Saturday, October 30, 2010

Where the Ideas Come From

My Journal has a notation of a friend’s asking me if I read a lot of mysteries for my story ideas. I do read as many good mysteries as I can cram into my 28-hour days, but certainly not for ideas for my own writing. Robin Cook’s suspense keeps me enthralled without my having a medical background. And John Grisham’s thrillers, without my having a legal background. Any writer knows a little about the medical and legal fields, just from everyday living, and one can easily do a little research. But it takes first-hand information or a depth of research to write a great book on any subject. My field is human nature, which I’ve been studying all my life. I can easily detect the male author who doesn’t know much about female characters. Most men cannot write well about women. By that I mean, getting into the thinking of the female brain. However, female writers seem to know male characters fairly well. After all, they probably married one, while husbands say into their old age, “I just don’t understand women.” We expect writers to be all-knowing, of course, and they should strive to present such an appearance. By almost constant research, knowingly or unknowingly. Learning all the time is what I mean.

One of the best-drawn male characters one can meet in modern crime fiction appears in a book I finished reading last night—rather at 2:00 this morning—Nicholas Sparks’s Safe Haven, which shows us a policeman who lives on vodka. I doubt that Sparks ever experienced anything of this sort in his own life. So, how did he know what to write in delineating this character? Most likely, by just looking at life he saw all around him, life he heard or read about, life he dreamed about, life he could imagine. Some people who ask where one gets ideas to write about seem to forget that powerful tool called imagination. A writer should be able to start a story by thinking, “I want a street scene in winter,” and see it in his mind instantly. That’s his imagination on tap.

I recommend Safe Haven, romantic literature to be sure, but one of the best in that category.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Who Will Be Boss?

While we await the president’s speech in about an hour from now, regarding the escorted flight of a United Arab Emirates plane, originating in Yemen, and heading for JFK airport, I want to bring up an idea that is worth considering. Take a moment and think of all the countries the United States has come to the aid or rescue of since World War II, even those who were our enemies in wartime. Especially those. We should be thought of as everyone’s Big Buddy, shouldn’t we?

Now think of all the countries you can think of, that are fast gaining muscular power through scientific technology. And think of how time flies, and memories fade, and of people who would remember but who are now dead. We could eventually face an arsenal of small countries, with some banding together, such as Venezuela and Iran. Don’t kid yourself, they could do real damage. We citizens can only hope our government has protective measures in place.

But if we keep losing power, as we are now doing, losing respect from other countries, losing our leadership capacity, and disarming ourselves, exactly what do you see happening in the world? What other country could become the world’s leader, to replace us, and furnish rehabilitation of smaller countries from their plights? Think about it. There is no other. But the world as we know it today must have a boss country. The only benevolent nation in the world who is capable of being that boss is the United States of America. God has blessed America far beyond our worthiness. We have a job to do. We must endeavor to insure our rights to help us not to weaken our country any further. You can vote to help stop this trend to defeat ourselves, by voting next Tuesday. You know what to do. God bless America.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Missed Opportunity

Many years ago, when our children were little, a front cover of Redbook Magazine showed a newly married couple in their wedding attire. Not the usual pose and pomp, but intriguing enough that I clipped the cover and kept it. It may be here still, somewhere in my “archives,” if you understand what I mean by that word, but I wouldn’t know just where to look for it. I wish I did. I’ve been tempted several times to write to Redbook, to ask for an update on this storybook marriage, for the bride was on the magazine staff. On an early page in that issue readers saw a sort of side view of her in her office. It must have been on that page that I read about the couple’s romance.

Both Americans, they met in a foreign country, attended school together there, and competed with each other to be tops in something, grades, I think. They were rivals rather than heart interests at that time. If my memory is correct, one of them defeated the other in running for class president, one of them was the child of missionaries, and the girl was somehow connected with the town of Caldwell, Idaho. Perhaps that’s where her family lived at the time of the wedding.

