My New Beginning

I just  awoke in a newer house in Gooding a small farming committee in Southern Idaho. This is my new home. Spokane is a distant memory now.

We will return but less and less frequently. The move itself was arduous, frustrating and long. I wanted to leave early. Well, earlier than when everyone else were willing or ready. The moving van still wasn’t loaded by yesterday morning when my wife and woke up in a cheap motel room.

Neither one of us felt like sleeping on a bare floor, we picked a motel room adjacent to North Division, a major street with busy traffic.

But I digress.

We arrived back at the house and met   my stepdaughter, her fiancé and two children, plus Bob the driver for the U=Haul van we rented.

We spent another two hours finishing the packing on 26 foot-long moving van. Then, we were finally off to Southern Idaho.

The drive was thankfully uneventful. There were still your occasional idiots on the interstate who shouldn’t be allowed on the road. That is a given.

It was an eleven hour drive, but because of the time zone change was twelve total when we arrived.

Now we move in to my mother in law and unpack, turning her home into ours.

20 Years of Where the Fun Never Ends

Last night I was sitting at big round table surrounded by a few of my friends and former team members from Northern Quest Resort and Casino discussing my life and career there these past 20 years. Yesterday was my last day there, having decided prior to moving down to our new adventures in Southern Idaho to retire and pursue my writing ambition full time.

Tina Marie asked me about my funniest moment I had at the casino and I told her of an incident with Nick, who is no longer with us and the time a fellow team member, Carmelita played a trick on him. She is all of five foot and full of piss and vinegar but can be very sweet which is more than a little confusing for most men who had the pleasure of coming into contact with her.

She asked me to play along and I did. She placed herself inside this bath tissue box which she easily fit herself into and told me to call Nick to the supply room using our portable Motorola. He responded that he was on his way and I placed the lid shut over her.

A moment later, he shows up and I told him I needed help lifting the box there up on the shelf beside me. So here’s Nick getting ready to squat down and grab the box when Carmelita popped out from the box scaring poor Nick nearly to death. I think he jumped three feet into the air and screamed out an expletive that was certainly heard through the hallway in back of house.

We all laughed at this and of course I was on a roll and recounted another antidote involving poor Nick. Needless to say, I enjoyed the people I worked with and worked for for the most part since I took my first class at Dealers’ school in a closed-up bank building in Airway Heights while the casino was still under construction in 2000.

The friendship, the comradery and esprit de corps I experienced there was genuine among those who saw me and treated me with kindness and respect. Like I told Jerry, another former team member “I can safely count on my hand the number of people who didn’t like me and I could care less about them.”

“Five?” He asked.

“You got it,” I replied. “Those five never liked most people and perhaps because of that they no longer worked here anyway. That was five out of over a thousand that came and left or came and haven’t left just yet. So when they held the retirement party for me it was a party with over 100 team members by my reconning coming in and shaking my hands, offering me teary eyed hugs and fond farewells. Most every department was represented and then after I clocked out for the last time, went to the Epic Sports lounge without my badge for the first time in 20 years, sat down and waited for more former team members and friends to come.

There is a lot to reflect upon and I guess the remarks I made in the exit interview, which is actually a survey done on a computer, before retiring to my parties points out more than anything. I admired and respected most people who work there, especially the ones in the Housekeeping and Food and Beverage Departments who have to work extra-hard to make this place the resort it is today.

The culture this business represents I do not care for and some of the people who graced our corridors and slot machines and pits I don’t have any use for either. Most of the guests that come in are good people who want a little entertainment and are happy to spend it. The bad apples are only here to cause trouble. I’ve caught them in rest rooms doing their drugs, mostly with stolen needles from our sharpies containers. I’ve seen them yell and scream at each other or starting fights with one another, and I’ve seen them take advantage of our core value of “Everyone is Welcomed here,” by vandalizing our casino and hotel costing us thousands of dollars in repairs or replacement.

I don’t know if it is a normal trait of these people who are mostly poor, who are believing they must gamble to somehow get ahead in life, but obviously can’t because they just blew what money they had for rent on a slot machine or Black Jack table. Or is it because we are in such close proximity to Eastern State Hospital in Medical Lake that these people who are mentally incapable understanding basic principles of social responsibility are thrown into this environment where they act out or react the way they do.

