Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... Life is Sweet...
I wrote about the shack in my first poem, Starting Out From Longview Road, in my 4th book. Longview Road.
It's still standing but now the windows are boarded up, and the water well tapped out.
I have happy memories there and not so happy.
In the 1960's. No cell phones or computers. Just the fields all around us.
Grandpa and grandma lived about a hundred yards from us.
Whenever I go down to visit my relatives, I slowly drive by the "shack" to soak it up in my memory.
~~~
Moments
Sage burns in an abalone shell
Smoke spirals to heaven
My thoughts are on a mission
For things to think about
There are many stories to write
But this hummingbird has me on its wings
What happens now will not happen
Again as it is happening
I will not be remembered sitting here
Caught in this cross-fire of solitude
The smoke spiraling to heaven
Will not ascend this way again
Shadows moving across the ground
Have neither tongues nor eyes
***
I remember waking up at dawn on September 14, 1986, hungover like a big dog and putting on a pot of coffee to snap out of it. I got wasted the night before celebrating my thirty-first birthday out at Frank's Corner and only slept a few hours.
The sun was rising above the rooftops and streaming through an open window where I sat at the kitchen table, as cool breezes splashed in across my face sobering me up. Everybody else was still in bed and the sounds of a train passing through Livingston echoed in the distance.
I was peeking out at the leaves of the big weeping willow tree in the backyard falling down like a shower of the feathers and carpeting down like a shower of tiny feathers and carpeting the ground around it in a circle. Suddenly Grandpa Manuel popped into my mind planting a long twig in the middle of the backyard in 1968, as a gift to us when we first moved here. I never believed it would grow into this big beautiful tree but Grandpa proved me wrong.
In my drunk and drugged stupor I was imaging grandpa's spirit was in the tree trying to reach out to me. That's what I wanted to believe and I whispered almost crying to the tree, "Help me Grandpa, help me." But I got no answer.
When the coffee was ready I got up and went into the bedroom to grab some pens and notebooks and sat back down to start writing out of desperation about my journey on this road of life. I wanted this book to be my gift to the family. But I never realized how hard it was going to be...
This is what I began to write about with the jitters on this morning thirty years ago, how my life evolved into becoming my worst enemy and about the shell of a man I had become...
"It's good to know where you come from so when you get asked to introduce yourself you can say who you are and who your ancestors were."
~~~
They came to the room and Mom said "Sophie brought these elders to pray over you." The husband said "Hello Manny, my wife and I would like to pray over you, do you mind?" "Oh...yeah whatever," I was thinking if it weren't for them being elders I would have told them to go f... themselves. The three of us held hands and began to pray. As they were praying I felt this electricity flow through my body from my feet to my head and then slowly back down to my feet. A great unexplainable peace came over me. I didn't know what to think. I couldn't think. All my senses were flowing with calmness. When they were done praying they left and I fell into a deep sleep... I patted around my stomach when I woke up in the dim room and didn't feel the bag. There was only a piece of thick gauze where my gut had been sticking out. She said it was a miracle. That the bag was removed and I was patched back up... ~~~
Scared is a Memorable Book I am happy to share a little of today. I'm fresh from eye surgery on my left eye, so am seeing through the fuzziness...
May God Bless Manny and all indigenous people who still struggle to make a living here in America... Check out his books. And help an American citizen who has had to fight his way through the, often, ugliness of a past carved out after the white man invaded, killed, and stole from those who lived in North America before others came across the great oceans. Like many, Manny continues to struggle to have sufficient money to make it through each day. I try to help as much as I can. Please consider buying his books and the other artistic items that he has created with his own hand... Beautiful items. Show that you, too, care, for those who have been set aside by those rich and powerful who care nothing about our true Americans... of all colors!
