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SW:  Welcome to this edition of Seven Questions, where we are delighted to be joined by Joie Lesin, award-winning author of The Passenger . She has long been fascinated by anything otherworldly including ghosts. She loves to write a good ghost story—especially when it includes a touch of romance. Originally from Massachusetts, at six years old, Joie moved to her mother’s birthplace, Minnesota. By eight, Joie lost her New England accent, however, it's gradually returning as the years go by. She grew up in Minneapolis but now resides in St. Paul with her husband and their blended family—which includes a rambunctious grand-corgi. Joie misses the ocean, but she often finds herself walking by one of Minnesota’s many lakes and travels to one of the coasts as often as she can. In fact, she considers California her home away from home. When she’s not writing, reading, or walking, you can find her listening to music. She absolutely loves music—especially live—and songs have sparked most of her story ideas. Shall we dive right into the interview? Joie:  Sure. SW:  Great! I know you're a music lover, so this first question seems fitting. If The Passenger  had a soundtrack, what would be the top three songs on the playlist, and how do they capture the essence of your story? Joie: I created a playlist for The Passenger , as I do for each of my stories. Music helps set the stage for me. It pulls me back in time—to the 1940s—and immerses me in the history. I can pick up a lot from the songs including what was important to people, the time, what and how they said it. The music is part of my research. Now to the question, the top three songs for The Passenger’s soundtrack are: `1. "Solitude" Billie Holiday 2. "Candy" Johnny Mercer, Jo Stafford 3. "It’s Been a Long, Long Time" Kitty Kallen, Henry James SW:  Those are such evocative choices. Do you ever surprise yourself with the direction your characters take? Can you share a moment in The Passenger where a character completely defied your expectations? Joie:  All the time. I am not one to plot out my stories, but I know where I’d like the story to end. I usually write the last scene and use that original ending as my guiding post. Then I write the first scene and from there set on a mission of discovery. While I puzzle the story together, I am constantly surprised by the characters. In fact, when I talk about the story, especially with my sister who comes up with the best questions, I often say, “I don’t know. She (or he) hasn’t told me yet.” One thing that surprised me while writing The Passenger was how much a part of the story Adriana Clemente became. As the story unfolded, I came to realize that it was as much Adriana and Paolo’s love story as Elizabeth and Gio’s. SW:  That’s fascinating—when characters take on lives of their own. Moving on, what’s the most unexpected source of inspiration you've ever drawn from in crafting a scene or character, and how did it manifest in your writing? Joie:  I consider everything, every experience, a potential source of inspiration. I guess you could say I expect the unexpected. It’s not that I’m always on the lookout for inspiration either. It’s more like I’m open to finding inspiration at any time or place—in the mundane or the grand event. A few summers ago, while at the Minnesota State Fair, I saw the words “Good at Bad Things” on someone’s t-shirt. From those words on that t-shirt, a character in my unreleased mermaid story came to life. SW:  It’s amazing how a simple phrase can inspire an entire character. You blend the supernatural with the deeply human in your work. In your opinion, what do supernatural elements reveal about real human emotions and experiences? Joie:  I write ghost stories. These are stories of loss on both sides—those that have passed and those they left behind. The characters in my stories have left things unfinished or unsaid like so many of us do. In The Passenger , I gave Paolo the chance to make amends to his family and pass on in peace. I gave the family he left behind a chance to say goodbye and to come to terms with his death. It is my way of saying that I believe those we've lost are never truly gone. Existence changes and they live on with us through our memories. Or in the scent of the cologne that hits us out of nowhere. And in that motion we catch out of the corner of our eye. SW:  That’s an intriguing way to explore human emotions. Now, here’s a personal one: What’s your writing kryptonite? Is there a particular scene type or story element that always challenges you, no matter how many books you write? Joie:  My writing kryptonite is not anything with my writing itself. It’s not a particular type of scene or story element, it’s actually something I haven’t talked much about before. In 2005 I had surgery to remove a rare, fast growing, non-cancerous brain tumor. It was a very traumatic time, and I was lucky to have the best care. However, once the tumor was removed, I found out the lasting effects. There are days I deal with pain in the area where the tumor once grew. I do have more good days than bad but there are times when the pain flares and I cannot think around it to write. Over the years, I have learned to take the breaks when I need them. Sometimes it slows me down or the length of the break frustrates me, but I’ve learned to pick the story back up where I left it. SW:  That must take a lot of resilience. I noticed on your website, you've published poetry alongside original photography. What inspired you to combine these two mediums? Joie:  It started with me posting my photographs on social media and wanting to share more than just a quote or brief description of the photos. It occurred to me that my photos were all of things—the ocean, birds in flight, a field of flowers—were all things that inspired my stories. It only made sense for me to combine the two mediums and use my own words.   