Indie
Books Show #16 (Kathleen M. Rodgers) The Final Salute
Monday, December 30, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Countenance by Joy Ross Davis gets a big thumbs-up!
Countenance by Joy Ross Davis gets a big thumbs-up!
The Military Spouse
Clean Indie Reads
Cookies for New Years!
My son, Brandon, has baked twelve dozen chocolate
chip cookies. How many calories is that? A proverb from Jeanie: Anything that
tastes good with milk or coffee is not good for you. :) Happy New Year!
Loiacono Literary Agency welcomes Loyd Little and his mystery novel A Fox with Earrings!
Loiacono Literary Agency welcomes Loyd Little and
his mystery novel A Fox with Earrings!
Little’s published novels include: Parthian
Shot,
winner of the PEN-Hemingway award and a Playboy Book-of-the-Month Selection,
(Viking Press in hardback/Ivy Press in paperback, 1975), In the Village of the Man
(Viking-Penguin Press hardback, 1977), Smokehouse Jam, (Available Press, a
division of Ballantine Books, 1989) and Roll On Sugaree (Author House,
2013). Published short stories: “Out With the Lions”, published in Free Fire
Zone: Short Stories by Vietnam Vets
(McGraw Hill, 1973) and “The Moon In June” (Playboy,
March, 1977). Fragile
Islands of Memories, a
nonfiction picture book about the Hre Montagnards around Gia Vuc, a Special
Forces camp where he served in 1965 (available at http://www.gia-vuc.com/loydsmemories.htm ) Murder at Slack Reach,
a mystery novel, is complete and available for acquisition.
A graduate of the University of North Carolina,
he has taught creative writing at UNC-Chapel Hill and in the state's community
college system and has lectured at various literary events. He has
been a critiquer of novels and short stories for more than 20 years for the
N.C. Writers Network, as well as an active member of the Network. He was the editor/managing editor of four newspapers in North
and South Carolina. www.loydlittle.weebly.com
A
Fox with Earrings
Nolan Chastain, a real estate agent, is three months
into a consuming affair with Cass Tolley, a woman he’s known and been
fascinated with for more than a decade. On
Friday, after the first day of showing million dollar homes to a recently
retired Air Force general and his wife, Nolan arrives at Cass’s home to find police
cars and blue lights-- Cass has been shot and killed.
Many had motive to kill her; far from virtuous, Cass
had slept with most of the men she had ever known. Jealous spouses and men
scorned headline the list. Nolan’s insatiable curiosity and desire to see
justice inspires his compilation of suspects --- ironically all friends. An
exaggerated conversation concerning Krugerrands (Cass’ versions were always
outrageous) tips the scales, but towards whom? How is the general involved?
Which story does he believe? And what has the fox with earrings have to do with
anything?
Words from Pep Tony Awards
Words from Pep
Tony Awards
At the end of the day
our sun kisses earth’s horizon introducing the night like a father tucking in
his tired children. From east to west the nocturnal canopy is being drawn
across the planet. It is time to review life and ponder the most recent events
before they slip into history. . . . . . This blanket of shadow and darkness,
being pulled up around our chins, calls us into the dreamtime. As it does, it
also stirs others to arise. . . . . . With nose twitching, eyes dilated,
searching, the badger exits her cavern, her grunts, growls and constant
internal complaining inform her audience of her mood. Fox, frog and firefly,
raccoon, rabbit, skunk and opossum, wolf, deer, mink, flying squirrel, beaver,
bear – the total sum of their irritability fails to match up, even though they
too work the night shift. Through the darkness, which matches her mood, like a
miniature organic tank armed to the teeth, she rambles sniffing for
“breakfast”. Ahh, a worm here, a grub there, some roots and grass, maybe a
turtle egg or snake for desert. True to her kind she’s ADHD. She pries open a
rotting log then dashes to ram her nose into a gopher hole and with three inch
claws sends the earth flying behind her while the local resident exits the back
door to safety. Nothing goes uninvestigated as she carries out the performance
of her gifts and callings the Great Mystery instilled in her genes. . . . . .
All our relations, from badger to shrew, bear to raven, fulfill their duties,
perform as their script as written. The stage is always alive with drama,
comedy, a musical and depending on perspective, tragedy. In heaven and on
earth, under earth and in the sea the aria never ceases. It is
theater-in-the-round as the curtain of light and night circles our planet. . .
. . . There are characters on stage who seem to have forgotten their part,
dashing here and there trying desperately to remember their lines, knocking
down the set, singing off key, disrupting the harmony, demanding center stage,
forgetting they are part of the whole. One has to wonder if they may bring the
entire production to a halt. . . . . . As rays appear in the east, the
nocturnal curtain is slowly lifted. Badger yawns and heads back to her cavern.
Having played her role to perfection our potential Tony nominee exits stage
left.
www.theteacherwithin.com
www.theteacherwithin.com
--
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
Friday, December 27, 2013
Happy Thoughts for a Happy New Year!
Happy Thoughts for a Happy New Year!
Between
here and there, the only thing that matters is what you think, from now 'til
then.
Choices, choices, choices –
Choices, choices, choices –
Positive,
happy, progressive thoughts. Don’t waste your time on all the rest.
Happy
New Year!
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Christmas is everyday...
Christmas is every day...
No matter what your faith is or is not, no matter where in the
world you are, I want you to know that during this holiday season I'll be with
you. In the eyes of every child and the melody of every song. I'll be the
glimmer in the ice crystals, the rays in the sun, and the stars at night. And
with each smile you see, every hug you receive, and every laugh you hear, I'll
be there, reaching out through another, with blessings and tidings to last you
the year. Not because it's Christmas, but because I love you, because I've
always loved you, and because I always will. And because all of these things
have been true, and will be true, every day of your life.
