And the Winner Is . . .

The voting last week, about whether or not I should “fudge the facts” about the legality of holographic wills in Minnesota, came down emphatically in favor of no fudge. So there’s a trip to Fargo in Betsy Devonshire’s future. I thank everyone for their thoughtful replies to my survey.

I went to the Red Wing (Minnesota) Public Library this past Saturday to give a talk on being a mystery author. It was a good, well-attended talk, and a number of the women who came wore hats -- I always wear a fancy hat at my appearances, this was a cute way of keeping me company. After my talk I called for questions. One woman remembered an incident in one of my books in which an extraordinarily handsome man comes into Betsy’s needlework shop to buy a yellow lab pattern. His name is Rick -- something; I can’t remember his surname. The questioner wanted to know what happened to Rick and if I would bring him back for an encore. I’ve thought about it and maybe I could. The problem is, I don’t remember which book Rick appeared in! I’m pretty sure it was one of the early ones, so now I’ve got to do some digging to look for him, so I can get his full name and remind myself what he looks like.

Red Wing is a very attractive riverfront city, quite old (for Minnesota), with an attractive downtown. It’s where a lot of famous pottery is made and where Red Wing Shoes is located. Their outlet store on the main street has the biggest shoe in the world in its front window -- a brown leather work shoe twenty feet tall, with laces as big around as my forearm. The Jolly Green Giant, another Minnesota native, could use a pair of them -- he’s usually depicted barefoot.

I decided, almost on a whim, that Jill and Lars and their two children need a dog, and that the dog should be a Newfoundland. Their regular house and their vacation cabin are both located on lake shores, and a Newfie is by instinct a powerful swimmer who will go to the rescue of anyone he sees struggling in the water. They are also wonderful with children -- the Victorians loved them. The Nanny in Peter Pan is a Newfie. But now that means I have to do some more research on them. I hope I can connect with someone in the area who has one, so I can spend some time with one. It's easier for me to write about something I have actually done or had contact with. Look for Bjorn as a puppy in Buttons and Bones this December.

Grand Ole Opry, and A Survey

One of my earliest memories is of my father sitting in a dark room hunched over a radio trying to listen to a static-filled broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry show. He was a huge fan of country music, and Grand Ole Opry was *the* place to find it. But we were in a “fringe“ area of radio reception for the station that carried it, so it was a struggle to hear it. My mother wasn’t a fan and I followed my mother’ s tastes in music most of my life. But now, of late, I’m discovering the pleasures of country. So it was with happy anticipation I attended the upteen-thousandth broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry radio show in Nashville this past Saturday. Eighty-three years on the air, can you imagine?

The show takes place in a huge theater on a huge stage behind an immense curtain. It offers a tremendous range of country music, from old-time cowboy songs to the latest country hit, with everything in between. The show lasted an hour and a half, one of the fastest ninety minutes I’ve ever sat through. It felt very informal -- now and again a performer, on finishing his song, would wander over to where the announcer was giving a commercial and try to get him to crack up by making faces or waving his cowboy hat under his nose.

The needlework market -- my real reason for going to Nashville -- was smaller than in other years, a sign of the struggling economy which has shops closing all over the country. And fewer vendors than usual turned up, too. Still, I saw some beautiful things for sale and bought some of what I saw, too. And had some helpful, interesting conversations about products, designs, and running a small needlework shop. Among my purchases: a small box to be covered with counted cross stitch whose theme is Mary Queen of Scots; a little crewel picture of a thatch-roof cottage; and an elaborate cross stitch picture of a haunted house (I just love Halloween).

I would like to ask the advice of my readers. In the book I’m about to start writing, my murder victim leaves behind a holographic will. This is the sort that is written entirely in the handwriting of the testator (will-maker), sometimes without eye-witnesses and normally without the aid of an attorney. The language is generally casual. I have read that a farmer working in his fields had his tractor roll over on him. He wrote in his own blood, “All to Mother” on the tractor’s fender before dying and it was admitted to probate as a legal, holographic will.

My problem is that holographic wills are no longer legal in Minnesota, where my novel is set.

As I see it, I have two choices. First, pretend they are legal. After all, I’m writing fiction. Or second, weasel my way around it by setting it up so my victim is a resident of North Dakota, where such wills are legal, but is currently staying in Minnesota. Then send Betsy to Fargo for part of her investigation.

What should I do? What do you think?