Everything is a Rhythm -–Timepieces

In a scene from my third book, “Great Heats,” the ancient Mound Builders of Ohio erect a tall pole, simulating a large sundial, to give them a more accurate idea of the schedule seasons keep and to help the villagers better manage the planting and harvesting of crops while preparing for the harshness of the inevitable winter.

In researching ancient timekeeping – meaning shorter than a day – I found that the ancients of every civilization had attempted to get greater and greater accuracy, including when the sun wasn’t shining, by using clocks that burned incense, or water clocks, or hour glass designs using sand.

Improving on the search for accuracy, led to gearing and when tied to metals, in the 13th century allowed the idea of oscillation or the repetitive beat, like that of a pendulum in this astronomical clock from the Exeter Cathedral in England.

Wound metal, or springs, could also produce oscillation so by the 17th century, with many choices for automation, clocks were getting fairly common and more accurate, even on carriages.

And, with more and better techniques for manipulating metal, the size of clocks became smaller (made by watchmakers, derived from clocks in “watch towers”), so that one could carry a clock in one’s pocket  or wear it on your lapel or on your wrist -- a wrist watch.

Today, with the ever-increasing use of phones and tablet-sized computers as a timepiece, watches may disappear from usage, much as the pocket watch has today, but the need to know, with accuracy, what the time is at the moment, will assure the existence of clocks.

I once asked a psychic with whom I was working on a television production, what his thinking was about the universe.  “Everything is a rhythm,” he said. “From the beating of your heart to the movement of stars and the passage of time.  It is all a rhythm, which is why we respond to music or can become mesmerized by a ticking clock.”

___________________

The tick of the clock reminds me that today is fading away, while tomorrow is inexorably on its way.
~~ Ronald D. Giles

Hymns and Their Stories: Trinity Presbyterian Church, Berwyn, PA

  This Sunday evening, Joan and I have the privilege of presenting a Hymns program at a church celebrating their 150th Anniversary.

Trinity Presbyterian was organized in October 1861, during the dark, uncertain times of a War between the states.  Not a verbal war, like today, but a real one where citizens were dying.

Five states seceded from the Union in January of that year and by February, seven states had formed another country and had elected their own President.

Lincoln did not take office until April and five weeks afterwards the shooting and killing began as war broke out at Ft. Sumter. 

About that time, my Great Grandfather, James Wheatley Giles, enlisted in the Union Army at a small church near Stockdale, Ohio; he was 14.  When he returned home in 1865, he was still a teenager, but had experienced four years of carnage as member of an artillery unit.

At the end of that year, 1861, Trinity Church received a gift from the minister’s former congregation in Montreal Canada – a church bell, which still hangs in the belfry, having witnessed 150 years of history from its lofty position. 

Here is the format we will use for our 125th Hymns presentation, a journey Joan and I began together in 1997.

Come if you can; otherwise, hum along.

Hymns and Their Stories

Trinity Presbyterian Church, Berwyn, PA 150^th Anniversary Celebration – October 9, 2011 – 7:00pm                                     Ronald D. Giles, Baritone;                        Joan E. Giles, Piano

1. “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” – Text: Aurelius Clemens Prudentius, ca 390    Music: 12th Century Plainsong               Hymn #309

Verses 1 & 3 -- Ron

2. “Be Thou My Vision" – 8^th Century Irish Text; Irish Folk Melody; Translated by Mary Byrne, 1905; Versified by Eleanor Hull   Music arranged by Craig Courtney

Verse 1 -- Ron; Verse 2 -- All in Unison;          Verse 3 -- Ron

3. “Comfort, Comfort You My People” – Text: Johannes Olearius, 1671;  Music: Attributed to Louis Bourgeois, Geneva 1551; Music arranged by John Ferguson                                                      Hymn # 3

Verse 1 – Ron; Verses 2 & 3 – All in Unison

4. “It is Well With My Soul” – Text: Horatio Spafford, 1874;  Music: Phillip Bliss, 1874, arranged by John Ness Beck

Ron and Joan

5. “How Great Thou Art” – Text: C. G. Boberg, 1885; English Version, S. K Hine, 1953; Music: Swedish Folk Tune.           Arranged by Craig Courtney                    Hymn #467

Verses 1 & 3 -- Ron; Verse 4 – All in Unison

6. “I Danced in the Morning” - Text: Sydney Carter, 1963; Music – American Shaker Tune Hymn #302

Verses 1-3 – All in Unison; Verse 4 – Ron; Refrain – All in Unison. Verse 5 – All in Unison

7. “Here I Am, Lord” – Text and Music: Dan Schutte, 1981 -- Hymn# 525

Verses – Ron; Refrain, All in Unison

8. “This Little Light/ This Joy” – Spirituals, arranged by Jeffrey Radford, 1993

Verse 1—This Little Light of Mine -- All in Unison . Verse 2 – Ron – This Joy of Mine     Verse 3 – This Hope of Mine – All in Unison Verse 4 – This Faith I Have – Parts – S.A.T.B. Verse 5 – This Peace I Have – All in Unison

President Ford’s Daily Dairy May 13, 1976

From 1974 - 1977, I was Executive Producer of the Scripps-Howard station in Cincinnati, Ohio, WCPO-TV.  Our anchorman, Al Schottlekotte was also Vice President of TV News for Scripps-Howard and UPI.  When Ron Nessen, the then White House Press Secretary, called to grant Al a 30 minute interview with President Ford in the Oval Office, Al divided the time equally between himself and two other Scripps anchors – one from Cleveland and the other from Tennessee.  Schottlekotte asked me to produce and direct the three anchor interview, to be taped in the Oval Office using our equipment.

