Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... Life is Sweet...
I'm so Excited Folks to hear from one of my favorite writers! James Houston Turner, with, perhaps, my most very favorite character, Talanov! Given the war now ongoing overseas, I'm wishing Talanov was involved in making sure that Ukraine wins his "stupid" (my word) war!
And I'm also excited because, like me, James has had to deal with some physical issues which has taken him away... And successfully moved through those days...
And I'm, also so excited because during the time I was unable to review, another Talanov book was published in 2020! Fan Alert! Watch for my review asap... but I already added it to my TBR! And check out the big time photo op with Ll Cool J!
Search My Blog for "James Houston Turner" or "Talanov" to learn about past books!
Fri, Jul 28 at 1:41 PM
GREAT NEWS!!! Three of my screenplays – Square Pegs, Finding Star, and Hell Creek – have been nominated for “Best Screenplay” in the Content 2023 Film Festival & Media Summit, which is one of the premier Christian film festivals.
I wrote my first screenplay in 1982, so acknowledgment like this after so many years means a lot to me. But as the late pastor Chuck Smith once told a group of us in a Calvary Chapel seminar, “Blessed are the persistent, for they will inherit everything.”
I love Pastor Chuck’s borrowing of language from the Beatitudes, and his sense of humor with it, because it drives home the truth of how certain biblical principles serve to make us better people. I won’t lie: the journey has been challenging, which only accentuates the sweetness of this moment. Thanks to all of you who have stood by me. Regarding Square Pegs, which was my “first rodeo” in terms of me helping produce a film (and what a learning curve that was), the film itself is scheduled for release later this year (or early next). I’ll let you know once I know more.
The support I’ve received with my award nominations highlights what I call the “power of one,” which is a testament to those individuals who chose to share my news on their social media pages. Thank you for standing with Square Pegs (and me) in this regard. To further highlight the importance of such sharing, one need only look at the recent surprise blockbuster film, "Sound of Freedom."
Movie is available on UTube
As I write this, it has earned a whopping $134m at the boxoffice. No one expected that, and it’s a living testimony to the power of one. Like many of you, I was one of those who shared news about this film on my FB page, and what I shared was in turn shared by 55 others. The power of one … magnified and multiplied.
Like Sound of Freedom, Square Pegs has a message that will uplift, bless, and inspire. I can’t wait for you to see it. In fact, I can’t wait to see it myself!
~~~
On the Talanov front, my latest novel,
Into The Eye,
which opens in Africa, is in the final stages of being written. It will be the third installment of what we hope will be a franchise of Talanov films, depending on the success of Greco’s Game, which is still moving forward with the good folks at Wonderfilm. I will definitely keep you abreast of pre-production news, which will accelerate later this year.
As we speak, Talanov and his team have just landed on the deck of the USS Harry S. Truman aircraft carrier as it pushes northward off the coast of Kenya. There's a lot of great action in this thriller, which will be released as a novel in 2024. Like Greco’s Game, it continues Talanov’s fight against the global plague of human trafficking. In the images above, we see his helicopter landing on the carrier.
~~~
Finally, I am excited to say, my script, Finding Star (completed with the assistance of Tara Lynn Marcelle), will be produced by Wonderfilm, and we are currently brainstorming a wishlist of actors for the main roles.
Summary: Running from her "country-girl past" by living in the fast lanes of Los Angeles, where she is on the verge of landing her dream job in television, sassy food blogger Star Saldana has her world rocked when she learns her "other mother," Aunt Pim, is dying of cancer back home in Austin, Texas. After flying home to spend time with Pim, Star's dream job is given to someone else, forcing her to confront the "country-girl skin" she's been trying so hard to shed, especially when she must enter a local barbecue competition in order to win enough money to save Pim's beloved restaurant from being repossessed. Trouble is, Star doesn't know the first thing about cooking barbecue.
Set against the colorful backdrops of barbecue and country music, Finding Star will not just entertain you, but also speak to the unavoidable challenges of life many of us face at one time or another. More news on this front is coming soon. As always, if you no longer wish to receive these updates, let me know and I will remove you from the list.
In the meantime, a final hug of thanks to all of you for your enduring friendship and support. Until next time …
I've ben reading Jack Savage's books and admiring his artwork (check out the cover artistry) for over 20 years, so I thought to pick out an author photo to maybe reflect the time period of this particular book, The Blazer of St. Clair...
