Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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To the Girl at the Bus Stop

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Early one morning I followed the blinking, lumbering school bus on its routine route to pick up students. Always a people-watcher, I studied the colorful collection of boisterous Middle School students waiting at each stop. Then I saw her – the girl standing alone. She was me, more than 50 years ago.

Her disheveled brown hair was wild and frizzy, her clothes weren’t stylish, she wore big black eyeglasses, and she carried a saxophone case. I waved at her. She smiled faintly and climbed onto the bus behind the others.

A week later, I happened to follow the same bus, and I saw her again. She was sitting on her saxophone case reading a book. I wanted to shout, “I know you!” But I restrained myself, waved, and watched her board the bus. I’d like to tell her that all the things that consume this most awkward stage of life eventually won’t matter anymore.

Hair. My plain hair was wrinkly, frizzy, and brittle, and I never knew how to style it. Even now, I’ll get a sassy new do and concentrate to see how the hairdresser fixes it, but I never manage to duplicate the style. After many decades of trial and error, now I just blow it dry and hope it isn’t awful.

Clothes. Back in the 1960s, girls didn’t wear pants to school. My wardrobe consisted of five basic jumpers and long-sleeved shirts. Now, I’m semi-retired and work from home in my jeans and comfortable sweaters, and it takes a major event with a free buffet and wine bar to make me wear fancy clothes. I want the girl at the bus stop to know her fashion sense doesn’t matter.

Glasses. I was 10 when I tried on my friend’s glasses and was amazed that the distant trees had leaves. I’ve worn glasses since then. I tried contacts for several decades, but soon needed one to read and one to see distance. I settle now for my transition bi-focal eyeglasses with cute frames. It’s okay.

I saved my saxophone from 1961, but I have a new piano.

Musical instruments. In school, only nerds lugged bulky cases for musical instruments, but I’m thankful I learned how to practice and play music. In the village of Wendell, Idaho, students started band in fourth grade. I have fond memories of blasting my saxophone in the Wendell High School Pep Band, and I continue to play my piano into my sixties. It’s great therapy.

Books. I read books and have written a few in three genres. Books are lifelong friends, and they never go out of style. The stories sparked my imagination and encouraged me to explore and travel. I enjoyed reading to my children, and now I read some of the same books to my grandkids. Reading a book while perched on a cold saxophone case can lead to grand adventures.

To the girl at the bus stop, I hope you gain some self-confidence through this complicated stage of your life. I envision you in the future as you speak with conviction, play wonderful music, write a few books, and laugh with friends and lovers. If you attend your high school reunion, you’ll realize many of the past homecoming queens and head cheerleaders want to be you.

Someday you might drive behind a noisy school bus and see your younger self waiting alone. Wave to her, with profound vigor and sincere encouragement, because you both dance to the beat of a different but splendid drummer.

#amwriting, #schoolbus, #MiddleSchool,,

Bag Balm is NOT Sexy

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I recently saw an ad on social media claiming that “Bag Balm” was available again, so I immediately ordered two limited-edition gold tins to celebrate the 125th anniversary of the miracle salve. The ointment was first introduced in 1899 to apply to udders of cows, but any woman worth her summer sandals knows to use the balm on cracked heels and chapped hands. No cows are necessary. However, one must know that Bag Balm is not an aphrodisiac. Here’s my story:

I own nightgowns that date back to the Clinton Administration. My favorite slippers have shuffled me toward my coffee pot since the Eurythmics sang “Sweet Dreams are Made of This.” And, I can’t part with my favorite robe that I wore when laughing at Johnny Carson before signing off on the Tonight Show.

After a certain age, most women have earned the right to crave comfort with lounge clothes that are labeled X-Large instead of XXX. We’d rather eat cheesecake than pose for it.

I tried once, I really did. In a pathetic attempt to mimic a seductress, I wiggled into a teeny black outfit that cost more per ounce than gold. I couldn’t tell which was the front or the back, so I think I had it on sideways. Then I arched my loafer-loving feet into a pair of black shoes with 5-inch heels and teetered over to Studley. He looked up and got that panicked look he gets when he knows whatever he says will be wrong.