In writing about this interview with President Ford in 1976 for my new book, “TV Stories,” I went to the Ford Presidential Library Website to see if I could view the presidential schedule for that day, May 13, 1976. Sure enough, it was there.  See page two below, 11:00am – 11:35.

Digitization of archival material has made it possible to look at Presidential Schedules and many other things and has revolutionized all kinds of research.  I thought you might be interested in the President’s exhausting schedule for that day.  It begins at 1:08 am and ends when the President retires after a 10:00pm swim.

 

 

“The Prey” included in Chester County Fiction

 On October 2, a new book will be launched – an anthology of short stories by Chester County Authors, setting their stories in Chester County.

Sixteen stories ranging from historic fiction to drama to terror will be included in this book by thirteen writers living in the same county; I am pleased to say my short story, titled “The Prey” is among the sixteen.
Here is an excerpt from my hunter’s tale:

Four dogs—three bluetick-hound hunting dogs and one larger black dog—stood on the road in front of me. Their master was not in sight. The hounds were big dogs—knee high at their shoulders, crotch-high heads, long tails held upright. Two started to bark at me; the third joined in, while the fourth, the black dog, smelled the ground. Without an owner, they were a pack, relying on ancient, wolf-like instincts; these dogs were a serious danger to me.

I slid the gun off my back and broke the double barrels open. My hand was trembling as I took two red shotshells from my pocket and dropped them into the chambers, closing the gun with a thump.

~~~~
The Book Launch will take place at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA Sunday October 2 at 2:00pm.  If you are in the area, please stop in (a free beer to attendees who desire, I’m told). And, Kudos to Jim Breslin for bringing the project together.
 
Otherwise visit Amazon.com.
Cheers !!!

Vengeance Is Not Mine

Listening to the minister Sunday morning, she read a passage from Romans:

^“9 Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. ¹⁰ Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. ¹¹Do not be slothful in zeal,be fervent in spirit,^[a] serve the Lord. ¹² Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. ¹³ Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.

¹⁴ Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. ¹⁵ Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. ¹⁶ Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.^[b] Never be wise in your own sight. ¹⁷ Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. ¹⁸If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. ¹⁹Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it^[c] to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord."²⁰To the contrary, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head." ²¹Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Over my career, I have had people who have done me harm – corporately, financially – in ways that I could not imagine doing myself, or could not bring myself to do.  I have always kept the list of three to myself, trying not to dwell on them, but sometimes in the dark of a sleepless night, I do utter their names, never with flattering words; it is my revenge.

Yesterday, I was reminded, once again, that vengeance is not mine, but is reserved for a higher power.  Instead of retribution, I should be kind and forgiving of them.

The passage of time and distance has separated me from my three adversaries; we all live in far-away places, hundreds of miles from each other and have not seen one another for years.  On the surface, it makes little sense to care any longer about the issues that divided us, yet…I still feel the tip of their daggers in my back.

Another memory came to me while sitting in the pew: my list had included four names, but the fourth one drowned 12 years ago in the Pacific off the California Coast.

TV Stories – Captain Kangaroo -- WBNS-TV, Columbus, Ohio

The following is an excerpt from a new book I am writing tentatively titled "TV Stories," recalling many amusing, heartwarming and confounding anecdotes collected from my 35 year career in commercial television.

~~~~

Among the celebrities that I worked with at WBNS-TV was Captain Kangaroo—Bob Keeshan. He was the host of the CBS morning children’s show, “Captain Kangaroo” that ran on CBS from 1955 till 1984.

For the TV History buffs among the Dear Readers of this, Bob Keeshan also played Clarabell the Clown on the “Howdy Doody” shows of black and white TV in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s.

Captain Kangaroo aired from 8:00 to 9:00 in the morning and was followed on our station by “Luci’s Toyshop,” from 9-10:00, forming a two hour block of live television for pre-school children.

In 1971, the Easter Seal Society of Ohio hosted a Fashion Show as a fund raiser at the Ohio Theatre in downtown Columbus. Captain Kangaroo was to be the host of the stage show, featuring children with disabilities.

Because he was coming to Columbus for the Sunday afternoon event, I called CBS, as Producer-Director of “Luci’s Toyshop,” and asked if the Captain would come over after his appearance for Easter Seals, and tape a couple of promos for our children’s show. “Yes,” was his publicist’s reply; he had an hour that he could devote to promotion by coming to our station before catching his plane back to New York; however, I would have to supply transportation to the station and then to the airport. My 1970 Toyota Station Wagon would serve as the taxi, with me as the driver for the Captain.

I showed up at the Ohio Theatre while the two hour Fashion Show was winding down. Waiting off stage in the wings as the Captain’s theme song played, I watched the conclusion as he waved goodbye to the audience and exited while the big, burgundy stage curtains closed.

Introducing myself to him, he was gracious and then said, “Ron, I know that you have a crew waiting for me at your station, but I need to take an extra twenty minutes here to do something.”

People were filing out the center aisles, slowly as children using wheelchairs and those walking with aids worked their way out the back doors of the large theatre. The Captain motioned for me to follow him as we crossed the stage to the wings on the other side.

In that area were about twenty children lying in beds, unable to sit or stand, waiting to use the big double doors to exit to the alley for transportation. Because of their conditions, these children had not been able to participate in the stage show, so to make their time special, Captain Kangaroo spent the next twenty minutes touching them, speaking with them and their parents, signing autographs for them, getting pictures taken with each of them.