Another thing I noticed these past 20 years is how some people treated me personally, especially following my stroke. You see I had my stroke after being hired by Northern Quest in 2002. Those five people I mentioned earlier came out of the wood work in spades. It was eye opening to say the least. One even suggested I should go home and turn in my badge because obviously this wasn’t the right job for me anymore. He was a housekeeping supervisor named George. There were others like him who seemingly tolerated me like a horse tolerated flies. I was a nuisance and really didn’t belong here because I was doubly disabled from the cleft pallet and speech impediment and now this stroke that made me in their eyes either an invalid or an eyesore they had to be forced to look at each and every day.

It was this backdrop, this culture of arrogance and condescending attitude toward me that I experienced this entire time and I’m sure was why I wasn’t considered for any positions more suited to my knowledge, education, and other-worldly experience I had prior to coming here. One even told my wife, “His only experience is housekeeping and should be happy with that.”

Another told me as I was searching the job board for a better position, “Oh Jerry we don’t want you to do anything other than what you are doing now.”

I have a college degree; I went to a post graduate course in professional writing and have a certificate for that. I have leadership experience through the Army National Guard where I served 22 years. Yet, I wasn’t suitable for those positions I applied for other than housekeeping.

But now I am seeing the high-rise hotel in the rearview mirror its lights reflecting nicely in the ever-increasing darkness as the remain dim rays from the sun disappear in the western horizon. It was a 20-year quest. It was fun most of the time. It was what shaped me into the person I became.

To all my friends, former team members and present team members adios, au voir, auf wiedersehen, good night.

And the Winner is, Justice.

The look on his face whether it was disbelief or anger said it all for me. I was to say the least, hopeful and a little surprised by the verdict. After all Rodney King is still fresh in my mind from when he was beaten by Los Angeles Police officers back on March 3, 1991.

Did he honestly believe that he would be exonerated by a jury who saw the video of him kneeling on George Floyd’s neck even after he begged Chauvin that he couldn’t breathe? It might have been different had it been in the South or in another era when police abuse of a Black man was at least ignored.

Justice prevailed this time. Next time? Who knows because different circumstances, different people would undoubtedly lead to a different result? For the time being I am happy that justice won and evil lost.

Mommy!

“Mommy!” I screamed as he hurt her over and over with the knife he brought. I knife he used to stab her and sliced her face and arms until she couldn’t hold them up to defend herself, or me.

He was her boyfriend. He called himself Dave. I never liked him. I thought he was mean and me I’m just five and he treated me like garbage; something that was ignored until I made a fuss. Then he would yell at me to shut up.

I thought she had broken up with him. I thought she told him never to come back. I thought we were finally safe from Dave. I was wrong. We were wrong.

He stabbed me and then she tried shielding me from his knife. I don’t know why he came back but he did. I don’t understand why he looked at us the way he did. I laid in my own blood and watched Mommy get stabbed over and over again. He finally stopped. He finally stopped hurting Mommy. She laid there staring back at me but she isn’t moving.

I vaguely remember that he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder and carried me into the garage where Mommy’s car was parked. Why? Why is he doing this? He laid me beside him and started the car. I fell asleep. Mommy’s in heaven and I’ll join her soon. I know I will.

“It’s okay honey, Daddy is here. You get better,” I vaguely heard Daddy’s voice tell me in words that choked with sadness. Daddy was crying over me. I woke up and saw where I was. I saw I was in a hospital. Did they bring Mommy too? Will I see her again?

Mommy!

How Safe Are We?

I have concerned friends and family member who have concerns, fears, and outright paranoia about the vaccines available to us through the pharmaceutical companies that offer them. From personal experience, I have taken both shot of the Moderna vaccine and while had side affects akin to a mild flu bug I feel fine. But that doesn’t mean that there are people out there who for reasons not considered did suffer other more serious side affects related to anyone being vaccinated including allergies and histories of adverse reactions.

