Necessary Deeds Written by Mark Wish - A Literary Setting Murder Mystery Thriller - A Personal Favorite

 I smile. If she doesn’t have all of my heart, she has all of my body, spirit, and mind—because when it comes to the way my mind works, she knows exactly how to talk.

“So are we done sharing deep, dark secrets for the night?” she asks. “I don’t know. You decide.” “I think we’ve done an impressive amount of that kind of sharing.” “I think I’d say I agree.” She takes my hand and leads me to the bed. Kisses the back of my wrist, nibbles it before she lets me go. Stands on her toes to kiss a side of my neck, then my earlobe, which she bites just hard enough to send pain and maybe a little panic down my neck. “You do realize,” I say, “that it’s been more than four years.”

Mark Wish asks the question:

 Who can you trust if you can't trust yourself?

Mark Wish sent me a postcard request for a review quite some time ago. I set the card aside until I was able to be back blogging... And I'm certainly glad I found his post card again. Most people know I love unique. And this is one of the most unique books I've read... So unique, I had to name it as a Personal Favorite for 2026!

I was immediately caught by the main character being a literary agent--Anything re books catches my attention...

Even if that literary agent committed murder...

The description of that murder was unique--it was not about killing somebody. It was about having lost a part of himself. Something that had been precious to him, which was now destroyed. But now that it was over, he was paying the price. He had learned something, though. He could not trust himself in certain types of situations... His time in Sing Sing was a time when he needed to be on good behavior every day of his sentence, hoping he'd be able to get time off for good behavior...

Still it left him plenty of time to, also, file divorce papers after she had been unfaithful. And, deal with the fact that a supposed friend had been involved with his wife... Four years had given him enough time to explore options for the future. After all, being a literary agent was a job that required trust in him, by individuals hoping to have his support and help in publishing their books. It was what he enjoyed doing, even if the percentage of his work reviewing material from those who were never going to be published was high and very time consuming. He also wondered if those with whom he'd had contracts would be willing to stay with him...

One in particular, who wrote a lot of poetry, even though he'd never been able to get a book published, he felt had real talent and enjoyed working with him. Would he even still be living when he got out?

I need to be able to talk with someone who knows me, the real me...

In fact I’m out there, in the yard, when I first meet Jonas. On the unshaded basketball court, where my mood often spikes if direct sunshine finds me. Using the hoop with no net and therefore alone, sometimes lost in thought about my victim, sometimes imagining him putting his first move on my ex, in any case vulnerable to the whims of anyone who has the nerve to approach me. And Jonas indeed has the nerve. As he crosses the out-of-bounds line, all I know about him (well, all I’ve heard about him since he arrived here yesterday) is that he, too, has killed a man, in his case during a flubbed attempt to rob the Mahopac OTB while partnering up with a defective AR-15...

Suddenly all of that changed for Matthew Connell!

Because the FBI had a serial killer case that they needed help to solve... Young writers were being targeted and ultimately dismembered. And the one who was being looked at as a possible person of interest was the poet that Matt had been thinking about... And Jonas was his new contact from the FBI who proposed that, if he helped them, he would be freed, with no strings attached after the case was closed... And Jonas became that somebody with whom Matt could talk... as long as he talked about what the FBI needed to know!

“Would rather hear what you know about Ethan Hendee,” he says. Ethan Hendee was a client of mine who, eighteen years ago—that is, more than a decade before I learned my wife wasn’t exactly a saint—gave up on writing novels to write poems that appear in those photocopied literary mags no one reads. He’s a helluva writer, candid and interesting and succinct as anyone published, but I have not survived here by not holding cards close. So: “Ethan Hendee?” “Ha.” “Why ha?” “Because I know you’re Matthew Connell, and that you’ve represented the poet Ethan Hendee for a long time.” “The only problem being I don’t know such a person.” “But see, bro, there’s no question in my mind that you do know him. I know you’ve been his agent for years.” I shake my head no. Eye the asphalt between us and the cyclone fence. “You trying to tell me you’re not Matthew Connell?” he asks. “Matt Connell.” I force a sour expression. “Maybe you’re confusing me with some hoity-toity guy? Anyway, how does someone who hauls around an AR-15 know anything about poetry?” He points at his hornrims. “Because he’s read some?” “Well, I don’t know any Hendee.” “But see, Matt, I still think you do. Plus I think that, as his literary agent, you know what a badass he is.” In all truth, I do not know this. The Ethan Hendee I represented before my arrest had a soul gentle as any. I’m curious about what this Jonas guy heard Hendee did, but to get an early release, I’ve pledged to myself never to talk about crime that’s gone down on the outside. After all, a rehabbed convict no longer cares about crime, and I am nothing if not a rehabbed convict. To let this Jonas guy know I’m done socializing for the day, I turn and face the run of the Hudson beyond the chain link and the razor wire, its waves peaking into whitecaps here and there. “So you’re not gonna spill?” he asks. I don’t as much as shrug. He zings me a no-look pass, really zips it, hard, straight at my head, but I notice it soon enough to catch it. “Ya missed,” I mutter loud enough for him to hear, and I look over to stare him down, but his back is already turned, a confident stride taking him off. And it occurs to me, as he heads to the guarded double doors between us and the inside, that if he doesn’t have six inches on me, he has seven. And that my own storied past has taught me that the strength to kill a man comes not only from size—it also comes from youth. So I’ll avoid him, I decide. Won’t let him know I’m avoiding him, but that’s what I’ll do. There’s an art to this.