It all began with this  picture and these words: Silent Chair In the silent solitude of dawn the empty chair calls. With a whispered exhalation I sit I think of you. SW:  That’s beautiful. Finally, what future projects do you have in the works? Joie:  My current work-in-process has the working title of Watch Over Me . This story is a stand-alone but that takes place on the Clemente Vineyard a decade and a half after The Passenger ended. Like its predecessor, Watch Over Me is a ghost story. It takes place in 1968 and tells the continuing story of Elizabeth’s daughter, Bella. First though, there are some disquieted spirits in need and a family of ghost whisperers who are ready—some reluctant—to help. SW:  Joie, thank you for sharing such wonderful insights into your writing journey. It was a pleasure having you with us. Joie:  My pleasure. SW:  To all our readers, don’t miss out on The Passenger . It’s available at all the major retailers. For more information, visit Joie at jlesin.com . About the Book: She's a 1940s ghost whisperer. He's the son of a ghost. Burdened with her empathic gift, Elizabeth Reilly wants to be free of it and fit in with normal people. Nevertheless, when the spirit of an old man asks for her help, she travels across the country to help him return home. Gio Clemente is still angry with his father who abandoned him as a child. To help the father pass on, Elizabeth must persuade Gio to let go of his anger. Though he resents her intrusion, they are both stunned to find themselves fighting a profound attraction. Elizabeth can accept his headstrong brand of love, but can Gio accept her gift—and believe in her? The Passenger, a 1940s ghost story set in the California wine country, tells a tale of family connections, life-changing choices, and love—lost and found. Publisher:   The Wild Rose Press

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As I sit in padmasana across from her, I can hear the oscillating breeze lick the bonsai trees outside the kitchen window. “I am light. I am love. I am enough,” she murmurs, as the orange tabby cat approaches, picks her up in its mouth, and slinks towards the litterbox. Now, only the sound of one toy’s japa.

I’m a big fan of the sitcom Leave it to Beaver (1957-63).  When I was a young kid, I used to watch reruns of the show quite often. Recently, I came to realize that the creators of the show took painstaking measures to infuse it with a wealth of aquatic symbolism and mythological references. One example of this would be coincidence, but as I dug deeper, I discovered much more. Here is what I found: What’s in a (Sur)name? 
 The family’s surname is “Cleaver.” A “cleaver” is a “heavy, broad-bladed knife or hatchet” that is used to “split or separate.” As an intransitive verb, the word “cleave” is defined as “to penetrate or pass through something, such as water or air.” Ward Cleaver: The Guardian/Separator 
 The father of the family is named “Ward,” which is defined as “the act of guarding or protecting; guardianship.” It also is defined as “the projecting ridge of a lock or keyhole that prevents the turning of a key other than the proper one.” A cleaver is also a broad-bladed knife that is used to split or to separate. The combination of these definitions fits Ward Cleaver’s — the patriarch of the family — role: He is there to protect his sons and to help them separate good from bad behavior and to instill a sense of morality in them. After all, every episode is a morality tale. Episodes range from cautionary tales that warn against everything from lying to stealing. June Cleaver has a Beaver 
 Now, onto his wife June. Her name is very close to the name of “Juno,” who in Roman mythology was the goddess of the “hearth and home.In Roman religion and mythology, she was also the wife and sister of Jupiter. She and her husband were in an incestuous marriage. The types and degrees of mythological punishments are many. So, what better punishment for this incestuous relationship is there than to have progeny that is an an aquatic rodent commonly know as Castor canadensis Kuhle —a “Beaver”?  Larry Mundello: the Cackerel 
 So, what do we make of Beaver’s pudgy sidekick, Larry Mundello? His surname is very similar in pronunciation to “mendole,” which is also known as a “cackerel,” which is a word of Old French origins. The dictionary definition of “cackerel” is “a small worthless Mediterranean fish considered poisonous by the ancients.” Again, the aquatic reference is evident. Saying that Larry is worthless and poisonous may be a little harsh. But after all, in one episode, he does manage to goad Beaver into smoking coffee grounds in Ward Cleaver’s collectible, ivory pipe, which leads to the development of Beaver’s monumental stomach ache. Larry’s companionship is, in a larger sense, worthless and poisonous to Beaver’s moral and ethical growth.  Hubert ‘Whitey’ Whitney: Merlangus Merlangus 