Sage burns in an abalone shell
Smoke spirals to heaven
My thoughts are on a mission
For things to think about
There are many stories to write
But this hummingbird has me on its wings
What happens now will not happen
Again as it is happening
I will not be remembered sitting here
Caught in this cross-fire of solitude
The smoke spiraling to heaven
Will not ascend this way again
Shadows moving across the ground
Have neither tongues nor eyes
***
I remember waking up at dawn on September 14, 1986, hungover like a big dog and putting on a pot of coffee to snap out of it. I got wasted the night before celebrating my thirty-first birthday out at Frank's Corner and only slept a few hours.
The sun was rising above the rooftops and streaming through an open window where I sat at the kitchen table, as cool breezes splashed in across my fact sobering me up. Everybody else was still in bed and the sounds of a train passing through Livingston echoed in the distance.
I was peeking out at the leaves of the big weeping willow tree in the backyard falling down like a shower of the feathers and carpeting down like a shower of tiny feathers and carpeting the ground around it in a circle. Suddenly Grandpa Manuel popped into my mind planting a long twig in the middle of the backyard in 1968, as a gift to us when we first moved here. I never believed it would grow into this big beautiful tree but Grandpa proved me wrong.
In my drunk and drugged stupor I was imaging grandpa's spirit was in the tree trying to reach out to me. That's what I wanted to believe and I whispered almost crying to the tree, "Help me Grandpa, help me." But I got no answer.
When the coffee was ready I got up and went into the bedroom to grab some pens and notebooks and sat back down to start writing out of desperation about my journey on this road of life. I wanted this book to be my gift to the family. But I never realized how hard it was going to be...
This is what I began to write about with the jitters on this morning thirty years ago, how my life evolved into becoming my worst enemy and about the shell of a man I had become...
"It's good to know where you come from so when you get asked to introduce yourself you can say who you are and who your ancestors were."
Thanks again to Regis for sharing his poetry here at Book Readers Heaven. You know, I do select the complementary music; however, I recommend you read each poem without playing the music. It is only the writer who truly understands what he wants to say. Hopefully, I have selected music to at least come close to what Regis wants to share with his Words! What do you think?
Montezuma II was a good leader before the Spanish arrived https://www.thoughtco.com/emperor-montezuma-before-the-spanish-2136261
Montezuma
Your bronze eyes
sparkle in sunlight
from deep dark pockets
hewn on your furrowed
indigenous face,
your hands tremble
rough as rawhide
grafted on a chair
and you sit as you do
mumbling as if
conversing with spirits,
years ago
strong as a bull
you labored in the fields
proud to show the boss
you were equal to or better than
any machine,
now your strength is sapped
like water squeezed from a sponge
and the only thing left for you to do
is converse your way through.
~~~
--From The Bridge is Gone
Manny Monolin Moreno
Note: The music was so intriguing that it seemed appropriate to continue sharing the various videos created from just one haunting melody featuring history and nature... in Tribute to Montezuma...
Manny Monolyn Moreno is an ongoing contributor at Book Readers Heaven... He has Just been named a recipient from HeARTLand for his next book, Santa Nella Blues: Poems
She was supposed to sing one of the songs soon to be available, but instead she chose to sing one of her own. When Paul Milias cornered Kasey Cartwright after the show ended, he was angry, yelling, asking why she had changed the song after the entire group had rehearsed and were ready to perform. Both raised their voices, but the argument ended when Kasey Cartwright had thrown a glass of iced tea into the face of the owner of her record company!
Paul Milias went to the restroom to clean up and soon each of them left for the after-party, where Paul's wife called Kasey a "cow". Soon Kasey was leaving the party and heading for the Plaza... With Paul, realizing that he needed to apologize, followed her. While Kasey left him in, even though it was around 2 in the morning, the friction continued and Milias slapped Kasey across the face! She started crying and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. Finally realizing that she was not going to talk to him, he left and got a cab home...
And the next morning when the maids came to clean the room, they found her lying across the bed--Dead.
