Writing For Change

I got my latest issue from Writer’s Digest the other day. Back when I lived in Spokane going on three months ago, I picked up the mail from my PO box once a week. Now, the rural mail delivers my bills, advertisements and periodicals at the mailbox with red flag just up the drive from the road I reside from, and I walk 200 yards to that mailbox each morning without fail. Anyway, in this magazine was the gist of the month’s theme, “Writing for Change.”

In her letter Amy Jones, the editor in chief described how excited she was at this topic the staff discussed at this time last year. “It shouldn’t take courage to write about things that are important to you, but often those are the topics that take the most courage.”

Now here is the biggest gambit a writer embarks on in his journey, and sometimes, though quite by accident, the theme that comes to mind isn’t as apparent until later when I read the prose. I didn’t feel courageous at deciding to write A Man’s Passion, yet I felt compelled to write the one portion of this book that was most worthy of what I felt needed to be addressed, the sport of lynching Black Americans because it was a socially acceptable tradition in the South back in the days of Jim Crow in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

This was following a 60 Minutes segment on the Peace and Justice Museum that opened in 2016. I didn’t consider it a topic of controversy in today’s climate, yet we have Black Lives Matter. Why? Because there are certain individuals who carry in their suitcase of hate and fear the desire to surreptitiously shoot and kill young Black men in the name of justice.

Now, according to Amy, it is also looking upon not just controversial themes that a writer must look at with a critical eye, but also the concept of writing that makes the story come alive for the reader; making necessary revisions, condensing the text, the syntax, even the individual words that can make a story either exciting or not. I have a small novella and there is a reason for that. I wanted to get the book in such a place that there was no ambiguity about what this story was about.

A Man’s Passion is small and short because I wanted the readers, you, not to drown in unnecessary and cluttered prose or be awed by purple prose that does nothing to enhance the story. My book is about a journey from point A to point B, with very few detours along the way.

Quoting from one of the novelists whose work that Amy highlighted, Carlos Luis Zafon, who wrote The Shadow in the Wind, “Few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into his heart.” If nothing else ever gets published, I hope that A Man’s Passion finds its way into your heart the same way I felt it affected me.

This Bird Man

You have all heard of the Bird Man from Albatross, where this prison inmate befriends pigeons while serving a life sentence on the Rock known as Albatross. All week I had no idea what to write out as my subject for my blog for you my loyal readers to enjoy.

Then my wife got a voice message detailing about one subject that had been discussed some time ago and then this “Oh by the way,” came from out of the blue, telling us of an incident that occurred Monday about “Bird Man,” and how sad it was and that this person was going to pray for him.

We all knew who Bird Man was, he ran a pet store that specialized in exotic birds, some of which were rescue. I went online and found the article about how Bird Man had basically lost his mind and ranted about killing an employee.

I told my wife that he went off the deep end and was arrested for threatening the life of an employee, was charged and appeared in court the next day.

“That don’t sound like him,” she stated with disbelief. I agreed. He always appeared an extremely sensitive, abet high strung man in his late 60s, who gently raised parrots, cockatoos, and many smaller birds, plus offered boarding services, nutritious dietary foods and seed for sale and trimming services. It was unlikely we were talking about the same person as was reported in the news.

My wife in the meantime texted a friend and former employee. What I am about to state is hearsay and by no means do I even claim any factual basis in this. After all I’m hearing my wife read a text message from someone with a subjective opinion in this.

The person replied to my wife’s query about Bird Man stated that it all started when he got a little too aggressive toward a cockatoo, which I have seen him do. It’s him throwing his arms wildly in the air and getting the bird to react as if it were being attacked. The reaction is usually the bird’s crown rising straight up in its head and raising its wings as a means of appearing bigger.

The owner of the bird asked him to stop, that it had aggression issues. Bird Man apparently laughed it off then scooped the bird about in the air several times until the bird attacked Bird Man’s hand, biting it so hard it drew blood. According to this person, Bird Man released the bird while still in mid somersault and without the benefit of flight landed hard on the floor where it apparently died.

