THE SAGA OF TWO FAMILIES
Rehoboth Road and The Dancing Willow Tree
Location: Rehoboth, Georgia
A Fictitious Community Located Thirty Minutes South Of Macon, Georgia
Rehoboth Road opened in 1950 Rev. John Turner was a tall, well built, pleasing to the eye, handsome man in his late thirties. He was a proud man and was well respected in the community. He believed the words of the Bible were the only acceptable way of living a Christian life. He was a proud man and although he preached that he was called by the Lord, he failed to realize it was his duty to first minister to those who were lost; he considered them too lost to heed the word of God.
When his daughter, Elizabeth delivered her son in the girl’s bathroom at the high school, Reverend Turners was only concerned with how much she had disgraced him. He disowned her and her son, Johnny for the next thirty-six years, even when he had finally realized the truth about her being raped by his assistant pastor, Rev. Owen Oliver.
Rehoboth Road is a work of fiction that was inspired by an elderly family friend who shared her secret of being raped at age fifteen with me. Soon after its publication, many people asked if my friend became pregnant by her rapist and I said no. Today, My Friend is in the moderate stage of Alzheimer disease and last fall I met a lovely lady who appeared to be in her late seventies. She told me she was My Friend’s daughter.
I believe My Friend told me her story because she had been diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer and she didn’t want her secret to be lost; she wanted to be counted along with the hundreds of thousands of other women who had been violated and who are still being violated today. There are other messages that came from Rehoboth Road. Among them are:
- Even when you have let go of the Lord’s hand, He is still holding on to you.
- Parents and guardians protect your children. Don’t dismiss the things they say.
- Parents and guardians teach your children that the lease likely person they come in
contact with may be a child molester. With reference to their body, if something
doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right.
- Parents and guardians must teach their children, ‘When to Tell’. And parents and
guardians must listen and take the necessary action.
Rehoboth Road Book Information
Publisher: Genesis Press Inc
Page: 385
ISBN 10: 1-58571196-9
ISBN 13: 978-15857119-6-3
Retail Price: $12.95
Purchase online and bookstores
The Dancing Willow Tree
In 1950, young Elizabeth Turner was raped by Reverend Oliver, the assistant pastor of her father’s church. After a hidden pregnancy she gave birth to a son, Johnny. Reverend Turner, Elizabeth’s father refused to respond to her story of rape and disowned her and her son. He forced Elizabeth and his wife Loretha to hide the identity of the baby’s father and live the next thirty six years with lies and secrets.
In 1986, Reverend Oliver was forced to confess to his family as well as the Turner family, but before he could leave Rehoboth he became seriously ill. The ripple effect of his confession touches everyone causing them to have an array of physical and emotions reactions. As Elizabeth continued to move on with her life, she didn’t know the secret her husband, Nat harbored was the cause of his suffering and enormous pain.
Thea, Reverend Oliver’s wife, could not escape the disgrace and shame she was feeling. She watched painfully as her son, Malcolm tried to forge a relationship with his brother, Johnny. And she never knew Malcolm was also struggling to come to terms with his sexuality.
Thea’s most plaguing dilemma had to do with her relationship with her husband. Her only consolation was an old weeping willow tree in her front yard where the graceful branches would dance on the mild summer breezes. Thea called it her dancing willow tree and she would sit under it daily to pray and receive guidance from the Lord. She knew if her husband was to be saved, she had to give him a life threatening ultimatum
The Dancing Willow Tree Book Information
Publisher: Black Deer Books
Page: 212
ISBN 10: 0-9729455-2-0
ISBN 13: 978-0-9729455-2-3
Retail Price: $15.00
Release date: October 26, 2007 Early release to the publisher, Black Deer Books.
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books a Million, and other online sites. May be purchased through major book stores.
The much awaited sequel, The Dancing Willow Tree, addresses family disgrace, hidden paternity, and questionable sexuality, while presenting a series of ultimatums. The readers will take an unforgettable literary journey.
Note: 15% of all book sales will be donated to the American Breast Cancer Foundation.