I've had a few false starts on reading this book, but then decided I wanted to have, and keep, a paperback. But when I received the following teaser, book description, I decided to begin reading as soon as possible. Watch for my review in near future...
My two cataract removal surgeries are over and I have a final visit later this month to determine what level of reading glasses I will need now. During the surgery, my prescription for eyesight was permanently placed in both eyes at the same time the cataracts were removed. However, there is nothing to do to improve the actual level of sight I now have. So I'll probably be betting glasses with another trifocal so that I can see small print, the computer, and distance... Mostly, I find that without glasses, my eyes get tired quickly...
Anyway, back to Jack's book! I love the colors and the design of this painting, by the author...
Ron Tansy’s loyalty to his two oldest friends would be tested when a bear crashed their graduation party in northern Minnesota. It was the time of Vietnam and their lives would follow different paths. Ron would guard nuclear missile silos for the Air Force in Wyoming while Terry saw action in the war and Brett disappeared into the bowls of army intelligence.
When they met again it was over something they all loved from their usher days at the St. Clair; a great movie. "The Day of the Jackal."
After the film and their reactions to it, all three seemed to have mysteriously found their sea legs. Ron was largely invested in real estate and vague about the seed money that made it possible, Brett, now Robert, seemed to be a low-level diplomat overseas, which neither of them believed, while Terry used a few years in the French Foreign Legion to find another line of work that hid from the light of day. After Terry became satisfied with Ron’s ability to work with money, he asked to deposit a large sum with Ron who only asked for Terry’s story, in return. It was close to too fantastic to believe and yet somehow dripping with irresistible intrigue. A deal was struck and as the years passed, it seemed to Ron as though the pair might never meet again. He was wrong.
~~~
An excerpt from The Blazer of St. Clair
In 1973 the film, The Day of the Jackal came to St. Paul, Minnesota. In those days the Grandview Fine Arts Theater played host to nearly all the foreign and independent films worthy of a showing, but not famous or well known enough to appear at the downtown theaters. Three friends and alumni of Holy Spirit grade school attended a showing of this film at the suggestion of Terry, who had run into Ron and who still had some contact with Brett, aka Robert, who happened to be in town visiting. These three were members of a rather exclusive fraternity of sorts during high school: The Fellowship of The Blazer of St. Clair, and the film they saw would take on a cryptic significance in all their lives that would play out over the years on an international stage that would finally bring them all together again.
They were never great friends through grade school but were classmates and had played on the playground together. Of the three, Brett Scarlett was the most popular. Even as a child, Brett left you with the impression he found it all amusing. His was an easy smile. Not insincere in any way and certainly not painted on, but well suited to his good looking face and he wore it well and often. He reminded you, Ron had said once, of a young Jimmy Stewart trying to play Louis Jordan and he only got better at it the older he got. He confessed to being a fan of Jack Paar and stayed up late watching Jack during grade school; this, even when Steve Allen tried to come back on CBS. On the playground (at least among those Sacred Heart students who enjoyed staying up late for any reason) Steve Allen with his more vaudevillian antics and odd regulars like Gypsy Boots seemed more popular. But Jack Paar was more sophisticated, and if sophisticated ever had a more avid student than Brett Scarlett, he or she would be difficult to find. He had a certain swagger to his gait but a Fred Astaire bounce in his step evened that out. He was completely at ease with his hands, either at his side or in his pockets or any variation thereof, it all looked perfectly natural. He was a confident, “hail fellow well met” sort of a youngster who was very well spoken and nice looking. Brett played all the sports but took none seriously.
Terry Lorch was the most accomplished athlete. He played in the St. Paul Catholic League, and Sacred Heart was a perennial champion. Terry began in the sixth grade and by eighth grade he was a standout in football, basketball and baseball. Terry seemed angry about something nearly all the time. He also seemed never to be without a job. Indeed no one could remember when he hadn’t delivered papers in the morning and while Terry was nice looking as well, he wore that perpetual chip on his shoulder. It wasn’t your fault of course, but he wore it like a jacket most days. If you wondered what the source of Terry’s anger was, one could only conclude that he seemed not insensitive to sensitivity but largely uncomfortable with it. To him, life was challenging and you meet the challenge head-on. He was quick to say that he had little time for sentimental bullshit. Economically, Terry parents were quite well off. Brett was always quick to point out that Terry didn’t need a paper route. No one was quite sure why Terry tolerated that. But Brett could get away with saying things to Terry no one else could.
