Not The Other Way Round

  There is nothing That I am enjoying, about caring for an elderly parent.

  There is little that I am, personally, accomplishing, either writing, or any in other important facet of my life.

  However, in despair, there suddenly appears a signal.

  A discussion that was had several months ago, returned to me laying in bed earlier this week. A possible second major project, broken into three parts, covering three parts of the State of California.

  I hate to propose any matter at this time, the time required for me to care for the elderly parent has to be fitted around the writing, not the other way round.

Gratefully, Thank You

  Memorial Day weekend in the United States is my favorite weekend of the year.

  It's not the Monaco Grand Prix.

  It's not the Indianapolis500.

  It's not the Coke 600.

  It's the sacrifice of those that served, who gave their all.

  And for my father in law, who is battling, it may be his last to honor those that he served with.

  For those that served, have served, and are serving, the people of the free world, gratefully, thank you. 

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

  Happy birthday Chickybabe.

  Today, my eldest daughter, turns 30.

  When I was 30, I was already separated, on the cusp of divorce, with two daughters I cared for more than...well, more than my own relationships and career. I had already won two sailing titles and the third would come the following year, but it was the girls that were my greatest achievement.

  I had also isolated one of my parents from my daughters when they were unable to follow through on the manner in which their mother and I had wanted the girls to be brought up. I would later isolate the other parent, my Father, however, he would see the error of his ways and that would be repaired.

  As expected, my Father was a better man than me. I have been isolated from the girls and it has not been repaired.

  I taught my daughters not to allow evil in to their lives, and to keep it at bay. I never envisaged that I would be the evil they keep at bay. But, unlike where I made my own choice, their choice has been influenced by their mother, and their grandmother.  Two people whom were unable to follow through in the manner in which their mother and I wanted the girls to be brought up. Being a little over 7000 miles away and unable to counter any, and all, evils by these people, I was always playing from behind.

  With no voice to counter them, the girls unknowingly succumbed to their evil.

  It is too late for my girls.

  The days are long and the years go by fast.

  My eldest is 30 today. I have been out of her life more than I have been in it.

  Happy birthday Chickybabe. I never left you.

The Menial

  Some years ago, I read of Hollywood actresses that worked in dinners between films.  Even one of my favorite actors,  Bruce Willis had a job tending bar to support himself between Broadway productions.

  It seems that greatness in the Arts originates from sustaining yourself in the menial.

  For the past month, I have been holed up tending to a parent. My accommodation is a bed, cupboard, TV dinner table which doubles as my writing "desk". With no distractions, I have written more in the past month, than several months prior. I've also been supporting myself in the menial, running two households in absentee.

  Perhaps these are the challenges I face to take the writing to the next level. Much like a game of Dungeons and Dragons, I have to continue to gain experience in order to level up.

  It would have been nice to have a preformatted writer life, but then, I would have missed out on the menial.

Easter Sunday Parental Alienation

  It is the early hours of Easter Sunday morning. The sun has just risen, the light is still soft across the county, and I am working on a feature article dealing with Parental Alienation.

  While not a "holiday" in the United States, Easter is till celebrated as a time of families coming together. Some Fathers will not see their children, not through choice, but through the circumstances dictated to them by others - mostly the narcissist mother.

  The irony of Parental Alienation is that the Father was good enough to be there, through the birth, through the years, and it is only because of the divorce or separation that they "suddenly" become unfit, subject to courts and ridicule. Most will assume Father roles in other families where there is no issue - there only ever seems to be an issue perpetrated by the mother of his children.

  Much like I did with my own parents marriage, eventually, the child will discover that not all events as told by their alienating parent are true, complete, or concise.

  By which time, both the child and the alienated parent have already lost.

 

The Sandwich Generation Life

  It has been a rough three weeks.

  For those that came in late - I have been dealing with the demise of a parent. Lots of doctors appointments and hospital visits.  Not a lot of time for writing.

  Actually, not a lot a time for personal development, productiveness or sleep.