The CDC has guidelines on safety protocols that were used to ensure that the representative companies giving those shots adhered to the letter of the law when it came to being completely transparent and above board.

In a Journal of American Medical Association report (JAMA), the process by which the pharmaceutical companies fast-tracked the vaccines from research and development to us was as incredible as the development of the polio vaccine was in the early 1950s.

Conversely, another report from JAMA admits more studies need to be done to test the long-term effects this vaccine has on us. But it also admitted the protocols in placed to do the testing were above board and met the minimum requirements.

One thing that stood out here is the fact that we can not get corona virus from the shot itself because we are not getting the virus injected into our system. It is an RNA inhibitor instead.

This is where reality meets hope. While I am in favor of getting every American
vaccinated and hope that we reach herd immunity in this country so that we can get back to a

sense of normalcy, there are still those out there who want to make this into a political issue rather than a health and safety issue.

While President Biden may want 300,000,000 people vaccinated by July, it’s doubtful, given the environment we live in that that will happen. I’m guessing many more will not. As I was saying I had my two shots, my family members and close friends have not and from the conversations I’ve heard from them it is unlikely they will.

For Every Action

It’s all part of Newton’s three laws of motion. It’s the third law actually, and it’s something politicians seem to always forget.

The action by the Georgia State Legislator is a case in point. The governor, Brian Kemp signed the law apparently not realizing the consequences that it would have. The law, Georgia’s Election law is as much about restricting minority voting as anything we’ve seen since the bad old days of Jim Crow. Unfortunately, the US supreme court has given each state a long rope in defining what the 15th amendment actually guarantees when it comes to our right to vote. Each state therefore can enact statutes that seemingly protects its citizens from fraud and other criminal activities.

As a reaction to this action, Major League Baseball will not hold the All-Star game in Atlanta as promised, consequentially costing that city millions of dollars in potential economic relief. MLB blasted the action as voter suppression.

I had hoped that those days were behind us but apparently not. It is unconscionable that we still have these narrow-minded people representing it citizens. They fear voting for all because they fear losing their jobs and their positions of power and privilege.

One of many famous Twain quotes about the body politic is “To lodge all power in one party and keep it there is to insure bad government and the sure and gradual deterioration of the public morals.

  • Autobiographical dictation, 24 January 1906. Published in Autobiography of Mark
    Twain, Volume 1 (University of California Press, 2010)

That unfortunately is what has happened in Georgia. The Republican Party there, being the dominant party has ensured through this law the gradual deterioration of public morals.

I can only hope others will heed this as an immoral act and think twice about restricting the rights of minorities when it comes to going to the ballot box and voice their favorable or unfavorable opinion towards those wishing that precious vote.

Shot in the Dark

Two more mass shootings by two more individuals with demons in their heads and lots of guns ammo to show their message for all to see.

Once again we have the liberal left screaming for action, gun reform laws. Once again you have the NRA screaming that the democrats are hell bent to take away our guns and abolish the Second Amendment.

Once again I sit on the sidelines and wonder where is the compromise in this mess we’re in? Is there even a middle ground in this? I think there is but the extremists on both ends aren’t willing to listen because their agenda is right and there can be no compromise.

My thoughts have always been to enforce the existing gun laws already on the books, incarcerate those who commits these acts against our fellow citizens, which includes keeping guns and bullets out of their hands and put more money toward mental health awareness.

The second Amendment is only as good as the people allow it to be. So long as we have dysfunctional people out there, killing mass people for the pure pleasure of a sick thrill, and not do anything more than cry out for more gun control, then yes our amendment is in deep trouble. But that goes for all of our freedoms: speech, right to assemble, press and our privacy. Misuse or abuse any of those rights and we run the risk of losing them. Obviously, what occurred on January 6 is proof of what happens when a group of extremists abuse our rights.

As I Sit Here

As I sit here in front of this blank document slowly transforming into a story, a blog, a poem, a confession, I begin with a thought, an idea that might bare fruit or bear the weight of the world.

I sit here thinking of challenges, of character development, of themes that need explored and wonder how many others have been here before. Do they also hate the concept of a blank page staring back at them?