Ronald Tansey was another matter. Perhaps the most average looking of the three he flew largely under the radar throughout grade school. He had good grades and he was very fleet afoot. Indeed, he was one of the fastest boys in the school. In spite of that however, he never went out for any of the school’s teams. He did play little league playground football and baseball and later on, one year of American Legion baseball as well. In the consciousness of his classmates Ronald might have been remembered for several things along the way but what seemed to stick in everyone’s memory was his ability to answer the unanswerable questions the nuns would ask with some regularity. For example, there was Sister Mary Francis in second grade who stood up before the class and asked, more or less rhetorically: “Who can tell me another name for tadpoles?” As she did and certain no one could, she turned almost before saying the word tadpoles to begin printing out the new name on the blackboard.
“Poliwogs,” said Ronald.
Sister Mary Francis turned around and said, “Who said that?”
Ronald held up his hand and so it went throughout grade school.
A few years later, Sister Geraldine asked, “Can anyone tell me who the first Catholic candidate for President was?”
“Al Smith,” said Ronald without hesitation.
“In the Revolutionary War, who can tell me who the man they called the Swamp Fox was?”
“Francis Marion,” came the reply and by this time, everyone knew who said it.
It happened a lot. Ronald just seemed to know things no one else did, sometimes even the nuns themselves.
“Joseph of Arimathea asked for and received our Lord’s body after His crucifixion, said Sister Francis Borgia in the seventh grade. “Joseph was a rich man and he prepared our Lord’s body for burial.”
“Sister?” asked one student. “Who was Joseph? Did he follow Jesus like the apostles?”
Seeing Ronald looking down and shaking his head she said, “Ronald? Can you tell us who Joseph of Arimathea was?”
Ronald looked up and said, “It depends on who you believe, Sister. If you go strictly according to the bible there is not much there to tell us who he was. But he is a popular figure in the beginnings of Christianity in England and France. One story has it that Joseph was a tin merchant and did business in the British Isles. That story says that Jesus was Joseph’s nephew and that he brought Jesus to England as a boy. It’s called the Glastonbury Legend.”
“How on earth do you know that Ronald?” she asked.
“My mother’s cousin lives in England and they sing a hymn there called Jerusalem. It’s based on a poem by William Blake. The words ask the question did Jesus walk upon England’s mountains’ green. No one knows if it’s true.”
I don't know about you, but I love finding bits of researched history done by authors in presenting their stories! You?!
Again, seventh grade.
But grade school and prison share a lot in common. For the most part both are strictly controlled environments with the societal pecking order usually determined during free time: in the yard in prison and at recess in school. But whether in grade school or prison, “know-it-alls” were not always popular. And so while Ronald got away with it for years until one day, one of his classmates started in on the playground.
“Hey smart-ass,” said Tim Wells. “When Floyd Patterson knocked out Johansson, was it with a left or a right?”
Brett Scarlett didn’t hear Ronald answer. It wasn’t about that anyway. Talk like that always meant the fight came next. He was never quite sure why he did it. Part of it had to do with Brett’s knowing that straight up, he could take Tim and it was just like Wells to pick on someone for being smarter than everybody else. Wells and his whole family were as dumb as wood. And while Ronald waited for the punch to land and the fight to begin, Brett walked over to Wells and as he did, he saw Terry Lorch get down on his hands and knees right behind the bully. Wells saw Brett coming and started to back up. When he did, he fell backwards over Lorch.
“Did he fall like that, Tim? Huh? Did he fall like that?” asked Brett.
Terry Lorch got up laughing.
Tim Wells knew what Brett Scarlett knew about who would win a fight between them and with Terry Lorch getting involved, this was a no-win deal for sure. But Tim had brothers and to not fight back meant they’d kick his ass and so by the time he got to his feet he knew he had to swing at somebody. But he never quite got to his feet because before he could straighten up, Ronald came at him and got him in a headlock. After that it broke up pretty quick with no real blows ever thrown or landed. In general (and that event in particular), a friendship was begun for the three of them that would last through high school and beyond.