Again, if my memory is correct, the wedding picture showed her in a long, high-necked, long-sleeved light blue checked or flowered dress with a wide ruffle around the bottom of it. She held in her right hand a bouquet of flowers looking as if they had just been cut from the fields. They were standing in a field, I think. Her left hand was holding his right. He was tall, dressed in a striking black ensemble, including black boots, I think. He had black hair. Her hair was blond. They both beamed with happiness without the least hint of really posing.

It could have been a year or two after that wedding that my husband and I with our children were leaving The Ice Cream Palace at Westgate Mall in Boise, with me at the tail end of the line, when I looked up and saw this couple sitting in a booth, side by side, and as if waiting for others to join them. Still beaming with happiness, by the way. I wanted to stop to speak with them, but my family were egging me on to leave the place. To this very day, I am so sorry I did not speak to them.

What would I have said to them? Well, something like this: I know who you are. I saw you on Redbook and read your story. I think you are a wonderful pair. Have a good life together!

Why would I have said this to them? Because they were worthy of such attention. Much better than running after a rock star.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Scorn, She Wrote, Even Pity

Last evening I tuned in to C-SPAN-2 and was immensely disappointed to find about four minutes remaining in an interview of Dr. Dinesh D’Souza about his new book The Roots of Obama’s Rage. The demeanor of the interviewer, someone I’d never seen before on any channel and whose name I do not know, amazed me. His attitude, including body language, was insulting, so far as I am concerned. While the book makes the point of the subject’s anti-colonialism and does so extremely well, this man had the audacity to say something like this, “But what about his health care plan?” The author went ahead, making the point he chose to make as time ran out. The interviewer ought to be fired. His face was dripping with pity for this author he must have deemed off his rocker. But Dr. D’Souza has produced a thorough study on the subject of which he writes and with complete documentation. His analysis of the problem discussed in the book and of the one who has the problem deserves a magnanimous award. I repeat what I said onblog October 10, “Every adult American should read The Roots of Obama’s Rage.”

♫ ♫ ♫

Less or Fewer

Several times during my career people have asked me which is correct: You have ten minutes or less to finish the test, or you have ten minutes or fewer to finish. Another example: I lack fifty pages or less finishing the book or fifty pages or fewer to finish. Whether minutes or pages, the answer is less. Try it with dollars. You can buy it anywhere for ten dollars or less. Would you say, ten dollars or fewer? Of course, not. The thing is, we are not thinking of minutes, pages, or dollars as individual parts, but all the minutes, pages, or dollars as units. A unit is less, not fewer.


Saturday, October 23, 2010

My most Recent Book Purchases

On my Thursday out this week, I purchased two books of interest to some of you. One is a big volume of 819 pages of text in fine print and 90 pages of notes, prelude [sic], acknowledgements, and index, a total of 909 pages. It must weigh about ten pounds. It is Washington, A Life, by Ron Chernow.

Who is your favorite of our country’s presidents? I hope you all said “Washington.” Lincoln was a politician; Washington was a statesman. Recently I’ve been searching for the source of a quotation attributed to Washington but to no avail. It appeared in a speech or letter by Washington in the America Literature text used the first year I taught school. I haven’t seen that quotation since that time. According to the way the political times have gone, these words of this great man would have been removed from all textbooks, whether literature, history, government, whatever. College majors in political science might have run across this, but many of them would surely delete it themselves if they could. As I remember the words, they went exactly like this: “In order to plan for peace, we must be prepared for war.” You can’t read those words and not know they are the bare truth.

If you disagree with this man of wisdom, I beg you to read the small volume I recommended earlier, in my blog for October 10. Be sure and not miss the author’s conclusion in the last chapter, but the other chapters must lead the way.

It may take me five years to get through this tome, but just think of all that I shall learn. I forgot to mention, as you leaf through this work, you notice it’s all long, hard-packed paragraphs, with no dialogue. Think of that in fine print that looks like font size 8. If I go blind with this reading, know that it was in a search for truth.

The other book purchased is Our Kind of Traitor by that excellent espionage master John le Carré, only 306 pages of legibly sized font. I hope you keep reading too, a book for every outing you have, at least!

