Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Remember July 4th in Crouch, Idaho?

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I owned a cabin in Garden Valley, Idaho near the village of Crouch. Away from the crowds and noise of the Boise area, the valley offered clean air, quiet evenings, roaming wildlife, and inspirational views of the South Fork of the Payette River. The commotion came on July 4th. The festivities were tamed a few years ago, and July 4th will never be the same.

Most cities organize a patriotic parade and fireworks, but for some true explosive entertainment we escape to the mountains to Crouch where the local citizens organize a dangerous and horrifying experience not to be missed.

The normal population is fewer than 500 full-time residents, and the entire county has only four people per square mile. But summer brings the vacationers and those with second homes. That’s also when the crazies come down from the hills. And they have ammunition.

On July 4th the one street in Crouch is lined with more than 1,000 people who come with the hopes of still being alive and unbloodied after midnight. The only gas pump is turned off and guarded by police because one errant rocket could hit the gas line and ignite the entire town. At dusk, a year’s salary of expensive fireworks begins in the middle of the street. Firecrackers, spinners, noise makers, sparklers, exploding stars, roman candles, and comets are a few of the pyrotechnics ignited for several hours. And, that’s just from the toddlers.

All ages of people meander the streets, walking through burned out debris and lighting new whistle rockets and flares. Several people hoist huge wheels of 500 firecrackers and then pile them in the street and offer children the opportunity to light the fuses. Beer and liquor flow freely, bands perform raucous music, and grizzled old miners hop over spinning fireworks.

Miraculously, no one gets hurt. Studley and I join in the fun and by the end of the day, we have officially celebrated and make our way over the carnage to our cabin. The police continue to guard the gas pumps and smile. They say they would rather have fireworks in town instead of out in the woods because the possibility of burning down the restaurant and grocery store is a preferable alternative to starting a forest fire.

The fifth of July in Crouch is quiet, except for the occasional gunshot and leftover duds that suddenly explode and cause some horses to stampede through town. We invite guests to join us for the annual event, but they must bring an insurance waiver.

— This is an excerpt from my humor book, Midlife Cabernet. 

Midlife Cabernet: Life, Love & Laughter after Fifty (Midlife Humor) by Elaine Ambrose – Winner of several awards including the Silver Medal for Humor from the Independent Publishers Book Award (IPPY).

My Broken Heart

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Echocardiogram Machine

I had a heart attack during the night after giving a presentation at a writer’s retreat in Mexico. I didn’t want to go to a hospital in a foreign country, so I contacted the airlines and requested a wheelchair for the journey to Idaho. On the positive side, a wheelchair makes it a breeze to get through U.S. Customs and to be first onto the airplane.  Struggling for breath, I maneuvered my carry-on suitcase to the nearest chair and fell into it, panting for air. One thought repeated through my mind: Get home.

My favorite wheelchair pusher was in the Los Angeles airport. My guardian angel appeared disguised as a gregarious, Black woman named Diamond. She assisted me into the chair and eased my distress with funny stories as she negotiated the crowds. I finally could breathe without gasping and asked her if she had been a race car driver.

“Oh honey, no,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve been doing this for 30 years. You wouldn’t believe the people I have guided through these corridors. Lots of famous people. Are you famous?”

I smiled. “More like infamous,” I replied. I explained how I was returning from Todos Santos, Mexico after presenting a workshop at a writer’s retreat.

“I want to write a book!” she exclaimed as she careened around a corner to the gate. “I have tons of stories!”

I encouraged her to find free online writing courses, write every night, and compile her memories into short stories. As she pushed my chair down the ramp to the plane, she promised to send me a copy of her future book. I thanked Diamond and hoped I’d be alive to read it.

Taking My Breath Away
My breathing problems began months earlier. I ignored the loss of breath and low energy, believing the problems would go away. They didn’t. Finally, on May 25 I had an EKG, and my doctor identified a “left bundle branch block,” meaning there was a blockage on the left side of my heart. The condition indicated heart disease. That diagnosis wasn’t on my agenda.

She referred me to a cardiologist and warned it could take months to get an appointment. I got on the phone with the determination of a woman who didn’t want to die during the summer. The stars were aligned, the doctor at St. Luke’s Idaho Cardiology Associates had a cancellation, and I secured an appointment to see him on June 3. The cardiologist reviewed the EKG and ordered comprehensive blood work, a complete transthoracic echocardiogram, and a Nuclear Lexiscan stress test. The Nuclear Lexiscan test injects radioactive dye into the blood, and a camera detects damage to the heart and blocked arteries. The four-hour procedures were scheduled for June 29, only five weeks after the initial EKG. The cardiologist gave me permission to attend the writer’s retreat in Mexico but with a stern warning to avoid stress. I laughed.

On June 29, I was ushered into a room with Teresa, the medical technician who would perform the echocardiogram. I watched the monitor as she applied a gel to my chest and moved a tool called a transducer. I immediately admired and appreciated my heart. There it was, pumping as best it could. The average heart beats more than 100,000 times in one day, about 35 million times in a year. My heart was the most consistent part of my entire life. I regretted not taking better care of my heart health.