In the end, both Terry and Brett had come to value intelligence. Not necessarily those who got good grades per se, but anyone who knew something and wasn’t afraid to share it out loud. Not long after the episode on the playground with Tim Wells, Brett invited Ron over to his house after school. The Scarlett’s home had an unattached large two-car garage with a room upstairs. It would never be confused with a carriage house in any sense, but it had a stairway and a door and two windows and while it got way too hot to play in in the summer, the rest of the time it gave Brett a place to get away to now and then, and of course the privacy to invite friends to come over and smoke cigarettes. Brett’s parents didn’t mind that he smoked and even allowed Brett to smoke in the house. But he was somewhat embarrassed about that and besides he just assumed that their permission did not extend to any of his friends and so, the room over the garage served that purpose. Brett’s collection of Playboy magazines were kept there as well and he had furnished it with a couple of overstuffed chairs and even added a small, portable TV...
Happy Birthday Avery! How have you reached the age of 2 without me getting any older?! It seems like just yesterday when I first met you and we looked into each other's eyes and connected...How that happened, only God can tell us. Because for whatever reason, in addition to our being related, you have become so very important to me! In fact, I decided that I would be building a home library for you. I know--I know! You may be a little boy that will be interested in running and playing outside, rather than reading... And that's very OK...Because, it really doesn't take very long to read a book and learn a little about what the story is about... And then go outside to play, too!
And, in this case, it's about you! And just how much you are worth to those of us who love you! And that, of course, means my very good friend! His name is Jesus!
Your Mom said you are beginning to share with other little children at parks, so, I thought this song should be about somebody you might also meet some day...
Aside from the fact that Jesus is the one who sent you to mommy and daddy, this new book tells you just how very much a little boy is worth! To Us, To Jesus, and the whole wide world! Wanna hear more?
On the very first page is a little boy and his dog by the ocean. Joining the two-page spread are just the arms of two people--probably your mommy and daddy, just like the picture above...They are there to always protect you from all that may hurt you. The pictures seem almost to be realistic, a snapshot rather than painted, yet it clearly has scenes that could be made to hang on your bedroom wall! Here's the first thing written:
How much, How much are you worth precious boy?
How much is a little boy worth?
Just like the pictures above when you were outside watching fireworks, so, too, is, on the next page, the little boy sitting outside with his parents on a starry, night and even a tent is available to sleep in if you wish and a fire, to roast a hotdog or even a marshmallow! You know, what? Your Mommy roasted hotdogs for me recently and also made me toasted marshmallows... I was very happy to enjoy that treat! So, here's what is being said on this page, just for you!
More than the stars and the moon in the sky.
More than the sun up above.
More than all the incredible things in the world.
It is you that I treasure and love.
Fearfully and wonderfully made to be loved.
Valuable just 'cause you're you.
Uniquely designed you are one of a kind.
Little boy do you know this is true?
Now the page from which the above last lines were read, was a picture where the little boy in the book is dressed as a frog! I remember pictures of you dressed in a pirate suit! Isn't it fun to play dressup?! Or just jump and play in the rain!
Or to just wear a superman costume to bed! Like the little boy does in your new book! Do you think you'd like the little boy who is pictured in your book?
Your body and mind your heart and your soul.
Were all made in His image, made to be whole.
Along with all the wonderful, colorful images of children and the messages parents are giving them, I felt one word captured the essence of the message: Assurance. We want to have all little children know that they are especially loved by God, our creator and by all those who are in the lives of little boys like you, Avi... Your Mom and Dad, your grandparents...and just about everybody who ever meets the world's children! You are Loved! And your worth is beyond any word except Love. Because you are Love, itself. I love you Avi!
So, Avi, I hope you are having a happy birthday with your cake, cookies and people there, and here, to tell you that we love you! And we are so happy God gave you to us just as He gave us Jesus our Friend! You'll be hearing more about Jesus in other books I'll be sharing with you, but for now. I hope you like this latest book for your away-from-home library and that I'll see you soon to tell you where your books will be here at the cabin, just for you whenever you want to pull one out!