-God
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Twas the Night Before Christmas Florida Style
Twas the Night Before Christmas Florida Style
http://www.tut.com/ecard/index.php?step=sendcard&ec_id=290&ec_caption=
http://www.tut.com/ecard/index.php?step=sendcard&ec_id=290&ec_caption=
After A Year of Loss and Rejection, I Find Success
After A Year of Loss and Rejection, I
Find Success
Kathleen Rodgers and
Jeanie Loiacono the day Kathleen signed with Loiacono Literary Agency
by Kathleen Rodgers
Saturday, December 21, 2013
The Christmas Doll
By
Michael Infinito
Tom Billings wrapped a fragile porcelain doll with tissue paper and put it into
his leather briefcase. Then he gathered up the rest of his belongings and
checked out of the hotel. He had been away on business quite often the
past year, missing most of the major holidays with his wife, Liz, and their six
year old daughter, Lisa. Thankfully, he would be home in plenty of time
to spend Christmas with his family.
In a phone conversation, Little Lisa had told him she wanted a pretty doll for Christmas. Tom felt so guilty for being away that he spent an entire night scouring Washington DC for just the right one. What he found wasn’t something she could play with like one of those plastic toys, but instead a work of art that could be cherished forever. Although it cost a small fortune, money proved no object when it came to pleasing Lisa.
Tom hailed a cab and then made his way to Union Station. Not a big fan of flying, he opted for rail travel whenever an opportunity arose. Sure, the earth-bound route added a substantial amount of transit time between DC and Chicago, but spacious seating and the car’s relaxing rocking motion made for a therapeutic ride—something desperately needed after a stressful conference.
Carrying one large piece of luggage and a briefcase, he arrived at the station just in time to catch his train. Before he could board, a security officer approached.
“We need to check your luggage, Sir,” the stern looking official stated.
Tom rolled his eyes. “The guy in front of me had two briefcases and no luggage…and I’m the suspicious one?” he asked, sarcastically. “You guys check so few people that it’s really just grasping at straws. If someone wanted to bring a bomb into DC, the train would be the way to do it. I went from Rocky Mount to here a few weeks back and not one person got inspected. Now I’m running late, so you’re gonna pick on me?”
“Please open your bags, sir, or you’ll be detained.”
Tom gave in. Normally, he didn’t mind security inspections, but he hated the idea of clumsy strangers handling Lisa’s special gift. He opened his suitcase, at which time the security officer carelessly rummaged through its contents.
In a phone conversation, Little Lisa had told him she wanted a pretty doll for Christmas. Tom felt so guilty for being away that he spent an entire night scouring Washington DC for just the right one. What he found wasn’t something she could play with like one of those plastic toys, but instead a work of art that could be cherished forever. Although it cost a small fortune, money proved no object when it came to pleasing Lisa.
Tom hailed a cab and then made his way to Union Station. Not a big fan of flying, he opted for rail travel whenever an opportunity arose. Sure, the earth-bound route added a substantial amount of transit time between DC and Chicago, but spacious seating and the car’s relaxing rocking motion made for a therapeutic ride—something desperately needed after a stressful conference.
Carrying one large piece of luggage and a briefcase, he arrived at the station just in time to catch his train. Before he could board, a security officer approached.
“We need to check your luggage, Sir,” the stern looking official stated.
Tom rolled his eyes. “The guy in front of me had two briefcases and no luggage…and I’m the suspicious one?” he asked, sarcastically. “You guys check so few people that it’s really just grasping at straws. If someone wanted to bring a bomb into DC, the train would be the way to do it. I went from Rocky Mount to here a few weeks back and not one person got inspected. Now I’m running late, so you’re gonna pick on me?”
“Please open your bags, sir, or you’ll be detained.”
Tom gave in. Normally, he didn’t mind security inspections, but he hated the idea of clumsy strangers handling Lisa’s special gift. He opened his suitcase, at which time the security officer carelessly rummaged through its contents.
“This one looks good. Now the briefcase, please.”
Tom reluctantly followed his instruction. He flipped the briefcase latches and
eased it open.
“What’s inside the tissue paper?” the officer asked.
“It’s a doll for my daughter, please be careful. It means everything to her.”
The man peeled the tissue away, exposing a rosy-cheeked, blonde doll with blue eyes. After a brief moment, he returned the paper and closed the case. “Have a Merry Christmas, sir,” he said with a smile. “I’m sure your girl will be very happy.”
“Thank you. You do the same.” Tom boarded the train. He found his assigned seat and ended up next to the man who had been in line in front of him—the one with two briefcases.
“Tough luck, huh?” he asked Tom.
“Yeah, like a middle aged business man is gonna be an international terrorist or something. The whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me.”
“Well, at least train security is easier than that airport shit. I can actually bring a regular bottle of shampoo along. Plus, they don’t check everyone all the time.”
“Yea, I guess you’re right.” Tom didn’t really feel like conversing with the stranger.
After a few minutes the train started rolling. Tom propped a pillow up against the window and nestled his head deep into it, hoping for a peaceful sleep. The man next to him put a briefcase on his lap. Tom dreaded the thought of having to deal with a computer geek for fifteen hours, so he just closed his eyes and sighed.
