Wine and Juice Tasting

On the Friday after Thanksgiving each year, we have a Wine tasting. We also invite to the table the Grand Children and non-wine drinking adults for a Juice tasting as well. This year 15 people came to the event -- 7 wine tasters and 8 juice tasters, including two adults; one who abstains and a second who is in her 7th month of pregnancy.

Five red Zinfandels were tasted. Surprisingly, most tasters preferred the least expensive Peachy Canyon Zin ($8.00, rated 88) over the other more expensive ones, including one rated 94 and costing $34.00.

But the real surprise was the voting in the juice tasting, now in its eighth year. We taste five juices as we taste five wines, with each juicer having spoken comments as well as a pencil; the one exception was the 15 month old who smiled and bounced up and down on her mother's knee when she liked what she was tasting. Her voted counted just as much as those with a pencil.

It seems predictable that the juice with the most sugar content will win each year. This year that juice was Welch's Concord Grape Juice with a whopping 38 grams of sugar. The other juices were Dole's Pineapple (22 grams), Kern's Apricot (22 grams) Albertson's Cherry (27 grams) Bionaturae' Organic Plum (28 grams).

Surprise, Surprise -- the Apricot and Cherry were preferred, although the 15 month old had an extra glass of the Plum but then had to walk it off. Oh, and don't read anything into her unsteadiness; she still needs a finger to hold when cruising.


So much to be thankful for!

"Great Heats" Back Cover Copy Quandry Resolved

Dear Readers:

Thank you for your many and varied responses. Yesterday my mailbox was replete with emails, Facebook notes and comments ranging from "what the *&#% does 'pithy' mean?" to "the word 'replete' is stuffy" to "a love story, worthy of the ages," to "a tender and beckoning tale." Tender~ ooooooohhhhh, I like that word.

Wow! What a range.

Some suggested that the preceding paragraphs of the back cover made it clear that this was a story of human emotions and behavior, so no need to reference our common humanity with the ancients (a reader-suggested word).

One comment about "mysterious" almost inspired me to go back and write another chapter, centering on the village reaction to... let's see... the simultaneous events of an eclipse of the sun, fertility rites, and the discovery of a jawbone from a moose. The coincidental collision of forces, or was it intentional? -- but I stopped myself from writing... mysteriously.

Others of you suggested eliminating the phrase "human nature" and substituting things like "human experience," "humanity," "full of ...". Most were in agreement to drop the word "replete" which was the thing probably stymieing me, although "fraught" was a tempting substitution from a Dear Reader.

A few urged simpler language and more sparse wording, adhering to Mark Twain's grammatical advice when writing to shoot most adjectives and adverbs on sight, reserving them for an impactful moment. Although, the "complexity" suggestion made me want to use that word some place in the final line.

So, putting all of your wonderful advice together, I chose straightforward, unmodified brevity:

"Great Heats" – a novel of historic fiction, rich in detail and human experience.

THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!

Back Cover Copy for "Great Heats"

Despite my best efforts to avoid doing so, I have decided to write my own back cover copy. I know what you must be thinking -- Ron, you are the last person who should do that because you are too close to the story.

Yet, I couldn't help myself. After revising, and after comments from my chief editor -- Joan, my wife -- I now have come up with a problem -- the last line of the copy.

So, Dear Reader, would you care to offer your opinion? I am happy with the way the paragraphs below are written, but the last phrase of the last line is giving me pause. What do you think?

GREAT HEATS BACK COVER COPY – 11.11.10

Living among the beauty of ancient mounds and earthworks a thousand years ago, the people of the Village of Ohi’yo enjoyed an idyllic life. Village women cared for their families, shared farming duties, and were responsible for choosing the chief, while men protected the village and hunted for game. Yet, with each new sunrise, change was in the air, threatening the village in ways that they could not understand.

Young Heron, tall and artistic, has met his love, Lone Bird, a young woman from another clan living in his village. The two unite in the moving Ceremony of One, but secrets from his past create tragic circumstances, keeping them apart, except for occasional covert and passionate meetings.

As time passes, rain and snowfall decrease in the region, while the summer’s heat increases and lengthens. The fertile and replenishing floods of the two rivers gradually halt their annual immersions. Insects emerge from the drying ground to attack the village crops; deer begin moving away, as coyotes move in; people start to leave, following the deer. The village way of life is in jeopardy.

Against this backdrop, Young Heron finally sees hope for a normal life, as he reunites with his family. In a shocking moment, the secrets, kept hidden for decades, confront Young Heron, and the conclusion seems predestined to be tragic. Years later, the results of this man’s life are revealed in a surprising way.
Great Heats – a novel of historic fiction, rich in detail, and replete with human nature.