...an up-and-comer named Derek Birch, a long-legged, dope-smoking, Jack Daniels drinker who considered himself a rebel, an artist, and the most important country music icon of the young century. Kasey Cartwright had toured with him for two months during the summer when she was sixteen, but Birch had since switched from Paul Milius’s label to another record company. Jack had been told that Birch didn’t much care what anyone thought about him and would give an honest—if not drug-and-alcohol-addled—opinion on most anything. Jack didn’t audio or videotape his conversation with Derek Birch, but he took detailed notes, and I was satisfied that he recounted it for me accurately.
Jack walked into Birch’s backstage dressing room at around nine thirty on a Friday night at the Bridgestone Arena in downtown Nashville. Birch was the headliner, wrapping up a six-month tour, and was scheduled to go on stage at ten thirty. There was a large makeup mirror in the antique-white room, a couple stools, a leather couch against the far wall, and two acoustic guitars on stands. Birch was sitting near the mirror with a red Solo cup in his hand, wearing a denim shirt, denim jeans, and cowboy boots. He had dark, aviator sunglasses on and a John Deere cap pulled tightly down over his head. He had a male model chin, with a jawline and teeth to match. The air in the room was thick with marijuana smoke.
Jack noticed a tall, decorative glass bong sitting on the counter near the mirror. Next to it was a handle of Jack Daniels, a two-liter bottle of Coke, and a small cooler filled with ice. “Yo, what’s up?” Birch said as Jack walked cautiously into the room. “Close that door behind you and lock it so we can have some privacy.” A band called Buick Five was on the stage, and the rockabilly was blasting. Closing the door didn’t muffle the sound completely, but it made it possible for Jack and Birch to talk without having to shout. Jack, who had dressed in country music concert gear—jeans, flannel shirt, boots, cowboy hat—shook hands with Birch, who motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. As soon as Jack was seated, Birch picked the bong up, walked over, and offered it. “No, thanks,” Jack said. “Don’t smoke?” “I’m working tonight.” “So am I,” Birch said. “You ain’t one of them tight asses, are you?”
“No, no,” Jack said, but then he smiled. “Well, maybe. I’m wound pretty tight most of the time.” Birch laughed. “At least you’re honest,” he said. “Sure you don’t want to hit this? It’ll mellow you right out.” “Not right now,” Jack said. “Maybe later.” “So my agent tells me you’re working for the lawyer who’s defending Paul Milius,” Birch said. “Says the lawyer is actually your dad.” “That’s right,” Jack said. “I’m in my last year of law school.” “You’re a big dude, so please don’t get up and kick my ass for what I’m about to say, but I’ve never met a lawyer who had a soul, man. Do they surgically remove it in law school, or do you lose it later on?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders. “I know what you’re saying,” he said. “But I think my dad’s okay. He’s been at it for a long time, and I think he’s been able to keep his soul. Most of it, anyway. And I don’t think I’ve lost mine. At least not yet.” “Then you’re as rare as a well-lived life, man. Hope you can keep it that way. I was just thinking about our culture and how bankrupt it’s become before you walked in. Gave me an idea for a new song. I’m going to call it ‘Empty Malls.’” “Empty Malls?” Jack said. “What’s it going to be about?” “I’m just going to write a tune about an empty mall in the South, and how it’s this big, empty shell covering the scattered shards of our broken retail dreams.”
“Sounds depressing,” Jack said. “It is depressing, man. We’re depressing. But it’s the freakin’ truth.” “Speaking of truth,” Jack said. “There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.” Birch popped off the stool and started pacing in a circle. “Now that was lame, dude,” he said. “Bad, bad segue. We’re sitting here rapping, establishing some trust, talking about empty malls and bankrupt dreams, and you go and try to slide that awful segue in there. I should just go ahead and have the security guys come toss you right now.” “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I’m just not used to … I haven’t talked to anyone like you in a while. Hell, I’ve never talked to anyone like you in my life. By the way, there are cops all over this place. Don’t they mind that you’re smoking dope in here?” “They’re not on duty, man. They’re freelancing. We pay them. We can do whatever the hell we want as long as we don’t kill anybody.”