As he drifted off, the man next to him said something about seeking vengeance. That was the last thing that Tom Billings heard before the passenger train bound for Chicago exploded into a fireball of twisted metal and burnt bodies. With the exception of 9/11, it ranked as one of the worst terrorist acts ever perpetrated on American soil. Tom and everything he possessed were instantly incinerated. His Christmas trip home ended within sight of Union Station.
“It’s a doll for my daughter, please be careful. It means everything to her.”
The man peeled the tissue away, exposing a rosy-cheeked, blonde doll with blue eyes. After a brief moment, he returned the paper and closed the case. “Have a Merry Christmas, sir,” he said with a smile. “I’m sure your girl will be very happy.”
“Thank you. You do the same.” Tom boarded the train. He found his assigned seat and ended up next to the man who had been in line in front of him—the one with two briefcases.
“Tough luck, huh?” he asked Tom.
“Yeah, like a middle aged business man is gonna be an international terrorist or something. The whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me.”
“Well, at least train security is easier than that airport shit. I can actually bring a regular bottle of shampoo along. Plus, they don’t check everyone all the time.”
“Yea, I guess you’re right.” Tom didn’t really feel like conversing with the stranger.
After a few minutes the train started rolling. Tom propped a pillow up against the window and nestled his head deep into it, hoping for a peaceful sleep. The man next to him put a briefcase on his lap. Tom dreaded the thought of having to deal with a computer geek for fifteen hours, so he just closed his eyes and sighed.
As he drifted off, the man next to him said something about seeking vengeance. That was the last thing that Tom Billings heard before the passenger train bound for Chicago exploded into a fireball of twisted metal and burnt bodies. With the exception of 9/11, it ranked as one of the worst terrorist acts ever perpetrated on American soil. Tom and everything he possessed were instantly incinerated. His Christmas trip home ended within sight of Union Station.
****
Liz Billings had been watching TV when news report of a terrorist attack broke. She always worried about her husband because of how much he traveled, but she took solace in the fact that security provisions were more stringent than ever before. Viewing the televised fireball, she felt a sudden chill creep down her back. Liz immediately dialed Tom’s cell phone number. The call went straight to voicemail. His phone rarely did that, so she panicked and kept dialing repeatedly, coming away with the same result every time.
Liz rummaged through a stack of papers in search of Tom’s travel information. She knew his arrival time but couldn't remember the train’s number. In a matter of seconds she located his itinerary, and that’s when her world came crashing down. The number on the paper read 705, the same number that scrolled across her TV screen. Liz fell to her knees in the kitchen and screamed hysterically. Lisa rushed in from her playroom.
“Mommy, what’s the matter?” she cried, scared by the sound of Liz’s shriek.
At first Liz couldn’t get a single word out. She grabbed Lisa and drew her close, almost crushing her in a vise-like embrace. “O…oh…Li…s…a, Daddy’s d…d…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Daddy’s coming home tomorrow with a doll for me, Mommy.” Lisa wiped her own tears away. “He says it’s made of glass.”
Liz just continued her emotional display, further confusing the little girl. After an hour of sorrowful tears, she released her daughter and began making phone calls. She needed confirmation of what her torn heart already knew.
In the remaining days leading up to Christmas, Liz Billings had to bury her husband, and also tell poor Lisa that her daddy would never come home again. It was a terrible memory for a young child to have on such a wonderful holiday.
On December twenty-fourth, Liz sat in her quiet den, just trying to come to grips with all that had happened. Lisa, who’d been off playing, entered the room. She climbed up on the chair and put her head on Liz’s shoulder.
“Mommy is Santa still coming this year?” she asked.
“Oh Lisa baby, of course Santa’s coming. He wouldn’t miss your house,” Liz hugged the worried child.
“If I ask Santa to bring Daddy home, can he do it?”
“Honey, Santa brings gifts and toys. He can’t bring a person home.”
Lisa looked dejected, but not grief-stricken. She obviously didn’t yet fully grasp the concept of death.
“Will he bring me a glass doll, then?”
Liz hadn’t done any Christmas shopping in the wake of the tragedy, but she had bought quite a few gifts right after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there were no dolls amongst the items, and it was way too late to find a sitter so she could make a last minute purchase. “I don’t think Santa can bring you a glass doll tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure he’ll give me the power to get you one the day after. Is that okay, sweetie?”
“I guess,” Lisa answered with a pouty face.
“I’m so sorry.” Liz’s tears resumed.
“Mommy, you cry too much. I hate it when you’re sad.”
“I know. I’ll try not to do it so often. I just miss your Daddy.”
“Me too, Mommy.”
They both stayed on the couch for a little while until Lisa eventually fell asleep. Liz gently put her in bed. Then she pulled her daughter’s gifts out of the locked storage closet and arranged them under a sparsely decorated tree. Seeing the presents she had purchased for Tom caused so much pain. She almost couldn’t bear sorting through everything, but she did it for Lisa’s sake. In the end, after the emotional task had been completed, Liz took a sedative and dozed off.
Morning came and Lisa woke up first, just as all children seem to do on Christmas morning. She ran into her sleeping mother’s room.
“Santa came, Mommy. Santa came!” she shrieked.
Liz rolled out of bed. Lisa grabbed her hand and guided her into the living room. Upon first glance, Liz thought something seemed different than it had the night before. The gifts were not set up the same way she had arranged them.
“Did you move any presents, Lisa?” she asked.
“No Mommy, honest I didn’t.”
Liz stared at the gifts and noticed something else unusual—an unwrapped package in the midst of all the decorative boxes. She moved everything out of the way and gasped at what she found. Tom’s briefcase, the one he always carried with him on trips, sat in the back, a shiny gold bow stuck to its worn out brown leather.
