History of the Trap: September Rains Part 6

6

I shouldn't have been there.  Nosing around where I didn't belong.  She had a right to her own life without me looking over her shoulder.  I tried to tell myself it was just an easy place to sit down and do some reading.  Nothing intrusive about it.  The fact that it was in and around the time her shift ended was merely coincidental. 

I normally had a fiction book, but I had been through much of it already.  Instead I had a book on World Humanities.  Dad had decided, after much faculty discussion, that we would move on to a new school year.  It wouldn't start until next week, which was already the third week in September, and the new school year usually started right after Labor Day.

This would make me Senior, I guess.  I'm not sure what that made last year's seniors, but my Dad had a schedule of courses for them, anyways.  He promised if we were still trapped by December, he would have a graduation ceremony for them.

"What are you doing, Lance?"  I looked up from my book, and shook off  the internal musing that was consuming me, and I saw her.  Lisa Carlton,  looking as pretty as ever, her blonde hair clean and long, but styled slightly different, with a little more curl and bounce, probably the doings and influence of Morgan and her friends..  She did, however, looked tired, with her eyes reflecting a weary sadness.

"I...I...I'm uh....," I stuttered, as elegant with the ladies as ever.  The same guy who could write romantic dialogue for The Sands of Loren could barely croak out a few coherent words to a girl he really liked.  "...j-just thought I'd get an advance look at the World Humanities text."

"Oh, I'm not taking that.  I've completed my language art requirements and am concentrating on science and math."  If I didn't know better, I'd almost say she sounded disappointed. "And you?  You just decided to review the book here; right about the time my shift ends?"

"Oh....yeah.  I guess so.  I mean, well, we are right next to the library."  The library had been divided now, with half of its space being used by the medical center.

"It's all right.  I don't mind." She sat down in a chair near me, one where we were facing each other. "I have to admit.  I'm not completely unhappy to see you."

Not a ringing endorsement.  But at this point, I would certainly take it.  "Me too," I answered, maybe a little too intensely. "Well, I mean. I'm really not completely unhappy to see you either."

She smiled a fleeting, tiny upturn of the mouth, but a smile nonetheless.  She told me a bit about her work, and what it was like to be around Morgan and her friends.  "They're a little shallow, not like, well...you know.  They mean well.  It's just hard to talk to them about....some things."  I'm sure that was true.  She was such good friends with Sue, I'm sure they shared a lot.  And for a few weeks there, she and I had opened up to each other quite a bit.  "And the boys around them...."  She paused, as if searching what to say next.  "...well...they're not the type of boys I'm used to."

That made me feel uneasy.  I asked her what she meant, but she refused to clarify.  I should have pushed her harder on that, but I did not.  I didn't want to scare her off.

She asked how I was doing, and I told her about my misadventures with recreational basketball.  That caused a brief burst of hearty laughter, which warmed my heart greatly to see. 

Then she suddenly got quiet.  We sat there for almost a minute.  I started to reach my hand out to her hand, but she pulled away slightly.  "I don't want you to get the wrong idea.  I still am not ready for a lot of things.  I miss Daniel, and still think about him."  Daniel was the name of her boyfriend who attended Huron University.  We all had family and friends on the outside, and every day that passed made us more aware that we may never see any of them again.

She started to tear up, and said, very quietly, "I miss Sue."  My heart was breaking for her.  She got up, looked down at me, and then leaned into my ear, and whispered, "I miss you, too."

My world froze, and by the time I could react, she was gone.

First Ever Okefenokee Heritage Center Writing Contest

Coming soon to the Heritage Center near you!  Well, if you live in Southeast Georgia!

Okefenokee Heritage Center Writing Contest!

                       Submissions by September 15th

                       Winners to be announced October 1st!
                        In association with the Judge Ben Smith Art                                                                                            Competition              

    
SIX CATEGORIES!

                     Elementary -   Short Story
                      (K - 5th)         Poetry

                     Middle/High School -  Short Story
                        (6th - Senior)            Poetry

                     Adult -   Short Story
                                    Poetry

Maximum lengths and submission requirements to be announced very soon!

There will be prizes!!!

Sponsored by:

Okefenokee Heritage Center

Okefenokee Writer's Guild

The Strait Line

We are actively looking for additional sponsors and judges, so if interested, please contact Tom Strait via The Strait Line, Facebook or tmstrait@hotmail.com

Keep watching this space for more exciting details!

    
                      

Ripping Good Yarns: Vote for Your Broadcast Drama Finalist

It's time to vote for your favorite broadcast drama finalist!

You can vote for more than one, but if you do so, your vote will be fractured between those you selected.    Voting for two, for example,  will result in a 1/2 vote for each selected.

Vote from this year's finalists:

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  (ABC)

This show started out as a good show that developed into an excellent show, dialed to an 11 on a scale of 10.  Rather than ignore the Captain America movie, it tied in very smoothly to it, heightening the plot and intensity of the show.  Everything that helps clarify why Joss Whedon is the best television creator we have right now.  Of the shows on this list, it is the one that Alison, Benjamin and I watch together.

Downton Abbey (PBS)

At first glance, I did question whether show was really a ripping good yarn, that it might be too tea roomish and artsy for what my concept of what a ripping good yarn should be.  But then Alison and I began streaming past seasons, and I must admit we were hooked.    The servant/master relationship is a little hard for me to take sometimes, but it is character driven and has a great sense of history (time and place).  

The Blacklist (NBC)

The Blacklist has been a real gem this season, one that Alison and I follow with much anticipation of it's twists and turns.  James Spader is exceptional as the lead, who is both hero and villain.  When it is at its best, it's almost cinematic in its quality, like watching a first rate movie. 

Parenthood (NBC)

I don't watch this, but it's a favorite of Alison's.  Even though the show is melodramatic, it also comes across as realistic, as the characters face real crises, that are dealt with in realistic, character driven fashion.

Scandal (ABC)

This is another favorite of Alison's, but one I watch with her.  Yes, the politics are extremely unrealistic and over the top.  BUT it is the best roller coaster ride on television.  

There you have it!  YOUR five favorites, based on your nominations.  I think this is the first when one of the CBS dramas didn't make the list, but I am basing these off of nominations, and no single CBS drama got enough to make the cut.

One of the biggest responses I get is:  I don't watch any of these shows.  Yes, I understand.  But if you even vote for one you would most like to see someday, I'll take it.  My goal is to leave this up until at least 10 votes are in.  Oh, I would love to get dozens and dozens of voters, but that probably won't happen.  Who knows, though!  The Ripper revolution may be just around the corner!

Vote here on the blog or on Facebook, Twitter or Google Plus!