After an hour, Teresa called for an IV to be inserted in my arm so she could take more tests. Then she called for the cardiologist. I suspected something was wrong.

“Keep beating,” I silently begged my heart. “I need ten more years.”

The cardiologist appeared after reviewing the echocardiogram. “We’re cancelled the three-hour Nuclear Lexiscan test,” he said. “Your heart is too weak.”

I had failed the heart test.

Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler in Beaches

I’d Rather Play Bette Midler’s Role in Beaches
He explained that my heart only was working at 70 percent because of a damaged left ventricle. I had cardiomyopathy; a disease similar to what killed Barbara Hershey’s character in the movie Beaches. I’d rather have played Bette Midler’s role.

He prescribed several medications and scheduled a return visit for July 22. Depending on the prognosis, I could be cleared for the Nuclear Lexiscan test. After that, a pacemaker could be installed to regulate the flow of blood. The next scenario would be open heart surgery. I was way too young for all those medical procedures, but I knew heart disease was the #1 killer of women. I wanted to live.

What causes heart damage?
Smoking – I have never smoked, not even during the 70s in college when everyone was smoking pot. I wanted to retain all my brain cells.

Alcohol – I lamented my proclivity to prefer wine over workouts. Four days ago, I changed to sparkling water in a wine glass.

Diet – More veggies for me.

Exercise – I had exercised by carrying emotional baggage. That will end, and now I have a set schedule to exercise every day.

Age and Heredity – Thanks, Dad and Mom! However, I’ve enjoyed 69 splendid years.

Stress – What, me worry? It’s been a stressful year. We moved in January, I tore ligaments in my leg in February, performed a writing webinar on Zoom in March, had a brain MRI for acute headaches in April, and appeared twice in District Court in May to appeal a cruel and undeserved Protection Order against me. The judge terminated the order, but the ordeal emotionally broke my heart. The writing workshop in Mexico was in June. All those issues contributed to copious quantities of stress.


This week, I’ve had fun clearing my calendar, postponing appointments, and canceling workshops, but I intend to appear in a live comedy show for a women’s conference in October. Until then, my day will focus on staying alive and starting a (short) walking routine. My goal is to walk away from painful, stressful situations and walk toward better health. I have a broken heart. I might not be able to mend it, but I can tend it.

“Melody” Wins Distinguished Award for Children’s Fiction

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The 2021 Independent Press Awards announced today Melody’s Magical Flying Machine by Idaho author Elaine Ambrose is the Distinguished Favorite winner in the Children’s Fiction category. Judges evaluated entries from around the world, and the Children’s Fiction category received thousands of submissions. The Awards celebrate and recognize key titles representing excellence in global independent publishing and writing.

Melody’s Magical Flying Machine is a beginning chapter book for ages 7-11. Melody is an amusing 10-year-old girl with Down syndrome. She narrates her story of meeting an enchanted bird, and they use a 3D printer to create a flying machine pulled by two dragons. She soars over the playground to amaze her friends and confront a group of bullies. Melody’s energetic talent in storytelling empowers her to educate others about Down syndrome while sharing her tall tales and strong hugs.

“The book is a joyful, well-told story that celebrates the power of imagination. Melody is an engaging narrator whose cheerful affection, knack for happiness, and zestful imagination express themselves in every line. Carolyn Zina’s pencil illustrations are beautifully textured and shaded, with a magical quality that deftly matches the text.” – Kirkus Reviews

Publishers Weekly named the book as an “Editor’s Pick” for outstanding quality and wrote about “vivid prose” and “imaginative tapestry that is Melody’s magical adventure.” The published review concluded: “This charming flight of fancy with an equally charming protagonist will delight readers who want to be both educated and entertained.”

Slant3D of Nampa, Idaho, manufactured 3D toys for the book.

The story features a 3D printer, and toys were created with a 3D printer to accompany the book. Ambrose has donated books and toys to several charities, including Special Olympics Idaho and the Ohana Day Center in Woods Cross, Utah.

Illustrations were created by Idaho artist Caroline Zina. The book is available in paperback, published by Brown Books Publishing, and in eBook and audiobook read by the author. Order from independent bookstores, online, or from the author.

Elaine Ambrose is a bestselling author of 12 books, 14 eBooks, and 4 audiobooks. During the past six years, her books have won 10 international writing awards in three genres: humor, memoir, and children’s books. More details are available on www.ElaineAmbrose.com.

Melody the Daydreamer
Melody and JuJu use a 3D printer to make a flying machine.
“Don’t forget me, Sweetie Pie.”

A Message to Young Mothers with Screaming Kids

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Mother’s Day isn’t only about cards with glitter or dandelion bouquets. The day still involves feeding, dressing, caring for, and providing shelter and guidance for little people who haven’t lived long enough to know what life is all about. Decades later, the real Mother’s Day happens when happy adult children invite their mothers over for dinner. (Thanks, Adam and Danielle.) Here’s a message I wrote a few years ago for mothers of young children.

I waited behind a young woman in line at the grocery store. Her three kids were simultaneously crying, kicking each other, opening cereal boxes, and sneezing until green goo dripped down their chins. I made eye contact with the frazzled mother and gave her the “this too shall pass” smile. She meekly smiled back and then wrestled her wild, snotty brood out the door. Suddenly I adored the age spots on my hands.