And then Jonas put the pressure on...

A Quieter Saturday

Night of those 2 grandparents

 my grandmother was nicer

 but she loved my brother so much

 there was rarely laughter in her for me

 & on that night my brother wasn’t there—

it was just the 2 of us

 & my grandfather

 & my grandfather never spoke

 so it felt as if it were just the 2 of us

 she & I were playing cards for nickels

 & she was winning 

& my grandfather was reading the paper

 & I could tell she liked to win

 but it bothered her she’d lent me the nickels

 in the first place

 it just wasn’t the same for her: 

winning at cards with this grandson

 who didn’t like nuns

 it would be better if she were winning

 against adults & their money

 or even losing to my brother

 who she was sure would become a priest

 & he did become a priest—

 after she died

 then he died from a virus

 he caught from a priest

 & the last 2 things I’d do tonight

 are go to church & play cards

 my grandfather died also

 but by then I was no longer around

 to see him off 

still I am him in this room:

 full of words not saying any of them

~~~~

Hendee’s candor has touched my heart yet again, but I decide that, for the moment, it’s best to appear unfazed. I stand, shrug, place the poem on Scardina’s desk. “You know who wrote that thing, right?” Jonas asks. “No,” I say. “It said so on the header.” “Guess I missed that.” “Matt, your client Ethan Hendee wrote that poem.” “I wouldn’t say Hendee’s my client.” “I would. And there’s plenty of evidence to prove me right.” “Is that so?” “All sorts back at my headquarters.” 

Headquarters. God, do I love that word. As an agent—that is, before my twenty-eight minutes—I always wanted a headquarters, an airy square footage in which like-minded colleagues and I could find repose. Where I’d gain moral support and refresh my resolve on the toughest days in the grand competition that is publishing.

But, of course, the FBI always gets their man, even if it requires that he be given freedom from a murder charge and given an apartment, a phone, credit cards and all he had to do was...be himself... Check out his former client and see if he's become a serial killer...

Before his twenty-eight minutes--the time it took to hear what happened with his wife, get to his home, and kill him--Matt was a wonderful man, caring for his wife, his clients, and even going further to often provide rewrites necessary to get a book published. His poet had been able to get many of his individual poems routinely published. Enough to keep him in food an shelter. So Matt, after agreeing to what the FBI asked of him, immediately took off to try to find his friend and client. Finding him was enough to take some time, but finding his way there again, he was pleased to find him and, as they renewed their friendship, Matt just knew this man was not a killer! Nevertheless, he would spend time confirming what he already knew...

Along the way, as he started visiting the neighborhood where his apartment was located, he found it hard to accept that he was really free, after his four years out of circulation, to be able to move about. To walk into any location and sit down for something to eat or drink... It wasn't long before he met Em. And fell for her! Of course, that was not part of the FBI plan and soon he learned just how closely he was being kept in their circle of captivity: all phone information was captured or listened to; they had given him a set of specially-made shoes that could be tracked step by step no matter where he went...

In the meantime, another young writer disappeared. And, later, the killer changed his pattern, when the male poet who Matt had been asked to track and report on, as the number 1 suspect on the FBI radar, was also murdered...

I think through a few things I could mention about Hendee if asked to eulogize him: his candor, his honor, his wit, his decades of persistence in the face of what most people considered failure. I owe it to him to say these things publicly, I tell myself. Still, I want only to talk with Em... 

Time to reconsider the plan of action for Matt and his new female connection... Was Em a possible suspect? In the meantime, as a convict, Matt started getting hundreds of requests for assistance, many of them from men in prisons who felt they had a story to tell. Indeed Matt had found when in Sing Sing that many could weave a story that was well worth listening to! And the FBI, of course, set a course for his emails; namely, send them any writer who gave off vibes of a psycho with violence as a key role in their writing...

But as Matt became more and more involved with the literary crowd he had once known, he was finding it harder and harder to follow the restrictions placed on him, especially about Em who he had fallen for quickly and totally... Only to find it was she who, because of their association, was to share a secret so monumental that it shook him to the bones, as he wondered just how far he...could...trust...himself...

Whew! Without explicitly revealing the type of violence that was placed by the Serial Killer, the book was written in such a way that readers sense the tension, the depth of depravity of the villain... The buildup of the climax is excellent. Even while readers have been given clues and are aware of the interrelation mixes that are developing, at least for me, it never entered my mind how the ending would occur...

Extraordinary! Exciting! Endless suspense... and a Necessary Deed...

But what good, I wonder, have all the books in the world done?

I also ask her not to contact me in the meantime, by any means whatsoever. I do not mention why, because, I assure myself as I write, I’d rather she not suspect I’m losing my mind...

GABixlerReviews

M. R. G. Davies Presents Murder by the Book - Cozy Crime Murder Mystery Book 1 - Set in Great Britain

 

Opening a new book often begins a whirlwind of...stuff... This is the case with Murder by the Book.  After reading the epigraph, I wondered, "What?!"

