SNOW SNOW GLORIOUS SNOW

 27 degrees, flakes on the ground.

My dog runs in the snow.

Frank the cat is hiding somehow.

Don't know where he would choose to go

Snow snow, Houston snow

What did we do, it abuses so

Snow snow f**k the glorious snow

The 1950 version

 This is how Highway 61 Revisited might sound if recorded in 1950.

Butter and Salt

 My favorite cooking utensil is my cast iron skillet. For years I struggled to keep it seasoned. Lately I discovered via Youtube that the answer is olive oil and salt. I didn't want to use up what olive oil I had on hand. Since the skillet often has a residue of butter, I substituted that for olive oil. Works like a charm. Just heat the skillet, put in some butter and salt and scrub it down, using no other ingredient. Wipe it out. I doubt if any system is perfect, but I'm satisfied with the results I get.

A DOG NAMED RINGO

 Protect your pet they said. If you are cold they are cold, they said. So it's in the thirties and the heat is on. So where's the dog? Out running the yard. Came in for a quick snack, held it in his mouth and went to the door to be let out. I told the shelter when we adopted he would mostly stay indoors. Not this dog. He lives in the yard. I make him sleep indoors but he would stay outside if I let him. ?????????

Ringo is a Shepherd mix, the only dog I have had with ears that stand up. His original owner may have kept him tied in the yard. Something has made him occasionally whistle, as though a rope or choke chain was yanked too hard or perhaps running until the rope checked his speed. He is independent; if you tell him to do something he doesn't do it unless he wants to or gets bribed with a snack. But he has separation anxiety as exhibited each time I unlock the gate and leave the yard. He does seem to love me because during his indoor time he hangs close and naps near my feet.

   

A Complete Unknown

 About A Complete Unknown: I love the guy playing Dylan. Somebody else should be Pete Seger. If you go in looking for facts beyond the meteoric rise of Dylan the artist not much is on a proper timeline or perspective. The greatest departure is his romance with Suze. And last meet with Woody. Still I highly recommend it first as an intro to early Dylan and second because it draws fans back to the time when we first noticed and were hooked for life.

Xmas is Over

 I hope one and all had a holiday such that your life was lifted in some way - Maybe exhausted, but satisfied and willing to repeat each year always. Here's hoping the coming year will be good to you.

Santa's Carol

 Stave One

It was night on the Eve,

My friends who believe.

Santa's weight did creak

The old sled unique

When he went aboard to steer

Those eight magic deer.

The deer were champing;

The elves were stamping,

Cheering liftoff imminent.

Santa returned the sentiment.

The bag was loaded,

Full to near exploded.

The swirled, piled, sheets of white

Glimmered neath the gleams of light

Cast by stars in the sylvan night,

Startled by sled, deer, and Santa in sudden flight.

STAVE TWO

Santa chugged Mylanta, Alka Seltzer, Pepto, and Tums

Yelled at the reindeer, "Faster ya bums!"

The sleigh was hot with friction smokin',

As it lit on roofs and waited for Santa to place a token

In each stocking and beneath each tree,

No time to take even a pea

(There was pea salad on Andy Smith's table).

The elements of night were growing unstable.

Santa rolled up his sleeves:

"Gotta serve every child who believes,

From one to nine hundred and one,

Get all in on the fun."

STAVE THREE

In the still sylvan night

Perchance a swinging light

What or who this Holiest hour

With lantern a-glower

Puts foot before foot

Entrants boot by boot

Moon-dapple bower

What eyes sweep the room

Broomstraw across the gloom

Peruse yon sleeping tadpole

Gloved hand pulls out of the hole

In his bag a fragment of star

To place it in center of the scar

Of moonlight across the blanket scroll

STAVE FOUR

Pirate Pete hid among the rocks

Inside the many slopes and pocks

Listening for the swoosh of approaching sleigh and deer.

He lolled across the coarse stone sipping foaming beer.

In his hand a lasso to trap the fat man's ride,

A sword and pistol pressing his side.

"Swoo-" He hears it on high.

"-oosh'. He flings his rope to the sky.

With a twang the line grows taught;

Santa, elves, and deer are caught.

"Har," the delighted pirate cries;

"I've got you for all your lies.