“Can I open it, Mommy, please?” Lisa asked.
Liz had no idea what to say. The whole thing seemed impossible. Perplexed by the situation, she finally decided to let her impatient child investigate. Lisa popped two latches and the case flipped open. Liz’s jaw dropped as her daughter reached inside and removed something wrapped in tissue paper—a beautiful porcelain doll, just like the one Tom had promised to bring home. Liz’s tears flowed once again, this time for different reasons.
“Santa did bring my doll,” Lisa Shrieked, “I just wish he could’ve brought Daddy home, too.”
Liz smiled for the first time in weeks as she grabbed hold of Lisa and held her tight. “I was wrong about Santa, Sweetie. He did bring Daddy home last night, but not to this house. He stopped by here on his way home to God. It was Santa’s way of letting us know everything’s okay with him and for us not to worry. We’ll all go to God’s house someday and you’ll see Daddy then, I promise.”
Those words made the little girl smile.
“Merry Christmas, Mommy,” Lisa said as she stared at the pretty porcelain doll.
“Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you.” Liz looked skyward “And Merry Christmas to you, Tom. You'll always be my special gift.”
Liz Billings had been watching TV when news report of a terrorist attack broke. She always worried about her husband because of how much he traveled, but she took solace in the fact that security provisions were more stringent than ever before. Viewing the televised fireball, she felt a sudden chill creep down her back. Liz immediately dialed Tom’s cell phone number. The call went straight to voicemail. His phone rarely did that, so she panicked and kept dialing repeatedly, coming away with the same result every time.
Liz rummaged through a stack of papers in search of Tom’s travel information. She knew his arrival time but couldn't remember the train’s number. In a matter of seconds she located his itinerary, and that’s when her world came crashing down. The number on the paper read 705, the same number that scrolled across her TV screen. Liz fell to her knees in the kitchen and screamed hysterically. Lisa rushed in from her playroom.
“Mommy, what’s the matter?” she cried, scared by the sound of Liz’s shriek.
At first Liz couldn’t get a single word out. She grabbed Lisa and drew her close, almost crushing her in a vise-like embrace. “O…oh…Li…s…a, Daddy’s d…d…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Daddy’s coming home tomorrow with a doll for me, Mommy.” Lisa wiped her own tears away. “He says it’s made of glass.”
Liz just continued her emotional display, further confusing the little girl. After an hour of sorrowful tears, she released her daughter and began making phone calls. She needed confirmation of what her torn heart already knew.
In the remaining days leading up to Christmas, Liz Billings had to bury her husband, and also tell poor Lisa that her daddy would never come home again. It was a terrible memory for a young child to have on such a wonderful holiday.
On December twenty-fourth, Liz sat in her quiet den, just trying to come to grips with all that had happened. Lisa, who’d been off playing, entered the room. She climbed up on the chair and put her head on Liz’s shoulder.
“Mommy is Santa still coming this year?” she asked.
“Oh Lisa baby, of course Santa’s coming. He wouldn’t miss your house,” Liz hugged the worried child.
“If I ask Santa to bring Daddy home, can he do it?”
“Honey, Santa brings gifts and toys. He can’t bring a person home.”
Lisa looked dejected, but not grief-stricken. She obviously didn’t yet fully grasp the concept of death.
“Will he bring me a glass doll, then?”
Liz hadn’t done any Christmas shopping in the wake of the tragedy, but she had bought quite a few gifts right after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there were no dolls amongst the items, and it was way too late to find a sitter so she could make a last minute purchase. “I don’t think Santa can bring you a glass doll tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure he’ll give me the power to get you one the day after. Is that okay, sweetie?”
“I guess,” Lisa answered with a pouty face.
“I’m so sorry.” Liz’s tears resumed.
“Mommy, you cry too much. I hate it when you’re sad.”
“I know. I’ll try not to do it so often. I just miss your Daddy.”
“Me too, Mommy.”
They both stayed on the couch for a little while until Lisa eventually fell asleep. Liz gently put her in bed. Then she pulled her daughter’s gifts out of the locked storage closet and arranged them under a sparsely decorated tree. Seeing the presents she had purchased for Tom caused so much pain. She almost couldn’t bear sorting through everything, but she did it for Lisa’s sake. In the end, after the emotional task had been completed, Liz took a sedative and dozed off.
Morning came and Lisa woke up first, just as all children seem to do on Christmas morning. She ran into her sleeping mother’s room.
“Santa came, Mommy. Santa came!” she shrieked.
Liz rolled out of bed. Lisa grabbed her hand and guided her into the living room. Upon first glance, Liz thought something seemed different than it had the night before. The gifts were not set up the same way she had arranged them.
“Did you move any presents, Lisa?” she asked.
“No Mommy, honest I didn’t.”
Liz stared at the gifts and noticed something else unusual—an unwrapped package in the midst of all the decorative boxes. She moved everything out of the way and gasped at what she found. Tom’s briefcase, the one he always carried with him on trips, sat in the back, a shiny gold bow stuck to its worn out brown leather.
“Can I open it, Mommy, please?” Lisa asked.
Liz had no idea what to say. The whole thing seemed impossible. Perplexed by the situation, she finally decided to let her impatient child investigate. Lisa popped two latches and the case flipped open. Liz’s jaw dropped as her daughter reached inside and removed something wrapped in tissue paper—a beautiful porcelain doll, just like the one Tom had promised to bring home. Liz’s tears flowed once again, this time for different reasons.