 Another of Beaver’s recurring friends in the television series is Hubert “Whitey” Whitney. He is always referred to by his nickname “Whitey,” which is unmistakably a reference to the common name of the Merlangus merlangus , the “whiting,” which is a fish that is related to cod that is indigenous to the European Atlantic waters.  Gilbert Bates: Another Fishy Friend 
 Another of Beaver’s playmates is Gilbert Bates. The aquatic reference is quite obvious. The first three letters of his first name are “gil,” one letter short of the word “gill,” which is defined as “the respiratory organ of most aquatic animals that breathe water to obtain oxygen, consisting of a filamentous structure of vascular membranes across which dissolved gases are exchanged.” To find the relevant significance of his last name, we need to look no further than it’s homonym, “baits,” which means “to place a lure in (a trap) or on (a fishing hook).” The definition of “bait” is “an enticement; a temptation.” Even though Whitey was a minor ensemble character, he did manage to become a voice against reason during several of Beaver’s moral conundrums, which “baited” Beaver into making unwise decisions. Tooey: The Enabler 
 Child actor Tiger Fafara played another of Beaver’s friends in various episodes of the show. His name is derived from the word “tew,” which in provincial English is defined as “rope or chain for towing a boat; also, a cord; a string.” Again, the aquatic reference is seen. Even though Tooey was a minor character in sporadic episodes, he did, when present, manage to “tow” Beaver and his friends toward treacherous waters as an enabler. The Ward/Beaver Dynamic 
 So, now we have a Beaver (an aquatic rodent) who gets into all sorts of predicaments that are presented as tests of his moral fortitude, his sense of ethics, and common sense. Whenever he faces one of these tests, or learning experiences, it is his father, who protects him (as a “ward”) from harm and provides lecturing sessions at the end of each episode in which he helps his sons to differentiate (“cleave”) between right and wrong, in an effort to ensure that Beaver makes the “proper” choice if faced with a similar situation in the future. Wally Cleaver: Sander Vitreus? 
In keeping with the aquatic analogy, Beaver’s sibling, Wally, is also an aquatic creature. His name is quite similar in pronunciation to “walleye,” which is a freshwater food and game fish also known as Sander Vitreus.   Clarence ‘Lumpy’ Rutherford: Cyclopterus Lumpus 
If we were to search for an aquatic reference for Wally Cleaver’s husky, and slightly dopey friend, Clarence Rutheford, we need only to look at his nickname: “Lumpy.” This nickname can then be seen as a reference to another aquatic creature, the lumpfish, which, by dictionary definition, is “a clumsy soft thick-bodied northern Atlantic fish,” also known as Clyclopterus Lumpus. Edward “Eddie” Haskell: The Contrarian 
So what should we make of Wally Cleaver’s mischievous friend Eddie Haskell? He seems to always encourage both of the Cleaver boys to engage in activities that are contrary to the teachings of their father, Ward. Speaking aquatically, what is an “eddy”? It is, by definition, it is “a current, as of water, moving contrary to the direction of the main current.” This definition fits his character precisely. After all, young Mr. Haskell does, by his very nature, introduce an anti-establishmentarian attitude or “contrary” views and encouragement that the Cleaver boys must try to resist (but seldom do). His influence runs counter to the sense of morals and ethics that Ward Cleaver tries to instill in Beaver and Wally. The Evolutionary Process: Shedding Marine Vestiges 
At this point, we can introduce a bit of Darwinian theory. This is to say that all of the children of Mayfield are on an evolutionary path of sorts. Through the trials and tribulations of their youth, they are expected to evolve morally and ethically. This process can also be likened to the time when fish and other aquatic creatures crawled onto land, terra firma. The educational institution, the Mayfield School, that all of the children attended, there was a process for holding them in place, while providing guidance for them to shed their aquatic features and to evolve into land dwellers. Outside of their respective family settings, they received assistance from their school. Mayfield, which, when analyzed alludes to “may,” which is a noun that means “the springtime of life; youth.” The children of Mayfield are, in a sense, undergoing an evolutionary process during the “springtime” of their youth. Miss Canfield: To Teach and to Contain 
The actress, Diane Brewster appeared early in the show for the first two seasons, from 1957-1958, as Miss Canfield. Her last name is a compound word. The first component of her last name is “can.” When we look at the etymology, we find that the word “can” originates from the Middle English word “canne,” which is “a water container.”  In addition to the aquatic reference, there is the realization that, as the teacher of Beaver and friends, her role was, two-fold: to “contain” and to educate them. She was responsible for their intellectual, moral, and ethical growth in the context of the educational institution, and she provided the proper environment (“aquatic”) for them to thrive and to grow. Mrs. Landers: The Evolutionary Siren 
