Asking directions
One of the observations I’ve had while doing the motorcycle thing is that overwhelmingly my riding partners hate to ask directions. They’ll gather around a faded printout from a Google or MapQuest map, studying the little lines like ancient runes on a cave wall, everyone pointing in a different direction while not being certain where we even are at that moment.
Me, I’ve learned to love to stop and go in somewhere and ask. I’ve met some of the nicest and kindest folks on earth who don’t mind admitting that they don’t even know how to get out of town. I’ve met little old ladies who will give you minute details of each landmark but cannot tell you the name of the highway; I’ve talked to guys from Egypt, Pakistan, Iraq and one from Kenya.
Many of the clerks are young ladies in their 20s, trying to get by on a minimum wage check. Most are either single moms or from their talk they are about to be (single, that is). In almost every instance though there is a common thread.
If they aren’t busy, they all love to talk and laugh. Even the sourpuss at the Stop and Get It in somewhere Mississippi (if I knew, I wouldn’t stop to ask directions). At 24, she had the attitude of a 20-year veteran of convenient stores. She was surly with the two customers in front of me and when I stepped up to the counter, her frown deepened.
There I stood, black T-shirt covered by a leather vest, black do-rag on my head, worn blue-jeans and heavy leather boots, fingerless leather gloves and a pair of biker glasses shoved back on my head. Just another dummy lost on the highway.
“Some mornings it just doesn’t pay to chew through the leather straps and escape, does it?”
She moved her hand slightly toward the cell phone on the counter.
I laid the worn map on the counter and tried again. “I know where I am I just don’t know where this is on the map. I don’t mind going back where I came from, if you’ll just point out how I got here. And I know I probably can’t get there from here so if you’ll just send me somewhere else then show me how to get there from there, that’d be a big start.”
I noticed the corners of her lips sort of quiver as they turn up toward a smile.
“Honey (I knew I had her there…when a southern gal calls you honey, you know it’s going to be okay) I don’t know where you’re headed or where you’re from, but if you wound up here, you gotta be lost. No one comes here from somewhere else on purpose. Let’s see if I can get you to somewhere else.”
I learned she’d been working there 3 years, had son “fixin” to start school this year. Married at 16, divorced at 17 (she and her brothers pitched him out when he decided to take his depression out on her). She was pregnant when they married, miscarried, then got pregnant again right before the divorce. He was going to start school this fall. She just received her first child support check and her lawyer let her keep it all even though she owed him money. Her dream was to open her own beauty shop; she already did hair in her mama’s garage. Two nights a week she made almost as much as her day job. I wished her luck, both with the job and the child. She wished me well on my journey and got me back on the road with a free cup of coffee.
She stepped outside as I saddled up. Her smile stayed with me for many miles down the road.
I hum a little Simon and Garfunkel:
kathy, Im lost, I said, though I knew she was sleepingI
m empty and aching and I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
***
I don’t mind asking directions… on the side roads or highways of life you need all the help you can get. Sometimes you give as good as you get.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Max and Molly wander around; slightly confused at the new paths they have to take. Sawhorses, supplies, buckets and various tools impede their normal routes. The holly bushes have been trimmed and their hiding place underneath is now raked and exposed. The temporary fencing we put up (how long is temporary before it grows into permanent?) has been rearranged and now stops them from going back to the areas where they’ve killed the grass.
Their world is in chaos.
Yet they are still on familiar ground. They sniff, scratch, and pace back and forth over the yard until they seem to adapt to the new. They don’t bark or snarl at the changes, but continue to explore. I think if Max could shrug his shoulders, he would. After about 10 minutes, he just goes to his pen, gets a drink and stands and stares. Like Eeyore, he just thinks.
I’ve been watching and listening to a lot of friends express the chaos in their lives. This seems to be an extremely stressful time for almost everyone for some reason. We’ve all taken on some major projects and commitments and every once in a while our emotions run high and our nerve endings are sticking out about a foot from our bodies.
It’s a moments like this that I sit and think about ten years ago. What were the major issues and overwhelming problems then? Can I remember them? Even if I can, I had to stop and trace back the timeline.
The point is I got through it and over it. I’m sure what ever it was, I stressed and agonized and in spite of everything, it worked out. Maybe not favorably, but today it hardly matters.