I sit here and contemplate plot, actions, hyperbole, and see what new philosophy might germinate from this narrative.

I’m a pantser who writes and writes until a story suddenly appears with a hero and a villain, along with their sidekicks and unknowing victims thrown into implausible situations they must try to get out of.

Eventually the story arcs into something more tangible and a reality sets in and the hero gets discouraged or defeated by the villain.

Finally the hero discovers an inner truth about himself, about life in general that was passed down to him from a wise man: his father or mother or her grandmother. The hero prevails and the villain is vanquished.

As I sit here, I am finished writing Barracuda: Final Chapter of Tequila Sunrise. I am satisfied for now. It is a bittersweet moment that I savor since now its in the hands of my editor and beta reader.

Writing For Fun

I’m editing the new book called Barracuda. It’s a sad and tragic tail that I will reveal to everyone once the editing is complete and my beta reader has had a chance to go over it more thoroughly. Suffice to say this project is more involved than my last efforts mostly because I am becoming more thoughtful and serious about my craft. I do intend that the rest of my works will go to my present publisher so I can get these titles in the marketplace.

Writing for fun is as I described in last week’s blog an effort in pure writing where I just write the story out regardless of errors or syntax mistakes. The real work is the part that tend to be not so fun because editing a story is an entirely different animal. In a sense, to use a metaphor, editing is like taming a wild beast.

Writing for the enjoyment of writing is creating that wild beast.

I’ve discovered through both the self-publishing and this process through an actual publisher that fine tuning into a piece that is as much a work of art than anything else, involves many sacrifices. There are darlings to kill off, whole pages that need revision, or outright deletion to make the story work. It is a process that many who write hate to go through because, well let’s face it, we hate admitting that we are wrong and think the story we wrote is infallible, when in fact, it’s far from it.

There are stories I’ve written that will not even make it to the publisher because they didn’t past muster with my beta reader or myself. Maybe after I’m dead and gone, someone will pick up that manuscript and do something with it. I the meantime, I will pursue my passion of writing for fun and later for money.

Writing From the Heart

My fellow readers I just finished watching a fascinating interview on “60 Minutes”
featuring writer, Colson Whitehead. It gave me an idea that I hope helps you understand my motivation for writing in general and developing the characters to my books I’ve published thus far and to continue down the road. So here it goes.

The main person on is the interviewer, John Dickerson, a white-haired reporter for CBS, Colson Whitehead, an African American writer, and his wife Julie Barer who sits next to Colson throughout the interview.

John Dickerson began by introducing Colson: The club of writers who have won the Pulitzer Prize twice for fiction is small. It contains just four members. The club of those awarded the prize for consecutive novels is even smaller. Colson Whitehead is its only member. He won last year for his novel, “The Nickel Boys,” about the Jim Crow south. In 2017, he won for “The Underground Railroad.” Through historical fiction, he has illuminated the past to tell us something about our present. But his work does not stay in one place. He has written about elevator inspectors, zombie hunters and the World Series of Poker. His next book is a heist novel. One of the other four members of the double-Pulitzer club, John Updike, said of Whitehead’s style: “His writing does what writing should do. It refreshes our sense of the world.”

I only wish that one day my book whatever it is is even considered as a Pulitzer nominee, but of that Dickerson continues by starting the interview with passages from his two books: “Can I ask you about your first lines? “Even in death the boys were in trouble.” “The first time Caesar approached Cora about running north, she said, ‘No.'” “It’s a new elevator, freshly pressed to the rails and it’s not built to fall this fast.” “I have a good poker face because I’m half dead inside.” Those first lines… they’re all crackling. Tell me about the process of the first line.”

Colson Whitehead: I’m very fond of them. And I think, you know, I’m doing the outline–

John Dickerson: For good reason.

Colson Whitehead: I’m doing the outline and– and lines are coming, and scenes are coming. And I think there’s a point where I do enough research, and I’m so excited to start writing because I’ve written this first sentence two months before, and I’m like, I gotta put this sentence in the file so I– I can start the book.”