Remembering Memorial Day

Memorial Day was started by former slaves on May, 1, 1865 in Charleston, SC to honor 257 dead Union Soldiers who had been buried in a mass grave in a Confederate prison camp. They dug up the bodies and worked for 2 weeks to give them a proper burial as gratitude for fighting for their freedom. They then held a parade of 10,000 people led by 2,800 Black children where they marched, sang and celebrated.

{via: The Blue Street Journal}



Not my usual start, but I thought I'd begin with a reminder of how the holiday that just passed got it's start.

Memorial Day is still the least celebrated of the major holidays that I've experienced since moving to Georgia.  And I don't mean just in the sense that we don't honor enough those who sacrificed their all in the defense of this nation, and the freedoms that we have come to cherish, and are even attempting to slowly expand to this day. This area does a good job in being respectful of any holiday with a military connection.

But what they don't do, at least in the numbers I am familiar with, is let people out of work, or unrelated social/civic events.  My wife Alison, who does get plenty of days off in working for the school system, did not get yesterday off.  Benjamin had it off, but only because his school ended last Friday.  So to him it's just the start of Summer break.  I had it off, but as accountants, it is our first holiday since New Year's Day.  Now that, my friends, is a long stretch.  I had some friends whose kids were still engaged in dance and other activities that you think would have been rescheduled due to the holiday.

I'm not quite sure why this is.  I know in first moving here in the late seventies, there seemed to be some conflict as whether to acknowledge this day, or a Confederate Memorial Day that was a state holiday.  But the best I can tell, that division is now over.

Could it be due to the roots of the holiday, as shown above? African Americans honoring Union soldiers?  I'd like to think not.  I think that is a part of history that has been either forgotten or disregarded by most of the people in this area, and is not a part of their decision to celebrate or not.

At one time Memorial Day was called Decoration Day.  Graves of soldiers who served were supposed to be decorated.  We don't do that as much anymore, but I think that is part of a cultural shift rather than disrespect.  People don't go to cemeteries as frequently as they used to.  Not that some of you that read this don't still do that.  Nothing is universal.

Through the BBQ and recreation, through the environment where many of us are still engaged as if it were a routine day (work or otherwise), I still remember, honor and respect those who served this country to preserve our freedoms, liberties, civil rights, and  national security, both in the military and in civilian life.  Many have sacrificed for us to be in the position we are in....soldiers....unionizers....civil rights workers...environmentalists....suffragists... and others.  Far more in the military have made the ultimate sacrifice, but there are those in the other groups who have also sacrificed everything.  And I salute, respect, and remember them all.

History of the Trap: September Rains Part 5

5

"What is the temperature, anyways?" asked Christian Drielin, our new camera assistant, replacing Randy Fitch, who had died in the tunnels, along with Ronald Housely, announcer/reporter. 

"It's 70," I answered.  "About the same thing it always is."

Christian seemed surprised at my weather telling prowess.  He was a skinny fellow, with a long neck and close set eyes.  He had a sharp nose, and thin set lips, but he was friendly enough, if not exceptionally bright.  "Wow!  How could you tell that?"

"You mean besides it almost always being 70 degrees?  I saw the temperature gauge on the side of the refreshment stand."  I pointed over to where the stadium refreshment and ticket building was. 

Stadium was kind of a misnomer.  There were just two sets of bleachers, one on each side of the football field.  The ones on the home side were built larger and studier, with a press box built at the top.  The tough call was going to be as to what side fans of the particular teams, Granite's or Deneau's, got to sit on.  My Dad favored first come, first serve.  Others wanted a coin toss, or even a vote.  No formal decision has been made as of yet.

Christian and I were out at the side of the football field as part of the Lookout TV's coverage of the football practices.  Christian and I were the B team, catching what additional interviews or coverage we could that was missed by the A team, consisting of popular on-air talent Bob Short and his cameraman, Phil Irman.  They had the one good hand held camera, and were actually on the sidelines in the middle of the players and coaches.  Our camera was an inexpensive home movie camera that was found in the office of Mr. Crowler, the assistant principal who had committed suicide last month. 

I could see Bob interviewing Coach Walterzak, who was trying to assist with both sides.  Their conversation was animated and punctuated with laughter. 

No one was near Christian or me.  We were near the end zone closest to the school. I directed him to take footage of the players as they scrimmaged to that end of the field.  I saw the cheerleaders practicing close by.  They had divided themselves into two squads, Annie Peppers leading the squad for David Deneau's team, and Morgan LeDona Tigh leading for her boyfriend's team.  I should try to talk to them, get an interview as to how they split up the squads, and how they feel about the big game.  I should, but even with the prospect of me helping them be on television, I still didn't have the self confidence to approach them.  Mr. Resert, our broadcast teacher, might have been better off bringing Franny Cranfield out here.  She could do a better job than I could.  But I think Mr. Resart was still too chauvinistic to consider that.

Just when I thought all I was going to get was footage of players and cheerleaders running around, I saw Robert Pelley, in full uniform, come towards us.  He was already tall, but the padding just took him to supernatural heights.  "Well, looky there!  If it ain't Marty Martian, pretending to be a sports reporter!  And if ain't Christian Dry Lips on the toy camera!  Boy, with Housely gone, the station sure as gone down hill fast!"

My heart raced.  "Do you want to be interviewed or not?"  Get him on camera; maybe he would take the time to be a little more civil.  Or at least, if he was nasty, more of the school could see him for the bullying idiot he was.

"Oh, sure!  Why the hell not?  I could use some laughs!"

Mr. Eurich came by, overhearing Robert's antagonistic behavior.  Mr. Eurich, not normally a football coaching assistant, was nevertheless volunteering to help with this.  He must know that the game could be important to our morale, and it had to be a distraction from constantly thinking about the family he missed.  He was one of my favorite teachers, actually teaching history as if he were interested in it, a refreshing change from some of the others who just slapped up chapter assignments on the board, and spent the rest of the class time discussing and designing sports plays.  "Mr. Pelley!  If you want to be interviewed, I expect you to be polite and positive.  You are representing your team and your school!"

Robert Pelley gave a sneer that only I could see.  "Sure, Mr. Eurich.  You bet I will.  Now, what you got to ask me....Mr. Martin."

Christian started the camera, and I held the microphone so I could ask the first question.  "I am here with Robert Pelly, a starter on Mark Granite's team.  What position is it that you play, Robert?"

Robert looked puzzled.  Didn't he already know?  Who didn't know?  Then he remembered it was an interview for the whole school.  "I'm an offensive tackle.  My job is to protect the quarterback, Mark Granite, and make sure they get taken out before they take out him."

"Fascinating," I said, in a voice that conveyed anything but fascination.  "I heard there was a team meeting this morning to pick out a nickname for the team.  Any news in that regard?"  I had a few choice names for any team that would take Pelley, but none of them would make a good impression on you, Doctor Duncan, if I repeated them.