"replete with human nature" -- is that too pithy? I am torn because I want a line to dispel any thought that something written about a people who lived 1000 years ago will be difficult to read because their unfamiliar culture will get in the way of understanding the story. Yet it seems
in reading it that I am inviting the reaction -- "well, of course, archaeology breath -- they are people like you and me -- riiiight?"

What do you think? rdgiles@chesco.com or Facebook or here, although the comments function here is spotty.

Thanks, and I hope that your day is replete with happiness.

Great Heats -- Behind the scenes

I began writing this novel of historic fiction in September of 2009. Writing mostly every day, the writing was finished in April. Then I began the painful (for me) act of revision. Going back over the words, choosing better words, eliminating unnecessary passages, saying what I really meant to say, using consistent character names rather than changing the name from chapter to chapter.

I gave it to Joan to read. She is a rock when it comes to the rules of grammar, so my pages were well-marked when she had finished. simultaneously, I gave portions of it to people specifically chosen for their reaction -- to grand daughters who are readers, to an academic for his expertise and sensitivities in burials.

I sent it to an editor to conform it to the Chicago Manual of Style who took all of my double space bar hits down to one -- who knew that one space was the new standard? I also got very confused about "Chief of Chiefs Village" not being possessive, deserving an apostrophe.

Then I shopped it around to several publishers and a couple of agents. I knew that the first paragraph of Chapter One was not "snappy" and full of questions, but I wanted to start the book and end it in the same vein; the final line of the Epilogue was written first but echoes the first line of Chapter One and that is what I wanted, which was perhaps too subtle for publications managers who see hundreds of first paragraphs a day -- only. They don't read the last one as well. I still like the structure, despite what it may have cost me.

Now, October, finally that process is underway. I had hoped for it to be published this year, but now I am not sure.

I think it is very good. Although some of the words are unfamiliar renderings of contemporary words (due to the setting 1000 years ago), it is still an easy reading experience. And, even though it has moments of tragedy, it is balanced by emotion and sensuality in between. Such as:

"She looked deeply into my eyes and whispered, 'I want to join with you.' "

Hmmm. Maybe I should have opened the book with that line! RATS!!

"Hello, Publisher. Is it too late to make a teeny-weenie change?"

Soccer

I took my four year old grand daughter to her soccer game this weekend. She lives in an affluent area where the parking lot was crammed full of Lexus, Land Rovers, and expensive pick up trucks. I am happy that my daughter and her husband can afford this area and the costly outfits, shoes, equipment, and bags that children here have to wear to play. Hundreds of children in team colors, numbers, and braces -- the 9-13 year old boy's football teams have their own cheerleaders, including my 12 year old grand daughter.


It is good that the sports are organized so that all can play in organized leagues on organized teams, good for... for the children.


Yet, I found myself wondering if children, when left to their own devices, wouldn't do all that themselves -- minus the team colors. Bill and Bob and Harold and Dick and Jerry and John and Ron did years ago on Harrisonville Avenue in New Boston. We played football and baseball in a vacant lot between two houses, next to Mr. Travis' house. I painfully remember knocking on his door and confessing that I was the one who hit the baseball that broke his window. So, yes things went wrong, but even that had a benefit, to me, and perhaps Mr. Travis who got a new window out of it.


There were no trophies to be handed out (don't get me started on every kid gets a trophy), no patches, no parties, no pictures because it was play, for the sake of play. Boys, working things out when things were questioned -- no rule books, no referees. Seeking fair solutions among themselves.


Yes, it is true, I now sound like the old farts that I knew at the time, men who wanted a return to the ways of yester-year, older men that I tolerated then, but privately thought their arteries were getting harder every week as they sat on the church pew outside Shorty's Barbershop.

Ahheeeem. I do not have a church pew!


Dads and Moms are with their children today as the game wraps up. They are more involved in their children's activities than my generation or my parents were. The fields are not vacant for long as a new batch of older children with different colors replace the younger ones, and it will go this way every hour until 3:00pm.


Back to their house, it is time for me to take the 10 year old to her soccer game. Its exhausting, executing this schedule. I needed a nap in the afternoon.

A Birthday

Yes, birthdays -- mine. My father-in-law used to say that if he knew he would live this long, he would have taken better care of himself. Joan asserts that mothers should be feted on a child's birthday since they were the ones who did all the work.