“Did that shrink?” he asked, right before I wobbled on the heels and fell down.

The tiny strap on the garment snapped and all hell broke loose. It was not a pretty sight.

Studley discreetly brought my Johnny Carson robe so I quickly covered my body and recovered my composure. He assured me that he loved me just how I was, and I assured him that he finally said something right. The skimpy outfit was washed, folded, and donated along with the heels. I’m sure they bring comfort and joy to someone else.

Studley tolerates my well-worn nightgowns, but I crossed the line recently when I applied Bag Balm™ before coming to bed. Those of us who grew up on a farm know that the familiar green tin can of ointment was a staple in the medicine cabinet. It’s been around since 1899 and was originally used to treat cows with dry, cracked udders. Farm (and many city) women use the ointment to smear on their heels because it works better than expensive foot creams.

So, one night after I slathered my heels with the greasy balm, covered my feet with thick, white socks, donned my pill-covered gown, and jumped into bed, Studley remarked that maybe I’d be more attractive if I could try the little black outfit again.

He’s still recuperating.

Can We Laugh Again Before Summer?

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Some of you are getting crabby, and it’s not a good look. My New Year’s Resolution is to laugh at least once a week until I snort liquid out my nose. It’s a noble goal.

Ages ago, well maybe last year, I presented humorous speeches and enjoyed sharing laughter with my audience. Now, I peer at little boxes of faces on a Zoom webinar workshop and try to engage positive conversation while I manage a chat room, manipulate my slides, pause to answer a question, and follow a volatile outline of useful information. Next year, I am determined to gather a few living people and tell stories. Their laughter may be muffled behind masks, but I’ll savor the eye contact and the personal connection. Can we aim for summer to once again laugh together?

I can imagine future parties where we’ll find the group of gregarious guests gathered next to the punch bowl because they have the best punch lines. The most successful events will create a positive atmosphere where you can mingle with joyful people, nosh on appetizers, toast the New Year, toast every year, toast a new Instant Pot recipe, and laugh yourself silly. The horrors and hindsight of 2020 will be banned from conversation.

(Note: This encouragement to be happy doesn’t negate the true tragedies of this year. Many people have lost loved ones, many remain in the hospital, people lost their businesses, and there is an increase in cases of depression and domestic abuse. My message is to prompt hope we can smile again in the future.)

In learning to laugh again, some women may fear bouts of boisterous laughter because guffawing makes them wet their pants. I don’t see any problems with that. By midlife we either accept that our bodies will betray and embarrass us on a daily basis, or we go live in the basement with a carton of ice cream and watch sad movies. (Been there, done that, no fun.) It takes brave risk-takers to chuckle and chortle with wild abandon.

I once caused more than 800,000 people to laugh because of my viral essay titled, “Don’t Fart During an MRI.” HuffPost Live interviewed me from New York. Now, the story follows me everywhere. Let’s return to humor, even if we need to act like children and fart out loud. You go first.

Donna Beckman Tagliaferri and Anne Bardsley enjoy serious discussion before the writing retreat.

Did you know laughter is good for your health? Studies show that regular laughing boosts your immune system, oxygenates your blood, tightens your stomach muscles (hallelujah!), and releases healthy chemicals in your brain that improve your mood. A cheerful heart really is the best medicine.

In case you’ve forgotten how to laugh, here’s a simple technique to practice in quiet solitude when your calendar is empty, and we all know it is. The exercise applies to all ages, all sexes, every ethnic category, most religions, and even some Southern Baptists:

1. Squint your eyes.
2. Pull your mouth into a tight grin
3. Make a high squeal then lower your voice and make a series of “Ha, Ha, Ha.”
4. Rock back and forth.
5. Repeat several times.