“Santa did bring my doll,” Lisa Shrieked, “I just wish he could’ve brought Daddy home, too.”
Liz smiled for the first time in weeks as she grabbed hold of Lisa and held her tight. “I was wrong about Santa, Sweetie. He did bring Daddy home last night, but not to this house. He stopped by here on his way home to God. It was Santa’s way of letting us know everything’s okay with him and for us not to worry. We’ll all go to God’s house someday and you’ll see Daddy then, I promise.”
Those words made the little girl smile.
“Merry Christmas, Mommy,” Lisa said as she stared at the pretty porcelain doll.
“Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you.” Liz looked skyward “And Merry Christmas to you, Tom. You'll always be my special gift.”
Words from Pep Yesterday…
Words from Pep
Yesterday…
Yesterday I built a fort of sticks
and tall grass, invincible, secure against giants and monsters. Yesterday I
watched a beetle walk away from a dispute with a bumblebee and I went fishing
with my dad. I saw a fawn nursing. Perched from a high branch I launched
walnuts and spit onto my friends below, jumped on my bed until a spring broke.
Yesterday I ran through the field until I couldn’t breathe, then fell into the
alfalfa staring at the clouds. . . . . . Yesterday my Grandpa died, then my
Grandma, then the suicides of my friends after Vietnam and I buried my dog. . .
. . . Yesterday I got married, had a daughter, adopted a son, watched them
build forts, study bugs, jump on their beds, become better educated than I. . .
. . . Walking by a storefront window yesterday I saw the reflected image of a
slower moving, graying man. In the background, fused hand-in-hand, was a string
of excited children on an outing from daycare, faces with large absorbing eyes,
mouths jabbering with elation. Maybe they had just seen a wise beetle or a
hungry fawn. . . . . Wrapped in yesterdays, our lives, our memories are carried
with us into tomorrow and become the sweet “thank you” we offer to forever. . .
. . . . With abandon, take up your adventure in soul making! That is the reason
God grants the journey of life. . . . . . Tomorrow, I think I’ll go outside and
build a fort of sticks and grass, try and climb a tree, help my wife take a
walk.
--
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
Yesterday I built a fort of sticks
and tall grass, invincible, secure against giants and monsters. Yesterday I
watched a beetle walk away from a dispute with a bumblebee and I went fishing
with my dad. I saw a fawn nursing. Perched from a high branch I launched
walnuts and spit onto my friends below, jumped on my bed until a spring broke.
Yesterday I ran through the field until I couldn’t breathe, then fell into the
alfalfa staring at the clouds. . . . . . Yesterday my Grandpa died, then my
Grandma, then the suicides of my friends after Vietnam and I buried my dog. . .
. . . Yesterday I got married, had a daughter, adopted a son, watched them
build forts, study bugs, jump on their beds, become better educated than I. . .
. . . Walking by a storefront window yesterday I saw the reflected image of a
slower moving, graying man. In the background, fused hand-in-hand, was a string
of excited children on an outing from daycare, faces with large absorbing eyes,
mouths jabbering with elation. Maybe they had just seen a wise beetle or a
hungry fawn. . . . . Wrapped in yesterdays, our lives, our memories are carried
with us into tomorrow and become the sweet “thank you” we offer to forever. . .
. . . . With abandon, take up your adventure in soul making! That is the reason
God grants the journey of life. . . . . . Tomorrow, I think I’ll go outside and
build a fort of sticks and grass, try and climb a tree, help my wife take a
walk.
--
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
Friday, December 20, 2013
Good Tidings of Comfort and Joy
Good Tidings of Comfort and Joy
A Christmas Message
“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” Isaiah 9:2
**********
The house is quiet. The hectic pace is fading. The cascade of catalogues is easing into digital solicitations. Christmas is nigh.
The cell vibrates. The Smithfield Ham Co. emails, “Last chance to get your smoked pig.” Following closely is Hewlett-Packard’s print cartridge supplication, “Act Today!” My delete button acts.
Through the window sunbeams cast shards of sunset refractions on a bloated bunch of bills. My, what good tidings they proclaim! I imagine them bursting spontaneously into flames. I think, now that’s real comfort and joy. Unfortunately, they’re evidence of a shopper out of control.
I contemplate how the concept of ‘good tidings of comfort and joy’ might appear in reality. I wonder. Star-gazing shepherds once wondered, too. But I get nowhere. The subconscious resurrects a poem by T. S. Eliot, The Hollow Men. He mused, “Between the Idea and the Reality falls the Shadow.” I think of a parallel universe.
A few days remain until the Idea becomes this year’s Reality. Many are falling into the Shadow of manic last-minute shoppers, those who are succumbing to the eleventh-hour urgency to spend themselves into poverty. Is this the essence of Christmas?
At lunch I overhear a man tell his wife, “OK, here’s my last $30…see how far it’ll take us.” She grabs the money, leaps from the table and exclaims, “I’ll be at Wal-Mart.” He looks nauseous and stares at his uneaten chicken. Is he thinking ‘good tidings of comfort and joy?’ I think not.
In our haste, the essence of Christmas becomes vague. Bound by tradition, consumed by commercialism, we rush about in the Shadow of preparation. We ignore the deeper aspects of the Christmas season which ‘good tidings of comfort and joy’ proclaim. Is this concept plausible?
I try, but the secret of this Scriptural concept of comfort and joy eludes me. It falls into multiple shadows within the Shadow. It’s a ghost. I can’t grasp it. I let go, wondering if it will find me.