“Speaking of killing somebody ….” Jack smiled again, and Birch slapped his knee and went back to his chair. “Okay, lawyer’s son,” Birch said as he picked up the bong, lit it, and took a long pull. “You seem to be honest, and you’ve got a sense of humor. What do you want to talk about?” “I’d just like you to tell me what you know about Kasey Cartwright and Paul Milius.”
Birch blew the smoke out slowly and set the bong back down. He picked the Solo cup up and took a long drink. Jack could smell the whiskey from five feet away. “Kasey came out on tour last year for a while before I left Paul’s label,” he said. “Why’d you leave?” Jack asked. “Just a creative-differences thing, man. Happens all the time. But Kasey, she’d open the night, do about an hour, then she’d come to my bus or to my dressing room and get high with me when the show was over. Earthy chick, you know? All about what was natural, at least that’s what she wanted people to think. But she liked the retail dreams. She wanted to make as much money as she could. Wanted the fancy houses and cars and all that. She used to talk to me about it all the time. ‘What’s fair? How much can I make doing this or that? Is Paul screwing me?’”
“Was he?” Jack asked. “Screwing her? Financially, a little I’m sure. The new ones always get screwed. Physically, definitely.” “So he was having sex with her?” “Absolutely, man.” “How do you know for sure?” “Because I saw them getting it on in her trailer. I have this little habit of wandering around after shows. Harmless creepin’, you know? Helps me wind down. Sometimes I like to look in windows, check out what people are doing. I saw them doing the nasty, man, with my very own eyes. But Kasey had already told me she was doing him, which is the main reason I wandered over that way that night. I just couldn’t resist the chance of getting to see Kasey naked. Did you ever see her? I mean when she was alive?” “All I’ve seen is pictures,” Jack said. “Pretty girl.” “Sensuous, too,” Birch said. “But anyway, Kasey thought she was playing Paul so she could make more money. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was just an amusement to him, just a temporary thing. But ol’ Kasey, she got tired of Paul before Paul got tired of her. She started seeing Cameron Jones as soon as she turned eighteen.”
“Cameron Jones is another singer on Paul’s label, right?” “Yeah, good buddy of mine, Cameron. Good artist, too. A little more old-school than me, not as edgy, but still good at what he does.” “Did Paul know Kasey was seeing Cameron?” “Yeah, yeah. Cameron said Kasey was upfront about it. It was kind of funny. What he told me was that she went all John Hancock about it. I’d never heard that phrase before.” “Did Cameron say how Paul reacted?” “Paul doesn’t like to lose. He didn’t get where he’s at by letting people take what he thinks is his. Cameron said Paul wasn’t none too happy about it.” “Unhappy enough to kill Kasey?” “I guess that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’m sorry, but I don’t have any answers for you. Listen, man, it’s getting close to show time, so if there isn’t anything else, I need to start getting my voice warmed up and let my makeup girl put my stage face on.” Jack rose from the couch and reached out a hand to Birch. “Thanks,” Jack said. He didn’t say anything about sending Birch a subpoena. It might not happen, but Birch said he had actually seen Paul Milius and Kasey having sex. That was admissible in court. Jack just didn’t know whether there would be any use for the testimony. And since Cameron Jones had apparently stepped in and lured Kasey away from Paul, Cameron might be a candidate for the SODDI defense. Maybe it had been worth the time and trouble to talk to Derek Birch. “Sure you don’t want to hit this bong before you head out?” Birch said. “It smells really good,” Jack lied, “but I think I’ll pass.”
~~~
Readers meet Paul's wife, Lana Raines-Milius in the Prologue, so this isn't a whodunit, y'all! LOL She had been a top country star, but had lost her voice. Now she was roaming around a large estate called Zanadu, where she had slowly become addicted to just about anything, including alcohol. Now she was aiming higher...