Bob Keeshan understood the power of his character, Captain Kangaroo—and also understood the responsibility of it. The scene was joyous, moving and unforgettable.

Bob Keeshan, 1927-2004.

Link to: Captain Kangaroo Theme -- "Puffin' Billy"

"Hymns and Their Stories" -- Sunday, July 17, 2011

Some of you may know that Joan and I are involved in promoting the understanding of Hymns, the stories behind their writing, and encouraging congregational singing. We have been presenting musical programs of hymns at churches since 1997 and have appeared over 120 time at venues in Ohio, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

I am fortunate to be married to a fine pianist and accompanist who can cover and swing with my spur-of-the-moment inspirations. Below is the format that Joan and I will present this Sunday on Long Beach Island in New Jersey at the historic Spray Beach Chapel, built in 1893 and open during the tourist season there, May through September.

Drop by, if you can. Otherwise, hum along:

Worship Service

Spray Beach Chapel – Long Beach Island, NJ

Sunday July 17, 2011 – 9:30am – Hymnal for Worship & Celebration

Ronald D. Giles, Baritone -- Joan E. Giles, Accompanist

Welcome – Hymn 588 -- The Prayer of Convocation -- The Prayer of Confession --

1. “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” – Text: Henry Van Dyke, 1907;

Hymn #1 Music: Ludwig van Beethoven “Ninth Symphony,” 1824

Verses 1 & 2 – All in Unison

2. “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” – Text: Robert Robinson, 1757;

Hymn #2 Music: Folk tune published by J. Wyeth, 1813; arr. by Mark Hayes

Ron and Joan

3. “Praise My Soul The King of Heaven” – Text: Henry Lyte, 1834;

Hymn #3 Music: Mark Andrews, 1934

Verse 1 – Ron; Verse 2 – All in Unison

4. “How Great Thou Art” – Text: Carl Boberg, 1885; English text, Stuart Hine;

Swedish Folk Tune, arranged by John Ness Beck

Hymn #4 Verse 1 -- Ron;

Verse 3 -- Ron;

Verse 4 -- All in Unison

~~ Morning Offering ~~

~ Prayer—Offertory—Doxology ~

5. " On Eagle’s Wings” Words and Music by Father Michael Joncas, 1988;

Arranged by Mark Hayes

Ron

6. “O God, Beyond All Praising” – Text: Michael Perry, 1982;

Music: Gustav Holst, 1918, arranged by Jane Holstein

Separate Sheet Verse 1 – Ron;

Verse 2 – All in Unison

7. “This Little Light/ This Joy” – Spirituals, arranged by Jeffrey Radford, 1993

Verse 1—This Little Light of Mine -- All in Unison

Separate Sheet Verse 2 – Ron – This Joy of Mine

Verse 3 – This Hope of Mine – All in Unison

Verse 4 – This Faith I Have – Parts – S.A.T.B.

Verse 5 – This Peace I Have – All in Unison

Musical Closing – “Benediction” (“May the Lord Bless You”) – Music: Joan Giles, 1999

"You know when you're young you think you will always be. As you become more fragile, you reflect, and you realize how much comfort can come from the past. Hymns can carry you into the future." ~~ Andy Griffith

Editors

I have enjoyed working with editors because in their picky, prickly way they make me a better writer. For example, I have almost stopped Emphasizing some words in the middle of a sentence by capitalizing them.

I now know the difference and the proper use of "stairs" vs "steps" and "until" vs. "til." I still have problems with consistency -- "Dad" in some paragraphs, but my "Father" in other places in the same chapter (or page).

Then there is the dash or more specifically, the em dash and the en dash, not to be confused with the hyphen. I'm playing it safe in my writing these days by always using the em dash after getting many laughs and smiley faces from an editor who took particular delight in pointing out the mistake I kept making over and over.

The hyphen -- or more correctly, the compound adjective hyphen linking two words -- recently reared its head in a short story I wrote where the main character was carrying a 10-gauge shotgun. In other paragraphs, the character was simply carrying the 10 gauge. The editor didn't like the inconsistency of hyphen or no hyphen and suggested that I pick one and stick with it.

Finally, there is the exclamation point! Personally, I think it looks better with a space between it and the word, otherwise, it looks like another letter in the word and loses some of its Emphasis.

(Don't get me started on... ellipses.)

"I try to limit my use of an exclamation point to one every 10,000 words!"

~~ William Faulkner

A New Way of Working

With the Industrial Revolution in progress, in order to find work, people moved from rural settings to close-by the factories in order to walk to work daily. As trollies and commuter rails began slicing through ever growing communities, workers could move away from the noisy factories to quiet tree-lined, sub-urban settings.

Then with the advent of the motor car, employees moved even further away from their work, out "the Main Line," to find bigger houses and bigger lawns and better schools. Roads and super roads were built to convey tens of thousands of cars daily into work. High Occupancy Vehicle Lanes (defined curiously as two or more occupants in the car) were created for those who "car-pooled." Some would drive an hour or more, like I did in Boston on the Mass Pike, to get to WBZ-TV, and my job; other friends in the television business who used mass transit would take the train from Connecticut to New York City, traveling two hours each way to get to their offices in Manhattan.

Now we find ourselves arguing over the solution to the cost of commuting to work and ending our dependence on foreign oil while traveling daily in single cars to "work."

Here's an idea:

Have your employees work from home, rather than driving or taking mass transit to work. Many could -- customer service reps, CAD designers, graphics artists, Internet services -- create your own list. Fewer parking places to maintain, fewer cubicles to buy, less personnel issues, less office supplies, less coffee etc. And, less oil. Use the technology of today rather than a 20th century model.

