At the Stroke of Midnight

I will stay awake tonight. I Will stay awake tonight. I'm going to do my best to be awake one more time to hear ...

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
in days of old lang syne ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

The Scottish poet, Robert Burns, penned these lines in 1788, although the sentiment was borrowed from other earlier writers. It was paired with a Scots folk tune and was sung off and on at New Years thereafter, due to the sentiment and the rhetorical question -- should we forget old friends, or should we remember them?

In 1929, the era of mass communication and radio, cemented "Auld Lang Syne" as the song for the stroke of midnight when the Canadian band leader Guy Lombardo played it at the nationally carried live broadcast from the Roosevelt Room in New York City. Thereafter, from 1930-1976, it was nationally broadcast from the Waldorf Astoria.

Old acquaintances. Those of us in our "maturity" have many acquaintances which we have acquired over the years and, even though we may have not seen them for decades, we carry them in our minds; some, we carry in our hearts.

This week, Joan and I visited a cinematographer that I worked with in the 1960's. We had not seen one another in 30 years, and yet it was as if that were yesterday as we recalled fun times together and consoled each other over tragedies in passage.

How precious and delicious that process is -- revisiting, recalling, remembering, laughing, crying -- together.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

May you and yours, Dear Reader, have a joyous and prosperous new year, for auld lang syne!

Cheers!!!

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

"Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

This poem (full verses below) was written in 1823 and published in a New York City newspaper, becoming an immediate hit. Its author, Clement Clarke Moore, did not confess ownership until 21 years later in 1844. Mr. Moore was a professor at Columbia College (now Columbia University) and he preferred anonymity, but finally relented due to family pressure.

Mr. Moore's family was a prominent one at the time. His father had been the Bishop of New York City and officiated at the inauguration of George Washington as the first president; his mother was famous for her rabid anti-monarchy views in pre-revolutionary times. Clement himself, married Catharine Elizabeth Taylor, a direct descendant of the powerful Dutch family, the Van Cortlandt's. Together, he and his wife owned 160 acres on the western side of Manhattan which they called Chelsea; the area they owned is still called Chelsea today.

"A Visit from St. Nicholas," as his poem was called, established Santa Claus and his image, as well as the reindeer, their number and names, the way the "jolly old elf" gets around, and the idea that Santa brings gifts to children. Prior to 1823. there were many ideas about St. Nicholas, but none like this.

While many of us have read this to our children, we also recognize the great gift that was given to all -- the gift from God of a baby in a manger who would grow to become the fulfillment of the prophesies of the Old Testament. From the latest Gallup Poll ...

• 95% of Americans celebrate Christmas;
• 51% say the day is "strongly religious" for them;
• 93% of Americans exchange gifts on Christmas;
• 88% put up a Christmas tree;
• 62% attend religious services on Christmas Eve or Christmas.

Following a tradition established when I was born, 68 years ago, I will be in church tonight. Yet the duality of the celebration is brought home simply by hearing sleigh bells.

A joyous holiday season to all. Merry Christmas to you and yours, "and to all, a good night!"

"A Visit From St. Nicholas"
by Clement Clarke Moore, 1823

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Hymns of the Season and Their Stories

Ever wonder what a Carol is? Or what "Nowell" ("Noel") means? Or what many people think is the most often piece of music sung in churches? If you are in the West Chester, PA area, plan on attending this event to find out..

Hymns of the Season and Their Stories
Ronald D. Giles, Baritone -- Joan E. Giles, Accompanist
First Presbyterian Church, West Chester, PA
Wednesday December 15, 2010, 6:30pm
The Presbyterian Hymnal, 1990

1. “People Look East” – Text: Eleanor Farjeon; Music: French Carol
Verse 1 – Ron; Verses 2 & 5 – All in Unison

2. “Comfort, Comfort You My People” – Text: Johannes Olearius, 1671
Music: attributed to Louis Bourgeois, 1551, arranged by John Ferguson
Verse 1 -- Ron; Verses 2 & 3 – All in Unison

3. “The First Nowell” – 17th Century English Carol
Verses 1 & 2 in parts

4. "Away In A Manger” -- Text: Verses 1&2 – unknown;
Verse 3 – McFarland, 1887 ; Music: Wm. Kirkpatrick and J. Murray --
Tunes: Mueller, Normandy, Cradle Song; arranged by Mark Hayes
Hymns 24 & 25 Verse 1 – All in Unison; Verses 2 & 3 -- Ron