Friday, October 22, 2010

Clint Eastwood and Heaven

According to my computer today, Clint Eastwood and a talk show host were discussing life after death, in connection with Eastwood’s new movie. “Hereafter,” I think it’s called. It seems they agreed on the idea that families would be reunited in heaven. If you know how to reach Eastwood, please drop him a line and explain to him the Christian religion promises no such thing as reuniting with families in heaven. Those who claim that should produce chapter and verse.

What heaven will be like need not be questioned. The point is, those who make it there will be totally happy, the happiest they’ve ever been. I have an acquaintance who once said she wouldn’t want to go to heaven and just sit on a cloud! Where do people get these ideas? That is utterly stupid. To find the truth in most subjects, such as a medical question, or a legal question, we consult authorities, whether in person or through research. The best research on the Bible is, of course, the Bible itself, with knowing the original languages the various parts were written in, if possible. Ministers of the Gospel are supposed to have done some studying of these languages; therefore, they should have some answers for those who have any questions about heaven.

I read one of these two men holding this discussion said that some people wouldn’t want to be reunited with their families in heaven, that their families were the ones who caused all their problems on earth.

I didn’t read far enough to learn what they thought about hell. That must have been interesting too, but I can take only so much of foolishness, ignorance, disdain, blasphemy, and related tripe. I do not intend to see the movie under discussion on the show.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

A Different Time, a Different Place

Today’s avid young readers would be surprised to learn a few generations ago the novel enjoyed no place in the reading habits of “decent” people in this country. The turning point might have been World War I, for times of war bring about changes, sometimes borrowings from other countries. Food dishes, for example, and fashions of dress. Since hardship introduces perhaps more time to read, for lack of money to spend doing anything else, this period was a choice time for the popular novel’s introduction to America. Not only was reading cheap, but also fiction was an excellent place to bury one’s own distress caused by the ravages of war. One could read about the make-believe hardships of others, which ended up with satisfactory solutions.

The plots of novels, like all literature, then and now, present a struggle between good and evil. This includes short stories as well. They must have conflict and by the end of the story, the hero must have worked out the problem by logical means. The villain is not defeated by a bolt of lightning, but by the superior cunning of his nemesis.

I read novels in my childhood, for romance serials came out in the daily newspaper. I could hardly wait for the next chapter and I remember well the plot of one of them called The Blue Door. (Do not compare these stories with today’s soap operas, for that just does not compute.) They could not be termed great literature, but had the power to keep kids off the street (but those kids might not have had access to the newspaper serials), to teach the young reader about human nature, and for the child itching to write, to further knowledge for the process of writing. I was reading them by age twelve or so.

My mother knew I read these romances, and possibly she might have read them herself, but in secret. She never questioned my selection of reading material, so long as she knew I read the Bible too. I was brought up on the King James Bible, a great advantage to understanding Shakespeare later, for it is the same style of language. But I didn’t study Shakespeare till ninth grade. However, the purpose of reading the Bible is not to enable one to understand Shakespeare. That just happens to be a by-product.

Eventually novel reading became standard procedure in schools. By the time I graduated from high school, I’d studied some great classics, among them Silas Marner, A Tale of Two Cities, A Christmas Carol, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Little Women, “The Gift of the Magi,” several short stories of Edgar Allan Poe, and four Shakespearean plays; As You Like It, Julius Caesar, Macbeth, and Hamlet. But the bulk of my reading came from the Carnegie Library, across the street from the high school. I walked the mile home with my arms full of books to read. Each night I read the newspaper serial, the library books, and did my Latin assignment, of course. And dreamed of becoming a novelist.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Writing and the Listening

Speaking of a writing world, I can attest to the fact it is a busy one. If one is writing a novel AND a nonfiction book at the same time, trying to post a blog daily—or just a few times a week—and entering writing contests, it is a full-time job. So, what comes first? At the moment, the nonfiction book comes first for me. The novel, which is closer to being finished, takes the brunt, although it is the most interesting on the list. Sometimes one opts to work on the manuscript easiest to finish, though the ending may be far away from where one is.

Other writers may be slaves, of course, to starting something, finishing it as quickly as possible, without looking at another idea. If that work fails, it’s a hard fall. But if another manuscript is already in progress before the first book gets accepted, that saves the day, and perhaps the year. Each writer must decide his method for himself, not necessarily heed what some book on writing proclaims as gospel.