Nancy can tell you, I’m not the “logic” person in our household. Sometimes I’m like the robot on Lost in Space, flailing my arms while shouting “Danger Danger Will Robinson”.
But with her calm hand, my ranting and raving fades and I then assess the situation and try to figure out what we need to do next.
My time with the union taught me that the first question should be “what is the problem” followed by “what solution do I want”. Once that is established, I try to figure out what needs to be done to reach that solution. It is usually right there that I have some problems sometimes, because unlike Max and Molly, I don’t want to be flexible and learn to adapt to the changes I need to make.
That’s where I stop and ask myself, what will it matter 10 years down the road? How earth shattering is compromise? Do I have to “win”?
A whole lot of the stress we have is self-imposed. I ponder the Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
My version goes more like: Grant me the intelligence to know there are some things I cannot change without you, and that some things You will not change for a reason.
I’m afraid too much of the time, I use the Calvin and Hobbes version:
The strength to change what I can, the inability to accept what I can't
and the incapacity to tell the difference."
What can I change today? First order of business, right after that next cup of joe: change my attitude about the things I face today. Change my attitude in the way I deal with people today. Change the way I allow things to affect me and my relationship with others and God.
I crank up a little Buffett (Jimmy, not Warren)
With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn’t laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we weren’t all crazy we would go insane
Saddle up…it’s back on that Highway……….
Their world is in chaos.
Yet they are still on familiar ground. They sniff, scratch, and pace back and forth over the yard until they seem to adapt to the new. They don’t bark or snarl at the changes, but continue to explore. I think if Max could shrug his shoulders, he would. After about 10 minutes, he just goes to his pen, gets a drink and stands and stares. Like Eeyore, he just thinks.
I’ve been watching and listening to a lot of friends express the chaos in their lives. This seems to be an extremely stressful time for almost everyone for some reason. We’ve all taken on some major projects and commitments and every once in a while our emotions run high and our nerve endings are sticking out about a foot from our bodies.
It’s a moments like this that I sit and think about ten years ago. What were the major issues and overwhelming problems then? Can I remember them? Even if I can, I had to stop and trace back the timeline.
The point is I got through it and over it. I’m sure what ever it was, I stressed and agonized and in spite of everything, it worked out. Maybe not favorably, but today it hardly matters.
Nancy can tell you, I’m not the “logic” person in our household. Sometimes I’m like the robot on Lost in Space, flailing my arms while shouting “Danger Danger Will Robinson”.
But with her calm hand, my ranting and raving fades and I then assess the situation and try to figure out what we need to do next.
My time with the union taught me that the first question should be “what is the problem” followed by “what solution do I want”. Once that is established, I try to figure out what needs to be done to reach that solution. It is usually right there that I have some problems sometimes, because unlike Max and Molly, I don’t want to be flexible and learn to adapt to the changes I need to make.
That’s where I stop and ask myself, what will it matter 10 years down the road? How earth shattering is compromise? Do I have to “win”?
A whole lot of the stress we have is self-imposed. I ponder the Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
My version goes more like: Grant me the intelligence to know there are some things I cannot change without you, and that some things You will not change for a reason.
I’m afraid too much of the time, I use the Calvin and Hobbes version:
The strength to change what I can, the inability to accept what I can't
and the incapacity to tell the difference."
What can I change today? First order of business, right after that next cup of joe: change my attitude about the things I face today. Change my attitude in the way I deal with people today. Change the way I allow things to affect me and my relationship with others and God.
I crank up a little Buffett (Jimmy, not Warren)
With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn’t laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we weren’t all crazy we would go insane
Saddle up…it’s back on that Highway……….
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Belief. Faith.
Do you have them?
What about belief in others, faith in your fellow (wo)man?
Yesterday I received a video via email. A keynote speaker at the Dallas Independent School district. (http://www.dallasisd.org/keynote.htm).
What a simple but powerful message!
And it made me question my own belief and faith in my fellow man.
Does my belief end when they graduate? Is there an age limit to believing in the potential of others?
Why are we willing to discard perfectly good human beings?
I see it every day.
I think about the starfish story. If you know it, just skip on past, although reading it again still makes me stop and think.
