Book Blurb & Info
Square Up shows us that travel not only helps us understand and appreciate other cultures, but invites us to find compassion and wisdom, heal from our losses, and discover our capacity for forgiveness, as well as joy.
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BarnesandNoble
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Powell’s
“The simple courtesy of asking how I was doing had become a reminder of everything I’d lost. In my experience, most people didn’t want to hear I was struggling to stay upright, struggling daily not to keep reliving in my mind what I’d been through, wondering what I could have done differently. That an emotionally numb, alcohol-fueled version of the girl I used to be had taken my place. They’d rather hear I was okay, that I was at least making my way through the grief process.”
An emotional memoir about one woman's journey through grief and around the world.
In the short span of five years, author Lisa Dailey lost seven close family members, including both of her parents and her younger brother. Reeling from grief and struggling with alcoholism to cope, Dailey and her family decided to take a trip around the world in order to refresh their thinking and remind themselves of what really matters.
Since Dailey's husband worked with the military, the family was given reduced air fare by traveling in military planes. Of course, this led to some pretty uncomfortable travel, as the planes were not heated and offered no refreshments, with nets to sit in. But eventually, the family arrived in Hawaii for the first leg of their trip.
From there, they traveled to Guam to visit Dailey's uncle and spread her mother's ashes and then on to Okinawa, Singapore and, eventually to Vietnam. Along the way, Dailey learned a lot about herself, her family and how to better appreciate the things that she was taking for granted in her life.
After experiencing such a devastating amount of loss in such a short time, Dailey's mental health had understandably suffered greatly, but being with her family on a once in a lifetime excursion helped her in ways that nothing else could have.
A beautifully written, 5-star memoir, 'Square Up: 50,000 Miles In Search of A Way Home,' is well worth the read.
BarnesandNoble
Indiebound
Powell’s
Toot's Review by Betty Bee
An emotional memoir about one woman's journey through grief and around the world.
In the short span of five years, author Lisa Dailey lost seven close family members, including both of her parents and her younger brother. Reeling from grief and struggling with alcoholism to cope, Dailey and her family decided to take a trip around the world in order to refresh their thinking and remind themselves of what really matters.
Since Dailey's husband worked with the military, the family was given reduced air fare by traveling in military planes. Of course, this led to some pretty uncomfortable travel, as the planes were not heated and offered no refreshments, with nets to sit in. But eventually, the family arrived in Hawaii for the first leg of their trip.
From there, they traveled to Guam to visit Dailey's uncle and spread her mother's ashes and then on to Okinawa, Singapore and, eventually to Vietnam. Along the way, Dailey learned a lot about herself, her family and how to better appreciate the things that she was taking for granted in her life.
After experiencing such a devastating amount of loss in such a short time, Dailey's mental health had understandably suffered greatly, but being with her family on a once in a lifetime excursion helped her in ways that nothing else could have.
A beautifully written, 5-star memoir, 'Square Up: 50,000 Miles In Search of A Way Home,' is well worth the read.
Book Excerpt
Battambang, Cambodia
Once at our hotel, the tuk-tuk driver showed us a brochure with local activities. Several caught our attention and we asked about pricing. He said he’d be our tour guide all day for twenty dollars. He seemed nice enough and wasn’t pushy, so we agreed.
Yaya arrived at our hotel the next morning promptly at eight thirty. The sun was already blazing and there was not a cloud in the sky. On the way to the bamboo train, Yaya gave us a running commentary about his city and its history.
“Your English is really good. How did you learn to speak English so well?” I asked.
Yaya told us he was trying hard to complete college, but it was very expensive. He’d give tours for a year, then return to school for a year. His determination to work and get an education was inspiring. The voice inside my head chastised me for lingering so long in grief when, in comparison to Yaya, I was living a life of luxury. I had let my sadness overshadow my whole life.
Yaya explained that the bamboo train route was developed by resourceful survivors utilizing sections of the remaining intact rail after the Khmer Rouge pulled up much of the original track to prevent the Cambodian people from escaping.
The “train” was a simple bamboo platform atop two heavy sets of wheels and axles not unlike a homemade go-kart. An old motorcycle engine mounted on the rear axle provided power. A three-inch-wide band, like a super-sized drive belt, placed over the rear axle and attached to the rotor propelled the platform. The driver used a stick to stretch the band, creating more tension and greater speed. Nothing but careful placement of the bamboo frame and gravity held the conveyance together as it sped down the warped track.
We climbed aboard, sitting on mats and pillows, the four of us taking up most of the space on the frame. When situated, the driver stretched the band and we raced down the track at thirty miles per hour—nothing short of exhilarating with a little terror thrown in for fun. Eventually, we settled in to enjoy the Cambodian landscape, marveling at how peaceful it felt to be rolling through the rice paddies.