My latest personal news in this territory (just as good a word as “category” here) is that my first novel is about to be distributed by Talking Books. These disks go to only the extremely vision-impaired and to those people unable to hold a book in their hands. So, it seems I will not hear my own book read aloud, at least by this program, and I trust, any time soon. My city has two large recording studios and 700 talking books are mailed out each day! The books my state handles this way are either by authors from my state or are books about the state. The rules are probably the same in all fifty states in the Union.

The plan is simple: the disk goes through the mail, locked in its own CD player. It cannot be played on any other device in the household. Its return necessitates merely that the postcard on the package be turned over. Voila! It’s ready to go, at no expense to the client.

Isn’t this a wonderful program? If you know someone with either of these handicaps, please alert them to the possibility they just might enjoy. More information at http://libraries.idaho.gov/ Click on Talking Book. I just checked this and it works easily. Have a great read!

Saturday, October 16, 2010

THE GIFT

One of the pleasures in the life of a writer is discovering among one’s many descendants, one of them has the gift for writing emergent in the early years. The same must be true in the life of the artist, when one’s child or grandchild dabbles with paints and turns out a masterpiece at age five. Need I mention Mozart? I am blest with an awareness of such genius among three generations of my descendants, in two of these areas, art and writing. And there was briefly a drummer, nine-tenths rhythm. Of course, we oldsters like to claim the credit in that “it came from me.” But I can think of no member of my forbears who was a writer in the creative writing sense. However, in the nineteenth century, some of them kept busy with diaries relating to their professions of law, medicine, or education, and some of those are available today in libraries. They composed and delivered speeches, wrote a voluminous number of letters, but if any of them wrote what was called the “dime novel,” they were closet writers.

But having the gift is just Part 1 of the story. It must be developed with practice and within certain acceptable ramifications, while at the same time the aspirant knows there are no rules for any artistic pursuit. I say this with some reservation. For example, the artist must understand true perspective, although he may wander far afield. The maestro or composer must know what true harmony is while he may present cacophony and gain standing ovations. The writer may be an exceptional oral storyteller, not alert to language structure well enough to set the stories to paper. But numerous ghostwriters stand waiting to help.

Anyone who excels in these realms knows the effort is hard work, but also enjoyable. Why follow a particular discipline that isn’t fun? It takes two-thirds of one’s life, and perhaps the other third at times, so why not choose an enjoyable sphere?

Friday, October 15, 2010

When this blog transfers to the posting page and then to the blog page itself, these two lists will probably not look like lists. But they are starting out straight.

Believe It or Not

The cost of having a baby son in the USA about half a century ago:

Private Room @ $17.50 per day. . . . $70.00
Rooming-in Charge @ $7 per day . . . 28.00
Delivery Room . . . . . . 26.00
Anesthesia (two whiffs) . . . . . 12.00
Circumcision . . . . . . 6.00
Chest X-ray (routine) . . . . . 2.00
Laboratory (routine) . . . . . 8.00
Vitamin C & Iron . . . . . 1.00
ABDEC (vitamins for baby) . . . . 1.30
Telephone Calls . . . . . . .30
Physician’s fee (delivery & prenatal care) . . 85.00
Physician’s fee (circumcision). . . . 10.00

TOTAL $249.60

I don't know where the word "labels" came from and see no way to erase it.

Heart here.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I really goofed here and don't know how to clear the error. I sent the same blog twice today unintentionally. But then, perhaps you should read it twice. Pretend a heart is here. I'm fresh out.
Tears, Happy Tears

The excitement continues, with scenes and sounds of jubilation. I missed seeing miners #s 15, 16, 17, 19 and 20 land, but I want to tell you what # 18 did, in case you missed him. In this order, he removed his head gear, knelt, folded his hands in prayer, prayed, crossed himself, held up both arms, rose, and only then hugged his wife. He knew where his priorities lay. All the while, I sat there crying. Someone should write a book on the miners’ thoughts about God after this ordeal.