Now I’m a certified pantser. I tend to avoid outlines and begin page one with what my main character tells me is in his or her heart.

I see where he’s coming from though. While I may not put out a formal outline per se, I do plot my stories in my head, which is quite advantageous in my day job as a janitor. My mind is constantly working and filling the void of tedious labor by enacting scenes, putting together plots and dialog that may or may not work out.

In my case and this is where I’m indebted to the Spokane Fiction Writers Club. The lines were never what created the book, but the action. In A Man’s Passion, what motivated me was a 60 Minutes segment featuring the Peace and Justice Museum in Montgomery Alabama back in 2016 when it opened. It started out as an idea of a young girl witnessing the lynching of an African American man. I wrote out the first draft and let my former editor read it aloud to the group’s meetup. She hadn’t read it before and didn’t know what she was getting into. Naturally, she hated the concept, the idea, and the premise, and promptly quit as my editor. It took five rewrites before I got it to a place I felt confident enough to submit it to Austin McCauley for their consideration.

Dickerson goes on a bit of a filler exercise by describing various aspects of Colson’s life, his library of fiction and non-fiction books and the process of his two books, then he asks: “Do you write for yourself or do you write for the audience?”

Colson Whitehead: “Really for me, which sounds very selfish. Should I have written a zombie novel? It made perfectly good sense for me. I grew up loving horror movies and then horror fiction. Is that something I should be doing as a literary writer? I don’t know. And there’s no handbook. You know? And it gives me great pleasure, if its exciting you know, our time on earth is pretty short. I should be doing what I—what I feel should be doing.”

We are both in complete agreement on this, as I believe 99 percent of all writers are. WE write for ourselves first. If for no other reason than the pure pleasure of seeing words materialize on a page from my own hand. In those first phases, it is a pure and selfish act of self-enjoyment. When the real work begins, deleting scenes that don’t fit, character development that needs refinement and overhauling an entire plot because it just doesn’t work out, is the frustrating part of writing that I believe is more geared toward the audience. Hattie, as well as Mark Marteau of my self published Four Seasons series, they are characters I developed around an idea that became the basis of a novella.

Finally, Dickerson asks: “There are a lot of aphorisms about writing, you know? “Write what you know. Write your heart.” Do you all agree on all of those aphorisms?

Colson Whitehead: We don’t talk about things on that kind of level.

Julie Barer: Yeah, I mean use one that Colson, says. “You can do anything if you’re– if you’re good enough.”

Colson Whitehead: You know the current debate’s over who can write about what, and writing across race and class and gender.  And it’s only when the – you know you screw it up that people get angry and I think rightfully so.

Julie Barer: But I hear people ask him sometimes at readings, you know, “Is it hard to write from the point of view of a woman?” And he’s like, “I’m a writer. That’s my job… is to write from…”

Colson Whitehead: Or “I’m a human being.”

Julie Barer: Right.

Colson Whitehead: You know.

John Dickerson: You’re saying, “I’m a human being, this is what I do as a human being.” But you’re also doing it as a writer, which has– it has this secondary benefit, which is that it works really well with your audiences.

Colson Whitehead: What was very heartening was the realization that if it’s true for me, it must be true for at least one other person. And so what I’m saying won’t come off as crazy. And if there’s one person, there’s a dozen. And then why not a thousand. And if I can find the right combination of words to express my inner truth, then other people can see it the same way. And so, I think we’re all in this together. And if– and if I can find the sentences and words arranged in the right way, where people can recognize that, then that’s, you know, I’ve done my job.

While it is true that one should write what they know; from the heart, it is also true to understand human nature enough to be able to write whatever they want from any point of view.

My characters are not me. I’m not a mixed raced woman, an elderly white woman and certainly not an FBI agent. They are though, characters in my two books.

While I don’t particularly know or understand the precise truth of man or woman I like to think that since I’m human and understand the frailties and vanities of the human soul I should be able to write from my heart what I know. Thus I feel I know my characters’ feelings and egos quite well.

I feel my writing style as well as those of most writers is based upon reaction more than action. My characters react to a given situation. That is the complexities of the human experience that lends itself credit for a realistic outcome.