The bird’s owner took the bird to a vet, who determined it died from extreme trauma and shock. It got a little bit fuzzy as to what happened next but apparently the bird’s owner confronted Bird Man and the girl employee immediately quit. She apparently saw the whole thing and was understandably upset.

Again, according to this girl my wife texted, he went ballistic on the employee and this bird owner. Somehow someone called the police, the street the pet store was located, closed and SWAT was called in.

Bird Man is in a world of trouble. My wife thinks he’ll lose his business. I think he took too many of his medications that are prescribed to him to deal with a variety of ailments he has. It goes back to my own experiences with seniors and being so over medicated they suffer adverse, negative reactions that causes them to act contrary to how a normal person might act.

The person my wife texted wrote her that Bird Man had a darker side to him, a side that only the employees knew about but kept to themselves. She didn’t elaborate and neither will I. Suffice to say, it’s a sad and tragic episode. I hope he gets the help he needs and can live out a quiet existence. That’s all anyone deserves.

What a Week

This last week was remarkable and not necessarily in a good way either. My step daughter got married a second time to a second husband in a small church inside a small town just outside Spokane. My wife and I went, taking our dog Zeus and getting a motel that my stepson raved about, so she reserved a room.

It was a horrendous, stinky, carpet-stained room with cigarette burns on the bathroom sink and carpet. She got her money back and we went to another hotel with better accommodations. I don’t know what happened to my Yeti travel mug, but sometime either during the wedding or when we were doing wedding pictures, it disappeared.

I checked my emails and saw I had an editor position available, and they wanted to do some editing quiz and virtual interview. I put that notice in my archive file with the intention of coming back to it on Wednesday just before the deadline. That letter disappeared. POOF! I checked everywhere including my deleted box and it’s nowhere to be found.

Anyway, the wedding was a nice, quiet affair, as I mentioned in a small church inside a small town called Rockford. As I have mentioned in the past my stepdaughter is very religious and wears her faith like a glove for all to see. The vast majority of the groom’s guests, including the husband himself, were former drug addicts and recovering alcoholics who discovered God. He changed his name when he saw the light and accepted Christ into his life. It was Cole, now his name is Nick.

During the reception when everyone present stated their praises to the newly married couple, it was apparent to me that I once knew Cole, though we never met. As I mentioned in my own previous blogs, I too had my demons with regard to substance abuse. So I know Cole. He was a charming man who would do anything it took to get a fix. Cole was smart, he knew how to manipulate people, entrust himself to them while robbing them blind. Cole knew how to work the system to get every possible advantage. And Cole made fast friends whom he took advantage of. We all met Cole at one point in our lives. Now, he is Nick, and he appears happier, more trustworthy and more caring of others in his life.

So I’m home now and have been trying to get hold of someone here in Gooding that can look at and fix my desktop computer. It stopped working before I left to the wedding and have tried without success to get ahold of someone. All I’m getting are voicemail recordings to leave a message and they’ll get back.

Yesterday, out of frustration I called Best Buy and hoped I could talk to a real person at least, but NOOO! I was directed to an automated caller system and then asked if I would like to wait for someone to call me. I finally grew so angry that I unplugged my computer and drove 40 miles to Twin Falls, walked into the store and asked the first person I saw, “Can someone help me?”

He was a Hispanic looking young man in his 30s who asked, “Did you get a reservation?”

“I can’t get hold of anyone,” I screamed back at him. “I am very angry right now and I’m about ready to throw this computer in the trash. Now is there anyone who can help me?”

He directed me to a Geek Squad associate who tested it and happily charged me $200 to enroll in their plan and whatever the cost for repairing my computer will come to once they are finished.

 I’m happy now. Sometime in the foreseeable future I’ll get my other computer back. That week is behind me and am looking forward to next week that I hope goes smoother.