Birthdays -- a day to enjoy the well wishes of friends near and far through cards and Facebook and phone calls and smiles and hugs and gifts. My grandson gave me a Bat House which he and his other grandfather made for me. It will get hung on a tree in the woods next week so that we can see it and the frolicking, happy bats from our back windows.

Birthdays -- days of quick reflections, snippets of past events. Some of them happy, moments filled with pride of achievement, smiling faces of children, joy of this or that, naughty moments. Some are sad moments, mistakes, loss, pain. More happy reflections than sad. A smile, just now.

Birthdays -- just another day? Not really. Perhaps, a day for another... memory.

Why Women Still Won't Vote for Women

I leave this to the Dear Reader to decide for themseves if they agree or not. From
www.phyliss-chesler.com. The writer is a retired professor of Women's Studies at City University of New York.

Why Women Still Won't Vote for Women
By Phyllis Chesler

Published October 15, 2010

Phyllis Chesler, Ph.D. is professor emerita of psychology and the author of thirteen books including "Woman’s Inhumanity to Woman" and "The New Anti-Semitism." She has written extensively about Islamic gender apartheid and about honor killings. She once lived in Kabul, Afghanistan. She may be reached through her website: www.phyllis-chesler.com.

It is 2010, ninety years after American women first won the right to vote, and nearly fifty years after Betty Friedan’s influential work "The Feminine Mystique" was published, and women still do not want to vote for women.

And women definitely do not want to vote for Republican women.For example, in Connecticut, Republican Linda McMahon has only 34 percent of the female vote as compared to Democrat Richard Blumenthal who has 61 percent of the female vote. In Delaware, Republican Christine O'Donnell has only 25 percent of the female vote as compared to her Democratic opponent Chris Coons, who leads with 58 percent of the female vote; in Nevada, Democrat Harry Reid is beating Republican Sharron Angle by a 51-33 margin. According to pollsters, Sharron Angle is a “staunch conservative, something that tends to turn off female voters.”

Possibly, women as a group may view the Democratic Party as better on certain issues such as women’s reproductive rights and equal rights in the workplace. On the other hand, like men, many women have also lost their jobs, pensions, and homes, and will equally bear the consequences of a foreign policy gone wrong.

Whatever the reason, female candidates just can’t seem to please the female electorate. Women criticized Hillary Clinton for craving power in a non-feminine and “emotionless” way—and liked her when she showed emotion, not when she discussed policy. Women judged her harshly for sticking by her man—and then just as harshly for doing so in order to further her own political ambitions. Women, including progressive women, wanted perfection in their first female Presidential candidate. No political or character “hair” out of place. Thus, Professor Susan J. Douglas had this to say about Hillary:

“Hillary, by contrast, seems to want to be more like a man in her demeanor and politics, makes few concessions to the social demands of femininity, and yet seems to be only a partial feminist. She seems above us, exempting herself from compromises women have to make every day, while, at the same time, leaving some of the basic tenets of feminism in the dust. We are sold out on both counts. In other words, she seems like patriarchy in sheep’s clothing. If she’s a feminist, how could she continue to support this war for so long? If she’s such a passionate advocate for children, women and families, how could she countenance the ongoing killing of innocent Iraqi families, and of American soldiers who are also someone’s children? If it would be so revolutionary to have a female as president, why does she feel like the same old poll-driven opportunistic politician who seems to craft her positions accordingly?”

Today, women describe Linda McMahon as too “relentless” for a woman-- but certainly not for a politician. Women say they don’t like McMahon because she is “buying her seat” with money (as if this is not exactly what men do), and because she is attacking her opponent in “needlessly personal and caustic ways” (ditto).

Until pollsters start asking Republican women if they, also, dislike and will not vote for a female Republican candidate, let me suggest that what may also be going on is some vast unfinished psychological business between women.

As the author of "Woman’s Inhumanity to Woman," allow me to spell it out for you. Like men, women are also sexists. They still expect women to behave in “feminine” or maternal ways; this includes choosing a man as a protector, not as an opponent to publicly defeat in a very aggressive, “male” way.

Women and girls are more comfortable with expressing their aggression indirectly in less visible ways, through gossip, slander, and ostracism.

In addition, despite exceptions, women do not necessarily like, respect, or trust other women. Even more important, woman do not like another woman getting more attention than they themselves get; cheerleaders, beauty queens, gorgeous actresses are envied and ostracized more often than befriended by other girls and women. Female politicians are in the limelight; their female voters are not.