***
The Starfish adapted from The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley (1907 - 1977)
***
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean.""I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."
****
Every day we pass up opportunities to make a difference to someone.
The question is, have we lost our ability to believe? Have we lost faith in humanity?
So many of us have become cynical about helping others. A good friend recently commented that he’d been burned so many times he needed asbestos pants.
But I know for a fact that at least one of those starfish survived.
I’ve been fortunate to have had someone believe in me for most of my life. She believes I can do anything, achieve anything, and become anything. Together, we’ve tried to pass that along…to our children, to our friends, and at times to perfect strangers.
And what did we get in return?
The Big Payoff.
Every penny spent, every second spent, every bit of what we gave came back in one simple statement.
“Thanks for believing in me”.
Those moments are more precious than gold.
And you know what?
I believe in you.
I kicked off the morning with Alanis Morrisette "One Hand In My Pocket"
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy,
yeah I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid I'm tired but I'm working,
yeah I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken s***
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab...
I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is giving a high five
*****
Do you have them?
What about belief in others, faith in your fellow (wo)man?
Yesterday I received a video via email. A keynote speaker at the Dallas Independent School district. (http://www.dallasisd.org/keynote.htm).
What a simple but powerful message!
And it made me question my own belief and faith in my fellow man.
Does my belief end when they graduate? Is there an age limit to believing in the potential of others?
Why are we willing to discard perfectly good human beings?
I see it every day.
I think about the starfish story. If you know it, just skip on past, although reading it again still makes me stop and think.
***
The Starfish adapted from The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley (1907 - 1977)
***
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean.""I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."
****
Every day we pass up opportunities to make a difference to someone.
The question is, have we lost our ability to believe? Have we lost faith in humanity?
So many of us have become cynical about helping others. A good friend recently commented that he’d been burned so many times he needed asbestos pants.
But I know for a fact that at least one of those starfish survived.
I’ve been fortunate to have had someone believe in me for most of my life. She believes I can do anything, achieve anything, and become anything. Together, we’ve tried to pass that along…to our children, to our friends, and at times to perfect strangers.
And what did we get in return?
The Big Payoff.
Every penny spent, every second spent, every bit of what we gave came back in one simple statement.
“Thanks for believing in me”.
Those moments are more precious than gold.
And you know what?
I believe in you.
I kicked off the morning with Alanis Morrisette "One Hand In My Pocket"
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy,
yeah I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid I'm tired but I'm working,
yeah I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken s***
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab...
I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is giving a high five
*****
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A few of my biker friends have stickers on their helmets that say : never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.
According to a survey quoted in Time (http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1842179,00.html)
About 55% of Americans believe in Guardian Angels. If you Google “guardian angels” you’ll find hundreds of pages explaining everything from what they are, how the Bible discusses and views them, to people who make $ convincing you that they can “contact” your personal angel.
Buyer Beware!
Over the course of my life, I’ve been very convinced that someone is watching over me, be it a guardian angel or what, I’m not sure, but upon deep examination I am convinced also that it is the Hand of God in someway.
Far too many close calls that were a little to abruptly stopped. A couple of times were I physically patted myself to be sure I was still here. Several traffic mishaps where the oncoming vehicle should not have been able to stop. A 28’ fall from a roof where I landed in the only pile of leaves in the area…no bruises, nothing. A brush with a high-voltage line that never even shocked me…when it should have fried me.
Like the “footprints in the sand” I look back and see many moments where a shield was placed around me.
I can also see the moments when I rode faster that he/she could fly. That resulted in some serious issues. I guess I believe I shouldn’t try to find their limits.
It also makes me question, if I can believe in guardian angels, are there demons assigned to mess with me? Is that why I have some of the little accidents?
Do the angel and demon spend the day trying to get to me first?
Does my faith (or lack thereof) give leverage to one or the other?
Guess I’ll go with the belief that the stronger my faith, the more the demon attacks, but the stronger and more agile the angel.
Balance. Works for me. Besides, the real issue isn’t here and now but later, and there is where I head…with or without angels and demons. And in it all, I give thanks to God for another day to work and play.
But I’ll try to give my angel a rest today and take it slow: As Jack Burton (Big Trouble in Little China) says:
“Never drive faster than you can see”
That ought to cover it.