Moving on I begin reading what is actually a book within a book... It seemed to me historical and I was not anxious to continue to read. Finally, readers are confronted with the fact that a book was being read by a small group of people--having just added one, there are now four. A discussion of the book just read began. So I have to say, upfront, I've never participated in a book club--no, forgive me, it is stated over and over and over, that this is a reading group not a book club, even though the cover does "name" it as a book club like no other... I'm so confused, by the way, about what actually happens at a book reading. Do we take turns reading, as we did in grade school? A bit of sarcasm is creeping in, I'm afraid...

In any event, the group did talk and argue as expected until time was up. The bookstore manager came to meet them as she prepares to close the shop. All's well that ends well? Not... Soon there is a loud scream from inside the building. All of the members come running back and try to get back in. In lieu of that, they call the police...

Yes, the bookstore manager is dead. Was it an accident? Or... Nevertheless, the four readers identify themselves to the lead detective and are asked to return to the room where they had just met. Of course all of them began to talk about their relationship to the now deceased individual. Readers of course know she's dead because this is a cozy mystery and a dead body is a prerequisite...

Interestingly, we have already been confronted with a discussion about the antagonistic relationship between the "amateur detective(s)" and the book proves to follow that requirement. I, however, have personally read many cozies in which a companionable relationship occurs. Even on Hallmark mysteries, LOL, normally a love relationship begins... So... is the discussion really a clue? 

I must admit, I got bored as the regurgitation of the same discussions began. Between two group people, or the entire group, or between one member who talks to a news rep and tells all, even though they were told not to talk about the death to anybody, including each other, by the detective. And, of course, none of them were willing not to talk to each other, so... 

The characters lives were interesting and one of them begins to "shine" as she blossoms after interaction with her new friends. So much so, that she decides to kick her husband out, after being controlled by him her entire married life. Good for her! 

However, it was very near the end of the book when readers began to get some semblance of where the book was headed--you know, the type of writer who decided to have the full story to be "revealed" at the end? Well, this is one of those. I'm not a fan. 

Even though it was indeed a climatic ending...

One which has been determined by the publisher not to allow excerpts to be used without written permission... Thus, I could only decide to use one song to even give a flavor of the book... but not the writing of the author...

And as I write this review, I realize just how much there was, not, to enjoy the book itself. So you'll have to decide whether you are the type who enjoys the full surprise bang at the end, or, like me, want to be fed clues, in order to really enjoy the book as a mystery... You decide...

GABixlerReviews

One Day At a Time - Just for Fun... Death, Destruction, DEI... Open Memoir

 

Dear Lord, This day as I again look out my window to the snow, the cold, another day of winter that comes and goes like always... Or is it? It seems these days that I have no basis of balance... Is climate control a problem? Or not, as many may say... Where is Truth that we can count on? Even about the weather?

I find that I am not even sure I can find "Me..." The Me that took one day at a time, moving through each day to tackle what needed to be done... Have I changed so much in these later years, or has the world itself changed so much that we find ourselves turning around and around, searching, for that "something..."

that made me "Me..." 

It's not really that I am more alone than I ever was--that never bothered me, because, of course, YOU were always with me... I could walk through life, through a day and find you somewhere... Monday, the forsythia was blooming all around me, I could feel spring coming so that I could walk outside into the sunshine again, enjoying each new bloom that pops out each day... By Tuesday, everything was covered with snow--the forsythia burdened with the weight of packed white pieces of cold rain that has grown too heavy, the plants drooping... 

I watched a bird land on a metal pole--it shivered, lifting its tiny clawed feet one at a time from the chill that shook its body, finally flying away, hopefully to find some bit of food that somebody had thrown to the ground after eating... We had earlier stopped for lunch, picked up KFC bowls, neither of us feeling like it tasted right... They've stopped added spices to food? Surely that is not where we are headed... Yet... prices have gone up, higher than ever... companies are changing in so many ways...

Rachel had picked me up to go pick up my glasses. I have them on now and am feeling better than I have in over a year to have some visible improvement... I had finally decided to seek a consultation--a second opinion about what had evolved after cataract surgeries on both eyes... I went back to my former eye doctor, preparing to be apologetic that I had chosen to go to WVU rather than have him perform the surgery. He was kind, when he learned that it was really part of a series of surgeries that I'd had during the past five years, which I'd had to prioritize in order of urgency.

Bottom line was that I received verification that the surgeries looked fine, but that the prescription that was found in the glasses did not reflect what I had previously required. Yes, the prescription lens had been inserted correctly, but the planning for my normal eye use had not been considered. In fact, I revealed that there had been no discussion about how I routinely used my eyes for daily living... Reading...

As a reader, I had been struggling ever since... The glasses were changed based upon a tight review of the eyesight chart based upon that inserted lens. I came out of that office, looked around and saw clearly for the first time... The doctor explained that I would still need to deal with very small print such as on my meds containers, but I was relieved to begin to feel that the most important part of me had been reviewed and improved...

Mistakes happened and, normally, most of us are at least able to receive assistance from one person or another. Right now, however, the world as we knew it just a decade ago has changed, not by normal evolution based upon new advances such as AI which most of us are against for the initial period at last...