Psychologically, women do not like “difference.” Women feel safe when their female intimates dress, think, and behave as they do. If a female candidate looks, acts, or thinks “differently” from the female majority, women feel that their own life choices are not being honored. Thus, tough Republican businesswoman, Carly Fiorina, who faces tough career politician Barbara Boxer in California, has been advised to soften her image, to literally pose in her kitchen and wear pink—something she has done.

Yes, feminist women have worked hard for both male and female feminist candidates, and some Republican women are now working hard for Republican candidates, both male and female. And yet, the problem of our collective sexism still remains and will continue to determine how campaigns are conducted and who wins.

Jeff Hart -- Driller/Hero

This is from Michelle Malkin's Blog. It is her writing in her voice.

In a different day and age, Jeff Hart would be the most famous American in our country right now. He would be honored at the White House. Schoolchildren would learn of his skill and heroism. [It is likely that] more people in Chile will celebrate this symbol of American greatness than in America itself.

Jeff Hart is a driller based in my home state of Colorado. The father of two has been drilling water wells in Afghanistan at U.S. Army bases. When the San Jose Mine in Chile collapsed in August, he flew to lend his renowned expertise to the rescue effort. As part of an amazing three-way race to the trapped miners, Hart drilled for 33 days straight and was first to reach the caved-in workers. The AP recounts the story — and what strikes me again and again is how the world turned to American ingenuity and American fortitude and American equipment and American enterprise to get the job done:

Jeff Hart was drilling water wells for the U.S. Army’s forward operating bases in Afghanistan when he got the call to fly to Chile. He spent the next 33 days on his feet, operating the drill that finally provided a way out Saturday for 33 trapped miners. “You have to feel through your feet what the drill is doing; it’s a vibration you get so that you know what’s happening,” explained Hart, a contractor from Denver, Colorado. A muscular, taciturn man with callused hands and a sunburned face, Hart normally pounds rock for oil or water. He’s used to extreme conditions while he works the hydraulic levers that guide the drills’ hammers…

…Geotec operations manager James Stefanic said he quickly assembled “a top of the line team” of drillers who are intimately familiar with the key equipment, including engineers from two Pennsylvania companies — Schramm Inc., which makes the T130 drill, and Center Rock Inc., which makes the drill bits.

…Standing before the levers, pressure meters and gauges on the T130′s control panel, Hart and the rest of the team faced many challenges in drilling the shaft. At one point, the drill struck a metal support beam in the poorly mapped mine, shattering its hammers. Fresh equipment had to be flown in from the United States and progress was delayed for days as powerful magnets were lowered to pull out the pieces…

…Hart has a home in Denver but works for long periods abroad as a contractor for the Layne Christensen company based in Mission Woods, Kansas.
The miners will ride back to the surface in a rescue capsule as early as today through the shaft Hart and his team drilled.

He told the Denver Post: “This is the most important thing I have done in my work life and probably the most important thing I will ever do.”

Hart’s company, Layne Christiansen, celebrated the achievement:

“Plan B” worked. Winning the three-way race to reach the 33 miners trapped in Chile since Aug. 5, drillers from Kansas City-based Layne Christensen Co. broke through at 8 a.m. Saturday.

“This success required the extra special knowledge and skills only our team could provide,” said Dave Singleton, water resource division president for Layne Christensen.
About two weeks after the collapse, Layne’s Latin American affiliate Geotec Boyles Bros. brought in a Schramm T130 tophead drill. Layne also sent in two drillers, Jeff Hart and Matt Staffel, who had been drilling water wells in Afghanistan to support U.S. troops stationed there. Assisting the drillers were two Spanish-speaking drilling helpers, Doug Reeves and Jorge Herrera, from Layne’s western region in the U.S.

Working as a team, Layne and Geotec drilled a 5-inch hole nearly 2,300 feet, reamed it to 12 inches and finally to 26 inches in diameter – large enough to accommodate the “Phoenix” rescue capsule. A cheer went up as families and rescue workers joined in a celebration when the drill broke through. “I’m on top of the world,” Hart told a TV reporter.

It took the drillers 33 days to reach the 33 miners. “Had Layne and Geotec not been there, it probably would have taken until Christmas for ‘Plan A’ or ‘Plan C’ to break through,” Singleton noted. “We cut more than two months from the original estimate.”

“It’s a first for our company to be involved in a rescue effort like this,” added President and CEO Andrew B. Schmitt. “It’s also noteworthy that we’re celebrating our 15th anniversary with our Latin American affiliates,” he said. In 1995 Layne merged with Christensen Boyles Corp. and became the joint-venture partner with the Boytec group of companies in Latin America.