****NOTE: want to comment? just click on the comment link below and type away!
According to a survey quoted in Time (http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1842179,00.html)
About 55% of Americans believe in Guardian Angels. If you Google “guardian angels” you’ll find hundreds of pages explaining everything from what they are, how the Bible discusses and views them, to people who make $ convincing you that they can “contact” your personal angel.
Buyer Beware!
Over the course of my life, I’ve been very convinced that someone is watching over me, be it a guardian angel or what, I’m not sure, but upon deep examination I am convinced also that it is the Hand of God in someway.
Far too many close calls that were a little to abruptly stopped. A couple of times were I physically patted myself to be sure I was still here. Several traffic mishaps where the oncoming vehicle should not have been able to stop. A 28’ fall from a roof where I landed in the only pile of leaves in the area…no bruises, nothing. A brush with a high-voltage line that never even shocked me…when it should have fried me.
Like the “footprints in the sand” I look back and see many moments where a shield was placed around me.
I can also see the moments when I rode faster that he/she could fly. That resulted in some serious issues. I guess I believe I shouldn’t try to find their limits.
It also makes me question, if I can believe in guardian angels, are there demons assigned to mess with me? Is that why I have some of the little accidents?
Do the angel and demon spend the day trying to get to me first?
Does my faith (or lack thereof) give leverage to one or the other?
Guess I’ll go with the belief that the stronger my faith, the more the demon attacks, but the stronger and more agile the angel.
Balance. Works for me. Besides, the real issue isn’t here and now but later, and there is where I head…with or without angels and demons. And in it all, I give thanks to God for another day to work and play.
But I’ll try to give my angel a rest today and take it slow: As Jack Burton (Big Trouble in Little China) says:
“Never drive faster than you can see”
That ought to cover it.
****NOTE: want to comment? just click on the comment link below and type away!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
For the first time, I actually hit writer’s block!
Not because I couldn’t find something to write about, but because no matter what I wrote my thoughts kept coming back to the same subject. Guess I need to get that out of my system so I can move on. Heregoes.
I’m sick and tired of hate. I recently read where a politician referred to those who opposed this person as “haters”. I get dozens of hate-filled emails about politics daily. I’ve received a hate email because I chose to visit a synagogue. I’ve watched and listened as many good people have been slandered because of personal agendas in our city. I’ve heard school children shout hate at individuals on the street (encouraged by adults with them). I’ve witnessed people that I thought were good Godly folks suddenly fill with rage and go into hate filled rants over something small. I’ve seen road rage (while a passenger) and the person driving was someone I admire.
What can I do?
Walk the walk, talk the talk.
Every day I find myself doing a quick once over examination of my actions and principles. No, I’m not up to snuff…that really isn’t the question. I do stop and take a look at what I’ve done and said and tried to figure out what I could do in the future to make myself a better person.
I can be sure that if I’m going to claim to be a person of God that my words and deeds reflect that. Will I fail? Probably. Oh, and those haters will pounce on it and throw it back, but that’s okay. I’m not out to please them.
I remember as a child in the church, how there would be a revival service and folks would stream down to the front to rededicate their lives to the Lord. Even then, I wondered…why don’t we do that every morning?
It’s a new day. Rededicate yourself to becoming a better person.
See you at the next rest stop.
Not because I couldn’t find something to write about, but because no matter what I wrote my thoughts kept coming back to the same subject. Guess I need to get that out of my system so I can move on. Heregoes.
I’m sick and tired of hate. I recently read where a politician referred to those who opposed this person as “haters”. I get dozens of hate-filled emails about politics daily. I’ve received a hate email because I chose to visit a synagogue. I’ve watched and listened as many good people have been slandered because of personal agendas in our city. I’ve heard school children shout hate at individuals on the street (encouraged by adults with them). I’ve witnessed people that I thought were good Godly folks suddenly fill with rage and go into hate filled rants over something small. I’ve seen road rage (while a passenger) and the person driving was someone I admire.
What can I do?
Walk the walk, talk the talk.
Every day I find myself doing a quick once over examination of my actions and principles. No, I’m not up to snuff…that really isn’t the question. I do stop and take a look at what I’ve done and said and tried to figure out what I could do in the future to make myself a better person.