"Yeah, we're the Thunder.  And that other team is the Lightning.  And everybody knows that thunder comes before lightning."  I wasn't sure that was true, but I didn't want to interrupt him. "And both of them come before....."  He stopped, a look of surprise disgust crossing his face.  He put his hand to his cheek and acted he was wiping off something horrible.  "Did...did you just spit at me?"

"N-no, of course not!" I answered, genuinely surprised at what he though had happened.  Then I felt a large drop hit my hand, where I was holding the microphone.

"Get under shelter, you two!  Right away!  Before your equipment's ruined,' Mr. Eurich exclaimed.

And just as we got under the shelter of the refreshment stand, the skies opened up. 

There was no thunder.

There was no lightning.

Just rain.  Cool, refreshing rain.

History of the Trap: September Rains Part 4

4

The big football game was scheduled for the end of the month.  Many were pushing for a series of games, but my Dad insisted that we just needed to see how the first game went first.

The hullabaloo over the football game ate up most of our on-air programming at the TV studio, enough so that new airings of The Sands of Loren were postponed at least until it was over.  I was relieved in that I was not in a particular frame of mind to write anyway.  Lisa's leaving me had left me dispirited and confused. 

I needed something to occupy my time that didn't cause me to think so much.  Phil Irman, my TV studio friend, had a suggestion that I don't think I would have taken up under any other circumstances.  He suggested basketball.

We had two levels of basketball.  The "major leagues" were a set of six teams that competed in kind of a league play.  They had one competition already, in which Phil's team, the Tigers, finished second to the mighty Wolverines.  These teams had popular, well attended games, and had each developed their own fandoms.  I was Team Phil, all the way.  I loved watching a fellow short person swoop and up and down the court, and make shots from impossible distances, Phil was a point guard and had excellent dribbling, passing and shooting skills.

The second level was almost two dozen recreational teams that played for the fun of it.  Many of the players for the major leagues also got additional practice playing in the recreational leagues.  I was privileged to be invited onto the recreational team that Phil practiced with, the Gazelles (kind of a joke name for a team featuring Phil and some of the other shorter players).  I didn't think I could in any way help, but I was honored that Phil thought of me, and it was a good way to get me refocused, at least for the times we practiced and played.

I was truly horrible at it, but Phil, bless him, didn't seem to mind.  He made practices fun, and no one seemed bothered by my incompetence.  I flew up and down the court, with little meaning or purpose.  Phil tried to pass me the ball sometimes, but I would only catch about a third of the time.  It was often intercepted, or I just missed it altogether.  When I did catch it, I would as often as not pass it to the wrong person or throw it out of bounds.  The few times I took a shot, I did not so much as even hit the rim or the backboard.

It's not that I had never played basketball before.  My Dad had put a goal up on our garage, and I played with neighbor kids.  I had reached my full, glorious height of 5'8" back in Seventh grade, so I did have being taller than the kids going for me.  So occasionally I could rebound and shoot close in.  The neighborhood kids that were athletic would come over and impose teams composed of the athletic versus the uncoordinated, which I was always on.  We would always get tromped, like the Washington Generals playing the Harlem Globetrotters.   One of those boys was Daryl Deen, a rough spirited bully a year older than me.  He was several inches shorter than me at the time, and loved just forcibly pulling the ball away from me.  We were constantly called for fouls no matter how light or incidental our contact.  They, on the other hand,  were practically knocking us to the ground, but would never accept a foul call.

Now Daryl was taller than me.  And still as mean and bullying as he ever was.  And he was also on the second team we played, the Lookout Mountains.  I hoped that Phil would not put me out there at the same time as Daryl.

My hopes were dashed early in the fourth quarter, when Phil sent me out so that he could take a much needed breather.  He knew what he was doing.  I had talked to him about Daryl before.  When he tagged me in, he said he just had to take a rest for a few minutes, and when I protested, he said it was time to face my fears.  That I had to show this guy that he couldn't push me around.

Reluctantly, I agreed.  Daryl had grown taller than me, but not by much.  He was also thicker around the middle, but that just made him more intimidating.  He was now a guard, and I was a guard, so I guess we were matched up.

I had trouble just keeping up with him.  Unlike Artie, my cross-country running best friend, I had developed very little stamina.  I had lost a little of my pudge since the Trap fell, but not enough to be that noticeable, or put me in better physical condition.  With all of Lisa's attention until recently, I had forgotten just how physically unattractive I was, or at least felt.  My acne had substantially cleared up, but that and a few pounds didn't make much difference.  Daryl was darting around with increasingly little effort.  The other Gazelle guard took point guard responsibilities, and I had little to do but try to guard Daryl.

After three minutes of play, I was trying to guard Daryl as he brought the ball down the court.  I could tell he was getting ready to push past me, when on impulse I said, "Hey, look over there!"  To my surprise, he actually looked!  It gave me a second to steal the ball from him mid-dribble. 

Phil jumped off the bleachers, cheering, as did the rest of the Gazelles, and a small handful of people watching the game.  I charged towards the basket, heading for an easy layup, ready for one time in my life to be a sports hero.  I tossed the ball up.  It teased along the rim, and looked like it was going to fall in.  For an eternity it spun, not a sound was heard in the place as everyone held their breath.  The ball finally fell off the rim, but not into the basket.  It was falling off the side.  There was going to be rebound!  Only Daryl and I were near it!  I girded myself for the rebound, and was ready to make the greatest leap of my life!  Which I, of course, mistimed, Daryl reaching past my outstretched arms to grab the ball.  As he came back down with the ball, he elbowed me on the nose.  Hard.

I stood there in a daze, barely able to move, as the ball was swept up to the other end of the court, where the Lookout Mountains made an easy two points.  Daryl turned back and laughed at me.  "Ha!  Look at Marty Martian!  He looks like he's in space!"

Phil came out and gently led me to the bench.  "S-sorry, Phil.  I hope...I hope I...didn't bleed on the court," I babbled, feeling the blood swell up around my nose.

"That was great, Lance!" assured Phil Irman.  "I'll never forget how you stole that ball.  That was the stuff of legends!"

Phil was a great guy, even making me feel good in the face of such humiliation.   Daryl and team continued to catcall, until the ref, teacher Simon Franklin, got them to calm down. 

"Forget him!" said another teammate.

"Yeah, forget him," Phil said.  "And the hobby horse he rode in on!"

The game resumed once it was determined that I was just badly bruised,  the blood pooling in my nose but not spurting out.

Phil went back into the game, and rallied our team with just enough points to edge them out.  Phil fouled Daryl once, almost knocking him to the ground.  There was some urging by the Mountains to call a technical, but the ref decided not to let the game get out of hand.

I continued to play basketball off and on, as long as it was offered in the Trap, and eventually I did get a little better at it.  But no moment beat that moment, when Lance 'Marty Martian' stole the ball from Darryl Deen.