Yes, there would be worker productivity issues, monitoring progress, employees who would work from 11:00pm to 6:00am, rather than 9-5pm -- simply issues to be solved in my mind, given the benefits.

What do you think?

(Funny what runs through your mind while driving on Interstate 70.)

Rekindling

Soon, I will be traveling back to Scioto County, Ohio, where I was born.  I will visit my Uncle as well as sing at my cousin’s Ball Park – The National Anthem, and “My Old Kentucky Home,” using politically correct words.

I will stand at my parents grave and thank them for the love and understanding they gave to me, a fun but precocious child – their only child.

We will visit my daughter and her three girls – each of them full of life and possibilities, yet tender and cautious.

Finally, we are planning to take the three girls to Niagara Falls, the place Joan and I spent our Honeymoon and where we took our children in the early 1980’s.  Now, it is their turn to feel and hear and see the power of that place.

I hope that when we return to Glenmoore, exhausted, that I will be re-invigorated and rekindled from touching base with my past, and through looking at the future in the bright eyes of my granddaughters.

RDG

In Honor of Father’s Day

In honor of Father's Day, some quotations on the matter:
Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father! ~Lydia M. Child, Philothea: A Romance, 1836

It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons. ~Johann Schiller

A father carries pictures where his money used to be.  ~Author Unknown

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.  ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Mark Twain

Dad, you're someone to look up to no matter how tall I've grown.  ~Author Unknown

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.  ~Gloria Naylor

There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.  ~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994

It kills you to see them grow up.  But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't. ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge. ~Phyllis Diller

Are we not like two volumes of one book?  ~Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

The greatest gift I ever had
Came from God; I call him Dad!
~Author Unknown

Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.  ~Elizabeth Stone

Never raise your hand to your kids.  It leaves your groin unprotected.  ~Red Buttons

I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich.  ~M*A*S*H, Colonel Potter

Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever.  ~Author Unknown

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away. ~Dinah Craik

Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later... that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called Being a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life. ~Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities

Finally, for those of us who used cloth diapers and know that Jimmy Piersall was a baseball player from 1950-1967:
Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat.  Then fold second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound.  Put first base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together.  Of course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again.  ~Jimmy Piersall, on how to diaper a baby, 1968

Plato's Five Regimes

In my novel, "Cottonwood Pass," a rogue billionaire attempts to establish a new form of government in the United States by hastening its decline into disorder, social warfare, and financial chaos. The character, H. Greeley Essington III, uses Plato's Five Regimes, as one of his three operational blueprints to achieve his goal.

Plato's Five Regimes are as follows:

• Aristocracy -- a Republic that is governed by a wise Philosopher-King
• Timocracy -- The Republic devolves downward into a state where the military is in charge and power is the key to success.
• Oligarchy -- Timocracy descends to a lower form of government where wealth replaces power as the necessary element for success and in the two class system, the rich govern the poor.
• Democracy -- As the the poorer class grows and grows and the rich become smaller in numbers, the Oligarchy degenerates into a democracy where the freedom to do anything and everything is valued. Leaders are chosen by the everyday people to produce rules of behavior and to decide when someone is harmed.
• Tyranny -- Finally, Democracy disintegrates into chaos, as each person pursues their own freedom in conflict with others and social values and societal discipline is replaced by personal desire. In this atmosphere, a strong ruler emerges who, through force, imposes an order against the will of the people. The Tyrant governs on whim and favors and produces a lawless state where there is order, but no one is safe from the Tyrant's henchmen.

Frighteningly familiar?

Sarah Palin's Letter to her family about the upcoming birth of her son, Trig

While Sarah Palin was Governor of Alaska, she gave birth to a son, her fifth child. It was known ahead of time that he would be a Downs Syndrome child. Below is the email that Governor Palin sent to her family two weeks before Trig's birth. This is one of the 24,000 messages that the Legacy Media hoped would be a death knell to her political career. Instead, this and the other emails are having quite the opposite effect. The British paper, "The Daily Mail," published it yesterday. It was also published in the Los Angeles Times. http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2011/06/sarah-palin-god-letter-trig-down-syndrome.html

PALIN'S COMPLETE LETTER TO HER FAMILY ABOUT TRIG -- written as if from God

To the Sisters, Brother, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and Friends of Trig Paxson Van Palin (or whatever you end up naming him!):

I am blessing you with this surprise baby because I only want the best for you. I've heard your prayers that this baby will be happy and healthy, and I've answered them because Ionly want the best for you!

I heard your heart when you hinted that another boy would fit best in the Palin family, to round it out and complete that starting five line-up. Though another girl would be so nice, you didn't think you could ask for what you REALLY wanted, but I knew, so I gave you a boy because I only want the best for you!

Then, I put the idea in your hearts that his name should be "Trig", because it's so fitting, with two Norse meanings: "True" and "Brave Victory". You also have a Bristol Bay relative with that name, so I knew it would be best for you!

Then, I let Trig's mom have an exceptionally comfortable pregnancy so she could enjoy every minute of it, and I even seemed to rush it along so she could wait until near the end to surprise you with the news - that way Piper wouldn't have so long to wait and count down so many days - just like Christmastime when you have to wait, impatiently, for that special day to finally open your gift? (Or the way the Palins look forward to birthday celebrations that go on for three, four days... you all really like cake .) I know you, I knew you'd be better off with just a short time to wait!