But when Kasey was murdered, she took the opportunity to play the devoted wife and sought out Joe Dillard and offered him $1M(!) to defend her husband. Initially Joe was hesitant, especially as his wife Caroline was going through a more difficult time than ever before, but she convinced him that he couldn't back down from a case...on the chance that she could get worse... Especially with a $1M fee upfront, which would be the highest payment Joe had ever received. Still, it was moving into the entertainment area and all it included that bothered him. And he was right to be hesitant... But Leon, his friend had made the recommendation to the couple and so he'd proceed...
Jack his son is acting as his clerk and investigator, as well as Charleston (Charlie) who is Jack's girlfriend was to handle pre-trial activities. After many interviews with as many people as they could think of that would be related to the recording business, they had still not found anything significant that could be used to defend his client... That is, until he was kidnapped and flown somewhere he never knew (he was hooded all the time). And there he learned exactly what happened--from a couple who refused to return to testify!
I have been binging on the Joe Dillard Series, reading from book 1 up to this one...only two more to go! I'm loving Joe Dillard, as well as all the characters in this significant legal series.
The merge of a character's family and home life within a professional career has always been intriguing for me. With Caroline, Joe's wife dealing constantly with cancer concerns, readers are privy to the devastating effect this catastrophic medical issue affects not only the individual living with cancer, but also all those who are living within the severely changed home life. At the same time, Jack, Joe's son, who fell hard for Charleston (Charlie) Story, even with her background and an explosive event within her life has increased the intrigue. While the unexpected marriage of his daughter and Joe's acceptance of having to welcome--and love--a son-in-law who has taken a wrong detour in their relationship adds a level of depth for Joe Dillard as well as those with whom he shares his life.
Additionally, Pratts' honing in on so many of the major legal issues that are predominant and moving ever more into violence and dangerous territory, is a welcome decision on the part of today's writers that I not only appreciate, but want to support! Scott Pratt Rocks in my opinion!
Each novel is so uniquely drawn, moving from one type of issue, which includes a variety of characters... sometimes only with Joe Dillard (and his wife) being the lead characters in all investigations, brings a variety of methods by which each legal issue can be addressed... Just think of what has been bothering you with today's top criminal activities and you'll read about either a minor or in-depth case where right ALWAYS wins, or at least a step forward is made--even if what happens never enters a courtroom... This book has a quite unusual twist that you'll not want to miss!
By the way, I've joined The Pratt Pack on Facebook, a group where we can talk about this series and others by Scott Pratt. Check it out... I just may be his newest, but ongoing, fan!
From the basement to the second floor, and then to the first... This picture shows the central open cathedral effect of Stewart Hall as it was when I started working for Dr. Munn...Dr. Barton...and then Facilities Analysis and Utilization. I had a few moves outside the building, one of them to Willey Street in an old house that the University owned. Later Facilities Planning and Management moved to the Evansdale Campus in leased space...
During the early years as I worked in Facilities Analysis and Utilization, we had what I would call centralized line authority. That is, while I would report to one boss--William Campbell who reported directly to the Vice-President for Administration, I would also have staff responsibility to all other vice-presidents and well as deans and directors, to whom space had been allocated for their use. I had the authority to work directly with those offices. This grew out of my responsibilities for classroom management, but continued as I took over space utilization, allocation and planning for renovations.
It was a cooperative arrangement that allowed me to see the full campus-wide space utilization information and work to respond to all needs across the campus.
However, when the vice-presidents began to add line authority assistant vice-presidents, the flavor of the organization drastically changed for me, especially. Colonel Hank Snoreck was appointed as the first assistant vice-president for facilities. Although nothing was officially discussed with all staff, I learned that Snoreck would not continue the organizational flexibility I had earlier been given. Instead, I heard things like: "I know more about what facilities they need--don't bother contacting them."
Well, I knew this wasn't and would not be true.
It was then, that Snoreck moved Campbell upstairs. At that time, WVU used the euphemism often to promote individuals to a staff role under a higher official, pending their being...moved...out...