Telling folks the reindeer are boys,

Giving out on the savior's birth mere toys;

I could make you walk a plank.

Arrr, in fact, my ship just sank.

Would ye be for giving a poor pirate lad a ride?

I'll take it and swallow my pride."

"Get in young man," spoke stern Santa.

"Folks like you make me need Mylanta.

What's this guff that I'm a liar?

The truth of Christmas is life's fire,

With a little harmless fun.

Hey, look what I've done.

I don't mean to make you cry, friend.

Take this gift and let our argument end."

"Arr; I'm a pirate; I can never change.

In the end, I'm gonna rob you though it seems strange.

Can you keep me an appointment for the mid of May?

For I intend to waylay you on the one called May Day."

"Certainly, I can;

Here shake my hand."

He let Pete down

And turned the sleigh around.

"Adios, you pirate," he yelled.

"Open your gift; it's swell."

The pirate removed the patch from his one eye

He opened the gift and began to cry.

"Arr, a teddy bear,

With curly brown hair.

Thank you, Santa Claus.

We'll not fight; there's no cause."

And Santa cried "Hi yo reindeer"

And sailed into a sky serene and clear.

STAVE FIVE

Next went sleigh and crew

To the lands of gloom and grue,

Where the heart of the season

Knows not spirit's treason;

But ministers to wrath and rue.

"Santa," said one elf named Joe,

"There's a child whose father says no

When asked if there is love named Santa.

The child has no gift;

He's not on the list.

Oh, Santa, what is the answer?"

Santa clucked sadly with woe;

"There is no answer friend Joe;

For magic dust I sprinkle

To make their hearts twinkle;

But, I cannot alter the nature

Of despair, of disbelief and failure

If hearts are closed and avenues cut off."

He choked with a sob and a cough.

That one's meager Christmas they served,

That one they lost the nerve.

Another one slept in booze and pills,

Soon to forget his worldly ills.

And when they left the plain of gloom and sadness

It left a stain on all their remaining gladness.

STAVE SIX

On the fly again

Santa rests, a toddy in hand.

He notes young Linda moved without warning;

She lived at the house below just this morning.

He sends elf Joe to reconnoiter

Searching here and across the border.

She's here, Joe signals;

It's the girl with the pigtails.

They swoop; they land.

Asleep in the sand

The whole family huddled.

The elf's approach, befuddled.

I don't understand why some must hide.

And Joe the elf stood back and cried.

STAVE SEVEN

'Round the globe in a twinkling

These stories are but an inkling

Of all the wonder encapsulated

In a journey love instigated

And where the sleigh landed and still

Runners burned holes in the ice like a hot grill.

All the jewels in the crown of the season

Form an afterglow more lasting than sight or reason.

stories of life, love, disaster, new species, and possibilities of human extinction

 The 60s from the perspective of one who was there. The future from now. All in my book for $10.99 (cheap).  EndEarthers. Can be had from Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, and a few other online book stores.

Quotes by Charlie Chaplin

 

1. Failure is unimportant: "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself".

2. We think too much and feel too little: "We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness".

3. Nothing is permanent: "Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles".

4. A day without laughter: "A day without laughter is a day wasted".

5. Imagination means nothing: "Imagination means nothing without doing".

6. Life is a desire: "What do you want a meaning for? Life is a desire, not a meaning".

7. Despair is a narcotic: "Despair is a narcotic. It lulls the mind into indifference".

8. I always like walking in the rain: "I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying"

Nathan's Mother

He was as big a man as I’ve seen, ever. Easily Nathan Allen topped five hundred pounds. He always came to my jobs in a pick up truck and stayed in it, facing the houses I had contracted to re-roof. Under Nathan’s watchful eye, his crew, led by his son, made short work of stripping the old roofing and toting it away in a high boarded trailer. I never saw him, feet on the ground, until after he learned I was a carpenter. He summoned me to his home after that and he took me into his house to explain his situation. Nathan had a good face and he was well-spoken. As he talked, he led me into the kitchen.

“I built my mother a cabin in my backyard,” Nathan said. “I had to for her own protection because she kept wandering to the house straight across the road, thinking she owned it.”

He pulled the shade above the kitchen sink to expose the view through a little window. I could plainly see the shack, which was crude in appearance but seemed sturdy and weatherproof.