Now in its third century of operations, Layne started in 1882 as a water-well drilling company in the Badlands of South Dakota. Headquartered in Mission Woods, Kan., a Kansas City suburb, the Nasdaq-traded company operates worldwide, providing products and services for the water, mineral, construction and energy markets.
Hart and his crew are headed back to Colorado and are eschewing the spotlight:

Hart decided to leave the mine now that his work is done and will be watching the rescue from a distance.

“I want to let this become the miners’ and their families’ story and let them have their time,” he said.
Chile won’t forget the quiet driller from Denver and his teammates (also from Colorado): Matt Staffel, Doug Reeves and Jorge Herrera. Neither should we.

Hart’s proud wife, Dora, is looking forward to welcoming them home:

“I was just in awe, really,” she said. “I am just really proud of what he has accomplished.

All of America should be.

***

I must also call your attention to NASA’s invaluable contributions:

Rescuers finished reinforcing the top of the 2,041-foot (622-meter) escape shaft early Monday, and the 13-foot (four-meter) tall capsule descended flawlessly in test runs. The white, blue and red capsule — the biggest of three built by Chilean navy engineers — was named Phoenix I for the mythical bird that rises from ashes.

The miners will be closely monitored from the moment they’re strapped into the claustrophobic steel tube to be hauled up the smooth-walled tunnel. For the last six hours before surfacing, they’ll drink a special high-calorie liquid diet prepared and donated by NASA, designed to keep them from vomiting as the rescue capsule rotates 10 to 12 times through curves in the 28-inch-diameter escape hole.
More:

When Chilean rescuers begin pulling 33 trapped miners from their cramped quarters a half-mile below ground, perhaps beginning tonight, the work of NASA scientists will be put to the test.

For example, the miners, who have been trapped since Aug. 5, have been doing leg squats, taking salt tablets and loading up on fluids full of protein and electrolytes. Also, they will wear pressure stockings.

These techniques and others are designed to stabilize the miners’ blood pressure during the 20- to 30-minute trip to the surface. Doctors also are trying to prevent nausea.

The Chilean health minister has been consulting with NASA experts since the cave-in occurred. One of them is Dr. J.D. Polk, a native of Washington Court House, who is stationed in Houston as chief of space medicine.

Polk, who spent a week in Chile in late August, said fainting can be a problem when a person stands up after having been in a position with his or her knees locked for any long period.

“The idea is using pressure garments to force the fluid up, which helps keep the blood pressure up, so you don’t pass out with your knees locked,” said Polk, deputy chief medical officer at NASA.

Polk is former medical director for the Ohio Emergency Medical Services division. He was an emergency-room doctor at MetroHealth Medical Center in Cleveland and the chief flight surgeon for the hospital’s Metro Life Flight.


http://michellemalkin.com/

Johnny Appleseed

Yesterday for breakfast, I had a red rome apple on my way quickly out the door to get to church in time for choir rehearsal. While the apple is more of a cooking apple than an eating apple, I get them this time of year because they remind me of my Grandfather Borders. He lived in Scioto County, Ohio, and was a farmer. Everyone, including his children, called him "Pop." His wife was "Mom."

Mom and Pop had a small clutch of apple trees, maybe six or so, and every September the trees dropped many, many apples. The boys and men of our family would gather the apples and the women and girls would make apple butter, apple sauce, and cooked apples, canning it in greenish Ball jars for the winter. On those Saturday events, Mom's house smelled happily of cinnamon and apples, while the windows were fully steamed up all day from the big pots of boiling water on the wood burning stove.

Pop would call the grandchildren over to the back porch and sitting on an old wooden chair painted white many times, Pop would peel a red rome apple using his pocket knife in one long peel. Around and around the apple, he would cut at just the right depth under the skin to keep the peel intact; I never saw him break it.

He would tell us that those red rome apple trees in the corner of the field had been planted by Johnny Appleseed. Now, I knew that Pop was a big kidder and practical joker, but I think he was sincere in telling us this.

Of course at the time, I was not sure that there had been an actual Johnny Appleseed, but later I knew that there had been. His real name was John Chapman and he lived until 1845. He began spreading his seeds and creating nurseries around 1796 in Pennsylvania. Many people believe that he was in Jackson County, Ohio in 1801, the county that borders Scioto County to the North, so Pop's trees could have been Johnny Appleseed trees.

The trees are no longer there, nor are my Grandparents, but great memories still are carried by me and my cousins. Oh, and try as I may, I have only peeled an apple with one peeling once; probably in too much of a hurry.