In place of Bill Campbell, Jim Shaub, from Snoreck's former Air Force ROTC unit, first became Associate Director during the transition for Campbell. Then he was automatically moved to the Director position. Bill Campbell made the deal for me that he would agree to the organizational changes ONLY if I were made Associate Director...
While I became Associate Director, at NO time ever did Jim Shaub ever sit down with me and review my former responsibilities, what they involved and how my staff were used to respond to those responsibilities. In fact, not only I was now over everything I had earlier been involved with, but now, I was given additional responsibilities pertaining to the Planning function which essentially covered the construction portion of the facilities planning function.
The next major disruption was that I had a manager position open within the Facilities Management portion of the office. Before I knew it, I had Colonel Snoreck leaning over my desk with his arms spread and staring directly into my eyes, saying, "we have our new Manager, don't we?" I was forced to hire Ken White. He was the second colonel moved from ROTC to Facilities Planning and Management. This time, though, Ken White had absolutely NO training, experience nor education in performing the duties assigned to my office...
In the meantime, Jim Shaub's directorship of the construction function had taken a dive--big time. He and his project officers had lost control of the multi-million capital budget allocated by the Board of Regents.
Instead of dealing with this problem himself, Jim merely assigned me the responsibility under my new title of Associate Director. Specifically, I spent an entire year going through every single budget transaction, specific allocations received, all disbursements, et.al. In order to complete this task, I had to use my former personal secretary and have her assist me in setting up a completed computerized capital budget cost accounting system!
I'd like to add a personal note: I do not have a degree in relation to my assigned duties. I studied, and worked on the job under Bill Campbell to handle and build onto the original position for which he had been hired...All of the others in facilities planning have a degree. Yet none of them were required to deal with tracking the financial costs for their assigned projects...
During my lost year of having to be totally dedicated to creating a new financial system, Ken White took over the Facilities Analysis Unit. Fortunately, I had already trained my classroom management staff and they were able to function on their own for the most part. Three other areas resided in the Office: Facilities Analysis, Facilities Inventory, and Facilities Data Reporting.
I had hired a competent computer specialist, but with White sitting back having discussions with his two ROTC comrades, there wasn't much of anything getting done in the unit that I had developed and had functioning effectively. To "conceptually" build the new system, Terry was unable to move ahead. However, he was trying to help out as much as possible with those in the unit, but when he came to me one day and said, "One of your staff members is banging her head up against the wall (literally) and I've tried to help, but don't know enough about the reporting..." I knew another catastrophic situation was underway...
It was July 18, 1963, when I began working at West Virginia University. It had been an easy choice for me. It was the closest major employer within driving distance. I car-pooled with my sister, Marlene, who worked in Morgantown as well.
My first job found me behind this large building and in the basement... See those steps of the left? Well, walk across the walk, go down the steps and turn right into the basement. Look to the right and you'll see the post office for the campus! (See Also Appendix I.)
I was hired to handle two duties. Secretary to the Assistant Director of Personnel and Records Clerk. I very much enjoyed working there and, when, the Director's secretary moved to join her husband in Pittsburgh, she had trained me to become the Secretary to the Directory.
During my time in Personnel, I was also elected to serve on the newly created WVU Staff Council. This was comprised of two representatives from each of the recognized classifications on campus; e.g., clerical, technical, service, etc.
Mr. Serpento became Director of Personnel at the time I also was being promoted to the secretarial position. Mr. Serpento was one of the best bosses I've had. He allowed me to act on my own for the majority of time... I remember once I was working to compile, edit, and publish a new WVU Handbook. That's where I first developed my experience as a proofreader. And began to build a reputation.
When I discovered a somewhat major error in continuity, I brought it to Mr. Serpento's attention. He looked at me and recommended I put the issue in a memo and send to Miss (Louise) Keener, who was the chief financial officer at that time (Controller). I remember quite well the comment she made to my boss when he went to the next meeting with those writing the handbook. "I've never had a secretary who would take the initiative to question the writing of those writing policies and procedures." Yes, I corrected the Handbook error before it was published.