And that's my one personal sports story that I have to tell.  Any other sports stories I have to tell will be about other people.

I hope you enjoyed it, Doctor Duncan.

Mixing Honey with Lemon

What I am about to tell you is according to my taste buds.  Please adjust this analogy accordingly to suit your own.

Honey is sweet.  Maybe too sweet by itself.

Lemon is sour, at least for me.  And virtually impossible for me to digest by itself.

But honey mixed with lemon...ah, now....that can be special.  Like the honey lemon cold remedy that goes down easy, and can actually help to make things better.

My father taught me many things.  This is one of the most important.  Honey (the sweet) can help make lemon (the sour) go down easier.

As school principal, he often had teachers fall short of what they should be.  Some glaring problem that needed to be fixed.

99% of the time, when he called a teacher in to talk with him, he didn't immediately start lambasting them, trying to make them feel bad and small.  No, he led with what they were doing well, the things that were positive about the teacher.  Think about it. The teacher wasn't an irredeemable mess that needed to be fired, just someone who needed a behavior or technique corrected.  After the sweet, as he got them in a good frame of mind, he would slip in the thing they needed to improve.  And, at that point, they would be so comfortable and positive about my Dad, that they would gladly do better to further please him.

My Dad was a very successful Principal, well-liked and well-respected.  He ran a very good school, and the teachers and students often performed beyond normal expectations.  And that's because he knew how to talk to people.  The best way to get the lemon to go down was by adding a bit of honey.

In working with the OHC Writer's Guild, as founder and President of the Writer's Guild, I think there may be some expectation that I am going to be critical, constructively of course, of other Guild member's writings.  That's not going to happen often.  I see myself as more supportive than critical.  They'll have to get that someplace else.  If I do say something corrective about their writing, it will only be in the context of saying something positive.  I will always tell them the positive before I say anything corrective.

I know myself, I have very thin skin.  I take rejection and criticism very hard.  I wish I wasn't that way, and although at 58 I've gotten a little better, I still take it harder than I should.  But those who use my Dad's technique have a much, much better chance of me absorbing their corrections and improving myself.  This is true especially concerning my job and my writings (not so much my acting - it's hard for anyone to shake my confidence in that).

Sadly, I don't always practice what I preach.

I sometimes get in that shorthand, common in marriage with someone you love, and forget to balance things out.  But even in those times, where we genuinely love each other, we balance things out over time.

Sometimes I fall into the "only lemon trap" with Benjamin, my 13 year old son, particularly when it comes to school and academics.  My expectations reach almost Tiger Mom levels, and I become overly critical instead of taking the time to balance things out.

When I found out a week before the honors ceremony that he had qualified for Beta Club (a special club for academic and civic achievers), but was not going to get the honor because he had failed to pay some dues in the Fall, I was very upset.  I, not familiar with the Beta Club, had no concept that there would even be dues, and he had never given us notice of it.

He knew I was disappointed, but he was okay through the ceremony, where he received three ribbons for having all As in three subjects all year long. He also exceeded on all parts of the CRCT exam, and was the top reader in his group of several classrooms.  But when it came time to honor the Beta Club members, and he realized that he was not going to get to go up there, he became very sad and teared up.  We could not take his picture after, because his face was puffy and he was very hurt.

I tried to put a positive spin on it, but it was too late.  I'm glad that he felt something, that maybe he will remember better the next time, but I felt awful that earlier in the week, I had only given him lemon, without mixing in any honey.

Benjamin comes by his absent-mindedness naturally.  He inherited it from one of his parents.  I'll let you guess, but his initials are Tom Strait.  Right now, we will not be able to mow the yard this weekend, because I failed to bring our broken lawn mowers into the repair shop to be fixed.  And trust me, that's one of just a zillion examples of my forgetfulness.

We have a four day weekend coming up, Benjamin and I.  Alison works Monday, so it is just Benjamin and me that day.  Which means I have four days to get the mix right, to get the perfect blend of honey and lemon, and make everything better.

Wish me luck.  I am proud of my young son.  I love him very much.

Ripping Good Yarn 3rd Annual TV Awards: It's Time to Nominate Your Favorite Dramas

Let me try this again.

It's time to nominate your favorite drama for a shiny new Ripper.  This is the third year we've done these.  I'm a little concerned as, although page views haven't been declining, participation has, particularly on Facebook.  It has become harder to maintain flow of traffic to specific groups, and The Ripping Good Yarn group is being visited by fewer and fewer people.

I will do what I can to resolve that, but I welcome participation by anyone, whether a Ripper visitor or not.  Posting directly to The Strait Line via comments is encouraged, or any message you can get to me in any form.

It's been a great year on television, with many great shows, new and old, on multiple platforms.  This year the awards are going to be split into three divisions - Broadcast, Basic Cable, and Premium/Streaming.  BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT, not at the nominating stage.  Just name your favorites from the last TV season, regardless of where they're from.  I will sort all that out.

To help out, because I am a kind and helpful soul, here is a list of those drama shows that I know were part of the 2013-14 TV season:

BROADCAST TV

ABC : Betrayal, Killer Women, Lucky 7, Mind Games, Once Upon A Time in Wonderland, Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D., Castle, Grey's Anatomy, Once Upon A Time, Nashville, Resurrection, Revenge, Scandal
CBS: Intelligence, Hostages, Blue Bloods, Criminal Minds, CSI, Elementary, Hawaii Five-O, NCIS, NCIS:LA, Person of Interest, The Good Wife, The Mentalist
CW: Nikita, Star-Crossed, The Carrie Diaries, The Tomorrow People, Arrow, Beauty & the Beast, Hart of Dixie, Reign, Supernatural, The 100, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries
FOX: Almost Human, Rake, Bones, Glee, Sleepy Hollow, The Following
NBC:  Believe, Crisis, Dracula, Ironside, Revolution, Chicago Fire, Chicago P.D., Grimm, Hannibal, Law & Order:SVU, Parenthood, The Black List
PBS:  Call the Midwife, Downton Abbey, Mr. Selfridge, Sherlock

BASIC CABLE

ABC Family: Pretty Little Liars, Switched At Birth
A & E: Bates Motel, Longmire
AMC: Breaking Bad, Hell On Wheels, The Killing, Low Winter Sun, Mad Men, Turn, The Walking Dead
BBC: Doctor Who, In the Flesh, Orphan Black
FX: American Horror Story, The Americans, The Bridge, Justified, Sons of Anarchy
Lifetime: Army Wives, The Client List, Witches of East End
Syfy: Being Human, Bitten, Continuum, Defiance, Haven, Helix, Lost Girl, Warehouse 13
TNT: Dallas, Falling Skies, Franklin & Bash, Perception, Rizzoli & Isles, Southland
USA:  Burn Notice, Covert Affairs, Graceland, Psych, Royal Pains, Sirens, Suits, White Collar
WGN: Salem

PREMIUM & STREAMING

Cinemax: Banshee, Strike Back
HBO: Boardwalk Empire, Game of Thrones, The Newsroom, Treme, True Blood
Showtime: Homeland, Masters of Sex, Ray Donovan, Penny Dreadful
Starz: Black Sails, DaVinci's Demons, The White Queen
Sundance: Rectify, Top of the Lake
Netflix: Orange is the New Black, House of Cards



I am particularly light in streaming dramas.  If you know of others, please feel free to nominate.