"Great Heats"

The third book is almost finished with the re-edit and the publisher is waiting to begin the process. It will take three to six months to complete the process, during which time I have been known to get ouchy; maybe this time, it will be different.

.

I am happy with the book. In re-reading it during the edit, I was still moved in the same spots as when I was writing.

.

Most of the writing was done at one of five restaurants where the noise and distractions were easy to ignore, compared to the distractions at home -- the garden, the trees, the painting, the cars, the wife!

.

During the writing, I became so close to the characters in the book that I would think about them at night or when on a long drive.

.

On more than one occasion while writing at a restaurant, tears would form in my eyes and then dam up along my glasses rim. Finally, I would have to stop and wipe my eyes with a napkin.

.

Once, a waitress from another table came over to me and asked if I was OK.

.

"Onions," I replied. "It's just the onions in my egg-white omelet," I explained.

.

She looked at my plate. "...Oh," she responded weakly, and left with a funny look on her face, probably because my egg whites were scrambled with no onions.

.

I still have to insert the 300 DPI high resolution images, but that shouldn't take long. It has been such a long process for me, one where I lost my enthusiasm for a while, but then regained it. Not much left to do now. Just the images.

.

Maybe, I'll take time for just one more pass through it -- before I let it go.

"Stand up and walk out of your history." ~~ Phil McGraw (Dr. Phil)

Backyard Wildlife Drama

In the past two years, wild turkeys have appeared in our back yard. The largest clutch was a tom with four hens. Wild Turkeys are large birds weighing 20 pounds or more with wing spans of up to 6 feet and like other birds often talk to one another through various "clucks."

My family delights in pointing out to me what turkeys look like since I never saw a single bird when I hunted them in Ohio (once in the same woods with Bob Evans, the sausage maker and restauranteur, but that's another story.)

I was an avid birder in my "tween" years and have since that time been very sensitive to bird calls, flight patterns and behaviour. While sitting on my deck last week, editing my book -- a seemingly never ending process -- I heard the call of a hen turkey and looked towards the sound to see two fully grown hens walking through our yard near the rock wall under the leather leaf verbena. One of them moved to the open part of our yard ten feet or so from the verbena shrub, pecking at something tasty on the ground.

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement. A Red Tailed Hawk dove from a limb high in one of the walnut trees at the edge of the woods, headed for the turkey in the open. The turkey spotted the hawk as it silently swooped on her. She squatted and ducked as the hawk went by, flying up to a dead tree limb, low on another walnut tree. Both turkeys began clucking loudly.

The turkey who had been attacked ran and flew up over the rock wall wall, scurried to the tree where the hawk was perched and with her big wings, her beak and her claws, started climbing the tree trunk, going after the hawk. Seeing this, the hawk flew to a higher perch in an oak tree at the wood's edge.

"Cree, Cree," the hawk screamed. Angry clucks continued to sound from both turkeys, one standing under the verbena, the other resuming her position in the yard.

Joan opened the sliding glass door to the deck, curious about the racket, just as the hawk dove on the turkey again. The turkey held her ground, bobbing her head. The hawk pulled up and went back to the forest's edge.

The combatants now seemed content to shout at one another "Cree, Cree, Cree."

"Cluuuck, cluuk, CLUUCK! Cluuuck, cluuk, CLUUCK!"

"Cree, cree, Cluuck, CLUUCK, Cree, Cluuck, Cree, cree. CLUUCK, CLUUCK, CREEE"

A new voice from the sky above entered the fray. "Caw, Caw, Caaaw. Caaaaaww. Caaaaawww." A single crow flew over our yard, buzzing our house, speaking in an excited voice. Soon seven of his crow friends joined him, and began diving on the hawk in the tree. The hawk jumped off his perch, flying over our house with eight crows in pursuit.

As Joan and I watched the aerial show, we noticed high above the drama, a lone vulture circling, apparently anticipating a lunch in our back yard.

"From the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at the time." ~~ Victor Hugo, "Les Miserables"

Exciting News!

The editor has finished her review of my book, "Great Heats" and not only did she cast her Chicago Style Manual at my effort, but she actually read it and liked it. Pretty good from someone who could be easily jaded by having to read words every day for a living and critique their authors.

I also have been given permission by the Portsmouth Murals Commission to use one of the murals for the cover of my book. While this is good news from a variety of standpoints, I also feel a heavier responsibility for the story to stand up to the vision of the original mural committee and to stand alongside the art of muralist Robert Dafford.

It will.