Smelling Like A Rose

I was never this lucky, I reminded myself when I saw the special news alert concerning Bill Cosby’s conviction. It’s most likely why I never even tried because I knew the consequences of ignoring when she said “No.”

Unlike many men who didn’t accept no for an answer, I appreciated and respected women too much to just merely shrug them off or later justify my actions in some way suggesting she “teased me,” or any other number of excuses, or in Bill’s case, just getting her drunk enough or high enough so she wouldn’t or couldn’t say no.

I don’t blame Bill for the outcome that occurred. I blame the district attorney who should have gone after him in the first place and not offer some deal that would negate the matter from going any further. Didn’t he read the Constitution about self incrimination? Didn’t he even care? After all, Cosby is a Black entertainer who could afford to lose a couple million in a civil case. Maybe he just figured Cosby’s lawyers were as ignorant of the fifth amendment as he was.

I don’t have to tell you that I truly believe in Cosby’s guilt. Even he admitted he more than likely crossed a line. He absolutely knows he violated a sacred trust with that woman.

On a lighter note I finished editing a new book that is part of a new series call Nick Roberts Mystery. This one revolves around a Native elder who is part of a sex slavery plot. It started with him abducting Native girls but later he goes after any girl he can get a decent auction price for. At the moment the book is titled Luke Warm: A Nick Roberts Mystery, Book One.

I’m started writing a first draft of book three, book two, is awaiting my blue pencil. Happy Fourth everyone!

Spam?

I’m doing promotions and advertising via Facebook on my last bit of good news that I shared using the page devoted to “A Man’s Passion.”

Well, I got results from various people and four interesting comments which all four implied or downright accused my post of being spam.

I’m of a mind to think that these four people for whatever reason either don’t understand the difference between promoting a product and somehow enticing someone to buy something that isn’t what it appears. In the promotion I put out that the Book, A Man’s Passion, was recently entered into an international book promoting competition through an advertising/marketing company. I commented that I hoped the competition proved fruitful and profitable for me in terms of sales.

I don’t know where in this post was there an implication that I was enticing people to buy a nonexistent product. Are they ignorant of what spam actually means? Or do they believe that promoting any product is spam and should be banned from social media?

If the latter is the case then these same people will probably quit Facebook if they have to pay for the privilege of posting their thoughts on this social network platform, because advertising these pages pays the bills.

Needless to say, I was thunderstruck by their comments, one of which was so foul I won’t repeat it here. It just saddens me to think there are people out there who are so narrow minded in their views that anyone else with a counterview is seen as a threat to their pathetic existence.

Father’s Day

Dad and I bonded by doing stuff together. Neither of us talked very much because, well frankly, we didn’t share philosophical or political opinions like most fathers and sons did. It was a civil war whenever we had an opinion on something. It’s what happens when a conservative Republican lives under the same roof as a liberal Democrat. Anymore, though, my politics has mellowed a bit and I’m thinking maybe he wasn’t as loony as I originally assumed by some of his beliefs.

So by stuff, I’m talking fishing and hunting, and before that we took trips in his Triumph that I helped him rebuild when I was but nine and ten years old. Dad was also a volunteer firefighter and I used to hang out at both the Douglas County District 2 and later, the Benton County District 4 stations and listen to the other volunteers talk of things that guys liked to talk about when not in the company of their wives.

When I was old enough I too joined the fire department, following in his footsteps because in my mind I felt it was expected that a son does things like that to show respect for their father. I realized later that joining the same groups, clubs, and the like, isn’t about that. I thought it was, but I was wrong. Later in life Dad tired of those things that once interested him, such as the fire department, the Elks and Moose Clubs, and finally life itself.

After my stroke I didn’t think I could hunt anymore, so didn’t even bother. I fished still, yet Dad was never very lucky at fishing like I was. It came to me then as now that what he really wanted from me was company; someone to hang around with and talk about things when not in the company of my mom and his wife.