This is JUST the preliminary round to select finalists.  But I am hoping for as much input as possible.  I want to have as broad of representation as possible.

Please note your selections here, or via Facebook, directly or by private message.

Let the nominations........BEGIN!!!

Tom Terrific Tuesday Tidbits

Today's blog title is brought to you by...stuff and nonsense!  It signifies nothing except to stand out a bit....as we roll on with Tuesday Tidbits!

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Saw another movie on it's first weekend!  Godzilla!  Great special effects - the toy buildings they knock down look realer than ever!  The movie wasn't terrible, but it was more cheesy than I thought, and the main rationale that Godzilla might be a kind of quasi-hero never really caught fire with me.  I was hoping for more Walter White vs. Godzilla one-on-one, but alas, that was fairly minimal.

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Ethan, our foster dog, begins heart-worm  treatment today.  That's means more restricted movement for the dog, having gone through eight weeks or more of restrictions recovering from having his leg shot and his throat slit.  Amazing how sweet and loving this dog has remained through all of his adversity.  He will make someone the best companion they could wish for, and no dog on the planet deserves it more than Ethan.

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I don't know if I'm supposed to say this aloud, so I'll be as quiet and as brief as possible.  I report to jury duty today.  This will be the first time in my life I have done so.  I have very little idea what to expect.  Everything I know about it is from shows like Perry Mason and Matlock,  So I'm probably in for some surprises.

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Speaking of civic responsibilities, I am also voting today.  The Georgia primary is today, and I will be voting on the Democratic ballot.  Since this area is 85% plus Republican, I'll be lucky if they even give me the right ballot (don't laugh - it's happened before).  There will be many races where I won't get to vote because there is not a single Democrat running.  Others the Democrat is running unopposed, like Jason Carter for Governor, and I tend not to vote for unopposed candidates. For the U.S. Senate I will vote for Steen Miles, as she has offered the most full-throated support of the Affordable Health Care Act.  Yes, fellow progressives, I will vote for Michelle Nunn in the Fall, but I am less than thrilled with her blue dog conservatism.  For Congress I'll vote for Brian Reese - he seems to be best equipped to handle the Fall race.  I do not get to vote for Georgia State Senator  or Georgia State Representative as there is no Democrat running.  IN FACT, the Republican incumbents have no opposition in their own party, so they are re-elected by coronation!  Ain't democracy grand?  And to think that we used to make fum of the elections in the Soviet Union!  Well, I guess the joke is on us, eh?

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Speaking of quixotic journeys, my quest to get comic companies to adopt whole numbers in their indicia continues to fall on deaf ears. --------------  Now, if any of you understood the last sentence, please raise your hands. ----------------- Sigh.  That's what I thought.

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My writing has been slightly accelerated, putting out a bit more stuff on the weekends.  I did an important corner-turning chapter of the Crowley Stories, putting it close enough where I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It did receive some criticism that may cause a rewrite this weekend, but also made me realize that it may no longer be fair to promote these as independent short stories.  It is still true that plot-wise, it's possible for the stories to be read independently, but to get the full flavor of the characters and their world and their motivations, you really do need to read them all.  My bad.

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A reminder that it is time once again for the Ripping Good Yarns TV awards, and all nominations are GREATLY encouraged and hoped for.  This will be the third year of the awards!

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Which also reminds me...Ripping Good Yarns is designed to be a safe haven where people can talk about movies, TV, books, comics, fictional storytelling of all kinds, without having to worry about those coming in to diss you for wasting time on doing any of those.  So people who prefer one medium over another need to be respectful of those who prefer a different medium.  Me?  I'm like Benjamin with Pokemon - gotta catch them all!

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Which even further reminds me...traffic to the Ripping Good Yarns group is really slumping...part may be a lack of interest, but I think even more of it has to do with how Facebook is designed now.  If you don't visit a group for awhile, Facebook will bury their posts deeper and deeper.  So I will have to figure out a strategy to unbury them  Wish me luck.

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I am tidbitted out.  At least for now.  Have a bright and beautiful day!

Ethan: Coney No More!

Ethan is Coney no more!

Our foster dog of over six weeks is now free of his cone, and has had his pin removed from his back leg. These are pictures from Saturday, where he was taken off leash for the first time in months.

Ethan is a beautiful dog, exceptionally friendly and sweet.   He is a small dog, of the breed known as Heinz 57.  He is loving and gets along with the whole family, even our surly cat.

Someone had shot Ethan in leg in the early part of the year, and also slit his throat.  It has been a slow, laborious recovery, with much crate time, and wearing his cone, but he is now over that crisis.

As far as the person that did this to him, all I can say is - yes, here there be monsters.  Is he a monster because someone who could treat a dog that way could also be dangerous to people, like a serial killer profile?  Perhaps.  But what he did was evil enough in it's own right.  What he did to the dog is monstrous enough.  That is enough in my mind to condemn him.

Now Ethan faces the scourge that seems to affect all unprotected pets in this area - heartworms.  He will go into the vet tomorrow to begin treatment on that.  So Ethan is not completely out of the woods yet.

If you would like to help Ethan and other animals in this area, please consider a donation to the Okefenokee Humane Society, or whatever deserving shelter is in your area.  And if you like, consider being a foster to a dog in need.  I know that it has been a great joy in the life of our family to be fosters for these wonderful pets.

Ethan in his Coney days.

Stories From A Stony Land: Second Generation - Henry Again

It wasn't until much later that the Strait line's aversion to Juniors emerged.  So for Henry Straight, the first American generation, it was only natural to name his son...Henry Straight.  As usual with these early generations, most of what my Dad knew, he obtained from public records.

Henry Straight was the first born son of Henry Straight, born in 1677.  His first marriage, on February 13, 1696 was to Hannah Tolman of Waterton, Massachusetts.

On March 18, 1698 Henry Straight Sr. of East Greenwich, gave a deed to his son Henry Straight Jr., of his right to the following; a house, barn, orchard, shop or hovel, with ten acres of land in East Greenwich adjoining George Vaughn on one side and William Allen on the other side and butting on a highway.