But there are people--far too many people--acting based upon, shall we be kind and say, bad judgment. Now, for many who have been lied to, manipulated, and, worse, threatened, and have voted into our government a group of people who are so caught up in personal prejudices, desires, or who have been absorbed into a cult-like environment that, many, are just now opening their eyes to the reality of where we are today. A dangerous time that we have not seen for decades...

Worse, it has come about by lies and manipulations of those who are rich and powerful that have corrupted the majority of our country's life at large, that it could be years before we survive just what has been destroyed in less than two years!

I had opened with the above video, only to find I needed to vent a little before I was mentally able to deal with the corruption and, yes, loss of rational, competent thinking by the majority of individuals who are now in government office. Trying to make some type of rational process out of the mess we are in now is just plain impossible... But it seemed to have developed with those in the republican party who were aiming for a major reversion of control within America. Project 2025 was one of the results. However, as anybody who has worked in a "service" organization knows, there is ALWAYS more than the average individual can see or know about by being within that environment.

I lucked out a little on this area of experience, given that my nearest area of employment when I graduated from high school was West Virginia university. And, with my training, I was able to immediately step into an administrative office. first in Personnel, and then into various academic administrative support offices, that resulted in my becoming knowledgeable about the entire group of people who not only worked there, but knowledge of what their individual units were responsible for. You might think about it like this, a state-wide university system is very similar to the duties and responsibilities of a major nation-wide government--only bigger and more in-depth in breadth and scope...

One key difference, however, between a single entity and the government is that, We The People, hire our representatives... Therein lies a problem. Not one that cannot be resolved however--that which has been "played" with one way or another for about 250 years, as of now has gone through similar situations before, though not as devastating.

The answer, of course, is what we already do. But with no major overall oversight... What do I mean by that? Well, think about it with yourself as a small business owner. You want to succeed, right? But you KNOW you can't do it alone... Right now, most of America has seen what has happened when a president decides he is able to handle anything without help... We are NOW in war that was started on no immediate need! In fact, a major resignation was announced this week stating that clearly...

But I don't want to go too far on the reality of TODAY..." We are all suffering through it, to a lesser or greater exteent, as best we can...with no help from our government...

But let's go back to "a business" of some kind. Most businesses will have one individual at the top. WVU had a president... but also a Board of Regents which was over all the educational institutions in the state.

So, as we look comparatively, we see that, because of the scope of our nation, more than a Board of Regents is needed. In fact, the scope of the government is the reason why we needed MULTIPLE oversight agencies:

House of Representatives, a Senate, a comprehensive legal agency (Justice), a Supreme Court. Key difference is that, as it turned out, each state turned out to be "mini-United States." 

Uniformity began to be lost at this point. Once Power was attached to the title of Governor, an immediate competition began... Once that was lost, political parties began to evolve... People chose many times based upon only a political party affiliation... With no concern whether the individual was qualified for the position in question.

Key, however, is that at some point, all people must realize, if they are wise, in my opinion, that what is good for the nation itself, must lead to the final decision making...

That point of:

consensus/agreement/unanimity/concurrence/

accord, acceptance, or a meeting of the minds

MUST OCCUR!

Instead of the negotiation that normally has occurred, right now, for I think the very first time, one party has initiated a takeover for which not one individual can have seen what has actually happened... Why? using terms

Overview. Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others.

that are and have been used during the past decade, we now have an individual in charge who doesn't play by the rules--any rules--nobody's rules, often his own based upon no ratiionale--which can change from day to day...

I've read two of Mary Trump's (and one by her brother) books, who turned to a career in psychology, I imagine, to gain a needed perspective of her family.

One of the reasons I moved from writing about job burnout, to one that reflects a daily journal in a much more complex situation, now, than I personally had at work but which provided the knowledge and experience which led to what I began to see in 2015.

Suffering through the constant vigilance and necessary fear of contamination from Covid played a significant part in seeing just how incompetent DJT was during his first term. Now, only to be forced to watch as statistics about a measles epidemic increases due to, another, similar personality who was placed in charge of the nation's health issues, and all the other actions that has evolved with our health since the overturn of Roe, has proven my concerns and left me angry. Although as of this morning, I'm feeling more relieved as, actions by Kennedy have been stopped at the first level of court action!