Yaya returned us to the hotel to rest during the heat of the day then returned in the afternoon for a tour of the killing caves. The tuk-tuk chugged along the flat expanse of the Cambodian rice fields. A lone limestone mountain, out of place in the otherwise level landscape, edged ever closer. Three spires of a Buddhist temple topped the peak, a row of golden Buddha statues perched on a stone wall looked out over the plain far below. Macaque monkeys jumped from tree to tree overhead, on the lookout for any food or shiny objects they could snag from unsuspecting tourists.
Standing near three gaping cracks at the summit, Yaya explained, “The Khmer Rouge would take people to these openings and throw them in.” Yaya paused before continuing, his features tightening. “The Khmer Rouge were most cruel to babies. They would smash their heads against this large rock and then toss them into the cave.”
A shiver ran through me as I looked at the boulder, the middle stained dark with what I imagined to be blood. I glanced at RJ and Tyler to gauge how they were handling this information and saw that they both looked shocked to hear about the brutality. When Ray and I decided on this tour, I had hoped for a history lesson. I wanted the boys to know about the Cambodian genocide, to feel and understand the suffering. Now, I considered this might be too much for them.
Next Yaya led us to the base of the killing caves. Voices were hushed out of respect for those killed here. Green vegetation and low-hanging vines covered the rock walls, adding to the closed-in stillness around us. A huge, golden, reclining Buddha dominated the cave interior. A smaller room opened to the right, where a glass enclosure the size of an elevator was filled with human skulls. Looking up, we could see the hole in the cave’s ceiling hundreds of feet above our heads where we had just stood. I traced the victims’ paths as they took their last breaths before hitting the stone floor, right where we were standing. RJ and Tyler, caught up in the heaviness of the moment, moved closer on either side of me and I took hold of their hands and squeezed, reassuring them I was present.
Yaya led us to a rocky outcropping to watch the sun set, and let the crisp greens and browns of the landscape and the brilliant oranges, pinks, and purples of the sunset calm our hearts and minds. I looked at Yaya in silhouette on a rock with praying hands in front of his chest and head bowed. I wondered how difficult it was for him to repeat this story. Perhaps this prayer afterward was his way of returning to strength. In his own way, Yaya was giving me a new appreciation for not only the struggle of the Cambodian people, but the way in which they now made their way through the world—connecting to and understanding the atrocities of the past, but not letting the actions of the Khmer Rouge continue to instill fear.
As the sun’s rays disappeared, Yaya drove to the base of the mountain and parked along the road where another immense cave, its entrance a hundred-foot fissure in the limestone, swarmed with millions of bats, very much alive.
This solitary mountain in an otherwise flat landscape was home to extraordinary death and teeming life. Cambodia continued to strike me as a place of duality—life and death, war and peace, chaos and harmony.
We sat on a rock wall and waited for the sky to darken enough for the bats to head out on their nightly foray. Each time the boys spied a bat leaving the cave, they pointed it out, excited this might be the start of the exodus.
“Just wait,” Yaya said, “you’ll know when it really starts.”
And sure enough, the single bat turned into two and then twenty, then two hundred, then ten thousand. We stared at the sky with a renewed sense of wonderment as millions of bats poured out of the rugged mouth in a twisting and churning column, seemingly apart but always together, each creature playing a part in the strength of the colony.
“Keep your mouths closed, unless you want to sample the bat nectar,” Yaya reminded us. That was not a sprinkle of rain speckling our faces.
Riding back to our hotel, we looked out over the land and watched the line of bats stretching for miles, as far as we could see, in the fading light. They flew on, not turning back until they’d had their fill or until the dawn came again, not dwelling on the past or fearing the future, but living only in the moment.
Author Info
Lisa now makes her home by the ocean in Bellingham, Washington, but returns to her roots every summer for a healthy dose of mountains and Big Sky.
Lisa is the owner of Silent Sidekick and Sidekick Press where she helps guide authors through their publishing journey.
Author Website: https://lisa-dailey.com/
Travel Blog: https://northwestrambles.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/nwrambles
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lisadailey1724
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lisad1724/ & https://www.instagram.com/nwrambles/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/nwrambles/
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Tour Info
Teddy Rose Book Reviews Plus Jan 17 Kickoff & Interview
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Andy K. Amazon Jan 20 Review
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Betty Toots Book Reviews Jan 26 Review & Excerpt
Jas International Book Promotion Jan 27 Review
Katy Celticlady’s Reviews Jan 28 Guest Review & Excerpt
Am Goodreads Jan 31 Review
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Laura Lee Bound 4 Escape Feb 4 Guest Review
Jas International Book Promotion Feb 6 Facebook Live interview, 8 PM CST
Bee Book Pleasures Feb 7 Review & Interview
Karen T. Goodreads Feb 9 Review
Michael L Amazon Feb 10 Review
Teddy Rose Book Reviews Plus Feb 11 Review
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