“She has Alzheimer’s,” he continued. “She doesn’t even know who I am. It’s a strange feeling when she tells me about her son and doesn’t know she’s talking to him.”

He dug a finger into his shirt pocket and produced a scrap of white.

“I made up a list of repairs for you to do. She’s back there, but won’t be any trouble. Her name is Sally.”

After a bit more preliminary conversation, I found myself entering Sally’s home. Nathan had made the interior livably functional. Any single person could be comfortable living there. The first thing on the list was to clean out the toilet tank. The tank was filled beyond capacity with sticks, twigs, and leaves. As I opened a plastic bag afforded me by Nathan, Sally appeared at the bathroom door. She wore a simple dress and she looked clean and neat and not at all unwell.

“The kids keep doing that,” she said, referring to the mess.

It was a simple matter to make the toilet functional. Next on the list was to replace the kitchen faucet with one Nathan already bought. As I turned my attention to cutting off the water valves beneath the sink, Sally passed nearby and spoke. “Did you eat your corn?”

That’s when I became aware of two dolls sitting by the table in highchairs. There actually was no corn and no plates to hold any food. These urchins would have been identical, except Sally had hacked off the hair of one and made it a boy. Her blaming the kids for clogging the toilet connected.

As I continued the faucet work, she said she had things to do and went out the door carrying a gardening spade.

I was completing the list when Sally returned. She paused inside the doorway, beaming proudly.

“I’ve been working,” she said.

She held up a weed measuring perhaps eight or ten inches in length. She had done such a perfect job of extracting it from the ground that not a leaf had been damaged. The soil on the roots had been cleaned away and they were also complete and perfect. I found myself liking this person.

“You’ve done a marvelous job,” I said.

I cleaned up after myself and took my leave. I left hoping for an opportunity to help her more.

I didn’t need Nathan’s services for a few months. When next we met I asked for an update on Sally.

“She’s becoming violent,” he said. “When we take her clothes to give her a bath, she says, ‘These are my clothes’ and fights to keep them on. She has gotten unmanageable. There’s no choice but to put her in a home.”

I took the news with disappointment. We continued to work and life went on. For a time I had all interior work but finally needed Nathan’s services again.

I didn’t have to ask about his mother. Nathan immediately showed some photos he had taken of her in the home. I saw a woman on a bed with an arm in a cast and a great black circle on her face around one eye.

“I’ve tried to get her back, but they won’t let me,” he said.

I shared his frustration. Heartless bureaucracy gives power to the heartless. As he’d made clear, there was no way to rescue Sally. She was trapped in a horror show with one inevitable end. She succumbed to the brutality and soon was laid to rest. I quit mentioning her to Nathan in the times we were in contact.

Nathan had his own health problems, of which he never complained in my presence. Then he told me of an agency that offered to re-home him to help with his medical situation. It meant giving up the business and moving to the far side of the city. With no fanfare, he moved and left me with his son to deal with the roofs. The son and I were not compatible – I won’t say more – and we soon parted ways.

Often I think of Nathan and wish him well. I hope they made his life better. May his mother rest in peace.

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Teapot's Empire a movie?

 I'm going to try screenwriting. "Teapot's Empire" will be the pilot project. It reads much like a film already, just needs the formatting and a bit of development. Any screenwriters out there with advice will be welcomed.

Teapot's Empire is the fifth story in EndEarthers.

Problem with Amazon - edited

 A person who ordered my book in September has not received her copy. She was informed it will be shipping soon three times, the last email just today. I messaged Amazon today and at first they said it was delivered on 9/6. When I described the emails they cut me off after saying it is up to her to take it from here. So I believe it is okay to buy from Amazon if that is your preference, although it can be had at Barnes and Noble and Apple online stores.

Zen Flesh, Zen Bones

 I read a little book called "Zen Flesh, Zen Bones" a number of times over the years. It is a collection of stories concerning the quest for enlightenment. The monks who practice Zen have always seemed to me to be trying to live like flowers, without attachment to objects. They meditate and they speak of listening to the sound of one hand clapping. They preach that when you perform tasks perform only the tasks; don't let your mind dwell on other things. Don't dwell on the future or on death and after death. These things, they say, will take care of themselves; you just want to live in the "now." I never tried to practice Zen because it requires a living situation, such as in a monastery, and because I lack the mettle to last in such an arrangement. 