Last year we showed some restraint and purchased a 5-foot Christmas tree. We sat it atop a long, tall table. It appeared from outside to be tall, but in reality it was small. It was an easier set-up than the gigantic ones. Plus, it was a pleasure to decorate. Ah, Yes, finally some comfort and joy. Lighting it was easy. No spousal disagreements. More comfort and joy. It appeared as one single lighted evergreen, glowing resplendently in the darkness. Our best tree yet, we agreed…comfort and joy.
Today I crawl out of bed at 5:00 AM. There are few distractions in the strong, silent hours of the early morning. Even the dogs remain asleep. With a cup of coffee, I sit surrounded in total darkness, except for the lighted Christmas tree. Thoughts of thanksgiving circulate in my mind, remembrances of friends, of family Christmases, blessings of life, of comfort and joy. Wait…has it finally found me?
Christmas has many points of light. When frenetic activity ceases, then we can focus on the points of light that best represent the essence of Christmas to each of us. Sitting in the comfort of home, the Essence becomes less the Shadow and more the Reality. The bones of the concept of comfort and joy take on flesh and come to life.
In five days Christmas will dawn. The Idea will again become the Reality, and the Shadow will fade into the Light of a new day. But Christmas Reality is just the birth of another Idea that awaits its own Reality. The miracle of Scripture, “…and the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us,” will live again.
Today, as the sunrise drives back the darkness, the house becomes alive again. I remember the verse, “Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”
**********
Comfort and joy? Simply ours for the receiving! Perhaps it’s fitting that we boldly join with the ‘merry gentlemen of yore’ as they sing, “O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, O, tidings of comfort and joy.”
Merry Christmas to all.
Bud Hearn
December 20, 2013
A Killer Past by Maris Soule has been acquired by ROBERT HALE LTD
London, England. Evie Saphire-Bernstein, agent
with Loiacono Literary Agency www.loiaconoliteraryagency.com, secured the
deal for Soule who has two mysteries in the P.J. Benson (Crows) series
published by Five Star/Gale/Cengage, 25 category romances published by
Harlequin, Silhouette, and Bantam, and a mini-mystery published by Woman’s
World.
A
Killer Past
Mary
Harrington doesn't want to revive her past. She certainly doesn't want her son
and granddaughter to know what she did forty-four years ago. But when two
teenage gang members try to mug her, old habits are hard to forget.
Sergeant
Jack Rossini, Rivershore, Michigan's lone investigative detective, initially
doesn't believe an "old" woman could have put the punks in the
hospital, but once he meets Mary, he becomes curious. That curiosity grows when
he discovers there's no record of her existence prior to forty-four years ago.
Mary's
and Jack's lives continue to intersect as a gang the police have been
investigating vows to teach Mary a lesson, and a man from Mary's past arrives
in Rivershore, threatening to reveal her secrets.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
My Christmas List For Thriller Readers-Part 2 by Buzz Bernard
My Christmas List For Thriller Readers-Part 2
By Buzz Bernard
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
The Stonehenge Scrolls will be out in paperback by the end of 2013!
The Stonehenge Scrolls will be out in paperback by the end of 2013!
Karen
with a carving depicting Sulis, the heroine in The Stonehenge
Scrolls.
December 18, 2013, English Heritage opens a new exhibition and visitors’ center at Stonehenge, including a reconstructed face of a Neolithic man (Gwyr?). In January they plan to build a Neolithic village which will open next Easter. For details, go to http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/about/news/stonehenge-transformed/
The Stonehenge ScrollsDecember 18, 2013, English Heritage opens a new exhibition and visitors’ center at Stonehenge, including a reconstructed face of a Neolithic man (Gwyr?). In January they plan to build a Neolithic village which will open next Easter. For details, go to http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/about/news/stonehenge-transformed/
...although
fiction, it has years of research and facts to back it up.
published
by Muse-It-Up Publishing
The story follows The Monument Builders and how they
succeeded in constructing such incredible feats of art with only man and farm
animal power, Mother Earth, and the elements. She opens our eyes to the
emotional, spiritual, philosophical, and physical aspects of the endeavors.
Her
style of writing allows you to "pass through the stones" to the time
of their construction and into the lives of the people who dared to defy,
nature, gravity, and physics.
This
book explains so much of the stigma, dogma, and mysticism surrounding the
structures, as well as the significance of where and why it exists. A true
enlightenment.
"A
fine saga, The Stonehenge Scrolls is driven by drama and tight, involving
writing and is a pick for any who enjoyed Auel's 'Earth's Children' series and
similar historical novels." --Midwest Book Review.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Joy Ross Davis' COUNTENANCE is glowing on Goodreads and Southern Writers Magazine!
Joy Ross Davis' COUNTENANCE
is glowing on Goodreads and Southern Writers Magazine!
Joy Ross Davis’ novel
Countenance is #1 on Goodreads
AWESOME ANGEL BOOKS...
AND
Southern Writers Magazine… Win
an autographed copy of Joy Ross Davis' Countenance!
Don't
miss out! Only a few hours remain to win an autographed copy of Joy Ross Davis' spirited supernatural tale Countenance
from Southern Writers:
http://www.southernwritersmagazine.com/davis-giveaway
http://www.southernwritersmagazine.com/davis-giveaway
Merry Christmas, Joy!
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Give a trip around the world in an open-air cockpit... Chasing Horizons: The Air Race that Changed the World
Give a trip around
the world in an open-air cockpit...