During that time, I also began to develop my research skills. Our Office routinely received a bulletin from the National Bureau of College Affairs, which provided all the significant changes from the federal government. I began to read and highlight all those that would affect WVU in any way. At that time, for example, the Accessibility Act was coming into use. I saw that it was coming and kept track of new and related developments.
This prepared me, later, when I moved into Facilities Planning and Management where I was responsible for ensuring all the classrooms on campus were made accessible for all issues of disabilities. More on that later.
However, first, after working in Personnel for 5 years, I applied for the highest secretarial positions on campus and was hired to work for the Provost (at that time there was only one), who was part of the central administrative leadership of WVU. I was hired and worked with Dr. Munn until he retired as Provost to return to just Director of University Libraries.
Also, during that time, a new Provost for Instruction was hired and Jay Barton was named. His secretary was the one who came to me, when she was leaving, and asked if I'd like to be considered for her position.
I was hired! And, I felt I was now in the "big time" for secretarial work. Dr. Barton was an enthusiastic and energetic new member at WVU. I was used to coming in early, due to still car pooling. Well, as soon as he saw me arrive, he called me in (around 7:15-7:30). He would dictate letters, scheduling needs, requests for pulling files, etc. He dictated enough in one hour before he went off to all the meetings that was scheduled that day--I gave him a typed small card to carry)
The thing was...he would dictate in one hour what could actually take about a week to accomplish! So I was always catching up, because the next morning, of course, I'd be in taking new notes. Soooo, I quickly learned how to deal with him... You see, there is no way that a secretary could project what he wanted to be prioritized as high during that morning session. So, if he asked about something not yet done, I would just go ahead and do it and get it to him, stopping whatever it was that I had previously been doing before he asked for something. To me, it was exhilarating! My speed for shorthand was growing, my ability to act under pressure was necessary, and when he went off to another country during a summer, he left me totally in charge of handling things... I loved working with Jay Barton!
But once again, somebody approached me for a new job. It was Bill Campbell, director of a newly created office of Facilities Analysis and Utilization, including classroom scheduling. I would still be reporting to Dr. Barton on all things academic... And I took the job.
During my tenure in this Office, I at first handled the secretarial duties, which were light, since I was primarily hired to handle classroom scheduling. A secretary was soon added and another individual at that time was handling the creation and maintenance of a university facilities inventory. By the time, ongoing changes were made, adding new responsibilities, I was upgraded, first, to Manager and then to Assistant Director...
Another reorganization took place which eliminated the former University Architect Office, and placed the responsibilities under Mr. Campbell as, now, Director of Facilities Planning and Management.
And then it started... A new Assistant Vice President for Facilities was named. Bill Campbell, who was also a great boss, was "moved upstairs..."
Note: This begins the actual manuscript of this book, creating chapters, etc. Previous or new, related articles will be placed in the Appendix and ultimately will be referred to as being connected to any specific chapter. See first example, connecting Appendix I to this Chapter.
The question every voter has to ask themselves is whether or not a person like Donald should be in the White House. To answer that question, just study the man.
Here is a recent post from his Truth Social soapbox: The Special “Prosecutor,” Jack Smith, who is harassing, threatening, and terrorizing people who work for me, probably illegally, and totally at odds with the way Crooked Joe Biden is being treated, will no longer be known as the Special “Prosecutor,” but rather, the Special “Persecutor.” He is a Trump Hating SLIMEBALL who is going far beyond the original instructions of the Department of Injustice. The Witch Hunt continues, as it always will, with the Radical Left, Country Destroying, Lunatics!
Okay, the most obvious defect Donald exhibits is his penchant for calling people and investigations derogatory names… pretty much like a nine-year old bully: “Crooked Joe Biden”, Jack Smith as a Special “Persecutor” and a “SLIMEBALL”, “Department of Injustice”, “Radical left, Country Destroying, Lunatics”. That is a plethora of names for just one paragraph! Now, name-calling was common fare for all of us… WHEN WE WERE NINE YEARS OLD! So, is this the sort of person you want in the White House?