Happy Father’s Day

Missing A Connection

This past week Tom’s kids and grandkids came to the house for a family reunion. Yesterday they all left for the nearby ice caves. I stayed home and did what I generally do these days, write, and job search for remote work.

While I was in the process of doing that I received a call from the local Social Security office. Did I mention the day was socked in with rain, clouds, and wind? It was and apparently that had something to do with the Social Security agent trying to communicate with me. I heard her just fine, but she had a devil of a time hearing or understanding me. She told me it was like listening to a robot voice. After three attempts, she gave up and told me she would call again today.

I then saw I received a text message from my dentist office reminding me of my dentist appointment scheduled for two weeks from the day. Well I figured the last call was a fluke and went ahead and contacted them.

Same problem: the person on the other end could not hear or understand me. It was a metallic sound that resonated like I was inside an echo chamber. After the second try and much frustration on both our ends we gave up.

I’m hoping with the weather cleared up and sunny today, the problems will correct itself, but I’m not holding my breath either. The problem with the newer technology, we are still at the whims and mercy of mother nature.

Gone Fishing

Wednesday Tom and I went fishing with his buddy Dave. He has a boat with swivel chairs and an outboard motor with lots of horsepower. Dave is sort of like Tom in that he has been around ranching back in his younger days and is so beat up physically from it he’s had to be on disability now. He looked to be in his late 50s with long gray hair tied in a ponytail. Unlike Tom, I didn’t get the impression that he was a cowboy.

We headed out to a small man-made lake a few miles from the homestead, going this way and on paved county roads that had numbers but not names. We arrived and Dave backed the boat trailer to the bank along a boat dock where I could safely climb inside. Then we were off to a portion of the lake about a hundred yards from shore where we baited up and cast our lines. I used one of Dave’s rod and reel setup and had a nice orange and copper lure that looked promising.

The lake reminded me a lot of the Potholes over near Othello because those too were man made from the irrigation the farmers needed to help keep the crops, they raised alive. This was no different. Hatchery fish, mostly trout were introduced to this pond periodically to allow sport anglers to fish and release their catches. On occasion though, a few of these fish got smart enough to get older and bigger, making them keepers for a nice fish fry once we got home.

After we were ready Dave began trolling, keeping the boat’s speed down by idling the outboard engine and moving gently over the pond’s surface. I also teased the fish by bobbing the rod up and down slightly, jigging for a bite.

Dave got the first bite which he brought in and saw it was a small rainbow. The hook snagged too deep into its gills and so he slammed its head hard against the bow’s gunnels, killing it and tossed it out onto the lake where a nearby eagle swooped down and took it back to its aerie where I’m sure a pair of eaglets waited for their meal. I hoped that Dave doing that brought us a measure of good luck.

Ten minutes later Tom got a hit and then after he brought in a slightly bigger trout than Dave’s, which he released and threw back, I got a hit. Mine was about five inches and was just big enough to keep. Had I known what I found out later, I most likely would have insisted Tom thrown that back too.

We caught four more trout between us and then I got hold of a fighting catfish which I had a devil of a time to bring into the boat. I asked Tom to finish reeling it in for me. It was just under ten inches long and weight out around three pounds.

When we finished, we drove home having to slow down for a tractor-like farming implement that took up over half of the two-lane road. I quite enjoyed the leisure of fishing and hoped to do this again when the opportunity presented itself.

Later, after my wife had cleaned the fish and I told her and Lilly our feats, both informed me they didn’t care for eating trout or cat. Tom said the same while we fished; that he preferred catching fish but not eating them. I ate them by myself.

On the Job Hunt

I’ve been looking for part time writing/blogging jobs that will help pay the bills and keep a sense of sanity here where I’m sharing living arrangements with my mother in-law, Tom and my wife. I found a couple sites that I’ve been using that hold promise, though I’m sure I will soon discover how good they actually are.

Pro Bloggers is as the site implies about finding jobs where blogging is the main curriculum. I applied through them for a couple of potential jobs but hadn’t received a reply yet.