Shep Smith said a good one: the top moguls in the sports world and in Hollywood must be green with admiring envy over this production. This is one far above what either of those categories could ever achieve, but different too in the fact these 33 men have agreed to share equally all profits from books or whatever. I heard the Pope is watching some of this; North Korea is watching; over a billion people are watching. Honestly, how can anyone do or think of anything else while this miracle progresses? One reporter said last night, the date the last man is finally on the earth, instead if in it, will become a national holiday. President Sebastán Piñera has been present for most of the rescues, giving and getting obviously sincere hugs. Also the president’s wife. (The president’s popularity rating has skyrocketed too.)

When the last man is up, perhaps the cheering will be greater than the cheering when the first man landed.

Tears, Happy Tears

The excitement continues, with scenes and sounds of jubilation. I missed seeing miners #s 15, 16, 17, 19 and 20 land, but I want to tell you what # 18 did, in case you missed him. In this order, he removed his head gear, knelt, folded his hands in prayer, prayed, crossed himself, held up both arms, rose, and only then hugged his wife. He knew where his priorities lay. All the while, I sat there crying. Someone should write a book on the miners’ thoughts about God after this ordeal.

Shep Smith said a good one: the top moguls in the sports world and in Hollywood must be green with admiring envy over this production. This is one far above what either of those categories could ever achieve, but different too in the fact these 33 men have agreed to share equally all profits from books or whatever. I heard the Pope is watching some of this; North Korea is watching; over a billion people are watching. Honestly, how can anyone do or think of anything else while this miracle progresses? One reporter said last night, the date the last man is finally on the earth, instead if in it, will become a national holiday. President Sebastán Piñera has been present for most of the rescues, giving and getting obviously sincere hugs. Also the president’s wife. (The president’s popularity rating has skyrocketed too.)

When the last man is up, perhaps the cheering will be greater than the cheering when the first man landed.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

A Super Wonderful Sight to See

What an exciting evening of television for the whole world! The first of the trapped Chilean miners—Florencio Avalos—has just been brought up to the surface after 69 days a half-mile deep into the earth. He looked great, happy, and healthy. I’d like to sit up all night and see others brought up. But the whole process will take more than 36 hours, we are told. As Shep Smith said, it just shows what faith, hope, and courage can bring about. How refreshing to hear reporters say, “Thank the good Lord above.” I say ditto to that. Continue to pray that the other 32 miners and the two medical doctors who went down to assist in the endeavor, will all be rescued safely and soon.

♥ 35 times

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Obama’s Birth Date and Place

For over two years many Americans have questioned Barack Obama’s eligibility for election to the American presidency on the basis of the unrevealed proven location of his birth. Having spent his childhood and youth in Hawaii and Indonesia, he nevertheless seems to have left a paper trail for traveling on a non-American passport and registering as a foreign student for college financial assistance. These rumors may or may not be the truth, for he is a clever man, but it’s time to ignore them as rumors and read what someone has apparently found to be the truth.

Obama has a great deal in common with the author of the book I’m about to cite here. They were born the same year, finished college the same year, attended Ivy League colleges (different ones), and married the same year. The author, from India, is dark (but not black) and has a white wife. Obama is black (but not dark) and had a white mother. One went into politics; the other became a writer of politics. Dinesh D’Souza’s latest book, The Roots of Obama’s Rage, relates on page 20, that two Hawaiian newspapers made mention of Obama’s birth on August 4, 1961, The Honolulu Sunday Advertiser and the Star Bulletin. That seems to settle the question.

But I would like to add my belief and that of many others that any American president preceding Obama would have, at the first inkling of doubt, offered proof of citizenship. But they didn’t need to. Their origins were already well known. Apple-pie American!

Every adult should read The Roots of Obama’s Rage. These 218 pages are well documented and the narrative is easy to read and understand.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Make ’em Cry!

Today I’ve chosen to copy a bit from my Journal, to show you how some things work in the world of a fiction writer. Not every fiction writer, of course. Most would not want this known about themselves perhaps, but those who are trying to write and not getting off the ground with it, may learn something here. Emotions in the characters are vital. But you don’t plant emotions in the lives of your characters, for they are already there. Just give the characters the chance to show you, the writer, and then the reader will feel the emotions too. Some writing expert’s advice is “Make ’em cry.” He is right.