Then there are the deliberate obfuscations. Donald claims that Jack Smith is “harassing, threatening, and terrorizing people”. Harassing? No. He is asking for testimony in an investigation. Threatening? Well, he may warn them that lies in such an investigation could land them in jail. Donald might be understandably upset that his subordinates can’t lie like he can. Threatening? Maybe Smith or his subordinates said… tell us everything because if we find out you’ve been holding back FROM TELLING THE TRUTH (!) we will investigate your actions. Threatening? No. Warning? Probably.
More inherent lies in his statement. “Crooked Joe Bident”? Not one bit of evidence to suggest that President Biden has committed any crime. Presently, Donald is wriggling in six criminal investigations. “Department of Injustice”. A lie. He coined that moniker only after investigations were launched into his wrong-doings. “Country Destroying Lunatics”? No. Despite what Donald claims the Democrats are not destroying America. Certainly, they are not Lunatics. So, is a pathological, totally unrepentant liar who you want in the White House?
Just study the man and ask yourself… do I want this sort of person in any position of power?
~~~
It was July 18, 1963, when I first was hired at West Virginia University, in the Personnel Office. I was to be secretary to the Assistant Director, as well as Records Clerk. It is to the latter responsibility I wish to discuss.
Can you imagine, as we formally learn of how the former president has purposely retained and stored without security, just what I could have done in the position of Records Clerk?
As Records Clerk, I worked with each new employee to sign up for benefits, and created the forms to get them on the payroll. But I was also responsible for creating and maintaining the individual's personnel file. This included the application for the new employee, references, test scores, if required, and the specific position and salary they would be paid. I also received a complete listing of all employees and routinely updated it based upon appointments and terminations.
When budgets were being developed for the University's classified employees, I also worked with budget proposals which would be used to submit requests for funding, based upon various percentages that could be used, if funded at that level.
I remember that once, in leaving work, I mentioned to my Mother, who also worked on campus, what I was working on... She asked a little about the process, but we both knew that I would not share specifics! No, not even with my Mother!
So, here's a few scenarios that I could have played if I chose to disregard the need for secrecy of employee records:
I could have shared test results of clerical staff. For instance, I knew what my test scores were and I was also in Staff Council. It would have been very easy for me to look up test scores in a given category, say secretary or clerk and point out the difference in testing scores as it related to jobs held...
Or I could have read the references for individual employees and talked about them with my friends...
I could have shared and/or compared individual employee salaries, including those who had been on campus a lengthy time, and shared that information...
I could have pointed out during Staff Council meetings that I had such information available and I could provide...for a small cost...
I could have shared, in advance to the official announcement, exactly what percentage increase (or none) would be given each year. This could be helpful to employees in planning for their future.
I could have shared personal data for any employee, to be used by those who "used" that information to cause problems, such as stealing an Identity...
I've written this scenario of just one person's set of available information, to help each of you understand exactly what was possible with the retention of secret, classified, and top secret types of information.
It has already been announced that some documents related to the United States plans of action for handling possible attacks from outside the nation. This is illustrative of the level of danger that could occur. For example, imagine if this information was given or sold to the North Koreans who, you will remember, was constantly talking about how close they were to being able to hit the North American continent. Imagine if just one document, showing how we would prepare for attack, would automatically make it possible for another country to choose exactly where they would attack for the most impact!
Read the Indictment!
You can download the complete legal announcement from various sites. I found the NY Times was the easiest for downloading a pdf file. (If you don't know about pdf, you can download the program free... Normally, all government documents use the PDF format.
C is for Caveat Emptor. Caveat emptor is Latin for “Let the buyer beware.” So, to the people who bought Donald Trump the presidency—yes, I’m talking to you, Vladimir and Fox & Friends—don’t be surprised that it’s defective. It’s your fault. Caveat emptor. You should have seen it coming. --Joy Behar from The Great Gasbag
.jpg)