On December 5, 1702 Henry Straight Jr., of East Greenwich sold the ten acres to George Vaughn,

On October 22, 1713 Henry Straight Sr., with his wife Mary releasing her dower rights sold to his son Henry Straight Jr. one half of his remaining lands in East Greenwich.

On February 13 1696, Henry Straight married his second wife (my Dad makes no direct reference as to what happened to the first wife), as shown by the following Warwick records -

"These are to signify unto all Ministers of Justice that Henry Straight Jr. of East Greenwich in ye colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, took Mary Webb of ye town of Warwick in ye colony aforesaid, widow in only a shift and no other garment, in ye presence of Avis Gorton Mary Collins and Presillah Crandall, witnesses, and was lawfully married in said Warwick August 1, 1725, by me, John Warner, Justice."  I am told this form of marriage was to save the new husband from any liability for debts of the widow's former husband. (Shift and no other garment?  I wander if that is what my Dad is referring to as part of the 'form'.)

Henry Jr.  had two children with his first wife, Henry, who died early (thus ending the Henry line before having to have a third, or as Southerners say - 'Trey') and Rebecca (1719).  There was a veritable army by the second wife.  The children with Mary were Samuel, John, Thomas, Joseph, Elizabeth, Hannah (bold name choice there!), Mary, Sarah, Abigail and Henry (again!) and lastly, Mercy (which I am sure is what the wife was saying by that time).

His will was dated October 21, 1732, and since no wife is mentioned, it is assumed that she had died before that date,  The inventory of his personal estate amounting to L 172-19-6 (no, I don't know what my Dad meant by that notation), was taken October 26, 1732, so his death must have occurred between the 21st and 26th.  The will was proved November 4, 1732.  He bequeathed to his eldest son Samuel a double portion or one third of his estate after debts and legacies to the seven daughters had been paid; to his four sons John, Thomas, Joseph and Henry each one-sixth of the estate, Henry to be brought up and educated from his own part; to daughter Rebecca Bailey, 5 shillings; to daughter Elizabeth Straight, 5 shillings; to daughter Hannah Waistcoate, 5; to daughter Mary Straight,  L 5 in two years; to daughter Abigail Straight 5, when 18; to daughter Mercy, L 35 for her bringing up and education; son Thomas to be executor, and guardian of Henry and Mercy, and to have estate to pay debts, legacies and his four brothers' portions,  Witnesses were Mary Sweat, Nicholas Whitford, Jonathan Picher, and John Jenkins.  (Will information from East Greenwich Probate records).

I'll have to keep researching, but I think 13 will hold up as a record number of children from one of the direct line descendants.  And not only did Henry Jr. have two marriages like his father, but both second wives were named Mary.

We're Number 16! Saturday Political Soapbox 84

I lied.

I said I wouldn't do soapboxes that were heavily referenced to other articles and research.  I wouldn't get involved in debate style columns where the only thing that mattered is who came up with the most citations.

Well, I still don't see it as a "quote contest", but there are several points I want to make that are highlighted by an article I  recently read.

First, it behooves us to set American exceptionalism aside and take a hard look at where our nation really ranks.

Professor Michael Porter of Harvard Business School and Professor  Scott Stern of MIT have led a team of colleagues and advisers to develop a Social Progress Index, that ranks countries by their progress in different quantifiable outcome categories.

The following is their criteria for defining social progress, directly quoted from Professor Porter's recent article found on Huffington Post, titled CHART: In terms of Social Progress, America is Not #1:

"We define social progress according to three broad dimensions: Does a country have the capacity to satisfy the basic human needs of its people? Does a country have the institutions and conditions in place to allow its citizens and communities to improve their quality of life? And does a country offer an environment in which each citizen has the opportunity to reach his or her full potential?"


On Health and Wellness, America ranks Number 70, even though we spend more on health care than any other country. To me, it's in good part because we have to slough off a huge portion of money to the private insurers, as if they were the mob who took all the cream from the top.

On Access to Basic Knowledge, we rank Number 39.  Stupid laws like No Child Left Behind aren't helping.  Parents who are more interested in making sure THEIR kids are allowed free reign than be disciplined don't help either.  Even in the age where Nerds rule, it is amazing to me the number of people in this country who still don't value an education.  And our investment and support of public education continues to dwindle.  And this is occurring at the same time that other countries are understanding this basic fact - the nations that are the most educated are the nations that move forward.  While some nations advance in solar panels and other alternative energies, space exploration, moving forward with communication technology (we rank Number 23 on Access to Information and Communication), we in the United States can't decide whether we want to repave roads or shore up our aging bridges.

On Personal Safety, we rank Number 31.  The study indicates that this is due in part to our high number of traffic deaths.  I would add that we also have the highest number BY FAR of gun related deaths and accidents.

On Ecosystem Sustainability, we rank Number 69.  We should be ashamed and mortified by that, as we face the cataclysmic changes that are occurring due to the horrifying consequences of man-made global warming.  And the fact that some who just read that last sentence dismissed it and shrugged  shows the mammoth problem we are facing in this country.

Overall, when all factors are considered, the United States ranks 16th on the Social Progress Index.  There are over 130 nations on the index, so I suppose it could be worse. It is hardly the outcome you would guess when you talk to the American Exceptionalists.

The authors make it clear that the solutions to these problems, the raising of America's ranking, doe not lie in the purview of either strictly liberal or conservative solutions.  We have to work together to combine government AND market-oriented solutions.

No problem, eh?  Our political process is filled with players willing to set aside their own ideological fanaticism and work together for the betterment of the whole country.

Yeah. Right.

History of the Trap: September Rains Part 3

3

In order to pull us out of our awful depression following the tunnel collapse and the doldrums of August, my Dad gave in to those who wanted to bring back a sport that, as lousy as we were at it, was a central unifying identifier of our school, as it was for many American high schools.  And that was football,

At first, my Dad was resistant.  He thought the risk of injury was too great, and our medical staff would have difficulty handling traumatic injuries.  It was going to be hard enough to explain to parents, when the trap finally lifted, what happened to their child, but to have to state, rather than an accident or assisting us in trying to get out, that it was just a football mishap, was a little too much to bear.

Nevertheless, he saw that our emotional well-being as a group was declining rapidly, and something dramatic was needed to pull us out of the doldrums.  We had several other sports going, including basketball, track and field, volleyball, softball and even archery, but nothing stirred a high schooler's soul like football.  Well, not me so much, but I hardly was representative of the predilections of my peers.

Tonight was going to be the big draft night, all of us in the gym to observe the great selection process.  Two teams would be chosen by their team captains, filled out from those who played and volunteers.  We had some fifty uniforms, and the plan was to have rosters of at least twenty-five players each.