Anita Ballard-Jones is touring America greeting book lovers and the publishing community. She is available for book signings, bookclub chats, and all literary events. Email requests for speaking engagements or bulk book orders to: Email: ABallardjo@aol.com. The Dancing Willow Tree is available for purchase at all major online book sellers, Amazon.com, and through the author.
The Dancing Willow Tree | Released Oct.26, 2007 | ISBN-10: 0972945520 | ISBN-13: 978-0972945523
Contact:
A. Jones
Black Deer Books
P.O. Box 841
Henderson, NC 27536
Telephone: 252- 432-1518
Email: ABallardjo@aol.com
Website: http://www.anitaballard-jones.com
# # #
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Contact:
A. JonesBlack Deer Books
P.O. Box 841
Henderson, NC 27536
Telephone: 252- 432-1518
Email: ABallardjo@aol.com
Website: http://www.anitaballard-jones.com
Black Expressions Featured Author Returns to Rehoboth Road
Henderson, N.C., March 29, 2008 — Anita Ballard-Jones, author of the highly acclaimed Rehoboth Road, releases the sequel, The Dancing Willow Tree. The Dancing Willow Tree continues the action filled saga of two families, which have been harboring secrets, lies, and emotional pain. Rehoboth Road was released on July 7, 2006, and during the same month it was the featured book for the Black Expressions Book Club. Today, it remains one of Black Expressions’ member favorites. Within weeks of the release, Anita began receiving e-mails from her new fans from every corner of the United States and the United Kingdom, and it continues to this day. Everyone sang their praises for Rehoboth Road, and almost everyone asked for a sequel. Ms. Ballard-Jones says, "The Dancing Willow Tree was written for the love of her fans."
Rehoboth Road opened in 1950 Rev. John Turner was a tall, well built, pleasing to the eye, handsome man in his late thirties. He was a proud man and was well respected in the community. He believed the words of the Bible were the only acceptable way of living a Christian life. He was a proud man and although he preached that he was called by the Lord, he failed to realize it was his duty to first minister to those who were lost; he considered them too lost to heed the word of God.
When his daughter, Elizabeth delivered her son in the girl’s bathroom at the high school, Reverend Turners was only concerned with how much she had disgraced him. He disowned her and her son, Johnny for the next thirty-six years, even when he had finally realized the truth about her being raped by his assistant pastor, Rev. Owen Oliver.
Thirty-six years later in The Dancing Willow Tree, Reverend Turner is in is late seventies and he has had a major heart attack. The pain he caused Elizabeth and Johnny, and the rift he created in his family have taken a toll on him. In 1986, Reverend Oliver was forced to confess to his family as well as the Turner family that he raped Elizabeth. The ripple effect of his confession touches everyone causing them to have an array of physical and emotions reactions. As Elizabeth continues to move on with life, she didn’t know her husband, Nat was holding a secret that was causing him to suffer enormous pain.
The much awaited sequel, The Dancing Willow Tree, addresses family disgrace, hidden paternity, and questionable sexuality, while presenting a series of ultimatums. The readers will take an unforgettable literary journey.
Note: 15% of all book sales will be donated to the American Breast Cancer Foundation.
Anita Ballard-Jones is touring America greeting book lovers and the publishing community. She is available for book signings, bookclub chats, and all literary events. Email requests for speaking engagements or bulk book orders to: Email: ABallardjo@aol.com. The Dancing Willow Tree is available for purchase at all major online book sellers, Amazon.com, and through the author.
The Dancing Willow Tree | Released Oct.26, 2007 | ISBN-10: 0972945520 | ISBN-13: 978-0972945523
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Old Age, I decided, is a gift..........
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not
my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or
a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don' t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat,
to be messy, to be extravagant..
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 & 70's, and if I, at the same time,
wish to weep over a lost love . I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into
the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set .
They, too, will get old. &nb sp;
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose
a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car?
But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care le ss about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become.
I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could
have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)
MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART!
MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART FOREVER AND EVER!
FRIENDS FOREVER!
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NU CHERTE PUBLISHING DEBUTS WITH NEW BOOK
BY LORETTA R. WALLS
Antonio is also in highschool but from Richmond, Virginia working two jobs to help his mother support his many brothers and sisters. Growing up in the projects, he is faced with a number of obstacles that will test his manhood.