If that doesn’t make you chuckle, it certainly will amuse those around you. Next year, make it a mission to laugh several times a week and you’ll discover more people want to be around you, even on Zoom. Be the light of laughter among the growing hordes of miserable people desperately searching for a chuckle. It’s your duty and solemn responsibility to share the joy, so go forth and laugh. You’re all invited over next summer.

Riding Shotgun through a Blizzard in an 18-Wheeler

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During the winter of my junior year at the University of Idaho, harsh storms dumped a record amount of snow on northern Idaho. My parents sent me an airplane ticket to fly the 400-mile distance from Lewiston to Twin Falls to come home for Christmas, but I arrived in Lewiston and the airport was closed due to bad weather. I called Dad and he said to call back in thirty minutes. I called back and he said he had rerouted one of his 18-wheel trucks from Missoula, Montana to get me.

A few hours later, a snow-covered Montana Express truck arrived at the airport. I hopped in and expressed my gratitude, but the two drivers were not in a jolly mood. The diversion added 15 hours to their journey and the roads included the old Whitebird Hill, a switchblade, two-lane, dangerous route in a snowstorm at night in the middle of nowhere.

“This will be some adventure!” I said, trying to stay positive.

“We just drove through a blizzard on LoLo Pass,” said Dub Brownlee, a driver I had known for 15 years. “We could be home now, but we’ll get you home in about 12 hours.”

“I hope Dad rewards you,” I said.

“Oh, he will!” came a voice from the sleeper. I recognized the voice of Claude Odem, a long-time driver. Because I was a passenger, the second driver needed to stay in the sleeper.

The old White Bird Hill was dangerous in good weather – treacherous in a snowstorm.

We drove through the snowstorm and finally reached the treacherous Whitebird Hill. At an elevation of 4,400 feet, the snow was thick and blinding. The windshield wipers barely kept the top layer of snow off the windshield. There were no other drivers on the road. As the big rig inched along the switchblade turns, I could look out the window and occasionally see the edge of the road that disappeared over the sides into steep canyons. One slip of a back wheel, and we would be over the edge and not found until the spring thaw. Brownlee kept both hands on the wheel and leaned forward to keep the truck on the road. I didn’t dare tell him I had to go to the bathroom. I held that urge for another hour.

We approached the bottom of the grade as the wind blew the snow sideways across the windshield. My hands ached from holding onto the seat.

“I’m getting too tired,” moaned Brownlee. “If I fall asleep, just grab the wheel and ease onto the brake pedal.”

I looked at him, eyes wide and mind terrified. Then he winked. He enjoyed a good ten minutes of laughter after that joke. I couldn’t laugh because I would wet my pants.

We arrived in Wendell the next morning. Driving the journey in a car on dry roads took eight hours, but this journey was unique. My dad handed the drivers a thick envelope I assumed was full of cash. Over the years, Brownlee would remind me of his valiant sacrifice to get me home for Christmas. I replied that I enjoyed being his favorite cargo.

Ambrose Trucking, 1952, with my brother and father

(This excerpt is from my memoir, “Frozen Dinners.”)

Montana Express Trucking

#amwriting, #trucking, #Idaho, #MontanaExpress, #memoir,

Idaho Author Donates Books and Toys to Special Olympics

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Books and Toys Donated to Special Olympics Idaho

Bestselling author Elaine Ambrose donated 50 signed copies of her new children’s book, Melody’s Magical Flying Machine, to Special Olympics Idaho. The donation included 100 toys made from a 3D printer and a check for $2,000. The toys and books will be given to children during the holidays.

In the book, a 10-year-old girl with Down syndrome uses a 3D printer to create a flying machine. Toy models of the girl and the flying machine were manufactured by a local 3D print company. The book was released in November, and proceeds were designated for Special Olympics. The COVID-19 pandemic has curtailed events for the organization, and the books and 3D toys will provide a reading and role-play activity for the participants and their families.

3D Toys and Book Illustration

Laurie La Follette, chief executive officer of Special Olympics Idaho, said the donation will be allocated to Special Olympics programs across the state. Special Olympics is an international organization that changes lives by promoting understanding, acceptance and inclusion between people with and without intellectual disabilities. Special Olympics serves more than 5 million persons with intellectual disabilities in 170 countries.