5. “Silent Night” – Text: Father Joseph Mohr, 1818; Music: Franz Gruber, 1818
Arranged by Mark Hayes and Joan Giles
Verse 1 - Ron in German; Verse 1 -- All in English; Verse 3 -- Ron

6. “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” – Text: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1863;
Music: John Babtiste Calkin, 1872
Verse 1, Ron; Verse 2 All in Unison;
Verse 3 – Women; Verse 4 – Men;
Verse 5 – All in Unison

7. “Joy To The World” – Text: Isaac Watts, 1719; Music – L. Mason/G.F. Handel
Verse 1 -- Women; Verse 2 -- Men; Verse 4 -- All in Parts

Hush, Hush, Somebody's Callin' My Name

By the time Christmas rolls around, will it be anti-climactic? Will it be just another day of "Ho,Ho,Ho" and Burl Ives singing "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas?" Will I be so numbed by the rush of gift buying or parties or rehearsal/concerts that when December 25 comes, I will be empty?

It seems like I ask myself these questions each year. Part of it must be that our children are not here on Christmas morning, wide-eyed and excited, checking whether the carrots were nibbled by Santa's reindeer or the cookies half-eaten by the jolly old elf himself.

Joan and I used to put the tree up after church on Christmas Eve, after the children went to bed. Seeing the words "some assembly required" at 1:00am after the tree was decorated was not a welcome sight on a Big Wheel, or a bicycle. But what's another three hours without sleep when the effect on our two children was so amazing? (Alright, the slide whistles in the stockings that were opened at 6:00am were not a good idea and I got a little testy in my bleary-eyed state. Everything can't be Currier and Ives all the time.)

So, now the tree goes up early with Sounds of the Season from cable channel 436 in the background. The house and the lamp posts get decorated and our neighbors nicely bring over a cheesecake, and we talk. Joanie bakes her cranberry bread and I get out my "Noel" tie. Its all special but somehow, not heartfelt.

Maybe, I should build in some quiet time -- no computer, no radio, no books, no TV -- just quiet. The kind of quiet that comes during and after a deep snow. A quiet that allows one to listen -- to your own heartbeat, to the melting snow, to the cry of a baby in the distance... the cry of a baby, in the distance.

Touch Now!

December 1, 1977 -- the launch of QUBE, the first interactive TV experiment in Columbus, Ohio, by Warner Cable. -- and I was there, 33 years ago.

Five months earlier, I had been in Cincinnati at WCPO-TV as the Executive Producer of Programming, a position I had held for three years. In my office at Channel 9, I was reading the July edition of Broadcasting Magazine, when I noted under equipment purchases, that Warner Cable of Columbus had purchased nine studio/portable RCA cameras.

The article piqued my curiosity so I made a few calls and became aware that an old acquaintance -- Ron Castell -- was involved. Through him, I met with Mike Dann, a CBS legend of programming, who was involved in QUBE, as was Dr. Vivian Horner of Children's Television Workshop, and Steve Carlin, the creator and Producer of the 50's game show "The 64,000 Question." Someone had assembled a stellar cast of Television luminaries for this project, and I wanted to be involved as well.

Cable Television, at that time, 1977, was confined to rural areas and the suburbs, but the real money for cable companies was to be made in the cities when the number of family units per mile was a 20-100 times what it was in the tree-lined single family dwellings on the outskirts. QUBE was Warner's way of demonstrating to city governments that Warner had the star power, the technology, and the stamina to be the choice for the long run.

Over some mild objections from my wife, we moved to Westerville to become a part of QUBE. (Her objections to my relocation would get stronger and stronger after this, our third house.)

As a Producer-Host for "Columbus Alive," a live two hour talk show, December 1, 1977 was the start of a series that I would be a part of for the next two years. QUBE lived up to its hype by developing interactive programming -- game shows, talk shows, "You-Call Football," kid's shows -- pay-per-view programming, a remote control, 15 or so specialized channels, including one called Nickelodeon and another that would grow to become MTV. And -- get this -- a weather channel.

Another by-product of QUBE, was that it produced a deep and intense level of friendship among the 300 or so who were there -- unlike any staff relationship at any TV facility of which I have been a part. Reunions, phone calls, lunches, Facebook, emails, all serve to keep the contact and camaraderie going.

WOULD YOU BE A PART OF QUBE TODAY?

1. Yes

2. No

TOUCH NOW!

(Touching 1)

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.

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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

The Hardiness of Plants

At Christmas, I was given a plant holder in the shape of a tricycle. It joins the rooster plant holder in the front of the house and several other architectural pieces designed to add color, but without a lot of the neediness of flowers.

