Behind the Scenes of: ‘A Polish Heart’ by Stephanie Burkhart – Ninth Stop on the 2011 Summer Blog-String Fest

Today I am so happy and delighted that the wonderful Stephanie Burkhart is visiting the Summer Blog-String Fest! She’s a fantastic author, great friend – and fellow New England-er. Welcome, Steph!

Behind the Scenes of: A Polish Heart
by Stephanie Burkhart

Regina Andrews is one of the sweetest people I know. A fellow Desert Breeze Author, when I learned Regina was from Rhode Island, I felt like I’d met a kindred spirit. I grew up in New Hampshire. My first time to Rhode Island was to Newport in 1985 as part of a school trip. Newport, Rhode Island is beautiful. I visited the mansions of Newport – Rosecliff, the Astors, and the Breakers, and fell in love with the Breakers. What made the biggest impression with me was standing in the middle of the great hall and closing my eyes and envisioning what it like all those years ago.

The Breakers was the summer home of Cornelius Vanderbilt II and the home was constructed between 1892-95. The architectural style embodies “The Gilded Age” of America and was the largest, most elegant house in Newport when it was finished.

When it came time to write my inspirational short story, A Polish Heart, I drew upon my knowledge and love of Newport to give my hero, Darrin Riverton a home. Darrin comes from Newport and embodies the American dream.

“A Polish Heart” is a short story included in Victory Tales Press Spring/Easter anthology. The story encompasses inspirational and family themes. Darrin’s a successful architect who travels to Warsaw, Poland on an assignment. Sofia Buraczynski is the beautiful, hard-working and family orientated interpreter who Darrin falls for. Will Sophia’s faith give Darrin his heart back?

What I enjoy about writing for Victory Tales Press are the opportunities to branch out and try other subgenres of romance. “A Polish Heart” has an inspirational message – you are who God made you and you shouldn’t try to be what other people expect you to be. You’ll only be happy when you are yourself. There’s also a family message – a family filled with love offers unconditional support. Darrin’s family has been sidetracked by materialism – and Darrin has lost his way because of it.

REVIEWS: A POLISH HEART
5 Stars, Diane Craver, author of “The Christmas Gift”
Burkhart’s writing caused me to fall in love with Warsaw, even though I’ve never been there. Her descriptions of the setting and culture made me feel like I was experiencing firsthand Poland’s interesting country.

The Set up: Darrin and Sophia are finishing dinner at a local restaurant.

The waiter came and Darrin gave him his credit card.

“I’d invite you shopping with us, but I’m afraid you have a lot of work to do.”

Darrin frowned. He did, but he hated to miss the opportunity to learn about the Easter basket and go shopping for it.

“Why don’t you join us for mass on Palm Sunday?”

“Really? A mass? I haven’t been in months. I’d need a confession.”

“Do you want me to ask Father William if it would be permissible for me to translate for him? He takes confessions on Saturday afternoons.”

“All right.”

“You can work in the morning. I’ll call you in the afternoon. Do you mind taking the metro again?”

“That’s fine.”

“What if he can’t take your confession?” asked Sofia.

“I’ll still go to mass with you, but I’d like to be able to receive the Eucharist.”

Her smile widened, warming his heart.

“I would like that. I’ll do my best to help get you a confession.”

The waiter returned and Darrin signed the bill. They left. Sofia’s car was parked in front of her house. The car ride back to his hotel was silent. She’d given him a lot to think about. How did he want to live his life? Falsely, trying to meet his parents’ expectations? Or did he want to let his heart breathe? He was twenty-nine. Wasn’t he entitled to let himself follow his own course? He had a good job, a nice apartment – he just had to live the way he wanted. And he had to guard his heart, turn away dishonesty and keep his eyes firmly on the path ahead, as the rest of the verse advised.

Sofia pulled up to the front of the hotel and put the car in park. Darrin turned to face her. The fringes of her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, softening her expression. He reached out and gently took her hand in his. Her touch sent warm tendrils of desire through him. With the other hand, he cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes, and drew in a sharp breath before opening them again.
Lightly, he rubbed his thumb against her jaw.

“May I kiss you?” His voice was low and husky.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, his lips feather light, touching hers with tantalizing persuasion until she opened up to him. He kept the kiss slow, thoughtful, enjoying the hints of berries and currants that lingered from the malbec. He pulled away gently.

“That was nice,” she whispered.

“Call me tomorrow.”

“I will.”
Darrin opened the door and stepped out. He waved to Sofia and she waved back as she drove away.

Darrin went to his room and revisited his luggage, removing his travel Bible from an inner pocket. He always took it with him, just in case. Opening it up, he went to the book of Proverbs, sat up against the headboard of the bed, and began to read.

Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lC6_397PerU

Buy Links:

Print Book:
Create Space: https://www.createspace.com/3579108

Ebook:
Lulu: (PDF) http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/a-springeaster-collection-sweet/15166166

Smashwords: (multiple formats) http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/48682

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Spring-Easter-Collection-Sweet-ebook/dp/B004TMPOYM/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1314939571&sr=8-2

Stephanie Burkhart was born and raised in Manchester, New Hampshire. A member of Generation X, she joined the army in 1986 and spent 7 years overseas in Germany. She’s now a 911 Dispatcher for LAPD. Her favorite football team is the New England Patriots. A Polish Heart was inspired by her Polish heritage.

Find me on the Web at:

BLOG:

http://sgcardin.blogspot.com

WEBSITE:

http://www.stephanieburkhart.com

FACEBOOK:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1357922219

GOODREADS:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4031660.Stephanie_Burkhart

Thank you for visiting, Stephanie, and best of luck with your writings!

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Hey Mr. Postman, Look at Me!

The mail has long been a topic of fascination in American cultural history. We all remember the stories from history class about Ben Franklin and his idea of the Postal Service, and the tales of the Pony Express, galloping from one coast all across the country to the other to deliver important documents, revised maps of the territories and of course, love letters.

How many songs and movies refer to the mail, Mr. Postman or delivering the letters? Lots! Did you, or someone you know have a stamp collection? Did you ever play Post Office? Do you eagerly await the next arrival in the mail of the newest catalogue from your favorite retailer?

It seems like the mail permeates such a great portion of our lives, and even though we have seen the advent of the electronic process of delivery known as e-mail, the post office, snail mail and all its relations by extension play an enormous role in our personal and business lives.

Rhode Island, the smallest state, has a particularly large distinction as far as the mail is concerned. It is the location of the world’s First Automated Post Office, which opened on October 20, 1960.

For our family in particular, the Post Office holds great sentimental value. My father was Personnel Director at the Main Post Office in Providence Rhode Island until his retirement. One of the highlights of his career was the opening of the new Automated Main Post Office. Also known as the “Turnkey” Post Office, mail was sorted and dispatched quickly from this central location throughout the state.

Prior to the opening of the Turnkey facility, my father actually worked at the downtown location for many years. It was there, starting as a mail sorter and handler, that he endured the teasing of his colleagues when my mother, his then-girlfriend, would stop by before she began her nurse’s shift at Rhode Island Hospital.

He worked there until the Army sent him to help run the Postal Service in Algeria during World War II. (Of course, he married my mother before he went overseas.) And upon his return from the war in 1945 he went back to work at the downtown location.

In fact, their story was the inspiration for my Desert Breeze Book, “Spotlight on Love.”

By the 1950′s, so many things were changing in the United States, and the dramatic increase in the amount of mail being sent was one of them. The hand-stamping and hand-sorting methods previously used were too time-consuming for the volume of mail being handled. In 1958, The Postmaster General gave the go-ahead for construction of an Automated Post Office, located in Providence. It would become the prototype for turnkey automated postal facilities throughout the country.

The Post Office was designed with the most up-to-date electronic and mechanical systems available in the late ’50s-early 60s. The ultimate objective was to move more than one-million pieces of mail automatically per day with unprecedented speed and efficiency.

A Control Tower reaching 25 feet in height, similar to a forest ranger’s outlook tower, served as the central command post of what my father referred to as “the floor”. This was the main area with conveyor belts carrying the mail throughout its journey into and out of the new building. On the way, the mail would be sorted, stamped and routed via the building’s culling, canceling and sorting machines.

It is a vivid memory, recalling my very first visit to “the floor”. The cavernous space was gleaming with fluorescent light, no daylight, and the ceilings stretched up as high as my eyes could see. Most memorable, though, was the commotion from the clackety-clacking conveyor belts, racing frantically against time.

What a treat, on subsequent visits after touring “the floor,” to take the elevator up three floors and visit my father’s office. I’d run across the carpet and perch on the leather sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling vertical blinds.

“Ready?” my father would ask.

“Now!” I’d shriek, and he’d comply, pulling the string to open the blinds and reveal a wall of windows overlooking “the floor”.

As far as the eye could see, and three stories down, I would see a Santa’s workshop of mail mania. But this view was soundless, unlike the ruckus on “the floor”.

The Post Office was really a social center. April 15^th was a key date for the Post Office, with tax filers rushing into the lobby with their last-minute tax returns. The Postmaster at the time would make the lobby a party floor, with ice cream, bands and even the Philharmonic playing music to file by until midnight for the customers. This lasted up until last year, when the Internet cut back on the numbers of people filing paper returns.

So many big memories from Little Rhody and our Automated Post Office on Corliss Street! Remember that date, October 20, 1960? The day of the Grand Opening? With new crews, government dignitaries and civic leaders? It was also, by some grandly-unplanned but incredibly romantic ‘correspondence’, my parents 18^th wedding anniversary.

And that, as they say, is a story that is “sealed with a kiss”! Do you have a special memory about the mail?

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