Then, finally, I let Trig's mom and dad find out before he was born that this little boy will truly be a GIFT. They were told in early tests that Trig may provide more challenges, and more joy, than what they ever may have imagined or ever asked for. At first the news seemed unreal and sad and confusing . But I gave Trig' s mom and dad lots of time to think about it because they needed lots of time to understand that everything will be OK, in fact, everything will be great, because I only want the best for you!

I've given Trig's mom and dad peace and joy as they wait to meet their new son. I gave them a happy anticipation because they asked me for that. I'll give all of you the same happy anticipation and strength to deal with Trig's challenges, but I won't impose on you...
I just need to know you want to receive my offer to be with all of you and help you everyday to make Trig's life a great one.

This new person in your life can help everyone put things in perspective and bind us together and get everyone focused on what really matters . The baby will expand your world and let you see and feel things you haven't experienced yet. He'll show you what "true, brave victory" really means as those who love him will think less about self and focus less on what the world tells you is "normal" or "perfect". You will grow and be blessed with greater understanding that will be born along with Trig.

Trig will be his dad's little buddy and he'll wear Carhartts while he learns to tinker in the garage. He'll love to be read to, he'll want to play goalie, and he'll steal his mom's heart just like Track, Bristol, Willow and Piper did. And Trig will be the cuddly, innocent, mischievous, dependent little brother that his siblings have been waiting for in fact Trig will - in some diagnostic ways - always be a mischievous, dependent little brother, because I created him a bit different than a lot of babies born into this world today.

Every child is created special, with awesome purpose and amazing potential. Children are the most precious and promising ingredient in this mixed up world you live in down there on earth. Trig is no different, except he has one extra chromosome. Doctors call it "Down's Syndrome", and Downs kids have challenges, but can bring you much delight and more love than you can ever imagine! Just wait and see, let me prove this, because I only want the best for you!

Some of the rest of the world may not want him, but take comfort in that because the world will not compete for him. Take care of him and he will always be yours!

Trig's mom and dad don't want people to focus on the baby's extra chromosome. They're human, so they haven't known how to explain this to people who are so caring and are interested in this new little Alaskan. Sarah and Todd want people to share in the joy of this gift I'm giving to the Palin family, and the greater Alaska family. Many people won't understand... and I understand that.

Some will think Trig should not be allowed to be born because they fear a Downs child won't be considered "perfect" in your world. (But tell me, what do you earthlings consider "perfect" or even "normal" anyway? Have you peeked down any grocery store isle, or school hallway, or into your office lunchroom lately? Or considered the odd celebrities you celebrate as "perfect" on t.v.? Have you noticed I make `em all shapes and sizes? Believe me ,, there is no "perfect"!)

Many people will express sympathy, but you don't want or need that, because Trig will be a joy. You will have to trust me on this.

I know it will take time to grasp this and come to accept that I only want the best for you, and I only give my best. Remember though: "My ways are not your ways, my thoughts are not your thoughts... for as the heavens are higher than the earth, my ways are higher than yours!"

I wrote that all down for you in the Good Book ! Look it up! You claim that you believe me - now it's time to live out that belief!

Please look to me as this new challenge and chapter of life unfolds in front of you. I promise to equip you. I won't give you anything you can't handle. I am answering your prayers. Trig can't wait to meet you. I'm giving you ONLY THE BEST!

Love,

Trig's Creator , Your Heavenly Father


Read more:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2002688/Sarah-Palin-plays-God-touching-email-unborn-son-Trigs-Downs-Syndrome.html#ixzz1PD1R7vaa

Allen Ginsberg

Today is American Poet, Allen Ginsberg's birthday. He was born in New Jersey in 1926 and lived mostly in San Francisco until 1997. He and several other poets of that age were referred to as "the Beat Generation."

Homework
by Allen Ginsberg

Homage to Kenneth Koch

If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants

back in the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of

Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in
Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
Aeon till it came out clean

"Homework" by Allen Ginsberg, from Collected Poems: 1947-1997. © Harper and Row

You Can Plant More in a Crooked Row Than a Straight one

How many ways can you interpret this?
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At this time of the year when we are planting our gardens, planting them in straight lines seems the time-tested way to go. It is certainly visually appealing to people like me. Straight lines help you fertilize and weed in an efficient manner. But, if you bend the straight line, it is longer allowing more plants to be planted.
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My personal desires may have caused a more circuitous route to achieve the goal, since a straight-line, direct approach to my first love, Diane, and all thereafter, including Mrs. Giles, would have resulted in not just a rebuke, but a right hook as well.
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Is truth more curvy than it is straight? Perhaps, I could lead a reckless life, a life of "riotous living" and then at life's end bend it back to the straight line I started, finding redemption and acceptance in doing so.
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My father-in-law sold insurance, mostly life and auto, and often would get the put-off line from a prospective customer, "let me think about your proposal, Al, and I'll get back to you." With understated sincerity, Al would reply, "Yes, please do that, but... give me a day -- no, better make that two -- before you have that accident, so I can write the policy up for you."
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Would that we all knew about that "accident" about to happen. Or, when the customer sales rep asks, "on the credit card, Mr. Giles, when is your expiration date?" Hmmm. Let me check under my left arm pit for life's calendar. My expiration date, huh.
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I always sincerely wish people luck with their five year plans -- their straight line to something. Even when the die is cast and the future looks predictable, stuff happens. After all, Joan -- my wife of 45 years -- married a school teacher with the summers off who had curly hair!
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Sometimes, curves are more interesting than straight lines.

To the Editor of The Portsmouth Daily Times

Portsmouth – an overnight tourist destination?