The tricycle has a small pot holder where the "rider" would sit. I needed the right sized pot to put in there, so off I trundled to the garden (which has yet to be planted) where there is a number of last year's pots stored and waiting to be used. In spying the perfect pot, I noted last year's dirt and dead plant remains in it. And there amongst the detritus was a plant from last season, growing. I was taken by it.

Despite the 40 inches of snow and the freeze that followed, this Hen and Chicks plant survived the winter and was prospering in a pot crowded with dead sticks and crowded roots. I had to try and save it. And I hope it will prosper this season in a new pot.

While that plant positively impressed me, the Morning Glories from last year did also, but in a negative, aggravating way. They survive by having so many seeds and such a powerful underground root system, that they survive despite my best efforts to "control" them. Now they are starting to "fight" with three rose bushes.

We live in a pleasant relationship with plants and trees. They brighten our lives even in the depth of winter. The lushness of green grasses, the chartreuse of a locust tree, the velvet colors of day-lilies all add to the quality of our lives. But, make no mistake, under that foliage and along with their beautiful pastel colors, at the heart of the plant is a potent competitor with a long history of surviving in that jungle of beauty outside my window.

“One generation plants the trees, and another gets the shade”
~~ Chinese Proverb

The Query Letter

Among the most important pieces of writing that an author can send, is the Query Letter -- either to a literary agent that you hope will represent your new work, or to a publisher that will accept Query Letters directly from an author instead of through a literary agent. The purpose of the letter is to excite/convince/interest them in staking their reputation on representing you or getting a publisher to risk publishing your book! Thumbs up ... or thumbs down on something you have spent a goodly portion of your life.

Some agents have their own peculiar form, such as:
... send the first paragraph or
... send the first five pages or
... send the first chapter or
... write a one paragraph description of your work and I'll tell you if I want more.

Some have no form or template and depend upon you, the author, to "Wow" them with your concise, brilliant prose, written in a new voice, using words that have never sat next to one another -- in 100 words or less. And you hope that they won't "just shrug it off as the foghorn bleat of an over-privileged mediocrity looking for some attention." (Quote courtesy of the Anchoress, Elizabeth Scalia.)

If you are curious or ever need such a device as a Query Letter, take a look at Nathan Bransford's Blog http://www.nathanbransford.com/ (I follow it, so you can see it on the right of my Blog). He has a "form" to follow. Since he is a Literary Agent, the template should be "very" accurate.

Substitute "damn" every time you're inclined to write "very;" your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.
~~Mark Twain

Hurst Lightning Rods

Yesterday, my son, Steve and his son, Jason (my Grand Son) went to a local car show of Pontiacs and Oldsmobiles -- two marques that have recently been relegated to the great car brands of the past, you know like Morgan, Dusenburg and Gremlin -- as well as a few Buick muscle cars from days past.
The show was a nice mix of local enthusiasts with some serious entries. Five year old Jason, particularly enjoyed the 1959 Oldsmobile 98, while his Father and I had our heads under the hood of a 1964 Pontiac 2+2 with a 421 cubic inch engine with three, two-barrel carburetors. (No Pansy fuel injectors on this model!)

It was a trip down memory lane for me, walking among these aging engine blocks, as I regaled my two younger males with stories of hot rods and porta-walls and metal dashboards from my youthful days "On Harrisonville Avenue."

"Grandpa Ron, Grandpa Ron. What are these?" Jason asked.

I looked closer inside the 1984, 15th anniversary edition of the Hurst Olds. There, above the ash tray (another historic anomaly) was the real gearshift and two other shifters, the "Lightning Rods." I had never seen anything like that before.."
.
Well," I replied authoritatively, "one is for vanilla and the other for chocolate."
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Jason looked to his father for guidance, since he knew that I have kidded in the past. "Is that right?" Jason asked.
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"Grandpa Ron is having fun with that answer," my son replied. "Actually, the Lightning Rods allow the driver to shift up or down when he wants to, but without having to use a clutch, like I do on my Honda."
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Jason smiled at me -- knowingly -- and we walked on to the Pontiac Firebird 6.6.
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Maybe I shouldn't joke around with a five year old. Maybe he'll grow up with a distrust of adults. My Grandfather Borders joked around with me when I was growing up, and I turned out alright. Right? RIGHT?