Sandy Words

Postcard

Sun, glasses, sand, shells, crabs, kids, coconut, breeze, umbrellas, surf, dolphins, tan, sunburn, ball, hard, soft, bounce, bikini, tanks, tankini, skirts, coverup, Pink, Speedo, ugghhh, airplane, tour boat, cigarette boat, fishing boat, sport boat, jet ski, parasail, advertising boat, helicopter, camera, sculpture, mermaid, crab, dog, shovels, rakes, hoes, sandals, slippers, bottles, bare, back, bareback, breasts, thighs, chests, hair, knees, butts, bacon, sausage, waffles, pancakes, sticky, buns, eggs, omelettes, muffin, pannini, French, Spanish, Russian, English, Long Island, Jersey, tomatoes, Virginia, ham, Greek, feta, Italian, provolone, Swiss, swiss, American, garden, spinach, chefs, pasta, Caesar, cobb, corn, Chianti, Cabernet, Sauvignon, Blanc, Franc, Zinfandel, baked, potato, asparagus. beans, mixed, pork, tenderloin, steak, chicken, free-range, ribs, sushi, lobster, scallops, shrimp, oysters, bouillabaisse, clams, calamari, crab, cake, gelato, ice, cream, DREAM.

The Editor

The manuscript for "Great Heats" is with the editor. Although I am confident that this is a good story, sending it to her causes some apprehension in me because she is the first person outside a small number of family to read it, or parts of it.

I am prepared to receive her grammatical changes because I know that that is not my strong suit. I am better with a broad brush, rather than cutting a fine line of paint/punctuation/periods. The Chicago Style Manual is her expertise but is a black hole to me.

The important first chapter was a struggle for me to re-write. My first pass was too wordy, too expository without reason. Going back and dropping this scene or shortening a section was painful and laborious. Maybe the result is still not good enough. What if the editor hates it? Wants me to re-arrange sections? Throw sections out?

I have to stop thinking this way.

The artist I am working with has finished her work and the illustrations are ready to be inserted in the best possible place to maximize the impact of the story; I am still waffling on where that "best possible place" is.

There continue to be many loose ends to tie up on this book, but I can't find the drive to tackle them. Maybe the interruptions of the June windstorm or planning for the Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia trip or the preparations for a new roof and new windows, or the vacation at the Shore -- maybe these distractions are causing me to lose my concentration, my continuity.

But surely, I can still multi-task!

Or... perhaps my attention, my focus, is taken because, possibly... I am falling in love with my next book involving the Deccan Traps of India. Hmmm. Let's see. "The sky grew suddenly darker over the ancient steppes as a storm blew out of the Himalayas with revenge in mind."

"Life is a flower of which love is the honey."
~~ Victor Hugo, 1802-1885, Author Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Book Signings -- July 3 in Portsmouth and New Boston, Ohio

"On Harrisonville Avenue" continues to sell in Southern Ohio and Northern Kentucky, so while I am in Portsmouth over the 4th of July weekend visiting family, I will be having two book signings, both on Saturday, July 3:

11:00am - 2:00pm I will be at the Market Street Cafe in downtown Portsmouth, Ohio, a charming Cafe with home baked goods and terrific coffee.

4:00pm - 5:30pm Hickie's Hamburger Inn on Rhodes Avenue in New Boston, ranked nationally as having among the best burgers in the country. Brad and Shug there let me use some of founder Don Hickman's photo's of New Boston for my book.

If you are in the area, stop by these two unique and successful places with good food, quick service at a fair price -- all with a smile and a "how you doing'? "

Oh, and Mrs. Giles will be assisting me -- with a smile also :-) Yowzzir! (Yes, that's me in the 7th Grade.)

“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six.” ~~ Yogi Berra, b. 1925

Finis!

Rewriting the Epilogue took longer than I thought, and I still may revise it as there are some details that I should revisit, but I say -- over.

My illustrator is reworking the third drawing she is doing for me. Her work will be the last pages of the Epilogue. I hope that readers are not like me and fan through the book, in which case you see the last pages before reading the book; instead, I want the drawings to be a surprise, so please Dear Reader, resist that temptation (and I will try to take my own advice.)

Now, for an editor. I want to work with one where there is a give-and-take, rather than a recasting of my effort. I'm not sure, but I may have located one. We'll see in the next few days.

Oh, and I received another rejection -- I have never been gracious at rejections -- from women, selling ideas, or in this case, publishers; somehow, it seems easier though, when it is an email.