Yes, I believe it can be! Experience tells me that to become an overnight destination, a location must have five attractions to keep a visitor engaged for a day and then spend the evening. At the moment, I would estimate there to be three attractions in Portsmouth – more than 50 percent of the goal. Pretty good, wouldn’t you say!

The Floodwall Murals are a major attraction and can easily be promoted because they are visual and have a variety of stories for print media – the idea, the artist, the process. The panels themselves can be used to appeal to various interests – motorcyclists, sports fans, history buffs.The Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural Center, likewise is a valuable community attraction with the Wertz Collection of ancient objects, the Carter Collection and a variety of revolving art exhibits.Although the scheduled events at The Riffe Center for the Performing Arts run outside the tourist season, the venue is a major asset to the area and needs to be included in the list of attractions for visitors.

As to the other “possible” attractions, I offer the following. In completing my book, “Great Heats,” set in Portsmouth 1000 years ago, I was reminded again of the ancient nature of the area. Historically, the Mound Builders created a major ceremonial site around what is now Mound Park, a center that was used for at least 800 years.

A museum to the Mound Builders in Portsmouth/Scioto County would make a great deal of sense. Stored and undisplayed artifacts collected by the Ohio Historical Society in 1915-16, from the Tremper Mound and the Feurt Farm Mounds could become the heart of the new museum’s exhibits, along with the 1847 drawings of Portsmouth by Squier and Davis.

A temporary housing of these pipes, amulets and tools could be in any number of existing, attractive, but under-utilized buildings in Portsmouth. Voila – a fourth reason to visit Portsmouth and Scioto County.

Lastly, I would propose turning the vacant lots along Second Street or other places in the city into attractive, year-round gardens – one lot could be a Butterfly Garden, organized with plants to attract Butterflies. Another abandoned lot could be set with native Ohio plants, such as the Buckeye tree, the Black Locust, Huckleberry bush and native roses. A third vacant lot could be planted to attract Hummingbirds. In winter, the trees and plants could be decorated with lights, becoming an attraction for local residents as well as visitors during the colder months.

These attractions, along with the 1810 House, could make Portsmouth a smart destination for families looking for weekend getaways, and it seems to me that all of this is feasible; the Governor’s new incentive fund may provide valuable ongoing support. What is required is the will and time.

Ronald D. Giles, Author
“Great Heats”
Glenmoore, Pa.

Great Heats -- The Story Behind Its Writing

After a journey that began in 2009, my third book, "Great Heats" is now available on Amazon.com. In a couple of weeks, it will hit Kindle e-readers followed by Baker and Taylor Library lists and Ingraham Distributors for bookstores.

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The story is set in prehistoric Portsmouth, Ohio (a Native American word), around the year 1000, centered on what is now Mound Park. At that time, the area was an important ceremonial center for the peoples who lived there, including two smaller centers across the river. The Portsmouth ceremonial center is depicted in Robert Dafford's Floodwall Mural, "The Mound Builders," a detail of which is used on my cover.

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Mound Park today has only one of the horseshoe earthworks remaining, and we are fortunate to have this 2000-year-old artifact with us, a reminder to each person of those who lived lives here and cared for the land.

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In 2009, when I visited Mound Park and the Floodwall Murals, I began wondering about the lives people would have led then -- imagining the beautiful river valley, the lack of conveniences, yet the triumph of persevering. I began researching, visiting the Hopewell Cultural Park in Chillicothe on the way back to Philadelphia. I used to visit this park with my Mother and Dad in the 1950's when it was called "Mound City," and I started to reminisce:

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My Dad would often take Mother and me for a Sunday Drive. Twice a year, we would take the “Trail,” Rt. 23, from New Boston to Chillicothe. Dad’s stated objective for the drive was to visit Mound City, although I suspected that it was really all about his affection for Dairy Queen, a new ice cream only available in Chillicothe.
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On the Trail, we would pass the Stone Pipe Inn at Lowry Hollow, and further up the road, the sign for the Wakefield Mound, and then finally, we would arrive at Mound City State Park in Chillicothe; little did I know then that they were all historically connected, even the route that we drove, back and forth.
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My youthful imagination ran wild as we gazed at the mounds of earth and the low walls that had been built by ancient peoples many years before Columbus encountered this hemisphere. What did the mounds mean? How were they used? No one knew for certain...no written record had ever been found.
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Later, we would visit the Sulfur Springs in Chillicothe and Dad would have a drink, as would I; Mother refused, always. Then to get the taste of sulfur out of our mouths, we enjoyed a cone of twisted Dairy Queen Ice Cream, for the long ride home..The memory of Mound City never left my mind, nor the questions those mounds raised. Then, 2009, I realized that Portsmouth was also an important region for these people; I began to write.

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For those who have read it, "Great Heats" is an enjoyable and easy adventure, which leaves the reader wanting more. In each chapter, the main character, an artist, is ten years older and has meaningful, even fateful, encounters. A contemporary "Epilogue" answers many of the questions left by the surprise ending.

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Although Portsmouth--called "Ohi'yo" in my book--is the main setting, Chillicothe--another Native American word, called "Chi'cotha," in this story--also plays a prominent role as an important village and ceremonial center. Other centers were "N'urk" (Newark), "Cawnis" (Marietta), and "Pee'qwa" (Piqua). There is more information in the Preface.

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I hope that this drama, played out among the Mounds and Earthworks that dot the landscape

today from Ohio south to Florida and Mississippi and North to Wisconsin, is not only entertaining and enjoyable, but also that it connects us in a new way to our common history.

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"Aiyee, my friends. Aiyee."

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"Horseshoe Mound" Photo by JQ Jacobs

http://www.jqjacobs.net/photos/

Happy 45th Anniversary!