“You’re just a sore loser,” the drunken man shouted. “But the judge is going to side with me. Me!” Joe Roswell was somewhere in his fifties, I guessed, balding with a salt-and-pepper mustache and wire-framed glasses. His face was lined from years of working outside in the sun and wind and cold. My grandmother would have said he had nice eyes. The man yelling at him was somewhere either side of thirty. He was a couple of inches shorter than Roswell and probably thirty pounds or so lighter, with sandy blonde hair that hung in his eyes. “Back off,” I heard Roswell say. Even twenty-five feet away I could see the warning in his eyes. Liam and Nick exchanged a look and started for the two men. Joe Roswell had clearly had enough. He rolled his forearm out and snapped it down on the other man’s arm, breaking the man’s grip. Then instead of moving away he took a step closer. “Walk away, Healy,” Roswell said, his voice sharp with warning. “Otherwise I will call the police. This party is invitation only and you don’t have one.” They glared at each other for a long moment, then Mr. Healy said something I didn’t catch and made his way toward the bar. The argument was over. People were already shifting their attention back to whatever they had been doing; in fact, I realized that not everyone had even noticed the brief altercation. Liam was talking to Roswell. Nick just stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets, listening. I saw the contractor shake his head.
All three men looked in the direction of the bar and I did the same. As I watched I saw the female bartender shake her head at Mr. Healy. I didn’t think I was wrong about his state of intoxication and the last thing he needed was another drink. She set a cup and saucer on the bar in front of him, picked up a carafe that I assumed held coffee and poured a cup. He made a face at the coffee and said something. The bartender in turn pushed the cup at him. I had the sense from their interaction—the way he leaned in toward her, the way she seemed to snap back at him—that they knew each other. And it was all none of my business...
Rose still seemed to be distracted by what was happening at the bar. The bartender had moved on to serve someone else and Mr. Healy was drinking his coffee and surveying the crowd. She turned to look at us. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just wondering if that poor man is okay.” I glanced around the room. Joe Roswell was standing by the windows now talking to Liam and Jane Evans. I tipped my head in their direction. “I think he’s fine, Rose,” I said. She turned in the direction I’d indicated. “Oh I didn’t mean him,” she said. “If you weren’t referring to Joseph then who did you mean?” Mr. P. asked. “The young man over by the bar, of course.” She frowned as though she didn’t understand why we didn’t know that. “Rose, he’s drunk,” I said. “I can see that,” she replied. “Maybe you should ask yourself why.” Conversations with Rose could very easily get off track. I knew she had a point to make but I had no clue what it was. “I would assume he consumed more alcohol than his body could process,” Mr. P. said. Rose nodded approvingly. “Exactly.” She shifted her attention to me. “Why?” I was officially off in the bulrushes, as Liz would say. “You mean, why did he get drunk?” “Yes. He got drunk, then he came to a party he hadn’t been invited to and made a bit of a scene.”
I glanced over at Mr. Healy again, who was now talking to Robb Gorham. It didn’t look like a very happy conversation. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Joe Roswell was watching them, too. Mr. P. was looking pensive. “Getting so intoxicated suggests the young man was upset about something.” Once again Rose smiled at him as though he were her best student. “You’re wondering what that something is,” I said. “I am,” she said. “I hate to see anyone in such distress.” Her eyes flicked to the back of the room again for a brief moment. “I guess that makes me a nosy old lady.” I slipped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. “No. It makes you someone with a great big heart...”
Once again my attention was drawn back to the bar. Maybe now I was the one who was being nosy. Healy was still standing there with his coffee. Joe Roswell was walking away shaking his head. Had they had another “conversation” I wondered? Beside me Rose was counting the View-Master reels. Across the room Healy took a sip of his coffee. The hand holding his cup began to shake. He pressed his other hand against his upper chest. He made a guttural sound. The coffee cup fell and shattered and Healy fell to the floor. I pushed past Rose and Mr. P. “Call 911,” I said. I bolted to the man, reaching him at the same time that Nick did. He rolled Healy on his back, felt for a pulse at his neck and bent to listen for breathing.
He shook his head. “Start chest compressions,” he said. “I’ll do the breathing.” I nodded, swallowed against the lump of fear that was lodged in my throat and pushed the man’s sport coat open. I felt Healy’s chest move under my hands. I hoped it would somehow be enough to keep him alive until help arrived. Under my breath I was humming the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive,” something Nick had taught us all to do as a good way to maintain the proper number of compressions per minute.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Healy didn’t move. His color was a pasty gray-green, his eyes almost closed. He had long eyelashes and a scrape on his chin that was probably the result of cutting himself shaving. I didn’t know why my brain had noticed those things. Maybe because I didn’t want to think that he might already be dead. I just continued to work in tandem with Nick as the wail of sirens got closer. I had no idea how long it took the ambulance to arrive. Probably not as long as it seemed to me.