Which leads me back to the devastation of living one day at a time, with death caused by ignoring the vaccines that have been available... deaths caused by removal of important health care to poor countries that were formerly helped by USAID, and which has led to more deaths that could have been prevented... On to murder on our streets as ICE go after people on the streets of the United States "for the fun of it..." Or because of the fanatical leadership to remove all but white males from power and government activities... Only to finally use WAR as a distraction seemingly, by one man's choice... Or many choices by many people seeking their own personal desires... 

A democracy cannot live in the environment that has been created by those in government and those behind the scenes funding a collapse of the one constant democracy that has existed from the very beginning of immigration to our country...

Must we lose the One Thing Earned

That Called to all People?

Millions have lived and died here... Millions were brought as slaves here... Millions were indigenous people already living on this land...

Do you REALLY BELIEVE THAT ONE POLITICAL PARTY WITH LOTS OF MONEY BEHIND THEM DESERVE TO DESTROY WHAT ALL OF US BUILT?

i don't

Then Choose!

OR

VOTE wherever you live!

gabby

For Love Presented by Ongoing Poetry Contributor Guy Graybill - Also, Love Enough! - The Prize - Nan

 

FOR LOVE 

(To the tune of “Simplice,” by Tchaikovsky)

Let’s steal away,

 To someplace where we can love;

 Where breezes are cool

 And passions will rule,

 While stars glitter high above.

 Let’s steal a kiss,

 A kiss that goes on and on;

 With boldness that grips

 Our hungering lips,

 While night fades into the dawn.

 Let’s find a nook

 Where I’ll be alone with you;

 Just hidden away

 An hour or a day;

 Or maybe a week or two.

 Let’s dare to dream:

 A dream that we’ll make come true.

 We’ll welcome the chance

 To make our romance

 A love that is always new.

 Let’s take a vow

 To live, evermore, as one.

 With light from above

 We’ll make the white dove

 The symbol for all we’ve done . . . For love.

💖

LOVE ENOUGH

 Yes, I’m a Hindu lover Sir

 And I love Nordics, just as well.

 I am a Negro (Black) lover, too;

 And ev’ry Semite, truth to tell.

Plus ev’ry Oriental type

 And natives of the U.S.A.

 And Eskimo and all the blends,

 Such as the oceans’ grand array.

 Perhaps I’ve got a malady; 

A trait that’s ever here and done.

 Simplistic, yes; but very true: 

I love God’s people, ev’ry one.

 What need to justify this trait?

 This observation’s not profound:

 When prejudice is kept at bay,

 There’s love enough to go around!

👼💓👼

💘

THE PRIZE

 

She, the white woman who taught in the village.

 He, the wild warrior, eas’ly tamed by her eyes.

 They lived together, apart from their people.

 Yes, they lived as outcasts; but they had the prize.

 They saw the glances, the looks and the hatred.

 They sensed the meanness that pure envy inspires. Then each would look in the eyes of the other

 And they would smile, knowing they had the prize.

Each day they thanked their Creator and Maker, While enduring the pain from the meddlesome lies. Each gained more strength from the love of the other; Still sharing a smile, knowing they had the prize.

Sadly, by moonlight, some bigots attacked them, Thus, leaving the couple to face their demise. Weakly, each searched for the eyes of the other. Tho’ dying, they smiled, knowing they had the prize. . . .

💞 

Nan

Of course, there is sorrow

And, yes, there are tears

For you, who grew sweeter

Through all of our years...

Your smile ever lingered

A joy I now miss

Although you grew weaker

Pale lips blew a kiss.

This pen I'm discarding

Our match to renew

I'll soon be abiding,

Forever with you. . . .

💗

Thank you for sharing your love, Guy

Gabby

 

The Persistent Road - Bicycle Adventure - by Tim Bishop

 

Water hastened to the corners of his eyes. The music ended, returning the group to its isolated nocturnal surroundings, where silence captured the indescribable. Try as he might, Doug could arrest the tears no longer. He turned away to wipe them.

He turned on the radio. “Let It Snow” fit neither the sunny day nor his mood, so he jabbed the power button. Enough of Johnny Mathis.

Thirty years of loyal service and hard work have come to this?

A few days ago, when you were at work, she told me again how much she was looking forward to heaven.” The pastor’s pause allowed Doug to digest what he’d said. He didn’t want to hear any of it. What made Rev. Long the gatekeeper to heaven? Doug would rather choose life for Ruth. What would he do without her?

Carmen, his half-sister seemed to be the only other person that kept in touch with him... His beloved wife had died, he'd lost his job after 30 years, and money problems began to grow and grow. Doug Zimmer was at the edge and often wondered just what he had to live for...

Until he found the letters... Carmen had come to help prepare for the funeral and while they were busy, Doug remembered that Ruth had mentioned that she'd left something for him... Right then he needed to find whatever it was! Hands shaking, he pulled out a cover letter:

Dearest Douglas,

I’ve not felt well in quite some time, but only last week was I diagnosed with cancer. It’s so sad to think of leaving you. Though life is ending for me, that doesn’t mean it is for you too.

Inside this envelope you will find notecards, each labeled with a destination. When you’re ready, I want you to travel to each place, unseal its envelope, and read what’s inside. Please don’t read them beforehand because they’ll lose all meaning. I wrote these notes to encourage you after I’m gone.

I’m so thankful for the years we spent together. May you find this “scavenger hunt” liberating. I love you so deeply.

 Affectionately, Ruth 

A tear dropped from Doug’s cheek onto Ruth’s stationery. He pressed the sheet of paper against his pant leg to absorb the moisture before placing the note and unopened envelopes back into the drawer. Traveling was the furthest thing from his mind. Then he burst into sobs.

It would take quite some time for Doug to again think of the packet that Ruth had left for him. How could he even think of just taking off, on his own, at the age of 60... And on a bike!

The thoughts just kept coming back and finally he went to a bike store to consider and learn what that type of adventure would actually require. And while he considered what was ahead for him, he began to again enjoy taking his bike out for rides on a routine basis... In fact, riding had become the only joy that he had left, it seemed...