Forty-five years. February 19, 1966 -- Millvale Pa. Christ Lutheran Church. Joan and I exchanged wedding vows.

We had met four years earlier at Ohio University where I was a Junior and Joan was an incoming Freshman. Actually, the meeting was more of an observation on my part.

It was the first day of class, and I was in my seat on the aisle in the bass section of the large auditorium. Coming in a little late and having to walk all the way down to the remaining seat in the alto section was was a thin young woman with green hair. Green. No one had green hair in 1962! I had to meet her.

I happened to know the alto she was sitting next to and asked her to let the green-haired beauty know I was interested in meeting her. The next rehearsal, I introduced myself; it did not go well.

Little did I know that the green hair freaked Joan. She had not wanted it and was mortified to have it, but had been nice and friendly with her new roommate, another freshman, who really had not wanted to come to college but rather wanted to be a beautician, caring for and coloring other people's hair. Joan had humored her and allowed her to put just a little black rinse on Joan's lightish brown hair. Voila -- Green hair.

Also playing into our first meeting was a habit I had picked up at the Little Theatre of Portsmouth, Ohio -- touching people (I have since modified this behaviour.) "Hey, David (elbow in the arm), nice prat-fall." Or ... "Betty, I loved the way you 'glided' across the stage to Chuck" (pat on Betty's shoulder).

So, when I walked up to Joan in her green hair, who was leaning on a table after rehearsal, and said "Hi, Joan, I'm Ron Giles," as my hand covered her hand that was on the table. She pulled it away. Who knew that Lutherans don't touch each other. It didn't go well.

One of the 5 fellows that lived in our house on E. State Street in Athens, worked in the Cafeteria of the dorm where Joan lived. Dewey kept me informed of Joan's comings and goings. It turned out that she was very popular, particularly with the fraternities, going out practically every weekend; I was not a fraternity kind of guy.

Weeks passed, till finally, I screwed up my courage and called her at her dorm, inviting her to go with me to a movie on Wednesday night; she was busy.

I called her the next week and asked her to go to the Lantern for dinner and some 3.2 beer; she was busy.

I called her the next week and asked her out for Saturday night, and ... she was busy.

Little did I know that she started turning down dates to keep one open for me. You can imagine my excitement when she finally said "yes." It was the beginning of many dates.

I tried to marry Joan after I graduated in 1964, and she still had another two years left. In those days, propriety called on the man to ask the Father for permission, which I did. Her Father, a salesman, talked me out of it, preferring that we wait until she had graduated. We honored that, but Joan hastened the date of her graduation by attending summer school, which is how we ended up getting married in the month of February and scheduling our Honeymoon in the traditional place of the day -- the frozen Niagara Falls.

Our wedding day produced a lot of nervous energy for everyone; Joan made a lovely bride, no one fainted, a few tears were shed; it was a joyous affair. After the reception, and after a private party at my now in-law's house, Joan and I left in my new blue Volkswagen Beetle, driving to the Mercer Pennsylvania Holiday Inn, halfway to Niagara Falls. We arrived at 9:30pm.

For the occasion, I had with me in the trunk of the VW (which as many of our Dear Readers know, was under the hood since the motor was in the rear), a bottle of Great Western Champagne from upstate New York, center of America's wine industry at the time. In our room, Joan and I shared a glass, wishing for a long and loving life together.

I managed to jam the cork back into the bottle to save some for the next evening, and without thinking about it, I put the bottle on top of the in-room heater. I know that's where I put it because at 3:22 in the morning, we both were awakened by an explosion as the overheated champagne popped the cork, frightening us both.

Tonight, we have another date, this time at Allegrios BYOB Italian Restaurant to celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary. We'll reminisce and talk about our children and grand children. We will drive there in another blue car and sip some Great Western Champagne from upstate New York, and remember how blessed our loving life together has been.

Joe's American Restaurant -- New Boston, Ohio

Last Sunday, Joes American Restaurant in New Boston, Ohio, closed. It was a landmark in this proud little village -- romances flourished and were dissolved there, dance steps were tried and mashed potatoes with gravy, available 24 hours a day.

My 2008 memoir, "On Harrisonville Avenue" contained a short tribute to the American Restaurant. Here is the excerpt on the occasion of this icon's closing; the year is 1955.

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In the mail was my class schedule for the 8th Grade. It showed the classes I would be taking and the teacher for each class. A printed note showed Holidays, Christmas and Easter breaks and non-school days. There were no School Buses because we all walked to school. High School kids with Driver’s Licenses could drive to school or you could bring your bike. There was one bike rack and there was no school parking lot, so you had to park your overflow bike or your car on the street. This produced a battle between the residents of Glenwood Avenue and Glenwood High School for parking.

Nearby, Joe’s American Restaurant had a small parking lot, but everyone knew not to park there because you would get towed.

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I don’t remember ever meeting "Joe" or hearing anything about him, but his establishment was “the” place for Glenwood Jr. Sr. High students. Since the School had no cafeteria, Joe’s benefited from all those hungry mouths – donuts or toast at breakfast or a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup for lunch or French fires with cheese or gravy and a soda fountain coke after school – all waiting for the energetic, always hungry teenage crowd.

And, there was the Juke Box which could be played from each of the booths or from the main box. It was a Rock-Ola Comet Juke Box with rounded glass columns that you stood between to make your selection. The columns had illuminated glass of various colors and caught your attention with their flashiness. Although there were three record formats – the older 78 rpm, the 45 rpm and the long playing (LP) 33-1/3 which contained multiple cuts and was called an “Album”, like a photo album -- the Rock-Ola only played 45’s; it held 80 of them. You could watch the mechanics of the machine through the large clear cover.