One of the team captains was Mark Granite, only a marginal football player, but with his State Champion status in track, he was our most popular athlete.  The other was selected by David Deneau, the senior star center who was our only All-Conference player.  He was also the detective in the soap I wrote, The Sands of Loren, and an All-A student.  In many ways, he was the best of us.  If I did play football, no offense to Mark Granite, but I would definitely want to be on David's team, and I think I would give my all for him.  He was just that kind of guy.

Jim Kurrash would have loved this, had he not lost his life in the tunnel collapse.  Jack Kessler might have participated, had he not been attacking me in the gym.  I probably should feel guilty about that, except that it was the earthquake caused by the underground explosion that led to his fall.  And after all, he was trying to kill me.

Delbert Bartkowski, the big defensive tackle that I had not seen much of since the first day the trap fell, when he defiantly dashed out of Mr. Eurich's room, went early, one of Mark Granite's first picks.  David Deneau used his first pick to select the school starting quarterback, Gavin McDowall.  Gavin was popular in the school, as any quarterback would be, but he was not the greatest shining light in the league.  But he was the best our school had to offer, and David, as the team center, was familiar with him.  The two in tandem could be formidable, especially when all the team players were just being drawn from Loren.

Mark did not draft a quarterback, because, as we soon found out, he planned on taking on that position himself.  Well, at least he would be quick.  We had no idea how well he could throw the ball, but maybe he didn't need to.  He was selecting a lot of beefy guys, emphasizing quarterback protection.  Mark  picked Wilbur Jones, our best offensive tackle.  Wilbur had a lot of respect for David, and would have probably preferred to be with him, but that is not the way the draft fell, and Wilbur was nothing if not a team player.

There were some chosen that had not played a lot of football, but had volunteered to be chosen.  Mark picked some of the rougher characters, not the least of which was Robert Pelley, the tall thug who had threatened Lisa.  David picked some of the marginalized students, including some minorities, such as Reggie Hamilton, a black sophomore from a poor area of town.  He also selected George Jimenez, a Hispanic junior.  Mark's team, on the other hand, was all white.  This was not completely surprising, as the school was virtually all white, with only a few dozen minority students.

When the teams were chosen, they gathered together at the gym's center court.  The audience burst into wild applause and cheers.  Once again, it had the opposite effect on me, as cheering crowds unnerved me.  It might have been the fear of losing one's own identity to the mob, or maybe I just hated loud noises.  Either way, my heart was racing.  I looked over at Artie, who was sitting near me, and I could sense that he felt the same unease.

A few rows down and to my left, Lisa sat with some of Morgan's friends.  During the tumultuous cheering, I saw her look back up at me.  Was that longing and regret I detected in her?  When she saw that I was staring back, she broke it off and looked back to the parade of football beef at center court.

 Morgan and the other cheerleaders divided up and started chants, Morgan leading with "Go, Mark's Raiders!  Go, Mark's Raiders!"  And Annie Pepper leading a similar cheer for David, "Go, David's Lions!  Go, David's Lions!"  How and when those names were picked, I do not know.

As things started to calm down, Robert Pelley snatched the microphone from Coach Walterzak.  "Hey, you guys!  Don't ya know, no team is complete without mascots!  So how about a big round of applause for our mascot, Marty Martian!"  He extended his hand out to where I was sitting, and I could feel close to a thousand pairs of eyes focused in on me.  I had no idea this was going to happen, and I highly doubted that this was a planned part of it.  This was a special public humiliation aimed at me.

But not just at me.  Robert Pelley continued on.  "And if we got Marty for the Raiders, than who better for the Lions than......Farty Artie!"  The place exploded in laughter.  The normally reserved Arties turned red.  I had not seen him that disturbed before.  But even now, it was just the color of his skin and the fierceness in his eyes that changed.

But that flash only lasted a second.  Soon Artie had righted himself. He got up and spoke in a loud, clear voice, "Are you sure, Bobby?  What about you?  Seems like you could be a great animal mascot!  Why, you're certainly making a big jackass out of yourself!"

The place exploded in laughter.  Now it was Robert's turn to change color.  From somewhere the chant was started, "Marty and Farty!  Marty and Farty!"

Not to be outdone, Artie started a countervailing chant, "Hee Haw!  Hee Haw!"  And it was so thundering from both sides, it was hard to tell what chant was winning.

My Dad came up and took the mike from Robert Pelley.  "Felloe Lookouts, I give you the Raiders and the Lions!  Let's hear it for both of these great teams!"  He motioned the band and they came out loud with the school's theme song, getting everyone to sing.

The situation almost got out of control, but my Dad stepped in and did the right things to get us back on course.  I was relieved, but I wondered.  How long could he keep doing that?

Ripping Good Yarns: TV Endings and Continuings

Every season, some shows end, while others get to soldier on.

These are the season cancellations I will miss the most -

The Crazy Ones -  not always great stories, but a marvelous cast that was working together each episode.  Robin Williams alone was worth the price of admission.  I think it could have grown into something, as did other low-rated first season comedies, like Cheers, Friends and Seinfeld.

Almost Human - another great science fiction show on Fox that is slaughtered in it's crib (like they infamously cut short one of the best science fiction shows ever on television - Firefly).  This show, although not yet perfect, was screaming with potential.

Raising Hope - oh, how we weep for this low rated gem.  Raucously funny, but also tearfully sentimental, it was one of the few working class comedies on TV.  And it featured one of the great comediennes of the last few decades, Cloris Leachman.  Ratings for this show were inexplicably abysmal, but not here at the Strait household - it was must see TV.

Also regretful cancellations were The Michael J Fox Show, Revolution and Community (I haven't yet really watched Community, but it sounded very entertaining).


The following are freshman shows that have survived to next season, and are the ones I am most looking forward to coming back.

Resurrection  -  still not sure whether this show is more Invasion of the Body Snatchers or Touched By An Angel.  But part of it's appeal is that mystery.  I look forward into delving in to it more next season!

Sleepy Hollow  - felt like a quality 13 episode mini-series, and I am looking forward to a full season.  Great cast, including an Emmy level acting turn by one of our favorites, John Noble (Walter from Fringe).

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  - I'm not gonna mince words with you.  I'm not going to play games.  If you're not watching Agents of SHIELD, you're missing the best show on broadcast television.  Period.  End of story.  It started as a good show, and is now rushing like a freight train to true greatness.  I'm begging you - watch this show.  If you tried it once and gave up, try it again.

I am also grateful that the following shows were renewed - Castle, Modern Family, Once Upon A Time, Scandal, CSI, The Big Bang Theory, The Mentalist, Arrow, The 100, Grimm, Parenthood (Alison's favorite), Parks and Recreation, Reign and The Blacklist.

A reminder that it is coming up -  nominations for the THIRD annual Ripping Good Yarn TV awards.  Please feel free to start submitting your nominations......NOW!  Categories are Drama (Broadcast, Basic Cable, and Premium Services) and Comedy.  No reality, documentary or news shows (Go Rachel!).