~~~~

My brother was the only one of four children in my family who had a bike. He had won it at an annual company picnic which we all attended as invited by our favorite uncle... We were too poor to actually buy a bike. For me, I'd rather enjoy long walks anyway, where I could stop and read a little, LOL, before I headed back home. But times were different back then and I lived in a small town where it was safe to be out roaming the hills or walking along the Monongahela River near the New Geneva lock...

Doug, too, had a regular bike like my brother but when he started thinking about riding long distances, he wasn't sure his age would allow it for him, so he bought a new one just for the trip! He refused, when he finally decided to go, to tell anybody where he was going or what he would be doing--after all, his plans were all concealed from even him. He had a new bike which he felt he could manage and so he was ready. And opened the first destination to discover the destination toward which he would start his adventure! And arrived at the Santa Monica Pier toward evening!

That afternoon Doug cycled toward the Santa Monica pier. He and Ruth had enjoyed a sunset ride on the Ferris wheel there several years ago. A resurgent longing for his wife wrestled with the anticipation of breaking free from his sorrow. He crossed the busy street and entered the pier parking lot. The glistening waters of the Pacific Ocean lapped the beach, seagulls cawing overhead. From the seat of a bicycle, the ocean seemed more spectacular than he remembered. Adrenaline shot through his body. He could wait no longer. After leaning his rig against a concrete abutment, he dove into a pannier, pulled out Ruth’s first card, and fumbled to tear it open. 

My Dear Douglas,

Our first date. I remember vividly how the Ferris wheel stopped when we were at the very top, rocking back and forth as we looked out over the ocean, the full moon’s reflection twinkling on the waters. When you put your arm around me and pulled me close, my heart leaped for joy. It was the beginning of a beautiful journey. 

Thank you for that special beginning, Douglas.

Beautiful things in life have a beginning but also an end. Yet they can live on in your memory. Savor them but don’t allow them to hold you hostage.  Let the wheel before you represent your inner circle. Sometimes the wheel stops, and someone gets off. In time more will climb aboard. Welcome your new passengers. Carmen is a wonderful person already occupying the next seat down. Cherish her—and others who are forever connected to you, even though they may be several seats away. You’re not alone, Darling.

Yours always.