Each week, the Juke Box Company would come by and refresh the machine, taking out older records getting less play and adding new “Hits” by new stars – Pat Boone, The Coasters, Fats Domino, and Perez Prado. Sometimes, new dances would sweep through like the Cha-Cha Cha to “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White.” Most kids, though, danced what was called the “Bop,” which had replaced the Jitter-bug of the 1940’s.

One girl, Tina, always attracted a lot of attention. She was a 7th Grader, a year behind me. Only a few boys would ever dance with her – she was too good. Maybe Dick or Gary, but everyone else shied away from Tina. She didn’t need a partner. She “interpreted” the music with her nimble and elastic body.

Small and slim, Tina often waved her body, like a snake, or would swirl like a skater. Sometimes her hips moved in ways that caused gasping from some and whistles from others. Tina was a free spirit in her dancing and dress and attitude.

But when somebody punched B-6 – “When You Dance” by the Turbans -- and Tina took the floor, the crowd at Joe’s circled around to see what she would do.

It was always a show at Joe’s American Restaurant, across the street from the high school.

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Cheers !!!

Ron Giles

rdgiles@chesco.com

Remembering "Blue Laws"

Blue Laws have been on the books since Puritan Days in New England, probably starting out as a way of enforcing the commandment to keep the Sabbath holy. In the late 19th Century, as the Temperance Movement (headquartered in Westerville, Ohio) took hold, it became illegal to sell booze on Sunday. This lead to a whole list of things one could not do on Sunday:
... Shop
... Trade Horses
... Buy Tobacco
... Buy Cars (still on the books in several states including mine, Pennsylvania, where the Liquor stores are still mostly closed on Sundays)
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An interesting exception to these Blue Laws was the Drug Stores who remained open on Sunday to satisfy emergency needs for medication. This is also how Drugstores began to be book stores, grocery stores and stock sundry other items, since they could be open on the Sabbath.
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I grew up with Blue Laws. Nothing but gas stations and the Rexall Pharmacy were open on Sundays; it was truly a day of rest, except in our family, because we went to visit each other. Lunch after church with Mom and Pop Borders (fried chicken). Then off to visit my Dad's parents, Mom and Pop Giles who lived in Portsmouth in an apartment that was up against the floodwall (boiled chicken and dumplings).
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Sometimes, we went places on Sundays, driving to Chillicothe for a new treat, Dairy Queen. Of course, anytime we were in Chillicothe, Dad had to have a drink of sulfur water from the sulfur springs there. The water tasted exactly like it smelled. Uggghhhhh.
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There were no organized soccer games, no Little League, no school activities to attend on Sundays. It was a day to relax, to attend church and be with family, and it was all thanks to Blue Laws. I miss Blue Laws.

Great Heats -- the final review?

In the agony of re-reading my words for the umpteenth time, I kept questioning this word or that punctuation or that phrase. But finally after two weeks of inspection and introspection, I sent my comments and requests for changes back to the publisher. And, now, I await the proof copy. Hmmmm.

While writing and re-writing, I would go to one of five restaurants for breakfasts and then to the local Library in the afternoon. Trying to write at home was too distracting -- too many things to take my mind away from trying to cast myself as a Sentinel on lookout from a hilltop, imagining how he would feel in his isolation.

"Your toast, sir. More coffee?" Even the pleasant, young waitresses in this distant setting were not a distraction, a fact that perhaps would disappoint them.

Now, I am home... waiting for the proof copy to arrive... waiting. I want to start the next book. Actually, I have started it; am almost 30 pages in, but the need to move ahead with more words advancing the story has left me. Waiting...

Although I have used the word "ennui," I think now, I am stuck in it, like being inside the Bermuda Triangle. Hmmmmmmmm. Hmmmm. ZZZZZ.

From "The Writer's Almanac"

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind
by William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude, as man's ingratitude.
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy teeth are not so sharp,
Although thy breath be rude, although thy breath be rude.

My faithful friends draw nigh
And look us in the eye
It is a wealthy man who has good friends like you.
Through darkness, cold, and snow,
Wherever you may go,
You bear my friendship true, you bear my friendship true.

Now warm these gentle folk
With maple, birch, and oak
And turn you front and back to feel the cheerful blaze
And be of cheerful mind
And bless the wintertime
Its calm and starry nights and bright and silent days

There are angels hovering round
To carry the tidings home
To the new Jerusalem
The shepherds came with joy
The sheep and cows stood near
The child lay asleep

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind"
~~ William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616.

Smoke

Anticipating the mundane, Monday task of taking out the garbage, I went outside the garage on a lazy-late Sunday afternoon. The moisture-heavy air was clean, allowing the pungently sweet smell of wood smoke to penetrate deeply.

I have always responded to the smell of burning wood -- whether in my home environment or in locations around the world. Smoke stirs something in my DNA -- genetic memories of an icy night on the Kentucky frontier, or the warmth produced in the stone fireplace of a medieval cathedral residence, or the comfort of roasting a rabbit in Gaul, or the smoke made while drying fish caught in the Black Sea. The response to smelling smoke from a wood fire is immediate and friendly.

Watching the smoke curl out the top of my neighbor's chimney, seconds turned into minutes, as the sky darkens and then turns pink-orange in the west as the sun rests for the day. The pleasant odor continues to permeate, as the sky fades to black.

Tomorrow. I can do things tomorrow.