Saturday, May 14, 2005, 11:49 a. m.

Last night I wrote the last two sentences to a story, knowing work on the manuscript was yet needed. I’d got through the first draft with two last good sentences, but the section right before those last two sentences was the problem area. Today I started at the beginning, deleting extraneous wordage as I went, when it struck me I hadn't cried during the writing of this one. That made me think it wasn't any good. I kept going, however, and when I got to the place just before those two last sentences, I wrote, I cried and my new father held me close to his heart. Then I bawled. From joy. That kept up for several hours. Every time I thought of that line, I cried again. It was like not wanting to see a dreadful sight but being drawn back to it anyway; I could not leave it alone. I was crying still when Mya got here to work in the yard. She thought something terrible was wrong, when everything was just right: my story had finally connected with my emotions; now it had a chance to connect with the reader. And I was ready to approach the third draft with greater confidence.

Back to today now.

My latest fiction reading was of a book which might have left the reader in tears, but I doubt it happened to any one of them. Lots of killing in it—unspeakable atrocities—mainly by the protagonist himself. That’s bad enough, but this man showed no emotion whatsoever. An anti-hero. I’m wondering if such storytellers are merely describing their own alter egos. While such stories draw in the reader, they can easily leave them cold. But Hollywood buys it. That’s why it’s written most likely, for, as you know, money is king.

May we all shed tears in the right places and laugh the rest of the time.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Hello, there!

Yesterday, for the first time, Pakistan appeared on the list of locations where my blog gets noticed, and I trust, read. Thirteen hits from that one place! The U. S. military there was my instant thought and hope. I can’t think who else. So today, I am writing directly to you. I sincerely hope some of you will make comment on my blog, and certainly sign up as a follower. I would be delighted to show your picture on this page. A picture of your face, your boot, your cap, or even a square of camouflage material. All would be most welcomed and appreciated. You don’t have to give your real name, if you’d rather not, but thanks loads for specifying you’re in Pakistan. I’d love it, if you will.

Millions upon millions of Americans support you in their thoughts, best wishes, and prayers. This country has much to complain about right now, but not about you guys and gals, and your courageous efforts on behalf of our country. I have no proof, but it must be true, the majority of Americans are quite concerned about the greatest country in the world’s rushing headlong into political suicide, without the average citizen’s having anything to say about it. But the average citizen can vote. The mid-term elections in November may get the Congress on the right path again, not that everything will be perfection after that. It won’t. But it can’t get worse than what it is now and many candidates for office have promised to turn things around if elected. Please don’t pay attention to those crackpots who write unfounded, sick diatribes on the Internet. They must have a lot of time to spend that way, while the more sensible ones, supporting you, stay busy at other things. We watch the news and hurt when we hear of American losses in any location they’re in.

God bless you all and thank you from our whole heart, not just from the bottom of it!

Monday, October 4, 2010

Ted Kooser, Poet Extraordinaire

This yellow-walled study is cheery and cozy this morning while it’s wet outside from overnight rain. It’s the kind of day that makes you want to do nothing but read. Or go walking in the rain. How refreshing that is, depending on where you are, how you’re dressed, and how torrential the rain is.

This weather made me think of a certain book which may not have any rain in it, but I doubt that. It’s been a few years since I read Ted Kooser’s Local Wonders with its subtitle Seasons in the Bohemian Alps, but it’s one of the top ten best books I’ve ever read, perhaps the top five, perhaps three. (I shall read it again soon.) Kooser is a poet but he’s writing prose here. However, these 153 pages are filled with poetic gems. All readers should enjoy reading about this rural area in southeastern Nebraska that he calls home. That is, what the poet sees in this rural area, and that covers all the other senses as well. What beauty he uncovers in simple things, such as the trash collected around the base of a tree in the woods.

