress content to be merely decorative in British society. She refused to be seen and not heard. She organized political campaigns, founded an influential literary magazine, equipped and sailed a hospital ship to South Africa during the Boer War, and became one of the most influential women in England. Her energy, ambition, and American perspectives didn't just elevate her own status, they transformed British high society itself.

I believe that Winston represented the "perfect recipe" for the leader the world needed in 1940. He was half-American because of his mother, giving him unique insights into American politics and culture. This heritage proved crucial in establishing the "Special Relationship" with Franklin D. Roosevelt that would prove vital to Allied victory.

Churchill's powerful oratory rallied the British people, but his diplomatic skills, honed by his understanding of American sensibilities, helped secure crucial American support through Lend-Lease and other programs before Pearl Harbor. As Churchill himself wrote to Roosevelt, "I feel I have a right to talk about these things because English and American blood runs very strongly together in my veins."

Without Jennie Jerome, there might never have been a Winston Churchill. Without Winston Churchill, there's a reasonable possibility that Britain might have sought peace terms with Germany following Dunkirk. The ripple effects are staggering to contemplate.

After working on this story for over a decade, when my manuscript was nearly finished, my manager suggested I co-author with another of her clients, Churchill expert, David R. Stokes. Initially, I'll admit, I was disappointed. Didn't she think I could write this book myself? Did she doubt my qualifications? This wasn't even a book about Winston Churchill; it was about his mother, based on her memoirs that rarely mention Winston since they were written before he was famous for anything.

But then I had an idea that transformed everything. What if we wrote this from Winston's perspective on his mother? I created a second timeline featuring a fictional reporter interviewing an aging Churchill at Chartwell. This dual narrative structure not only provided "eyes to the world" to help readers navigate Jennie's rather complicated memoir, but it also allowed us to explore how her influence shaped the man who would become history's most crucial wartime leader.

It worked beautifully! We ended up with a fantastic book that I think we're both proud of, one that's richer and more compelling than what either of us might have created alone.

Churchill's Mum weaves together these two compelling timelines: Jennie's extraordinary life from American heiress to British political force, and fictional 1964 interviews where an aging Winston Churchill reflects on his mother's profound influence while painting at his beloved Chartwell estate. Through the eyes of fictional journalist Sophia Carter, readers witness Churchill's final months as he reveals how his mother shaped not just his character, but the course of history itself. As I developed the limited series, I decided to put in a little surprise. There is no Sophia - the same actress can play both Jennie and Sophia and maybe she was all in Winston's aging mind. Not sure the producers will like this, but if they do, that talented person will surely get nominated for an Emmy!

Drawing on over 50% source material from Jennie's own 1908 memoirs, now in the public domain, I tried to capture not just what she did, but who she was and why she mattered to the course of human events. Like a restored painting, I kept the original canvas intact while filling in colors that time had faded and highlighting connections that hindsight makes clear.

This project is perfect for fans of The Gilded Age, Downton Abbey, and anyone fascinated by the untold stories of remarkable women who shaped history. Churchill's Mum illuminates how one American woman's influence reached across decades to help forge the alliance that saved Western civilization.The fascination with American heiresses marrying into British nobility continues in contemporary media, but Jennie Jerome's story stands apart. She wasn't just an American who bought her way into British society, she was a woman who refused limitations, embraced challenges, and raised a son who embodied those same qualities when the world needed them most.

Churchill's Mum: The Story of Jennie Jerome, an American Heiress is now available on Amazon. Who knows? Your "by chance" family history discovery might just unlock a story that changed the world. https://a.co/d/6QiygkU - Watch the Trailer https://youtu.be/SLRkNX9GZGU?si=q8mWLMM3kpvw90x5

Lucky I'm in Love with My Best Friend

 

I met my husband in the spring of 1972, the year I graduated from high school.  Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor was opening in our small town and my best friend, Laura and I wanted to work there. It was a “cool” place in so many ways.  I was already accepted as an International Agriculture major at Cal Poly Pomona with a full scholarship.  I had enough credits to graduate from high school after the first semester, so I was able to leave school at 10:30AM because my favorite teacher, Mr. Alstrum let me be his teaching assistant for that 4th period.  I got hired as a daytime waitress for the lunch shift, and Laura was a nighttime cashier.  Close to opening day, Keith came in from another Farrell’s and was charged with teaching all of us how to properly fill the condiment jars according to health department rules.  I made a comment to my friend, “I can’t believe this guy is showing us how to fill a jar” and I swear I heard a growl to go with his icy stare. 