Chasing Horizons: The Air Race that Changed the World
By Jim Bolander
Chasing Horizons: The Air Race that Changed the World
By Jim Bolander
Jim Bolander took his
daughter, Jamie, to The Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum where he showed her Chicago, his Great-Uncle Lowell Smith's plane. She was so
inspired she wrote about him for a school assignment. Then Bolander decides it
is time to take us all to that very time; around the world in an open-air
cockpit to win the first circumnavigation-aeronautical race. What an incredible
read, true story, and gift to all mankind!
Chasing
Horizons-The Air Race that Changed the World is a historical fiction depicting the aeronautical
challenge of 1924 in which four Douglas World Cruisers and eight American
crewmen set out from Seattle, Washington, to attempt the first around-the-world
airplane flight. One hundred seventy-five days later two of the aircraft and
crews became the first to circumnavigate earth.
Bolander
has taken 90% fact and added the background story to bring it to life. His
research and historical details will chill you to the bone when they are in the
tundra of Alaska, make you want to swat the mosquitoes in the Orient, feel the
sting of the sandstorms as they fly across the deserts of the Middle East, and
stand in ovation as they make each extraordinary landing. Imagine a single
engine, open cockpit, wooden and sheet metal airplane held together with wires
and bands; no GPS, no radios, no heater or a/c or toilet or any type of
refreshments and you are to fly this “just invented” flying machine around the
world – and before any of the other 5 countries who joined the race. To these
men, there was no turning back.
Britain,
Italy, Argentina, Portugal, and France were all vying with the United States in
1924 to win the race to be first to fly around the world. The story of what
transpired in the six months it took to accomplish this virgin task is the
stuff legends and heroes are made of. Lowell Smith, the first to complete the
mission, is not only a humble and patriotic aviation icon, but also the great
uncle to Jim Bolander, which makes this world and family history as well. The desire for
Bolander to honor his family by putting into words what the world has forgotten
was ignited by the curiosity of his daughter who chose Lowell Smith as the
subject of a fifth grade report and oral presentation concerning a famous
American.
From:
04/06/24 To: 09/28/24 (Seattle to Seattle, WA)
Miles
Flown: 26,350 miles
Flying
Time: 371H 11M
Plane
Type: Douglas World Cruisers - Amphibians
Plane
Names: Chicago, New Orleans, Seattle and Boston
Pilot
Names: Lowell H. Smith, Erik Nelson, Frederick L. Martin & Leigh Wade
Comments:
1st Flight Round-the-World, 4 Planes started, 2 finished.
Jim Bolander
Represented
by Jeanie Loiacono – Loiacono Literary Agency
www.loiaconoliteraryagency.com
Published
by Ecanus Publishing
Friday, December 13, 2013
For the teen who has everything, yet still believes in The Knights of the Round table…
For the teen who has everything,
yet still believes in The Knights of the Round table…
Veiled Virtues
By Jan Fsicher-Wade
Jan Fischer-Wade
www.JanFischerWade.com and www.VeiledVirtues.com
Veiled Virtues
By Jan Fsicher-Wade
Amazon ebook only
B&N ebook
only
Veiled Virtues transpires
in England and has both history and fantasy aspects. It would appeal to teens
all the way through adult just as Harry Potter and Inkheart. Told from the two main characters' different
perspectives, the work is a bit of a supernatural mystery and a romantic
fantasy all rolled into one.
Paige didn't know
that modern day English knights do exist and that she would need their
protection. But all of this changed in an internet café in Newbury, England
when she saw the blood on her laptop…
Paige has just graduated
from high school and taken on a summer house-sitting gig in England for a
friend of her mother's. Strange occurrences such as hearing voices, the house
turning into a freezer, and random bleeding wounds, outward markings of
stigmata, appear on Paige. She is suddenly aware that things are happening more
now that she is in Newbury – she sees bits of the future and is strangely
affected by certain people and objects. Her supernatural potential has made her
a target for an evil faction in England, the Cerberus Brotherhood, who want her
for their own devices.
She meets Nathaniel who is
an eclectic shop keeper known for little but is speculated more about in this
country township. He and his family, as members of the Rosetta Guard, are all
too familiar with the sinister capabilities of the "Cerbs." As
Nathaniel confides his family's secrets in Paige, their love grows, as does the
commitment of the Guard to Paige's cause.
Veiled
VirtuesJan Fischer-Wade
www.JanFischerWade.com and www.VeiledVirtues.com
Represented Jeanie Loiacono
– Loiacono Literary Agency
www.loiaconoliteraryagency.com
Published by Muse-It-Up
Publishing
For the history buff in your life, The Alphonso Clay Mystery Series by Jack Martin, 5X the fun!
For the history buff in
your life, The Alphonso Clay Mystery Series by Jack Martin, 5X the fun!
John Brown's Body - An Alphonso Clay Mystery of the Civil War
John Brown's Body - An Alphonso Clay Mystery of the Civil War
This is the 1st novel in the Alphonso
Clay Civil War Mystery Series.
Martin designs and constructs an intricate web of events
extrapolated from in-depth research of Civil War memorabilia, journals, photos,
and correspondence. Although this a fictional account of the months before and the
time during the Battle of Vicksburg, the characters and information are very
much real.
The John Brown depicted is not the infamous Brown who ignited
the War Against the States but a former Boston detective who solved a gruesome
child murder case which caught the eye of Abe Lincoln, appointing him to U.S.
Grants battalion. Brown uncovers treason at the highest levels of the Union
Army. He sends for the one person who can help him with the investigation, Cpt.