I can be sure that if I’m going to claim to be a person of God that my words and deeds reflect that. Will I fail? Probably. Oh, and those haters will pounce on it and throw it back, but that’s okay. I’m not out to please them.
I remember as a child in the church, how there would be a revival service and folks would stream down to the front to rededicate their lives to the Lord. Even then, I wondered…why don’t we do that every morning?
It’s a new day. Rededicate yourself to becoming a better person.
See you at the next rest stop.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
who, what, when, where, and sometime Y?
While I’ve enjoyed the posting to Nancy’s Journal, I’ve had a few self-imposed restraints. After all, it’s Nancy’s page, not mine. As time went by, I felt sort of like Seyt in the book “What Entropy Means to me” (my favorite book of all time). In the book, his brother, Dore, sets off on a quest to find their father and he doesn’t return. Meanwhile, their family demands to know what is happening with Dore so Seyt publishes his adventures, inventing them as he goes along.
I moved from my original purpose of writing about Nancy to suddenly writing about me, my quest and journey, and that detracts from what the Care Page is really for, keeping everyone informed about her. I’ll continue to post updates on her health and well-being, but it seems some of you enjoy sharing my moments of introspect and soul-searching. I get messages and emails when I fail to post something for a few days, so I know a few of you expect something.
For me, it’s a form of therapy. I’m not sick, so it was very difficult for me to understand the vast range of emotions I was going through. While I cannot say I had a crisis of faith, I was suffering a personal crisis within. Writing made me examine things on a new level and that translated into helping me through some of the issues. Thanks for allowing me to rant.
So why Vagabond?
From Wikipedia: A vagabond is an (generally impoverished) itinerant person. Such people may be called tramps, rogues, or hobos. A vagabond is characterized by almost continuous travelling, lacking a fixed home, temporary abode, or permanent residence. Vagabonds are not bums, as bums are not known for travelling, preferring to stay in one location. The critic Arthur Compton-Rickett compiled a review of the type, in which he defined it as men "with a vagrant strain in the blood, a natural inquisitiveness about the world beyond their doors." Examples included Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman, William Hazlitt, and Thomas de Quincey.[2] A notable 20th century vagabond was the Hungarian mathematician Paul Erdös. (not that I'm in their league!) Most of my life I've been a sort of spiritual vagabond. Wandering about, sampling and partaking as I went, never quite settling down because I just keep learning. Life is a test, and death is the pop quiz.
The second reason is a continuing story I wrote to/for Nancy while she was in college. The protagonist was a woodsman who traveled throughout, serving as a sort of game warden for the King. In the first chapter, he assisted a caravan that had been attacked by highwaymen. He agreed to travel with them to the next town which was several days away. At night, he verbally sparred with the various members of the caravan about the true meaning of love. Rather than reveal his true name, he told them to simply call him what he was, a vagabond. Vagabond soon found himself in deep discussions with a beautiful young lady that he assumed was the wagonmaster's daughter. Later, after many discussions, arguments and admonishments, he discovers she is the King’s daughter.
Since writing that story, I’ve always referred to Nancy as “Milady” and she to me as Vagabond.
What are my credentials?
I've been writing for many years. I've been a contributing writer for the Germantown News, I've written dozens of short stories, did rough drafts of three novels, and have written numerous newsletter articles. At a writing seminar, I was asked by a known author if I wanted to be a writer. I said yes. He then asked if I'd written anything. Again, yes. "Then you are already a writer, you just aren't published". Since that time, I have been published, so I guess I can put "author, writer" on my resume. But as another writer told me, that is sort of like the term "Doctor". The title doesn't make you a good one. So as I wander about, putting pen to paper (well, fingers to keyboard), bear with me. I may not be a good writer, but I plan on getting better as I go along. I specialize in Murder, as you'll see by the way I treat the English Language. I prefer to think I write in the vernacular...the language I hear on the open road of Life's Highway. So off we go on this journey and hopefully we won't ask what the bumper sticker asks:
Where are we going and why are we in this hand basket???
Please feel free to post your thoughts in return via email:OUR3TC@GMAIL.COM
And don’t worry, after getting rejection letters from publishers, your criticisms won’t hurt a bit.
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