From then on, it was “game on '' between us.  Keith was our assistant manager and was engaged to get married in a year. I first dated a few of the guys at Farrell’s, but then started seriously dating seriously the area training supervisor, Jack.  The year before, I had broken up with my high school sweetheart, who had gotten his boss’s daughter pregnant.  He had a shotgun marriage during our senior year. I started dating for the first time in my life during my senior year, but I was getting tired of playing all the dating games.  Although I was a flower child of the seventies and enjoyed going to parties, drinking, smoking pot, and spending my days off at the beach, I was looking for a more serious relationship like I had for over three years with my steady boyfriend in high school.  I continuously got disappointed.  But this new guy I was dating had his own apartment, a nifty sports car, and he was seven years older.  Jack also wanted a serious relationship.  He was an intellectual that could discuss philosophical matters for hours and a talented artist.  But it was hard for me to relate to Jack.  When you’re only seventeen, those many years in age difference are difficult. Keith was less than a year older than me, but born an old soul.  He was organized, serious, and focused.  Even today, we tease him about his “Spidey Sense '' or ability to sense danger.  He tells our granddaughters to always trust their naturally inherited “Spidey Sense '' and get away from any situation that doesn’t seem right.

Keith and I had an ongoing adversary attraction.  I would toss something from the salad station at him while he walked by, or endlessly tease him about being too young to get married. My pestering and teasing started getting his attention and we began sneaking off after work to the park, or to the beach to talk.  We’d talked about how similar our childhoods were.  Both of our mothers were strong Catholics girls who came from immigrant families who occasionally spoke their native languages in the home.  His grandmother came from Italy and my mother’s family was German.  Both of our fathers came from a long line of British families that had come to America in the 1700s.  Keith is the fifth cousin of Winston Churchill twice removed. My father’s family came from Yorkshire, England and my great grandfather and great great grandfather were Baptist preachers.  Each of our fathers had converted to Catholicism to marry Catholic girls.  My father’s family had suffered terribly in World War II, losing their oldest son in Germany and a son-in-law as a Navy pilot in the Pacific.  How could my grandmother possibly approve of her only surviving son marrying a German girl like my mom when less than five years earlier her favorite son had died at the hands of the Germans on Christmas Day in the Battle of the Bulge? My dad said, “we told your grandma that your mom was Danish.”  This was partly true since my mom’s family came from northern Germany, and one great grandparent was born in Denmark, another in The Netherlands.  Keith’s father served during the war as a Navy Seabee, and then the Navy as a career, eventually retiring as a Chief. 

After a few months, Keith and I broke up with our existing partners, and we started dating seriously.  He did so many kind things! He would replace my torn beach towel, and rushed to open the car door for me.  He would help me be a 4-H Junior Leader, getting all my young 4-H team’s sheep ready for judging at the fair. Oddly enough, even though I grew up in a more rural west coast town, it wasn’t expected to go to college after high school.  Many of my fellow classmates merely took up a trade, got married, and settled down.  I wanted to go to college, but the night before I was supposed to leave for Cal Poly, I wrote a letter to the scholarship board and asked that my scholarship funds be transferred to the local community college, Mira Costa in Oceanside that had an agricultural program.  I liked Keith so much and I didn’t want to be far away from him.  I'm not sure when I fell in love with Keith, but I liked him so much that I wanted to be with him.  There is a song that I think sums this up;  "Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, Lucky to have been where I have been..."

I did end up getting my degree, but that is for another blog.