I first "met" Kooser several years ago when I came across a poem of his in a poetry magazine. I couldn’t let it go. I wrote to the editor about getting permission to republish it in a literary newsletter I edited at the time. Connection made, I did run his poem in the newsletter and sent him a copy of the publication, as he requested. If you want to look up this delightful poem, it’s just six lines called “Old Soldiers’ Home,” the whole thing a testimony to his magnificent mastery of figurative language. Too bad I don’t have permission to copy it here, but I don’t. You can find it in his Sure Signs, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1980.

After that time Kooser wrote on, in spite of cancer, and became Poet Laureate consultant to the Library of Congress of the United States from 2004 to 2006.

Among the chief adjectives that describe the poetry of Ted Kooser is “accessible.” For those of you not into poetry, that merely means the reader can understand what the poet is talking about. Figurative language and humor are paramount. I just can’t praise enough this little volume of his prose. It would make a Christmas present of the highest order. You can get it from the University of Nebraska Press. Hardcover at $22.00.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Another Celebrity

My blog on meeting famous people at Sun Valley has received the most clicks of all my blogs to date. But whoever selects which ones are to reach more than a dozen other countries, has not opted for the series about my military service. Some political reason, do you suppose? I wonder what success the Company is having in selling its products through my blogs. Why don’t I get a percentage? Whatever, it's fun to see those countries' names in the list.

There’s another celebrity I’d like to tell you about, though there isn’t enough space in one blog. I shall leave you to the Internet to read more about her and the world-wide fame she eventually garnered. When Helen Keller came to Nashville to speak to the Legislature, my freshman classmate, Jessie Mae Mercer, and I skipped a college class to go to a hotel downtown where Keller stayed, and meet her. This was sometime after her first teacher Miss Anne Sullivan had died and another companion, Miss Polly Thomson, had joined her daily life.

At the age of 19 months, Keller was stricken with what was called at the time brain fever which left her both deaf and blind before she had begun to speak. When she was about six or seven, Miss Sullivan, who had been blind but who had regained some sight through operations, came to Keller’s home in Alabama and began a life of staying with Helen all the time and teaching her to read, write, speak, and behave. Keller became a writer (check the Internet) of books and articles for magazines. She graduated from Radcliffe College, received numerous awards during her lifetime, and eventually in her later years came to Nashville with Polly Thomson.

Jessie Mae and I went up to the hotel suite and found it full of guests meeting Keller. She shook hands with us, delighted to know we were students, speaking through her fingers dancing hieroglyphics in the hand of her companion who interpreted for us. She could also place her fingers on Thomson’s lips and read the spoken words. Later we received in the mail the requested autographs in manuscript writing, perfectly straight on an invisible line.

Helen Keller spent her life working for others, especially the blind, through her writings and speeches. She died at age 88, having shown the world there are no boundaries to courage and faith. Her life story won Oscars for actresses Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft in “The Miracle Worker.” A great DVD to pick up on your way home.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Reading the Fine Print

He does deal with banks—that character from yesterday—for he goes to an ATM and gets money out of it. Where does his money come from? He was in the Army about thirteen years but that doesn’t quality for a pension, does it? Doesn’t it take twenty years for that? But he does get out of his latest predicament but there surely could be repercussions yet. Only a man could have written this book. How daring!

So much for the exciting life of fiction. Now let’s get to real life and the fine print at every turn. For example, take a box of frozen entrée that is the only lunch you have time for—half a small di Giorno pizza, let’s say—and read the instructions. It’s white print on red background, readable and with illustrations, but when it comes to the timing for cooking it, what the prospective diner looks for, the print is quite a bit smaller and on a darker red area. With several digits below 10 looking much alike in fine print, one needs to keep a magnifying glass in the kitchen. (Better yet, not to eat the pizza.) The most important thing on the back of the box gets the least consideration.

A brochure comes in the mail, perhaps a booklet about something important to you. In large print in gorgeous color is the name of the company and its logo, if any. This may appear several times, to rub it in. Divisions in the print may have subheadings, also in gorgeous color. But when it comes to the important stuff, what you really need to read, you run into trouble. This is often presented in a soft pastel wording on a deeper shade of the same color. Black print is popular on a gray background. Or the print here just gets finer. This is utter nonsense and may be to misguide you. More time, energy, and cost go into such, in just showing a difference in design. The artistic touch is more important than the client’s need to know. The first requirement of language is for communication, not artistic beauty.