Lovingly, Ruth

 Lord, thank You for the loved ones You have given and will give Douglas. May he embrace them with joy and appreciation. Amen.

I had thought, at first, that I might take the entire trip on my blog for all of you, but decided that was too personal a story to be revealed unless you read the book. This was such a thoughtful and meaningful act for Ruth to make, don't you think? I remember in th past, at least with one friend, I got little note cards and wrote something for everyday that he would be away on a trip. There are so many ways to show your love for others, isn't there? Does it really have to wait until a farewell of death? I don't think so.

“I’m not sure. I know God is real, and He does love us. The Bible says ‘God is love.’ I read it every day. It helps me understand God and what He expects of me.

He looked in his mirror and doubled down on his grips. The accompanying pickup truck approached quickly, its blaring music getting louder and louder. The driver goosed the accelerator as he passed within a foot of Doug, leaving him coughing in a black cloud of noxious fumes. The driver waved in his rearview mirror before his head flew back in laughing hysteria, his right arm flailing. Doug vented with a few choice words for the idiot. Trailing up the hill behind the pickup were echoes of “Flirtin’ with Disaster” by Molly Hatchet, one of Doug’s party songs from yesteryear. Rather than give in to fear or anger, this time the near miss reinforced a call to vigilance. Doug squeezed the handgrips and checked his mirror frequently for whatever vehicles would overtake him.

And that proved to be true for Doug because as he started traveling further and further, he learned that there were many bicyclists on all kinds of bikes that he would routinely meet in placed where biking was allowed and of interest. I must admit that I help my breath as Doug encountered his first big rig flying by him while he was riding near a main road. This adventure can, actually, be very dangerous and will occur before the end of the book...

But the first friend he found was a young woman who carried her violin on her bike with her... So, of course, when I found her playing a song I love, I had to share it! Apparently there are many bikers who take off as a single or in groups and Doug was to meet this young lady several times as they traveled either together or moving on and meeting later... But nobody expected the accident that would occur as the book near its ending... And the violin was part of the rescue work. And Doug was right there helping...

If you are a individual who is a bicyclist,  enjoys watching reality shows, or are sentimental about somebody you love, this just may be a book you'll enjoy! Do check it out! Me, I was in to it for the memories of lost love.

GABixlerReviews

Looking Backward From a Murder to Test Power - Minnesota - Forward to War in Iran - Harold Michael Harvey With Response - Open Memoir

 

The killing of Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis has already become a national flashpoint, not only because of the violence itself, but because of what it reveals about the fragility of truth when power feels threatened.

My own experience in Hancock County, Georgia, nearly thirty years ago, taught me that this fragility is not new. It is woven into the American legal fabric, appearing whenever authority senses a challenge and the system feels compelled to choose between accountability and self-protection.

But if the first essay was about what happened, and the second about how the law bends, and the third about why escalation occurs, then this companion piece must ask a different question:

What must we do now?

Because the story cannot end on a note of outrage, it cannot end with analysis. It cannot end with grief.

This moment demands something more complex:  reform, accountability, and civic courage, not as slogans, but as commitments.

Reform is needed to change the structure that enables abuse. Reform is not a matter of tweaking policy. It is a matter of restructuring the conditions that allow violence, distortion, and impunity to flourish. Independent investigations must be just that, independent and non-negotiable.

When federal agents kill a citizen, the investigation cannot be controlled by the same agency that pulled the trigger. Minneapolis exposed the danger of allowing federal authorities to seize evidence, restrict access, and shape the narrative before facts can breathe.

Reform requires:

• independent state-level investigative
• automatic recusal of involved agencies
• transparent release of evidence

Without independence, justice is a performance, not a process. Local courts must be insulated from local power. Hancock County taught me that justice collapses when law enforcement and the judiciary share bloodlines, alliances, or political debts. Reform must address:

• conflicts of interest
• judicial selection processes
• small‑county vulnerabilities

A courtroom cannot be a family reunion. It must be a forum for truth.

The use‑of‑force standard must be rewritten for the 21st century. The legal standard of “reasonable fear” has become a loophole wide enough to drive a tank through. Reform must redefine:

• What constitutes a threat
• When deadly force is justified
• How officer perception is evaluated

Fear cannot be the sole arbiter of life and death.

Accountability is the most challenging work in a system built to resist it. Accountability is not punishment. It is the recognition that power must answer to the people it serves.

For instance, there must, of necessity, be narrative accountability. We must understand that before legal accountability comes narrative accountability; therefore, the willingness to confront falsehoods, distortions, and official stories that collapse under scrutiny.

In Minneapolis, the rush to label Renee Nicole Good a “terrorist” was not just rhetoric. It was an attempt to foreclose accountability before it began.

Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:

• challenging official narratives
• elevating eyewitness accounts
• refusing to let the state define the victim

Truth must not be outsourced to those with the most to lose.

Also, narrative accountability must be followed closely by institutional accountability. Institutions, like all entities, protect themselves. They always have, and perhaps, always will.

Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:

• civilian oversight with real power
• consequences for obstruction
• transparency in disciplinary processes

A system that cannot discipline itself cannot be trusted to discipline others. The inability to discipline itself is a guiding principle and trumps all others.

Lastly, there must be a sense of cultural accountability. Law enforcement culture must be confronted, not with hostility, but with honesty. The warrior mindset, the group loyalty, the reflexive escalation: these are not individual failings. They are cultural norms.

Accountability requirements include, but are not limited to:

• training that prioritizes restraint
• leadership that models humility
• a shift from dominance to service

Culture is the soil from which behavior grows. As an old farm boy myself, bad soil makes cultivation a waste of time and a no-hope proposition for a productive yield.

There is one overriding salient fact. Civic courage is the ingredient without which reform fails. Reform and accountability are structural. Civic courage is personal.

Reform is the willingness of ordinary people to:

• speak when silence is safer
• question when obedience is expected
• stand firm when power rushes toward them

I learned a lesson about standing firm when power rushes toward you in Hancock County when I turned around on that courthouse staircase. I am certain the Sheriff and his posse would have pushed me down that staircase and lied about having no choice but to send me tumbling down three flights of stairs.

The people of Minneapolis are learning it now as they demand answers amid federal resistance. Civic courage is not dramatic. It is steady. It is persistent. It is the refusal to let fear dictate the boundaries of justice.

There must be courage to follow the example of James Baldwin and bear witness, to be willing to tell no better than one has seen. The videos of Good’s killing exist because several people dared to record it. The truth survived because law-abiding citizens refused to look away.

There must be courage to challenge military action on U.S. soil. Reform begins when citizens challenge the systems that claim to serve them. It starts when lawyers file motions that anger sheriffs, when families demand transparency, when communities refuse to accept official stories that contradict what they saw with their own eyes.

Notwithstanding the above, the United States citizens must have the courage to imagine something better. Civic courage is not only resistance. It is imagination. The belief that a different kind of justice is possible. A justice not built on fear, not built on dominance, and not built on institutional self-protection. A justice built on truth.

There is much work ahead. The killing of Renee Nicole Good is not just a tragedy. It is a test. A test of whether we will allow the old patterns to repeat, the escalation, the narrative distortion, the institutional shielding, or whether we will insist on something better.

Reform is the blueprint. Accountability is the mechanism. Civic courage is the fuel. And if we commit to all three, then perhaps the next time power feels threatened, the reflex will not be violence, but restraint. Not distortion, but truth. Not impunity, but justice.

This moment, this precious liberty, demands nothing less.

You know folks, I will be eternally thankful that I met and became friends with Harold Michael Harvey through his books. He is one of the most knowledgeable, intelligent, and caring individuals I have ever known... He has much to teach each of us who come into his sphere of legal coverage--this time, it's murder... I refuse to call it anything but the real meaning of what has been happening during the last months in the United States... Discrimination, threats, DEI mandates, and more has already costs millions of lies. I, of course, include the very first act of selfishness when the USAID part of the government was eliminated and money transferred to destructive actions initiated by this president... The cruelty has been outstandingly obvious and aimed directly to those he hates most. We all know who they are, don't we?

I started with this first murder so that I could move forward from it to the set of almost 180 teachers and female students who were murdered in Iran. Let's be clear. I do not see those children any differently than those children who are being separated from their parents or used to capture their parents, or thrown into "death" camps for no legal reason. We have also lost citizens by this war that was called for No Reason... No Reason that is accepted by anybody other than those MAGA that still supports a man who...has...no...heart...

The first video shown above illustrates exactly what happens when he is caught--he lies... He claims that he knows nothing about the death of those children through the use of out-of-data maps for Iran! Yet, it is very clear to all of us that on another whim he decided to set another war in motion! A war that evolved since Trump, himself, pulled out of the Iran Accord that had been in existence during his first term...

People like DJT think that we do not remember all of his sins... We do... So don't even think that anybody else made the decision to add to the ongoing war between Israel and Iran/Hamas et.al. When he changed the Defense Department to War, we all feared what was to happen... And it didn't take him long to move into destruction in parts of the world as well as in the United States... 

I wonder, really wonder, did the Supreme Court Justices and others who supported Trump in his madness, know what was to happen? But then there is this...

And, of course, ending with another Last Word

So...why does Trump continue to support Putin who has supposedly been giving Iran the location of the Americans...who have been killed or are now in the hospital from injuries!?

May God Be With All His Children Everywhere!

GABBY