Visit my YouTube Account - Owen the Giraffe

Danah and La Honda

 

Growing up on a street like La Honda (the road to Dixon Dam) was a delight.  As I got older, my bus stop moved away from our driveway and to the end of La Honda which seemed about 50 miles away.  Danah's house was about half of the way home and anytime I’d see him outside, I’d stop, rest, and chat.  I had a huge crush on Danah when I was young, but he never thought of me more than a little sister.  Growing up, he’d walk up the hill to see me; sometimes with a steer in tow. If he went inside, he’d leave me a secret “Danah” note hidden.  The “Danah” note trick continued to spread.  As a wedding present, Cliff and Danah got us a knife holder and carved on one side; Danah and on the other, Cliff.  My best friend, Laura loved the Danah note trick.  After our honeymoon, we came back to our condo and there must have been hundreds of Danah notes!  Laura and I got inventive; often giving each other gifts with “Danah” written on the bottom.  The best Danah note happened in the 1990s when both Laura and I lived in Minnesota.  Keith and I had helped Laura and her husband put up rain gutters.   There was a six inch section left over which Laura wrote “Danah” with a red tip marker and snuck into the back seat of our car.  For the next few years, the rain gutter would go back and forth between our houses.  I babysat her kids a lot, so every time one of them picked them up, or I’d drop them off, we’d hide the gutter.   Finally Keith and I found the perfect hiding place.  Laura’s car got into an accident and was being repaired in a body shop that the company that I worked for owned.  I got the workers to put the gutter inside of the bumper.   After I told them where it was, they tried so hard to get it out, but it stayed there until they traded it in.  I’m sure that someday it will be found at a junkyard and they’ll wonder how a rain gutter got inside a bumper and why someone wrote “Danah” on it! 

When I was in high school, Cliff and Danah took off one summer for a long road trip which left me devastated.  I missed them both so much.  Thankfully they wrote me a postcard or letter almost EVERY day.  I remember running into C.J. who asked if I had heard from them and I shared what I received.  C.J. was so upset because he hadn’t gotten any word from the pair!  I offered the excuse that maybe they didn’t have enough stamps, and C.J. complained that he had given them self-addressed, stamped envelopes and they still hadn’t written.  Hopefully he eventually got a letter! My relationship with my long-time boyfriend, Lee was failing and Danah would come up and we'd sit under the big tree outside my bedroom and talk. Our nightly chats eventually took a serious romantic turn for us. Danah and I fell in love, but there was one problem; we were no longer compatible like we were when we were younger. Danah had become deeply religious at a time when I was becoming more interested in the sciences. I had originally wanted to be a large animal vet, but although Danah had tried and tried to teach me to give shots to animals, I just didn’t have the stomach for medicine. Instead I became very interested in agri-business and developing better ways to grow food through better irrigation. It was after one of our dates to a Christian youth rally that Danah had the dreaded “talk” with me. It was obvious that I didn’t have the passion for Christ that he had developed and would never want to be a pastor’s wife. He was able to get me to admit that I wanted to travel and save the world. As I became more scientific and agnostic, our paths were no longer the same. Although I ended up not going to CalPoly as planned and switched from agri-business to accounting and computer science, I did end up traveling the world and 47 of the 50 states. I’m still working on the “saving the world” part, but for now just working on my little part of the world; my four granddaughters and my tiny backyard. As teenagers, when Danah would leave, I would complain and didn't like it when he said that it was time to say “Goodbye.” To appease me, he quit saying goodbye and replaced it with as kiss and “Later.” As a teenager, I was happiest riding around in the front of Danah’s car with Cliff and Danah on each side of me.

After I met Keith and he truly liked Cliff and Danah, it was a big factor of us falling in love.  Keith didn't feel threatened by my friendships with Cliff and Danah and picked both of them to be groomsmen at our wedding. Danah did become a pastor, but died in 1982 at age 30 of cancer. I hope that he was right and there is something after all this and if so, I'll never have to say goodbye again.

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