Sue Randall was the actress who played Mrs. Landers from 1958-62, the successor of Mrs. Canfield, in the previous seasons. If we look at her surname, we can see that it describes her role in the children’s lives. A “lander” is “one who brings something (or someone) to land.” In the children’s later years, she serves as the force that promotes their evolution into a higher order of “land-dwelling” creatures. Principal Rayburn: It Felt Good to Burn 
At the Mayfield school, there was also the matronly principal, Cornelia Rayburn, played by actress Doris Packer. She served as a beacon of righteousness in the education of Beaver, Wally, and the children of Mayfield. Her role was also to help them along the evolutionary journey by enabling them to become “land-dwelling” creatures. An analysis of her surname provides clear proof when dissected. The first part of her surname, “ray” is a noun that is defined as “any of various marine fishes of the order Rajiformes or Batoidei, having cartilaginous skeletons, horizontally flattened bodies, and narrow tails.” In addition to this obvious aquatic reference, we must also consider the zoological definition of the word “ray,” which is “one of the bony spines supporting the membrane of a fish’s fin.” When paired with the second half of her surname, “burn,” it becomes clear. “Burn” is a verb that means “to dispel; dissipate” as in The sun burned off the fog. When we consider both parts of her surname, it is evident that her role is to “dispel” or to “dissipate” the “bony spines supporting the membrane” of the children’s “fins,” thus preparing them as land-dwelling creatures that would have no need for such anatomical accoutrements. Obvious Undercurrent 
 This analysis of Leave it to Beaver is designed to show that the elements that are seemingly created randomly in the making of a show are not so random. In this instance, it is evident that the creators of this sitcom intentionally embedded allusions and symbolism that are far more sophisticated than the simplistic veneer of this television show would suggest. Leave it to Beaver, in all of its benignancy, is much more than a middle-brow television show, but rather an intellectual confluence of aquatic and evolutionary analogy that springs from a foundation of mythology. SOURCE: Leggs, Michael. “All the Symbolism You Never Knew Existed in Leave It to Beaver (and There’s a Lot of It).” Thought Catalog , 5 Apr. 2014, thought.is/all-the-symbolism-you-never-knew-existed-in-leave-it-to-beaver-and-theres-a-lot-of-it/ .

I love ketchup. I like to have French fries (or freedom fries, if you insist) with my ketchup. I like to squeeze a pool of ketchup into a huge bowl in which my French fries can frolic. The French fries have told me that they appreciate picnics with their French fry families by the ketchup pool, but have asked me to stop consuming them and their relatives. Of course, I listen to each generation of the French fry families, and have taken their grievances to heart. I have since posted a sign on the ketchup swimming pool that reads: After swimming, please shower to remove all ketchup, or risk being consumed by the management.   Many French fries did not seem to heed the sign, and were consumed. I soon realized that French fries can't read, but that they do pass down an oral history from generation to generation. In French fry folklore, I am known as the dualistic deity, the creator/destroyer "Mr. Choppers." I am a true believer that no French fry should be left behind when it comes to education. So, I have started a school called "Mr. Choppers' Holy French Fry English Literacy Immersion School" to ensure that they can read the signs posted on the ketchup swimming pool. After immersing themselves in the English language, they can read the sign, and make an educated decision as to whether they want to immerse themselves in ketchup without showering afterward.I know. I know. My efforts in French fry literacy make about as much sense as tobacco companies running PSA's telling people not to smoke. . . but, what the heck. It's tough love. I only eat them because I love them, and I want them to learn. I get a really warm, fuzzy feeling and believe that everything is worthwhile if just one French fry learns from another French fry's mistake. Plus, I work up quite an appetite running that French fry school. Who cares if I eat the stupid ones?

I see Minnesota nice in the middle of Frogtown on Saturday night when I hail a Green & White cab on University Avenue, and dodge high hookers riffling ghetto rolls   when the Spaghetti Junction crush of cars loosens on I-94, finally lets me slide through a sunshine traffic jam —a celebrity walleye swimming uptown bound to sizzle in some skillet before I die when the Dorothy Day contingent eats after-bar omelets, pancakes, and hash browns in starvation dreams hunkered in booths at Mickey’s Diner with the slumming Summit Avenue elite. I see Minnesota nice coursing the skyway’s hardened arteries pushing polar winds while I spiral my way down to the city’s core. [Originally appeared in Advance the Engine Summer - Michael Leggs. Gull Island Press, 2008.]