Alphonso Clay but before Clay could meet with Brown, Brown is assassinated. Now
it is up to Cpt. Clay to decipher Brown’s cryptic notes and follow his
deductive instincts to solve the murder, unveil the traitors, and ensure the
Union’s victory at Vicksburg, a decisive battle of the war.
***
The Battle Cry of Freedom - An Alphonso Clay Mystery of the
Civil War
This is the 2nd novel in the Alphonso
Clay Civil War Mystery Series.
A traitor, a free-lance female spy, and a murderer-all must be
dealt with or the Army of the Ohio is lost.
Tennessee, Autumn 1863. Staggered by the loss of Vicksburg in
July, the Confederacy has rebounded with a crushing defeat of the Union forces
at Chickamauga. The shattered Union army now lies stranded and under siege.
Washington has dispatched Ulysses S. Grant to repair the situation. Grant finds
that his task is made almost impossible by the presence of a rebel spy high in
the Union command structure. Unfortunately, the only officer who could identify
the spy is murdered before he can reveal the traitor's name. Grant assigns
Captain Alphonso Clay to root-out the murderous turncoat, but Clay soon finds
himself in a nest of intrigue. To identify the traitor, he must solve the
murder, deal with a lethal female undercover agent bank-rolled by financier Jay
Gould, and overcome a monstrous secret society that is older than the United
States itself. As Longstreet's army surrounds Knoxville, Clay races the clock
to keep the Army of the Ohio from being betrayed to the Confederacy. If that
should happen, the Confederacy would regain all that it lost at Vicksburg, and
will be well on its way to ultimate victory.
***
Marching Through Georgia- An Alphonso Clay Mystery of the Civil
War
This is the 3rd novel in the Alphonso
Clay Civil War Mystery Series.
Georgia, the summer of 1864: General William Tecumseh Sherman
commands a mighty Union army, tasked with delivering a knockout blow to the
Confederacy by rendering the rich resources of Georgia unavailable to the
rebellion. Relying on impeccable intelligence, he launches an all-out attack on
the Confederate lines at Kennesaw Mountain - and is bloodily repulsed. To make
matters worse, his most reliable scout, Captain Ambrose Bierce, is critically
wounded, and Sherman's most reliable general is mysteriously killed under the
cover of battle. Sherman is persuaded by Union Army nurse Teresa Duval that
these are murderous attacks perpetrated by a saboteur in his army. She urges
him to summon Major Alphonso Clay, General Grant's sinister troubleshooter.
However, Sherman is unaware that Duval is a spy for Wall Street financier Jay
Gould, and has her own agenda regarding Clay. Clay and his friend Lieutenant
Jeremiah Lot find themselves accompanying Sherman's army on its march through
Georgia, desperate to identify the traitorous murderer before he can strike
again, and possibly allow the Confederacy to snatch a miraculous victory from
the jaws of almost certain defeat.
***
The Battle Hymn of the Republic - An Alphonso Clay Mystery of
the Civil War
This is the 4th novel in the An
Alphonso Clay Mystery of the Civil War series.
The murderer of our late beloved president, Abraham Lincoln, is
still at large.
April 1865. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia has
surrendered to Ulysses Grant at Appomattox Courthouse.
The Civil War is all but over, the Union victorious. However, a
sinister plot has been hatched to restart the war, and the assassination of
Lincoln is only the beginning. The consequences could cost hundreds of
thousands of civilian lives and tear the country apart forever.
Colonel Alphonso Clay has been tasked by the Secretary of State
to thwart this conspiracy at all costs. Aided by a beautiful, mysterious agent
he embarks upon a dangerous journey into the heart of a cult even older than
the United States that is determined to destroy the country.
If they fail in their task, all that has been gained in four
years of savage combat will be lost.
***
Hail Columbia
This is the 5th novel in the An
Alphonso Clay Mystery of the Civil War series.
It is the summer of 1869. America is only four years removed
from the end of the war that nearly destroyed it. Southerners groan under what
they perceive as an unjust military Government, propped up by corrupt Northern
civilian officials and recently freed slaves who, they believe, are not
suitable for a voice in Government. Embittered Confederate veterans are forming
an organization, the Ku Klux Klan, to fight what they perceive as the unjust
oppression of the North and the Freedmen.
However, Ulysses S. Grant, the newly inaugurated President, sees
things very differently. He views the Klan as a terrorist organization, using
arson and murder to destroy the newly won rights of former slaves and the newly
re-established authority of Washington in the South. He is looking for a way to
break the back of the Klan without returning to the slaughter and destruction
of the Civil War. Desperate, he turns to his most trusted agent, Major Alphonso
Brutus Clay.
Clay accepts the assignment, not realizing that the Klan violence
is being secretly encouraged by the Wall Street speculators Jay Gould and Jim
Fisk. The sinister financiers are encouraging Klan violence, hoping to distract
Washington from their plan to gain control of the country’s entire gold supply,
and hence of the country itself. Clay also does not know that the plans of the
speculators are in turn the merest smokescreen for an even more sinister,
far-reaching plot; one that will encompass the entire world.
Aided only by his friend the writer Ambrose Bierce, and by his
lovely, terrifying mistress Teresa Duval, Clay embarks on his greatest
challenge yet. Not just to preserve the unity of the country, not just to
prevent corrupt financiers from gaining control of the United States – but to
save the world from the designs of an organization far older than the United
States itself.
By Jack Martin
Represented by Jeanie Loiacono – Loiacono Literary Agency
www.loiaconoliteraryagency.com
Published by Fireship Press
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