Proceeds benefit Special Olympics Idaho

The 88-page chapter book is written for ages seven through eleven and includes creative illustrations by Idaho artist Caroline Zina. The book was published by Brown Books Publishing and also is available in eBook format , and soon in audiobook read by the author. They are available online or can be ordered from local bookstores and libraries.

National professional reviews have been positive. Publishers Weekly awarded the book with a “lightning bolt” designation, indicating an “Editor’s Pick for a Book of Outstanding Quality.” The review to be published in the November issue of Publishers Weekly noted that: “Award-winning humorist, memoirist, and children’s author Ambrose adds another hit to her roster with a third children’s book.” Kirkus Reviews wrote the book “is a joyful, well-told story that celebrates the power of imagination.”

Readers within the Down syndrome community also gave positive reviews. Allison Zoccola has an adult brother with Down syndrome and sent these remarks: “WOW – your book is incredible. I can imagine reading this to my daughter with so much joy and pride in having the main character proudly represent such an underrepresented population of phenomenal people. The descriptions are peppered with realistic details and mannerisms and bring so much life to the story for me.”

Ambrose is the bestselling author of ten books, a viral blogger, and a certified workshop facilitator. She has won national writing awards for books in three genres: humor, memoir, and children’s books. As the founder and publisher of Mill Park Publishing, she has donated thousands of dollars to local charities in conjunction with new book releases. Recipients included the Idaho Writers Guild, The Cabin Writers in the Schools program, the Women’s and Children’s Alliance, and Dress for Success Boise Valley. A $2,000 donation to the Wassmuth Center for Human Rights enabled 200 area school students would see the documentary “He Named Me Malala,” and a writing challenge with cash awards was created for local students in conjunction with The Idaho Potato Drop. Other donated projects established the Idaho chapter of Cycling Without Age and endowed the Ambrose Storytelling Workshop at the University of Idaho.

Ambrose recently finished an online course for how to do a webinar on Zoom, and her first writing workshop appeared online in November. For her next project, Ambrose is writing another humor book for women over age 55 because they really need to laugh again.

Cycling Without Age – Idaho Chapter
200 School Children Received Tickets for “He named me Malala”
Student winner of Writing Contest for Idaho Potato Drop.
Certified Workshop Facilitator – Morter Institute for BioEnergetics

Find Myself on Your Shelf

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Flummoxed and bewildered about what to give for Christmas, Hanukkah, or any other celebration of choice? Buy and give books! Books last for years, they aren’t fattening, and they allow you to escape beyond your quarantined bedroom. I have a dozen award-winning, bestselling books in three genres: humor, memoir, and children’s books. Buy them, and we’ll all be happy.

#1 New Release

My latest book, Melody’s Magical Flying Machine, debuted as the #1 New Release in a category on Amazon and features a delightful girl with Down syndrome who uses a 3D printer to create a flying machine. In addition to the paperback, eBook, and audiobook versions, toys were created with a 3D printer so children can use them in role-play activities. Toys can be purchased from me for $10 each. Proceeds from the November release resulted in a $2,000 donation plus books and toys to Special Olympics Idaho.

Order books, eBooks, and audiobooks through local bookstores such as Rediscovered Bookshop in Boise, retail stores, online, or from me. During the last six years, these books have won several regional and nine national writing awards in addition to receiving bestseller status and excellent national reviews.

Nine national book awards in five years.

For a tenth award, Midlife Cabernet was selected as a winner for the Top Shelf Book Award for Humor. Publishers Weekly reviewed the book as “Laugh-out-loud funny.”

“Midlife Cabernet” was a winner in the Top Shelf Book Awards for Humor.

I can deliver autographed, personalized books and 3D toys downtown in Boise, Meridian, Eagle, and Garden City. Stay safe and happy this holiday season, and find myself on your shelf for a better New Year. For more details, email me at [email protected].