Not that I enjoy expressing sad news to you my loyal readers, but this truly is where the cure is as bad as the disease. A hotel housekeeping supervisor who I have known for a few years passed away last week. I was off on the day it happened and so I learned about it fourth hand and not altogether certain how much I’m conveying is actually the truth.
Category Archives: My Experiences
Is it Real of Figment of Imagination
Lately, since I had my two novellas presented at the Los Angeles Times Book Fair, I received emails from individuals who represented publishing houses, and not just some small-time press or self-publishing printing outfit, but Random House and Gray Wolf Press.
A Man on the Cross
Trust me, I’m not trying to be blasphemous. But many years ago, back in the eighties my BFF sat upon a cross that overlooked Flat top, a hill in the middle of West Richland. You can still see pretty much anywhere in the greater Tri Cities area; the cross not so much.
Co-Depending with Ernie
Long ago when was just starting my life as an apprentice alcoholic, I became friends with my boss, a cook at the Elks Lodge in West Richland. I remember his first name, Ernie, but not his last; not that it matters. Suffice to say he was the journeyman alcoholic that I strived to become.
Natural Pastime
Oh, the seventies growing up, so much to do and a teenager like me enjoying every moment of it. There were the bicycle rides to Lost Lake, a shallow pond within an oasis of trees, mostly Alder and Russian Olive. Not far from there was the old Tri-City Raceway, a quarter mile tri-oval track for wannabe stock car drivers.
Book Two of Search for Justice is Live
“Four Seasons Book Two: Search for Justice,” is live and available for you my loyal readers to buy and read.
The Mind
Science geek here again. This time I’m considering the mind, brain generally, and our perceptions of what we perceive as reality. I’m of an opinion that though everyone might see the same thing, how each individual perceives what he sees are as different as night and day.
The Mailbox: Part 2
“Oh, to relive those days again,” Carl chuckled. “You were a handful that’s for sure.” He walked up the slight grade. His breathing, though steady became increasingly labored. He searched for that chair to sit upon before he became too weak to walk further.
The Mailbox
Carl used his white cane to guide him to the mud room where his black boots sat on the floor next to a chair from the last time he put them on, this time yesterday. It was a chore of love toward his daughter Susan that he did this each and every day except Sunday.
Lost Highway
“In all the years we’ve been investigating homicides, how many times have you counted when the medical examiner or pathologist was wrong?” Mark turned his head quickly to Hector and saw a look he couldn’t describe upon his face. “What is it Hector? Do you know anything about this?”
Jerry Schellhammer 