“Does Grandpa love to babysit his grandchildren? Are you kidding? By day he is too busy taking hormone shots at the doctor. At night he and Grandma are too busy doing the cha-cha.” ~~ Humorist, Hal Boyle

I Have Been Away

I have been away -- not in the travel sense, but away from this and other widely social settings. Among the things keeping me away is my third book. Even though the writing is complete, I have been revising the first chapter, an agonizing process for me, in preparation for sending it to an editor. And, as part of the process, I have sent off five query letters -- one to an agent that I carefully researched as to his interest in historical fiction, and four to publishers who accept contact without an agent. Four rejections; one is still out.

The book has also sent me searching for an illustrator to work with. I expect to use three or four illustrations, presumably from my main character who was an artist a thousand years ago. The search ended up in my own back yard -- the wife of my cousin's son; she is an '09 Fine Arts graduate from Kent State with quite a range -- from anime to portraits to insect illustration (she currently has a contract with Orkin).

In the past four weeks, Joan and I have presented four hour long concerts -- "Hymns and Their Stories." Each of these are formatted for the occasion; two of the three used an actor playing the role of a poet, with me writing their script. And then there is rehearsal; generally, I try to rehearse one hour a day with Joan for three weeks to get my voice in shape for singing and speaking an hour's length. As I age, my voice is not as forgiving of things like outrageous amounts of pollen. It's amazing to recall that as a younger singer, I smoked two packs of Winstons a day and got away with it (I think)! I couldn't do that any longer.

And then there is family -- Joan is preparing a 75 page booklet on our annual Memorial Day grave visits in Pittsburgh. Carefully researched stories and photographs of deceased family members proudly grace the pages she has painstakingly -- oftentimes in conflict with her computer and other mechanical objects that stand in her way -- assembled over two months in a spiral bound and tabbed edition intended for this and future generations. I have tried to stay away from her "process" but somehow always manage to become involved -- much as she does in mine.

The Grand Children are getting older and as they do, they become involved in sports and theatre and activities that grandparents want to see and photograph. How precious it is to get beaten by your 5 year old Grand Son in Bean Bag Toss; I think I can take him the next time!

Writing, Art, Music, Children -- I have been away Dear Reader, in a most pleasant way.

"Writers will happen in the best of families"
~~ Rita Mae Brown, American Writer, b. 1944

President Obama In His own Words

One of our dear readers pointed out to me that in my previous post, my partial list of the industries and organizations that President Obama has demonized was unsupported. I offer the following in support of my list. Although the Administration has many people who speak additional words on behalf of the President (Gibbs, Emanuel, Geithner) this is the President of the United States in his own words:

President Obama Blames the Medical Profession for high health care costs, thinking of themselves and not their patients --
July 23, 2009:
"And part of what we want to do is to make sure that those decisions are being made by doctors and medical experts based on evidence, based on what works, because that’s not how it’s working right now. That’s not — that’s not how it’s working right now.

"Right now, doctors a lot of times are forced to make decisions based on the fee payment schedule that’s out there. So if they’re looking and you come in and you’ve got a bad sore throat or your child has a bad sore throat or has repeated sore throats, the doctor may look at the reimbursement system and say to himself, “You know what? I make a lot more money if I take this kid’s tonsils out.

"Now, that may be the right thing to do, but I’d rather have that doctor making those decisions just based on whether you really need your kid’s tonsils out or whether it might make more sense just to change — maybe they have allergies. Maybe they have something else that would make a difference."

President Obama demonizes the Insurance Industry -- March 8, 2010:
“Every year, insurance companies deny more people coverage because they have a pre-existing condition. Every year, they drop more people’s coverage when they’re sick and need it most. Every year, they raise premiums higher and higher.”

“When I was young, just got out of college, I had to buy auto insurance. I had a beat-up old car. And I won’t name the name of the insurance company, but there was a company — let’s call it Acme Insurance in Illinois. And I was paying my premiums every month. After about six months I got rear-ended and I called up Acme and said, I’d like to see if I can get my car repaired, and they laughed at me over the phone because really this was set up not to actually provide insurance; what it was set up was to meet the legal requirements. But it really wasn’t serious insurance." February 25, 2010, President Obama confusing who pays when you are rear-ended, while slamming the insurance company/industry.


President Obama indicts the Cambridge, Massachusetts Police Department
"The Cambridge Police acted stupidly." ~~ President Barack Obama, July 22, 2009, on the arrest of Professor Henry Gates.

President Obama on "people waving tea bags around" (President Obama ,April 29, 2009) "So, I have been a little amused over the last couple of days where people have been having these rallies about taxes. You would think that they would be saying 'Thank You.' " ~~ President Barack Obama, April 15, 2010.