Finally a paramedic in her blue uniform crouched beside me. “I’ve got this,” she said. I moved out of the way and she took over. I got to my feet. It was cold in the room. I wrapped my arms around my midsection for warmth. A suit jacket wrapped around my shoulders and Liam put his arm around me. We watched as Nick and the paramedics got Healy onto a stretcher. His color hadn’t changed. He hadn’t moved. I had the sickening feeling he was dead...
~~~
I often wonder why we have such a fascination of murder, death, killing. There are millions of books and movies that include some type of murder scene. Some simple, as we usually find in a cozy mystery such as this by Sofie Ryan. Others become so bizarre, so sophisticated that some of us want to know the "Why?" of what could have led to a death? For me, the solving of a mystery was always the primary point of interest. The standard "Who, What, When, Where and Why" questions seemed to haunt me until either I have solved the mystery, or I came to the end of the book or television program and learned the "Why?" Then I could ponder how the writer handled the book plot... And whether I was satisfied that the writer was an effective fiction writer... And, of course, I would seek out more of her/his books.
But I have changed over the last 5-6 years. One, after having done nothing but reviews--reading and talking about the books read--for over ten years, I had a major physical breakdown. It was as if my body told me that I had been ignoring it, and most any other thing in life, except reading, writing and blogging... As some of you may know, I had to immediately go into physical therapy and start from scratch; that is, I had to learn how to walk again, stand, bend and more, without collapsing... Two, during that time, I heard that fatal call to the majority of American women when we heard our former president talk about grabbing women by... yeah, you remember, don't you?! Since then I've paid attend to the world around me. I couldn't help but watch when a man with such vulgarity, and lack of respect for women, was indeed running for president... And, three, I have seen the destruction wrought by this man and his political party, especially with the recognition, and the ever-growing loss of life--children's lives--due to lack of willingness on the part of that party to do something about gun control...
So, it was with a tiny bit of awe that I realized, Sofie Ryan, in her presentation of her investigative team, disclosed how she had created all of them involved in justice really felt:
Note: I enjoy listening to different versions of the same song and find in each a certain meaning that was wanted to be portrayed by the respective singer(s)...You may choose to listen to only the first which is the poem spoken rather than sung...
'No Man is an Island'
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. --John Donne
Rose reached across the seat and laid her hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Both you and Nicolas did your best, but Mr. Healy was dead when he hit the floor. There wasn’t anything either of you could have done to save him.” I’d already come to the same conclusion, but I hated to admit that Nick and I hadn’t been able to save the man. It made me feel profoundly sad and I hadn’t even known him. I suddenly thought of John Donne’s poem, “No Man Is an Island.”
I couldn’t remember if it was Charlotte or my grandmother who had quoted it to me. “‘Any man’s death diminishes me,’
“‘Because I am involved in mankind,’” I said, softly. “‘And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee,’” Mr. P. finished.
I started the SUV and pulled out of the lot. “I wonder why anyone would have wanted to kill that young man,” Rose said. I shot her a quick look. “Hang on a minute,” I said. “We don’t know for sure that Mr. Healy is dead—and even if he is, why would you think someone killed him?”
“He was poisoned.” “Rosie, why do you think that?” Mr. P. asked from the backseat. Rose turned to look over her shoulder at him. “He had a seizure right before he died. His body was twitching, shaking. He made some kind of strangled sound and he collapsed.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her look at me again. “You did see that, didn’t you Sarah?” I nodded and swallowed against the sudden tightness in my chest. “I did, but that doesn’t mean the man was poisoned.” “It doesn’t mean he wasn’t,” she replied. I glanced over at her again. Her hands were folded in her lap and she didn’t seem the slightest bit upset because I didn’t agree with her. This was not a good sign.
“Okay, let’s assume Mr. Healy had a seizure,” I said. “Other things can cause a seizure—a fever, a head injury. He may have epilepsy or be diabetic. He had been drinking. Too much alcohol can cause seizures.” “That’s true. All of those things could have caused that young man to have collapsed the way he did,” Rose said. “But I was watching him. He was fine. He drank some of his coffee and then he wasn’t fine. He was poisoned, Sarah.” “Can we at least wait until we’re sure the man is dead before we decide he was murdered?” I asked. “Of course we can, dear,” she said. She was being very reasonable. That was also not a good sign...
