A Good Cause and A Ghostly Pause

Today, I'm entering a bid in Brenda Novak's Fourth Annual Online Auction to Benefit Diabetes Research. And no, it's not the autographed photo of Fabio. I'm waiting to indulge my of-late preoccupation with him until I'm at a future Romantic Times convention, when he's tired and saucy to see where his grasp hits, geographically speaking. Be sure to visit Liz Maverick and Marianne Mancusi's Rebels of Romance blog (RT convention, Day 4 Part 1) if that joke jettisoned your pre-java brain.

Items in the auction range from once in a lifetime getaways to your favorite author's mountain cabin or beach cabana to handcrafted jewelry and gift baskets; autographed author and celebrity merchandise to critiques and lunches with heavy hitters in the publishing industry. People who can make a difference in a writer's career, much as you can in the fight against diabetes. Pop over there if you haven't already and help Brenda reach her goal of $300,000 this year.

I've been tagged by Marilyn, similar to my 1-2-3 post; and at the risk of venturing into non-fiction like Maureen, my autographed copy of Ghosts of East Texas and the Pineywoods by Mitchel Whitington called to me. First the meme; then, as Paul Harvey would say, "the rest of the story."

page 123:

"Right before she died, she looked up at a nurse and asked, "Are my babies all right?" The nurse immediately notified the County Sheriff that there might have been infants involved in the wreck, and the officers scoured the creek bed for the rest of the night. They pulled the car out, of course, and even got volunteers with hunting dogs to assist in the search. The bodies of the three infants were never found."

This comes from the Sad Tale of Cry Baby Bridge near Dekalb, Texas. Legend has it that a woman who lived in the countryside was driving back from town a quarter century ago with triplets in the backseat along with her groceries. She'd seen a friend at the store and gossiped as the afternoon stretched long. Worried her husband would be upset because his dinner wouldn't be ready on time, she rushed home, rounded a sharp corner just before a one lane bridge and slid off into the creek below.

To this day, when two cars meet on opposing sides of the country bridge and a driver honks three times to pass or wave the other on through, and the night is warm enough to roll down the windows, it is rumored that passersby can hear the sounds of babies crying in the night.

And the rest of the story? After further investigation, author Mitchel Whitington discovered Crybaby Bridge is an urban legend that dates back to the 1970s with tales from similar country bridges from Oklahoma to South Carolina. Had you, didn't I?

If you love paranormal non-fiction magnified with a lens of local flavor, it's a fun read.

What I'm reading now: Dixie Cash's Since You're Leaving Anyway, Take Out the Trash.