Wednesday, December 2, 2009


Wow! Look at what my daughter twisted my arm to do. NaNoWriMo. And then I went and "won" it in my first year of trying.

Here's an excerpt of a particularly tense moment in the my rough draft 1:


Mack! Oh Mack! Gotta go back and get to Mack! He thought.

He started to rise to his feet. A screaming, running maniac of a man ran into him, and slammed his face into the mud. Oh my God, this man is about to kill me and my face is being pushed into this mud. Then just as quick as he'd arrived, the maniac got back to his feet to run again towards the Allied rearguard and continued his screaming. Herman felt an urge to get up and run screaming with him.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. The striking bullets seemed to lift little tufts of clothing up the backside of the running, screaming man. He fell to the ground, silenced. Whether he was German or Allied, Herman could only guess forever. It was only one death of seemingly hundreds occurring at that same instant very close at hand.

Someone must get that gunner. He's killing us all. Herman thought. He jumped to his feet and headed towards where the spray of bullets was coming from, with the gunner as his objective. With his first step, he was certain that it would be his last move.

Click-click-click-click … click-click-click. Endlessly, the machine gunner kept about his deadly work.


Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Since the last time...

A lot has happened since the last time I posted. Ironic that the last post was about that soaring eagle painting that my brother has. It is such a beautiful thing and has been for so long. Come to find out, my dad had a lifelong desire to fly, to become a pilot. He went off to the Army Airforce just after WWII, but missed out on becoming a pilot due to his being so talented at welding, the Army and the Air Force split into 2 services, and they wanted him more in the Army than the Air Force did. There's this song we sang last Sunday in church that reminded me again of Dad, his desire to fly, just like this painting did. The song was "The Power Of Your Love". Well, dad's got his wish to soar like the eagle now ... he passed away at the age of 77 on March 15th this year. Love you, dad.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Soar Like An Eagle

My favorite painting (that was done by my first cousin Buddy almost 35 years ago) is of an eagle with his wings stretched out wide and soaring in flight. It is majestic. My brother fell in love with it too, so we share the painting which is physically now located at his house. It comes to mind today due to a song I heard on the radio, about "soaring with Him" when He comes again "like an eagle." It will be a great day, indeed!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

It is our choice!

We decided that it should be our own choice, not Comcast or Time-Warner's. So we opted to switch to Verizon FIOS. In short, it is great. We love it. We get the NFL Network ... that's a good thing. Everything is blazing fast, all the time. Sorry TW, but life's better here.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth

Thirty seven years ago when I was 18 and freshly graduated from high school, my friend Louis and I took my dad's car and went to the local hamburger drive-in to visit with one really cute girl from my class, who worked there as a waitress. Upon arrival, we soon noticed a car full of tough guys, who were busy harrassing the carhops and shouting obscenities at the drive-in managers as they cruised around the drive-in over and over. Being just another customer there in my mind, I never thought that I was in any way involved with what was going on with these guys and the drive-in. When I asked Barbara, who waited on us, what was their deal, she said that they must be drunk and wanting to cause trouble, and that they were waiting for the police to arrive since police had already been called. Sure enough, when the police arrived, the car disappeared suddenly, and situation solved. So I thought.

On the way home, however, while going down this two lane asphalt road that crossed the middle of a lake, the car with those guys in it pulled up alongside me as I was traveling. When I looked their way, they gave me a one-finger salute. In confusion, I remarked to Louis, "What in the world is the matter with them?" They sped up, got in front of me, and stopped at the upcoming stop sign. I pulled to a stop behind them.

All four car doors opened simulaneously, and four guys jumped out, one from each door. Two guys approached my vehicle on my side, and two approached on Louis's side. The two guys on Louis's side opened Louis's passenger side door, and proceeded to beat him with their fists. Meanwhile and simultaneously, when I turned my head to see the two guys at my door where my window was completely rolled down, one of those two guys hit me in the mouth with a coke bottle. I remember looking down in my hand, where two whole and intact teeth had just landed in a spot of blood. I don't remember anything else until I saw the red tail lights of the car in front of us as the car lurched in motion and the four hoodlums took off.

The dentist at the time was not able to put the teeth back in, so I have had to live all these years with a bridge. That bridge finally has outlived it's usefulness, and yesterday I had it took out as part of the preparation for a new one that I'll get in 3 weeks.

So that old song is appropriate: "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth..."

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Thanksgiving

Most often when people give thanks on this holiday each year, what is heard is a thankful heart for some person who is, was, or is to come into someone's life. When I first came to know the Lord as a living presence in my life, He directed me to count my blessings by writing them down one by one into a spiral notebook. Getting started was a hurdle, as I was stumped momentarily. But once I started writing, they flew like water, page after page. Once the passion of the moment subsided, eight and a 1/2 pages, both sides, were filled mostly with the names of all those people in my life that I loved, at any time. When I then realized that He wanted me to count them, I knew the meaning of the phrase I'd heard all my life, "count your blessings", and tears of joy and understanding began to flow from my eyes.

Count your blessings, dear reader. And have a Happy Thanksgiving.