When Dream and Antonio¢s worlds collide both of their lives change forever. . .but is it for the better or for the worse?
The following is the full first chapter of Sweet Dreams
Copyright © 2008 Nikkea Smithers
Dream
"Little girl, you will never amount to anything. Not a single solitary thing. Your life is worthless you hear me! I don¢t even know why you keep waking up in the morning. Now understand this, when I say jump, you say how high, not why. You don¢t question me. I am your mother. Not your friend, not your sister, your mother. And what I say is law. Remember that if you don¢t remember anything else in life. Remember that Dream!" My mother spewed her darts of hatred in my direction. I had learned to block her hurtful words out when I knew that she was drunk. Her breath smelled immensely drowned in the precise scent of Hennessey.
Brown liquor, I never understood why she had this thing for brown liquor but from what I heard it could have been worse. It could have been light liquor that could have been her downfall. But light liquor wasn¢t her flavor, brown liquor was. I had heard that vodka was one of the worst of all liquors and should never divulged in heavy doses. To me the same could have been said about brown liquor, or even more so Hennessey.
When my mother went into her temper tantrums I was her instant target. She was bitter at the world but the world wasn¢t at home alone with us. We lived on the fourth floor of a ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Bridgeport high rise apartment building nick named the Greens. The hallways had the same pissy stench that reverberated in most project hallways. The floors were cold and hard like a prison cell and there was little space to get away from the constant rants of my mothers screams.
Every day that I had come to our apartment I was constantly reminded that I was never going to have a home. Not as long as I lived with my mother in the Greens. I had an address for the time being, but not a place where I could call home. The legendary song by the late Luther Vandross was never more true to me when it came to the place where I resided with my mother. An apartment was not a home with no one standing there to welcome me.
Sadly things had been this way for years. My mother had never accepted the fact that my father felt that she wasn¢t woman enough to command his attention at all times. He left when I was three and hadn¢t been back since. Therefore for thirteen years I had to live with mood swings from my mother and her constant alcoholism.
Trust, if there was another way that I could have provided for myself without having to succumb to the welfare system of the state of Connecticut I would have been out of there a long time ago. I suppose in some ways one could suggest that I was a subject of the State of Connecticut¢s welfare system through my mother, then respond what was the big deal? Well, that fact in itself was enough to turn my stomach away from being dependant on the state.
All my life I had been witness to my mother¢s lack of motivation. She used me for a check and free rent. Food stamps were our way of life not because she did not have another way, but because she was unmotivated to get a job. Instead she loved to hustle here and there, drinking and partying like she was the sixteen year old.
"Look at you, over there looking like your daddy. I should have aborted you when I got pregnant, but the only thing you are good for is a check, taxes and the damn dishes!"
Her words were hurtful but I continued to block them out of my mind. I started to sing to myself Mary J. Blidge¢s song "No More Drama". Only, for me the drama would never end, but the song gave me some hope that there would be a change soon coming.
I longed for school, and work. Those were the times that I could be away from my mother and could truly clear my mind from her mess. Unfortunately it was a Friday night and school was two days away. I had to work on Saturday but it would only be a short day at the hair salon. I was in the midst of thinking of what else I could do when my mother began talking her craziness.
The siren from the phone ringing pierced through the chaos of our home. "Get the phone little girl, it aint for nobody but you anyway. I¢m going to cut the thing off you know! Keep testing me which your smart little self."
I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her as I went to answer the phone, respecting her was hard to do which regardless of her actions was necessary because she was my mother in the end. "Dream?" A woman was half weeping on the other end of the line. I recognized her voice faintly.
"Ms. Dawkins?"
"Dream...." she wailed my name like it was causing her pain. My heart sank right then, I knew that if she was calling me then there was nothing that could have been good about the phone call.
"Yes ma¢am?" I wanted to comfort her, the pain in her voice was evident. She was my best friend Adrian¢s mother.
"My baby is gone!!!" She wept through the phone line. Now that line puzzled me because to my knowledge, Adrian and her mother had never been close and that was the main reason that Adrian and I were so tight. I questioned as to how Ms. Dawkins could be claiming such closeness now.