~~~
Of course, we can assume that the man was murdered--it is a murder mystery. And, as soon as somebody dies, there are people who will seek out to learn more and work to help those affected by that death. In this case, it is a small group which includes senior citizens, who I have come to love... Four of the team are seniors who have had an active life, but have continued to work and strive to bring help to others. So it is that, the poem, "No Man is an Island" indeed reflects the entire series. I don't think I have ever seen a series written so that its characters are so involved, loving, and hard-working on behalf of others, as is the Second Chance Cat Mystery Series.
Perhaps that is why when I got to this quoted poem in book 7 (Yes, I've been reading just this series), I was so, once again, struck by the changes I have seen in America during this decade. I can still remember the very first video I saw where the police overcame one man who kept crying, "I can't breathe..."
Note this man was not a murderer! He had not kidnapped or raped or did violence against another. All he did was open a pack of cigarettes he had bought and sold the individual cigarettes to make a little extra money. NOBODY can tell me this was justice... Nor that the police had to act as violently as they did, for such a little reason...
After that, I have grown more angry as I saw what was happening in America, often incited by our president and other politicians. Hate against non-whites soon became to be standard for those republicans in office and apparently for many who were supporting them in their running for office "to help America..."
I have become disgusted not only for the lying, but for the attempts to claim that actions by republicans are based on christianity. I refuse to even capitalize that word now... It is only those who claim Jesus as their Savior...and fight against violence, that I am even willing to have some semblance of respect, even if they don't support my personal opinions and beliefs. Nobody can tell me that what is happening with christian leaders is of God. It is not! Why?
Luke CHAPTER 18
...15 And they brought unto him also infants, that he would touch them: but when his disciples saw it, they rebuked them.
16 But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little achildren to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.
17 Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein.
~~~
Refusing to outlaw assault guns (military) by the republican party, as just one issue, is far more important than any other. Jesus wanted the children to come unto Him...He wanted to spend time and love them... He died for our children; why are our children being murdered?!
...as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
If you want to see how God's children lives and works,
and live, involved in mankind,
I am finding this series a treasure trove of God's humanity
towards humanity via the characters... even though
no religious issues are discussed.
Impressions of a Murder
Just One Murder--of any man's death
It diminishes me for I am involved in mankind
How can fiction strike us as truth
while reality fails so badly?
I was trying to think of a song to end this post, maybe A Child of a King, or something similar...and then this popped up! A God Incident? For surely, listening to these two young people, sharing their beautiful talents, we are reminded of all the murdered children in schools that will never be able to develop what special talents God has given to them...all because of a political party that refuses to see that tragedy will continue without congressional action to ban assault guns and add strict control management to buying and owning guns...It's just like owning vehicles. They can do harm, as well...but not like guns... Think about your own children, your neighborhood children, and the children across America who have been gunned down...in their schools! Folks, it is not a time to care about your traditional political party. It is a time to VOTE OUT those who do harm to children...simply by refusing to help... Are YOU involved with mankind, knowing that you can never live alone on an island? Consider impressions of the real murders happening in America... Or, in other words, I cannot NOT speak out when I see the power-hungry lying acts of those politicians now in Washington. Study, do your research, watch a variety of news channels not just your favorite, watch vids on UTube to see what is happening daily... and Vote for Truth! Vote out Liars!