The other is Flex Jobs which is more in line of a job search engine such as Indeed or Monster. These guys promise a lot and they seemed honest and forthcoming with their promises. This group focuses exclusively with employers hiring for remote or work from home jobs, which is what I prefer at this time.

One thing that I did discover through this site is that they offer exams that tests one’s abilities and talents in a given field or career, plus certain classes and professional mentoring with a job coach that I’ve taken advantage of. They had me fill out a resume profile too which they claim is the fastest way to land a job.

Then, I guess when I put in for a job through Monster I got an interview, via Zoom that I attended yesterday. It was through a company calling itself AO. I found out during the course of the presentation it was an insurance company selling different types of policies to “working families.” I sent them my resume though I am certain nothing will come of it.

I was hoping for a sense of retirement but have since realized we still need money to live on and provide some sense of normalcy. Not working gets very old very fast.

My other writing projects are still progressing nicely. I’ve started a new book on a new series, finished editing another book I finished writing another book from the last series. I Albert Peabody is still being proofed by the publisher and I sent more marketing ideas on A Man’s Passion to the marketing team at Austin Macauley.

More About Gooding, Idaho

This morning it is overcast and chilly. It rained earlier and the stepson has come to be part of this extended family.

As I have mentioned in numerous previous blogs to you my loyal readers, the stepson is a lazy young man living month to month on social security disability, though the money he receives lasts maybe a couple of days because he spends that siphon like it’s nothing and is broke the rest of the month. This last month was no less an example and he expected us to bail him out with loans and promises, plus he had this delusion that someone was going to come up to our former home in Spokane and hand him money. It didn’t happen of course, and he had to get someone there to buy him a Greyhound ticket here on Sunday.

It was presumably decided that he wouldn’t come here, but my wife decided differently and when Tom and Lilly found out, it was after the bus had left Spokane and he was on his way to Boise. Needless to say, the tension in the house was very apparent. I observe the exchange between Tom and Lilly and Stephanie all afternoon Sunday, climaxing with Stephanie abruptly going to her room, grabbing the car keys and announcing, “I’m moving back to Spokane. I can’t deal with Tom and his attitude. Nice was right, I should have never assumed differently.”

Later that night she called telling me her plan to pick up Terry, then drive back to Spokane the following morning. I listened to her rant but didn’t say anything. I knew she was angry at Tom for his outburst toward her, but I also suspected deep down she knew he wasn’t in the wrong and had messed up herself in this by going behind their backs and bringing him here when clearly, he wasn’t wanted. She hung up and I waited.

Around ten I called her back at Lilly’s urging and left her a message to come on home. After that she called her mother. Because Lilly is mostly hard of hearing, she can hear the phone better with the speaker on. I heard the entire conversation between the two and Lilly convinced her to come back. She and Tom had a long talk and he agreed to let Terry back, with conditions.

I went to bed and was later awoken when Stephanie came in. “I’m back but I’ll see about getting a place in Twin (Falls). I can’t be in the same place as Tom when he treats my son like this. What are you going to do?”

I already had two different conversation with both Tom and Lilly. They insisted that I stay regardless of what Stephanie hastily wanted to do that night in the heat of her anger and rage. “I’m staying here. I already burned my bridges up there (in Spokane).”

She shut off the bedroom light and crawled into bed beside me.

The next morning Terry asked Lilly if it would be okay for Tom to sell pot to him.

“No it is not,” She replied in her no-nonsense tone. “I want you to clean yourself up. You are not to drink or smoke pot in my house or on my property. You are an asshole when you do. And, if you do that away from here then you can’t live here either. Those are the rules I set down. I love you but you can’t keeping getting drunk and high all the time anymore.”

It’s been a week. As far as I know the stepson hasn’t gotten high, though he’s been texting someone here which suggests he might try and find someone who will help him out. It’s a deep hole he’s’ fallen into and I don’t know if he’ll ever climb out, or if he even really wants to.