President Obama slams banks and bankers:
"I did not run for office to be helping out a bunch of fat cat bankers on Wall Street." December 12, 2009

"Banks don't get it." December 9, 2009

"Here's the problem," Mr. Obama said, "It's almost like they've [banks] got -- they've got a bomb strapped to them and they've got their hand on the trigger. You don't want them to blow up. But you've got to kind of talk them, ease that finger off the trigger." March 18, 2010

President Obama insults Wall Street firms
"Unless your business model depends on bilking people, there is little to fear from these new rules." ~~ April 22, 2010

"That is the height of irresponsibility. It is shameful, an outrage." ~~ January 29, 2010

It appears that President Obama and/or his handlers are following a plan taken from Saul Alinsky's "Rules for Radicals," published in 1971. President Obama knows of the Alinsky method because he used it in community organizing and employed it in his 2008 campaign. It was so successful, that he became President, evoking this note from Alinsky's son:

"Obama learned his lesson well. I am proud to see that my father's model for organizing is being applied successfully beyond local community organizing to affect the Democratic campaign in 2008. It is a fine tribute to Saul Alinsky as we approach his 100th birthday." ~~ L. David Alinsky.

Whenever the Administration wishes to undertake a new initiative, it appears they follow Radical Rule #13, excerpted from Alinsky's book, pages 127-134 :

13. Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it.

"In conflict tactics there are certain rules that [should be regarded] as universalities. One is that the opposition must be singled out as the target and 'frozen.'..."

"...any target can always say, 'Why do you center on me when there are others to blame as well?' When your 'freeze the target,' you disregard these [rational but distracting] arguments.... Then, as you zero in and freeze your target and carry out your attack, all the 'others' come out of the woodwork very soon. They become visible by their support of the target...'

"One acts decisively only in the conviction that all the angels are on one side and all the devils on the other." ~~ Saul Alinsky.

On Earth Day

"It always makes it easier to fight a war if you demonize people, so that you are not killing human beings, you are killing the devil." ~~ Retired Army Colonel, Harry Summers

The Obama Administration has demonized quite a few "devils" in 18 months:

... Doctors
... Insurance Companies
... The Cambridge Massachusetts Police Department
... The Tea Party Movement
... Banks
... The Auto Industry
... Wall Street

And, who is most likely to accept this argument of demons, as being responsible for the "ills of the moment" -- the labeling of "them", or "they" as being the ones responsible? Young people are the most likely to buy the argument of demonization without pause, ages 11 - 25.

So, if I were mindful of the power of propaganda -- as demonstrated by the brilliant film-maker, for Adolph Hitler, Fr. Leni Reifenstahl -- what audience would I go after as fertile ground for my message. That's right -- the youth of the country, any country, your country.

... Al Gore announced today, "Inconvenient Youth," a website to indoctrinate our youth without questioning the gospel according to Al Gore, Nobel Prize Laureate, Oscar Winner, former Vice President of the US.

... "Barack Hussein Obama, Hmmm. Hummm. Hmmm" ~~ Maryland Elementary School Children

... http://www.climate.nasa.gov.kids/ -- part of Climate Kids, which is part of kids.gov, a part of the White House Websites, confidently states in #6 that "People Cause Global Warming" and yes, there is the picture of a Polar Bear clinging to melting ice, with the caption: "Polar Bear clinging to melting ice, surrounded by open seas." Awww!

The Polar Bear looks pitiful, doesn't he? Like he is going to drown at an moment now, as soon as we adults melt the ice that he is clinging to. The truth is that Polar Bears are excellent swimmers and have been seen as far away as 100 miles from land. Our kids do not know that they are being manipulated.

www.epa.gov/ozone/science -- Kids are treated to cartoon drawings citing 1992 data proving that CFC's have caused a huge hole in the atmosphere over Antarctica. "Animals can't get enough food to survive and eventually people don't get enough food either." Pretty scary stuff to read, as an adult; imagine how you would feel as a kid!

Dear reader, we are paying for the government to do these things (Al Gore is being paid by others, I guess). Is that what you want done with your money -- presenting a point of view to children as fact, when we are generally 50/50 in disagreement on everything?

There is too much government waste of our money anyway. Let's not have it used to proselytize our children to bureaucratic views.

If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will come to believe it. The lie can be maintained only for such time as the state can shield the people from the political, economic and/or military consequences of the lie. It thus becomes vitally important for the state to use all its powers to repress dissent, for truth is the mortal enemy of the lie, and thus by extension, the truth is the greatest enemy of the state.

~~ Joseph Goebbels, 1897-1945 -- Reich Minister of Enlightenment and Propaganda for the National Socialists German Workers Party (NAZI)