Let the nominations.....BEGIN!

I Never Saw Another Butterfly This Saturday at the Flying Dragon

IMPORTANT UPDATE!  This amazing play has been extended for one more additional showing this Saturday at 7 PM!  If you haven't seen it yet, you have one more chance at this can't miss show!

This is a very important, special play that Flying Dragon is doing, and I hope everyone can come out and see it this weekend.  Flying Dragon is on Tebeau Street next to the Downtown Sandwich Shoppe.  

The original cast list.  There are many fine young thespians on this list.  Many who are becoming better with every play they do.  The Flying Dragon grows talent and confidence.

Seated with the book on her lap is the female lead Sarah Setzer.  She has grown into a very gifted actress, and will bring emotion and feeling to any role she does.  After observing her amazing performance last Saturday, I can testify that it was one of the finest community theater performances you will ever have the opportunity of seeing.  She really puts you in the story. 

The young boy with the microphone is Aidan Jeffords, who has been performing with his family since the time he could walk (maybe even before that!).  He is growing (literally) and becoming better and better with each show,


Come see this important show!

Cool Table Running

Sometimes, I try to escape.

Whether it is with selling, designing a new product, acting, writing, teaching, or whatever I can think of, I try to figure a way out of this accounting profession box I have put myself into.

One of the attempts was Pacamania.  We sold trading cards and comic books at a trading card show held every two weeks in Kennesaw, Georgia near Town Center.  I say we because it involved my two young sons, Greg and Doug, and I thought it would be a great way for us to do something together and bond.

One of the ways to sell trading cards was not just in the pack (ergo, the name Pacamania), but in complete sets, all the cards collected and sold in a plastic box.  But that process produced a lot of duplicate cards that were fairly worthless and hard to sell.  So I had the brainstorm of creating grab packs, containing cards from a variety of sets, but also included the possibility of a chase card  (a rarer subset of a card set, often done in special metallics or gloss).  The kicker was the special Pacamania discount card inside, entitling you to anywhere from 25 cents to $5 off your next purchase.  I had these cards laminated, and there was one per pack, so everybody "won' something.

The Grab Packs were very successful at first.  Too successful.  After a few months, the owner of the trade show came to me and told me I had to stop selling them.  They were too close to 'gambling" and they wouldn't allow it anymore.

Still, I struggled on.  We were primarily comics and non-sports trading card, and all but one other vendor were sports related.  We had all stuff laid out on a large rectangular white table, covered with displays of cards and comics, some even up on special racks and shelves.  Customers often wanted to wrangle price, to the point that it was below your cost, and others wanted to trade you stuff that was worthless for stuff that was valuable.

It was a constant battle, and I think my boys wearied of it.  They would wander away from me, and spend more and  more time at the other table that sold non-sports merchandise.  They were a couple who did more shows than I did, and even though it was the early nineties, they were in the process of developing online sales.  They bough in much larger bulk than I did, and were able to often sell stuff for less than I was able to purchase it wholesale.  When my boys were over there, it was more relaxing for them, as they did not have to sell - just talk about the things they liked.  They didn't want to spent time at Dad's table.  They wanted to spend their time at the "cool table."

Later on, at a time when I was even more seriously trying to escape, I partnered with a romance book specialist and started a bookstore in downtown Rome, Georgia.  I was determined to make it work.  I was going to do just like the business books say - I was willing to sacrifice anything to make it work.  I worked incredible hours, including still doing Pacamania on the weekends.  I sometimes slept in the back of the store, and I took a night shift job stocking a Super K Mart.  I poured all my money and heart and soul into it.  But what the books don't tell you, is it's not only you that has to sacrifice.  Sooner or later, you have to cause other people to sacrifice around you.  You start taking their time and resources as well.  And that I couldn't so.  So after less than a year, I sold my interest in the bookstore and went back into accounting full time.

Inside my office is a long rectangular white table.  It is not the 'cool table'. I use it to keep assignments that have come in that I need to get to.  I need to keep them in my line of sight or I will forget about them.  I will lose focus and I won't remember that they are there.

It is a reminder every day to reach out to the cool table.  To run to it, however slowly, however long it takes.

I write.

I act.

I enjoy time with loving family and caring friends.

I dream.

Maybe I will never make it to the cool table.  Maybe that isn't even the point.  Maybe the journey is the thing.

Running in slow motion towards the cool table.  Learning to appreciate each moment that you strive.

What else could be better?

Sweet Mother's Day Weekend and Other Monday Musings

Benjamin at church with his mother and his Meemaw.  Luckily I'm not in the shot, or you could see that he is also taller than me now.

Benjamin was a marvelous Prince of Mother's Day, including preparing a breakfast in bed for his Mama.  Toast, bacon and a banana, all ready for her by 7 AM!  He prepared it all before I got up, and had amazingly left the kitchen relatively intact, and nothing had burned down.  Needless to say, Alison was thrilled, with that, a card, and an Atlanta Falcons bracelet.  Well done, BenJerMan, well done!

That evening, Meemaw came over, and we carved up our big ol' butt (Boston Butt, delivered to us with a thanx and a hat;s tip from the Crane's), with baked beans and chips 'n' dip.  Afterwards we watched clips form the Jimmy Fallon show, and laughed a surprisingly large portion of our calories off.

Here comes BenJerMan, ready to save the day!

Another great event was the Mother/Son Superhero Party at the Okefenokee Heritage Center.  This was it's first year, and the turnout was amazing.  Dozens upon dozens of Batmans, Supermans, Spider-Mans, Captain Americas, and even a Magnificent Mattox (that one escaped even my legendary super-hero expertise).  And, of course, a whole incredible fleet of Super Moms!  It was the event's first year, and was fantastic success, and something that I think will get better and better each year.  This area has many father/daughter opportunities, but less so with mother/son, and it was good to see this offered.

We double-dipped Driving Miss Daisy, seeing it for the second time.  It was absolutely wonderful, Benjamin seeing it for the first time, and enjoying it a great deal.  Kudos to the cast and crew for a first-rate performance and experience.

I changed my Friday writing routine a little bit.  Instead of plunging right onto the computer first thing in the morning, I took Cocoa Bear for a good walk first.  Wow!  Was that helpful!  It kick started my brain enough to write a chapter and a half on History of the Trap, and a complete new Crowley story.  I would say that I easily wrote three times more than normal!  Unfortunately, I can't do that other mornings, as it would not allow enough time to write at all - pesky having to go to work!

Speaking of retirement, I don't know what disturbs me more.  Hearing about people younger than me retiring (I won't name any names, Carol Easlick), or someone who is 74 and still working full time  - not only working, but spending two or more hours a day commuting to that job!  

Until next time,

T. M. Strait