"I used to save all my rejection slips because I told myself, one day I'm going to autograph these and auction them. And then I lost the box. "
~~ James Lee Burke, American Author, "Cimarron Rose," "Black Cherry Blues," and "Heaven's Prisoners."

On to the Epilogue

Chapter Four is now "in the can," a television expression actually derived from the film industry, meaning it is finished -- the rewrite is complete; of course, it is never really finished. If I started looking at it again today, I would begin agonizing over this word or that one -- but enough. On to the Epilogue.

Yes, its true there are only four chapters and an Epilogue in my new book, "Great Heats." The word count is 53,000 something, so it will likely come in at around 200 pages, helping me earn my new approbation, "the easyreading author."

The title, "Great Heats," derives from an ancient Asian method of dividing the year into 24 parts, for the purpose of planting, planning for festivals and planning for the winter. One of the annual divisions is the Great Heat, the hottest part of the Summer -- the last part of August, where we live. Our main character was born during the Great Heat season, and each chapter is from a year in his life.

Among my favorite authors is William Least Heat-Moon, of Irish and Osage lineage. Least Heat-Moon is really not his legal name, but because his father was called Heat Moon and his older brother called Little Heat Moon already, William became Least Heat. In 1982, his book, "Blue Highways" was a best seller and on the New York Time list for almost a year.

I was not thinking of William Least Heat-Moon when I named my book, nor did I know the story of how his name came about, but in my book, the Chief, who is father of the main character is Tall Heron, his son, the main character is Young Heron, and his son is Third Heron. Odd, eh?

“There are two kinds of adventurers: those who go truly hoping to find adventure and those who go secretly hoping they won't.” ~~ William Least Heat-Moon, b. 1939

Progress

I now have finished rewriting Chapter Three. The usual grammatical and spelling errors have been found, but the number of content errors have surprised me.

For example, I am amazed that in the heat of writing I would rename a character, combining two names into one. Perhaps I knew it at the time but was so anxious to complete the scene that I went on, never coming back to correct it.

I also trap myself with the age of characters: "Ten years ago when I was when I was eight, my life changed in a dramatic way ... " Well yeah, I guess it would!

And then my most annoying trick -- highlighting a paragraph because something is wrong with it, but continuing to write without resolving or noting the reason because I'll always remember that. Then I rediscover the paragraph weeks later and am not be able to recall the reason I highlighted it. Did I want to move it, reword it, consider pitching it -- argghhhh.

I shouldn't rely upon my memory, anymore. When I taught history for three years in the mid 1960's, my memory was crisp and focused. I often worried then that education simply rewarded good memories and that I had gotten through because I had a really good one.

Much of my time today is spent going to a room in our house, stopping and trying to remember what I went there for.

"Life must go on; I forget just why." ~~ Edna St. Vincent Millay, American Poet, 1892-1950, and first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for poetry.

The Shortest Short Story?

This was in my mailbox this morning:

A College Class was given the assignment to write a short story using the fewest words possible, but the story had to include the following three things:
... Religion
... Sexuality
... Mystery

One A+ was handed out and here is her short story:

"Oh, God, I'm pregnant. I wonder who is the father?"
(A tip of the hat to Scotty Hood.)

Perhaps the short story that intrigues most literary scholars is attributed to Ernest Hemingway, who in six words communicated a complete message even though it is not a complete sentence. In these words are tangible and intangible elements, used to create a tragedy. The six words:

"For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn."

Snipping Chives

My herb garden has been neglected. Although I have just potted new Basil and Rosemary plants, last year's Oregano and Chives once again "volunteered" to grow in the same historic but miserable soil without any help from me and a lot of discouragement from the weather; how hardy plants are.

This evening while preparing to braise boneless pork spareribs, I felt the need for chives as a garnish, so off to the herbs on the deck to snip the chives with my scissors. Some of the grassy blades had flowered; others had brown tips; some were hard and stem-like. Underneath all of that were the tender ones that I sought, so I trimmed back the less desirable blades, revealing a fistful of the shoots I needed to grace my dish. SNIP.

In that moment, I shuffled my mind to the on-going editing of my third book. Chapter one needed to be refreshed and strengthened, particularly the first paragraph and certainly the first five pages. It was not as easy as changing a verb here or moving a phrase there; whole sections were cut, new words were added, the old sections re-integrated. I lost the sense of forward motion of the story and had to start again. Laborious, detailed, concentrated -- all things I am not good at.

Snipping chives was much more fulfilling; it's oniony perfume, lovely and less lingering than the visceral after-taste of snipping words.

The first draft of anything is #%&*.
~ Ernest Hemingway