Author Signings

February 28th, 2012

1:00 pm

Author Signing

Teri-Anne author of

Conflagration

Synopsis

Teri-Anne was born on a Caribbean island in 1955, just about the time the despot dictator, Duvalier, led an uprising (a coupe) killing those with an education, forcing my father (a young doctor) and mom to flee. We were left behind with my grandmother, (half Arawak Indian/German)

Traveling from a third=world country, as a toddler, 3 1/2, with a younger sister as my only companion, to New York, at the time the most modern city in the world, was like traveling in time, and since we were minorities, to another planet. Of course, when we met our parents, and soon after our grandfather, we were introduced to a T.V. set, to watch, what else? The Twilight Zone.

Growing up in Connecticut, was far calmer and safer than the riots we watched on T.V. To me, CT is the most beautiful of all the states I've been to, and that's nearly all of them.

I was too ill to finish college, at age 21 when I was supposed to. As there weren't many opportunities for females in the early 70's, during both the "Woman's Liberation" movement or the "Hippie era". neither of which my parents,with their cultural beliefs, would have allowed.

So faced with no prospects of occupation, of marriage and not wanting to live with my parents, when a

girlfriend suggested we join the Air Force, "it would be an adventure", I jumped at the chance.

I went in as a radar technician, the hardest MOS, simply because I tested well enough for it, not knowing there were few "nice" places I could get assigned.

I was the 26th female ever to enter that squadron in Biloxi Miss.

There, I married a Missouri man, from ST. Loius, I met in Basic Training, Lackland AFB in TX ( A place I dubbed the "most romantic in the world" tongue in cheek so to speak.

Of course my MOS got me stationed in Gila Bend, AZ.There started the real adventures.

Both my sons were born in Phoenix, 75 miles away, but the nearest hospital for us.

This was the first time I was among all G.I's being the only immigrant.

To make my life history short, let me just say, between my dad's wanderlust, perhaps my ex's fear of flying, I have few states left to either live in or visit.

My ex loved road trips and we crossed the U.S. by car several times.

Growing up as a doctor's daughter did not prepare me for the dangers both natural and man-made I had since faced. I touched upon a few in the body of the book

" Conflagration" as a way to let readers know I 've been around and some of the hair raising incidents, 1. my neighbor in Arizona killing his roommate, in the apartment behind ours,

2.the man-hunt we pasted while driving to Tucson, and 3.the pedophyle in Wyoming just to name a few.

Of all I've been through, my "war stories" so to speak, I've been encouraged to recount, and publish, this one about my stay in Guam. From Nov. 1990 to Dec
1993, there were three typhoons, the evacuation from Mt Pinatuba, the 8.4 earthquake on Aug. 8th 1993 and the day after Veteran's day 11/12/93 (did I
mention I was a veteran?) when the spectacular accident and miraculous escape happened.

Luckily the Pacific Daily News was able to find a copy of the front page where Betsy, my companion and I posed, I had lost the original copy they gave me..

Coming back to the states I prayed for a dull life. It hasn't happened yet. However I did meet and married another Missouri man, (learnt my lesson, this time), he's
from Kansas city. (actually we spent time to get to know each other).

Introduction to Conflagration

The top of the hill was perhaps a half to one mile away, and it was steeper than I cared for.

I can’t say what kept me unable to act, like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming car. I couldn’t even communicate with Betsy. I don’t remember a peep out of her this entire time either.

The moment we turned the corner, we looked up to see a truck ahead, swerve and careen from side-to-side with seeming reckless abandonment.

I watched in helpless horror as it flipped to its side and started rolling down hill, like a rolling pin would as it flattens dough.

The road, as I said previously, was narrow. Sitting on the right side, as I was, there was barely room for another to pass me. This thing, barreling down on us, I could tell, as it ate up the distance with incredible speed, the truck was longer than the road was wide. It was going to span the distance and touch the grassland on both sides.

To this amazing, frightening scene was the fact that this vehicle was in fact a gas tanker, a conveyor of fuel, very flammable fuel. From its movement, it was all too obviously full. It was incredibly heavy. Being in its path, on its trajectory, we were going to be flattened. Had I not been petrified for the last few seconds, maybe I could have put the car in reverse, maybe . . .

At this moment, I could see nothing I could do to avoid being crushed, never mind the eventual fire. We’ll be gone before then.

It was hopeless.

Why did I stay on this island when my entire family had left?

Who did I know? Who could I count on?

I had no job, no prospect. With the divorce, I no longer even had the military.

Now, I sat behind the steering wheel of my car, watching in utter horror as this unbelievable scene unfolded.

At first seeing the truck out of control, as if the driver was drunk, I was shock and if I thought anything, it was that it had to be a movie, this sort of thing just doesn’t happen.

It wasn’t until the truck was only yards away, looming incredibly large, that I snapped out of my

stupor and realized, we were going to be kille,

Refreshments will be served.