I love a little sarcasm when it perfectly makes the point...Thanks Bob, Gabbie
I want to thank Republicans for all they have done for our country. They were instrumental in having America break records! Yup, this last week we had three consecutive days in which the average temperature was higher than ever before. Hurray! Great job, Republicans. And the icing on the cake was those beautiful sunsets we’ve enjoyed over the last months, compliments of the smoke drifting from the Canadian forest fires. We even got to smell the delightful aroma of burnt wood. A Republican gift to America. All because they still refuse to believe scientists global warming is caused by an increase in carbon dioxide from our factories and vehicles. Then there are the new state laws restricting abortions. So glad that Republicans now are telling women what they can and can’t do with their bodies. Let's face facts, folks. Things went downhill after women got the vote. Now the Republicans are finally getting those pesky women under control. So many books! Heck, too many books. It makes perfect sense that Republicans should try to reduce the number so that our children aren't overwhelmed. Hence, it is perfectly understandable that they ban the books that talk about sexual matters. Shameful ugly topic. Such matters should only be discussed between a child and their parents. So throw out those books mentioning sex. Books like Catcher in the Rye, Handmaiden’s Tale, Catch 22, To Kill a Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men and that real scorcher, the Bible. Yeah, the Bible dwells too much on rape and incest. Then, of course, there is that little story about a father giving his young daughters to some weary travelers. Terrible sexual stuff in the Bible. Republicans are finally curtailing the abuse by police. We’ve all seen how rogue police have unjustly manhandled our citizens, even murdering them. Well, Republicans have drawn the line in the sand. No more of that. Those police defending the Capitol on Jan. 6th… they were far too restrictive and combative with the “patriots” just trying to visit the Capitol. And look at the mess those police caused. Even the federal police force, the FBI, is clearly out of control when they execute search warrants on a person who stole Top Secret documents and refused to return some of them to their rightful owner. Terrible. Yes, investigate that rogue police force. And, finally, we need to thank Republicans for supporting and defending a man who has torn our country apart with his lies, his vulgar words, his terrible treatment of women, and his threats to anyone who tries to stop him. He is stoking anger and fear such that his followers view Democrats as the enemy. Well, damn it… they are destroying the country; at least that’s what Donald, the paragon of truth, suggests. So, bring on the violence. Wasn’t it Jefferson who said that we need to spill a little blood every now and again to keep the movement growing? So, thank-you, Republicans.
~~~
Talk about Truth Versus the Biggest Liar Ever... Along with his sycophants
Donald often minimizes his unethical and sometime criminal behavior by attributing the same behavior to his enemies. For example, when reputable news sources called him out on his many lies, he cried “FAKE NEWS”. Recently indicted for stealing Top Secret documents, he falsely claimed that other presidents committed the same crimes. His words and actions are steering us toward a fascist government. So, he calls Democrats “fascists”. It is this last distraction from facts that I want to address. Fascism is control by a dictatorial leader relying on a forcible suppression of opposition; there is no democratic debate. There is also an inherent belief in a natural social hierarchy in which one race is superior to other races. Fascist leaders gain power by creating public rage at presumed cultural targets. Most often they resort to lies. Recall when Donald claimed President Obama was not born in the United States thus implying he was not a legitimate president? This further polarized many Republicans who were uncomfortable with an intelligent black man being president. During the 2016 presidential campaign, Donald associated the Clintons with a number of deaths and suggested that they orchestrated those deaths; in other words, Donald essentially accused them of murders. Of course, there was no basis in facts in these accusations. He just found unsubstantiated claims from unreliable talking heads on the internet. Again and again, Donald uses dictatorial techniques to fan the fires of rage and resentment against his enemies.
But lying is not enough for a fascist leader. They have to constantly stoke anger and fear in their weak-minded followers. Donald did this with his divisive speeches and posts: He claimed that Mexico was sending us “rapists” and “murders”. And disease: “Tremendous infectious disease is pouring across the border.” He extolled his followers to be ready and willing to fight to take back a country that was presently controlled by a democratic government: “You’ll never take back our country with weakness, you have to show strength and you have to be strong”. Fear and anger, the lynchpins of fascism used by both Hitler in Germany and Putin in Russia.
Though subtle, Donald pushed his weak-minded MAGA followers into a belief that the rights of others must be curtailed just to maintain the “natural social hierarchy” of Christian whites. Muslims are dangerous and thus should be restricted from entering our countries. People of color come from “shit-hole” countries. Democrats were the enemy: “SINCE THE RADICAL LEFT INDICTMENT HOAX WAS INITIATED BY THE MISFITS, MUTANTS, MARXISTS, & COMMUNISTS!” Even knowledge itself was attacked by Donald: “Getting critical race theory out of our schools is … a matter of national survival.” His trigger words and phrases have been used by Fascists from Hitler to Putin. So, no! Fascism is not being peddled by the Democrats. Indeed, fascism is what President Biden and the Democrats are trying to steer our country away from. In fact, fascism is being nurtured by Donald and his MAGA allies. For this and other reasons, Donald is a clear and present danger to our constitutional democracy.