My next story will be for younger readers,

 if I can make it work. I love Roald Dahl. He is my inspiration. I was jealous that he thought of certain story lines instead of me. I got over it. I wish he could return to us to write more stories.

I need ## more reviews

 My book needs 44 more Amazon reviews. I will update this thread any time I get new ones.

Now on Goodreads - edited

 I am on Goodreads as C Mitchell Turner. I had to make a new account to get in.

Got my first Goodreads review: "DNF I am so sorry"

My reply: "No problem. I expected a lot more negative feedback than there has been. It's a blunt presentation from the perspective of an 80 year-old 60s activist in what he believes to be the end days of humanity. That's story one. She likely didn't examine the remaining five. It's okay. I wish I had a quarter for every book I DNF."

... the bell tolls

 My 45 year old and youngest daughter grew up with a nice girl who became a good wife and mother. The other day this girl succumbed to cancer. It's surreal losing people my children's age. The bell tolls for us all, randomly, age-wise. The older we grow the more we must toughen to it.

EndEarthers Cheap (the price)

I wanted to price my book at ten thousand bucks a copy. That way if it sold just a few copies I would be ahead of the game. Turned out they wouldn't let me. So I sulked a while but finally allowed their pricing instead of mine. $10.99 (extremely cheap) I think I may have made an awful mistake, but will have to give it time. Hopefully they know what they are doing.

Shadow Truths

 "Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and adventures are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes and forgotten."

— Neil Gaiman

Bumblebee Should Not Be Able to Fly

 "According to the recognized, proven principles of aerodynamics, the bumblebee cannot fly because of the shape and weight of its body in relation to the total wing area. But the bumblebee doesn't know this, so it goes ahead and flies anyway.

A lovely myth, but the reality is different:

The basic principles of bumblebee flight, and insect flight generally, have been pretty well understood for many years. Somehow, though, the idea that bees "violate aerodynamic theory" got embedded in folklore.

The story was initially circulated in German technical universities in the 1930s. Supposedly during dinner a biologist asked an aerodynamics expert about insect flight. The aerodynamicist did a few calculations and found that, according to the accepted theory of the day, bumblebees didn't generate enough lift to fly. The biologist, delighted to have a chance to show up those arrogant SOBs in the hard sciences, promptly spread the story far and wide.

Once he sobered up, however, the aerodynamicist surely realized what the problem was--a faulty analogy between bees and conventional fixed-wing aircraft. Bees' wings are small relative to their bodies. If an airplane were built the same way, it'd never get off the ground. But bees aren't like airplanes, they're like helicopters. Their wings work on the same principle as helicopter blades--to be precise, "reverse-pitch semirotary helicopter blades," to quote one authority. A moving airfoil, whether it's a helicopter blade or a bee wing, generates a lot more lift than a stationary one.

The real challenge with bees wasn't figuring out the aerodynamics but the mechanics: specifically, how bees can move their wings so fast--roughly 200 beats per second, which is 10 or 20 times the firing rate of the nervous system. The trick apparently is that the bee's wing muscles (thorax muscles, actually) don't expand and contract so much as vibrate, like a rubber band. A nerve impulse comes along and twangs the muscle, much as you might pluck a guitar string, and it vibrates the wing up and down a few times until the next impulse comes along.

— Cecil Adams

Two Copies

 Now is the time for all good bibliophiles to purchase a few copies of EndEarthers. You will wear out one copy by re-reading and need the other for the bookshelf.

Are You Responsible?

 “Most people live in almost total darkness…people, millions of people whom you will never see, who don’t know you, never will know you, people who may try to kill you in the morning, live in a darkness which...if you have that funny terrible thing which every artist can recognize and no artist can define...you are responsible to those people to lighten, and it does not matter what happens to you. You are being used in the way a crab is useful, the way sand certainly has some function. It is impersonal. This force which you didn’t ask for, and this destiny which you must accept, is also your responsibility. And if you survive it, if you don’t cheat, if you don’t lie, it is not only, you know, your glory, your achievement, it is almost our only hope.”

–James Baldwin