Take a look at your monthly credit card statement, if you still have a credit card. If you want to call the business about a mistake in the billing, where do you find the telephone number to call? If things are the way they used to be when I had several credit cards, the telephone number hides in a paragraph of fine print on the back of a page. It probably has to be there by law, but most such companies, if not all, specialize in diversion, to get you so rattled that you are in the mood not to call at all. That’s human nature in the business world. Some parts of the business world.

I’ve just looked again at a small brochure that came with my computer or some adjunct machine. It is totally unreadable, even with a magnifying glass. It is pale gray print on white and must be in font size “minus 20.” My technician could not handle it either. It’s a good thing this guy maintains everything about computers in his head. The pocket-size booklet is a standard license and warranty brochure and is going pronto into my cart of recyclables.

A postcard comes in the mail, advertising $50 off on window cleaning. You first search for the name of the company. By the time you locate that, in much smaller print, you have read all the propaganda more than once. That’s psychology misapplied, in my book.

There you have it. Fine print everywhere when you locate just what you are probably looking for. Now when I become president of this otherwise wonderful nation, I’ll be a dictator. That is, on the use of fine print. It won’t pass muster. Remember to vote for me. I’ll be about 100 years old then and will need all the help you can give me.

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Results

Sticking to the promise I made you a few days ago, here’s what I won in the writing contests: For three works of prose I received two first places for Creative Nonfiction and Personal Essay and an Honorable Mention for an Article. Two poems in the serious category won Third Place. I’ve decided it before but now I will renew my promise to leave poetry to others. Except what I write not for competition or publication. If I ever do. Nonfiction seems to be my forte, if I have one. But writers must always take judges with a grain of salt; they are only human too and must not defeat us. Soon I shall have my manuscripts back and will be interested in what they have to say. Maybe I’ll tell you. Maybe I won’t.

My reading is of greater interest to you, of course. I’ve collected another stack of books to read. With almost a weekly visit to Barnes and Noble lately with great percent-off coupons from the Internet, I’ve discovered treasures and authors new to me. It almost seems as if everyone is writing a book these days. And getting published. Anyone can try. Some succeed. Here are the gems from yesterday’s trip out.

Bloody Crimes with the subtitle The Chase for Jefferson Davis and the Death Pageant for Lincoln’s Corpse. The author is James Swanson, new to me, but he sounds like a genius and I trust that for the facts.

On the mark-down table I found A Most Wanted Man by John Le Carré. It matters not this is a 2008 copyright, for it’s one I missed earlier. Le Carré is tops with me, not just for the espionage story, but for the beauty of his wording and no dearth of super vocabulary. In fact, that ability is more important to me than the story. I’m sort of backward that way. Word-crazy.

But most important is the smallest book in the batch, the 218-page (with pages and pages of documentation) The Roots of Obama’s Rage by Dinesh D’souza, the president of King’s College in New York City. There will be more to say about this book after I have read it. But I already know it’s dynamite. For the White House.

But earlier, on Tuesday (another trip to B&N after lunch out), the lady who was with me bought a book from a favorite author of hers and insisted that I take it first to read, for she was reading two others at the moment. Well, I accepted it, and though into about twelve others at the moment, I am over half through it. It is Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child. It’s highly entertaining and as The New York Times says on the jacket, it’s “Pure escapist gold.” The series character, Reacher, has no home, no address, carries a toothbrush but no luggage. Buys new clothes when the old ones get too dirty! Just think of all the utility bills he does not get in the mail, not to mention a mortgage. He may have a point, right? But so far, I haven’t uncovered the source of his having money to spend, but he has money. Perhaps he got a stimulus package. If so, I wonder how it reached him. There’s a feeling this man doesn’t deal with banks, but perhaps this will prove wrong. Suspense, suspense, suspense. I’d better get back to him and see how he’s going to get out of the predicament he’s currently in. Yes, of course, I do chores, but as few as I can manage.