Most of us have been there. We take our darling little angels into public places but suddenly and inexplicably they become possessed by behavior demons that turn them into outrageous monsters. We begin the polite, hushed cajoling which fails miserably so we resort to bribery. “Yes, Honeypie, just be patient and then you can have an ice cream cone. Not enough? How about a pony?”

Some adults skip the bartering and go straight for the barking. Recently I witnessed a frightening display of questionable parenting at a big discount store. A loud woman wearing flannel pajama pants and a Hawaiian shirt yelled at her two wild and disheveled children, “Stop punchin’ the bread or I’ll kick yur ass!” Then she threw a six pack of beer onto the bread and barreled down the aisle as her spirited spawn wrestled on the floor. I predict incarceration in the future. For all of them.

A generation ago, bad behavior resulted in a firm swat across the butt. While momentarily effective, physical punishment doesn’t address the reason for the public temper tantrum. And although quite tempting, it’s not a good idea to just leave your kids in the store’s Kiddy Corral and drive home with a gallon of ice cream.

For an interesting perspective, harried mothers and sneering critics should trade places with raucous children. Imagine you’re stuffed into a grocery cart piled high with food as your tired parent pushes you through tall corridors of colorful packages. You’re lost in the commotion and you don’t have a clue about money, jobs, house payments, or that Mommy only gets four hours of sleep every night. You just know it would be great fun to open the peanut butter and smear it in Sister’s hair and make her scream. Now that would get Mommy’s attention.

Here’s some unsolicited advice for stressed young mothers:

1. Children are noisy, messy, curious, hungry, tired, dirty, funny, adorable, little people who are here because of Mommy and Daddy. Yes, they’re your fault and your responsibility.

2. Remember that your toddler only has two years of experience in being alive, and you only have that much experience in being her/his mother. So, you can’t expect perfection after only two years of on-the-job training. And you’re surrounded by countless other parents and toddlers who also are trying to figure out the directions.

3. Sometimes parenthood sucks. Once I dumped a glass of milk on my child’s head because he was throwing a fit and I didn’t know what else to do. We were both shocked, and the little bugger still remembers it 20 years later.

4. I enjoy boisterous kids, as long as it’s not the little urchin kicking the back of my airplane seat. Conversely, I worry about the children who act terrified and silent. What’s wrong?

5. There are more than 250 million adults in the United States. Each one started as a baby and then grew up and moved out, so there’s a high probability that yours will, too.

6. If you see another frustrated young mother with incorrigible kids (and you will), offer a smile, open a door, or say something pleasant to the child. That works so much better than snarling at the exhausted woman and ordering her to control her rotten brats. That action could prompt vomit on your shoe, and not from the child.

It comes down to survival of the funniest. I know a young single mother who recently went through the check-out with only two items: diapers and wine. Thousands of older women would salute her and send encouragement. Someday she won’t need to buy the diapers.

Do You have an End-of-Life Plan?

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I’m going to die. Probably not today, but someday. A few of my surviving relatives would prefer to toss my dead body into the river and celebrate with a party, but I’ve made legal arrangements for my proper burial. There still will be a glorious celebration.

End-of-Life Policy

I have a policy through Bankers Life Insurance that pays $15,000 at my death. The beneficiary is a cute guy I call Studley, and we have similar policies between us. If he goes before I do, my son will receive the money. I trust him to find a cheap but unused casket and haul me to the Wendell Cemetery to be buried next to my parents in Section 18, Block 2. He can spend the rest of the money on an elaborate party with festive live music, tables laden with copious quantities of delicious food, and an open bar with the best drinks and fine wine. There will be laughter, storytelling, and gallant toasts to my memory. Loud sobbing and mournful wailing will be permitted on an intermittent basis. He can keep the change.

Pre-Paid Plot

My instructions are written and included in my Will, and burial expenses will be minimal. My father bought several cemetery plots in 1959 for my siblings, my mother, himself, and me. I’m the only one still alive. A few years ago, I commissioned a bench to honor my parents and brothers, and the bench will be my headstone. Per my written instructions, my first name will be engraved before Ambrose and the dates of birth and death will be added. Easy assignment. Cue the band and start the party.

Insurance Gamble

My end-of-life insurance policy costs $90 a month. If I get hit with a wine truck and die tomorrow, the insurance company loses almost $15,000. But, I’ll be dead so I won’t care. However, I resemble my paternal grandmother, and she lived to be 92 and still worked crossword puzzles until the day she died. If I live that long, the monthly payments will exceed $15,000, and the insurance company would be reimbursed plus gain additional profit. To break even, I need to die within 15 years. I’m good with that because I’ve had a splendid, abundant, and spirited life. I’m grateful.

Have a plan.

My sweet mother was in hospice care twice, and each time I organized the plans for her funeral. The process was painful. I hope to reduce the stress for my loved ones by having everything arranged and pre-paid. Their only concern will be who gets my prized collection of finger puppets and clown noses. I hope they don’t fight.