  Once quoted as the "sandwich generation", now that I have finished caring for my own children, I am now caring for the aged parents in my life.  This is new. Not a preplanned activity that I envisaged, not an act that either of my parents engaged in - as best I recall. (I'm sure that somebody will come out of the woodwork about this and claim that relative X was cared for by relative Y; but as a I said, not an activity that either of my parents engaged in.)

  And I hope, not an activity that any of my children have to engage in with me.

  Caring for the aged parent in close proximity has you looking at your situation and what you would like your children to do. I do not want to be in a box. Nor do I want my children to take time from their lives to care for an ailing me.

  They will not have to. I will see that they don't. 

Porta Potty Notice at San Diego Airport

  Feature story at the San Diego Reader.


  I imagine that the silence from the San Diego Airport Authority is because they got caught with their pants down...and the portable toilet door open. 

Goodnight, Google Plus

  In the world of healing, the eye issue I commenced the year with is progressing,  slowly.

  In other news,  Google and their Google Plus platform is going away. Not such a big deal for me, however, it now requires another review of every web post made as the Google + option is put to bed.

  For others, the closure on 2 April 2019 means that their social media platforms now moves across to the others. I use Facebook anda little Twitter - but not enough to link to at this stage.

  Goodnight Google Plus. 

 

First Publication for 2019

  First publication for 2019.

  The San Diego Reader accepts my story on the San Diego Ridesharing Lot closure at the San Diego airport.

 

Damaged Goods

  The First Fans are aware that, the past Christmas and New Year I was...damaged goods. A lack of sight following surgery inhibited my reading, and my writing. The damage caused by a childhood is now starting to catch up with the adult me.

  Rest assure, that as of today, with the partial return of sight, the road to recovery is improving.

  Still damaged goods, with a slight repair.

  Welcome to XXMVIII.

Demons, On Arrival

  Demons can come in all shapes and forms. For some, it's nightmares creating the sensation in their sleep. For others, it's a fear of depths

  For me, it's returning to a land that is unfamiliar. Unfamiliar as I still call the place my homeland.

  People I no longer recognize, places I no longer identify with, roads that did not exist. Feelings long swept away come rushing back with the only familiar demon I recognize.

  The water. The surf. The river. And the bay.

  168 hours is not enough.I shall need to return for less glorious reasons, but for this nightmare, 168 hours was more than enough time for the Demon On Arrival.

Demons, Awaiting the Arrival

  All writers abhor going home.

  For some, it's a case of not having achieved enough. For others, it's a case of facing the music on what they have achieved.

  For I, it's facing the demons.

  I have looked at photographs and not recognized my hometown. I have examined a map and not know locations. I have emailed others, to be greeted by non response.

  The demons are awaiting my arrival.

One Last Time

  Thanksgiving is upon us, and shortly, Christmas. Between the two is my father's birthday.

  I am grateful for my Father's health, that I have one more opportunity to be with him on his birthday. Dad was away on Exercise with the Army while I was growing up, that I rarely shared his, or my, birthday with him.

  As my daughters were growing up, I made it a point. Being so far away from own grandparents growing up, I never saw them either.

  Now that I live 7752 miles from my father, it's not such a simple task to drop by. It's certainly a lot further than my Grandparents ever traveled to see me.

  Not everyone gets "one last time" to go home.

Holiday Seasons

  Halloween is over. There is even a house a couple of streets away from me that has their Christmas lights up.

  I neither decorated for Halloween, nor handed out any candy. The house was dark and I didn't participate.

  I may not participate either in Thanksgiving or in Christmas this year.

  Thanksgiving is a time of family coming together. Christmas is a time of good will to all. In a moment of enlightenment, this will be the first holiday season that I will not know where my children are.

  My traditional holiday destination of Chesterfield Inlet is looking colder, this year. 

Not Being Stephen King

  I was recently approached by a fan - a First Fan - with a request to supply a book for one of their friends. The Other Person is a fan of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series in which I have made a number of published contributions

  I agreed to supply the book.

  Whilst searching through the Contributor's Copies of a number of books in which I have appeared, I began to think about what should I write to the Other Person as an Author Dedication. The First Fan has asked me for a copy to introduce my writing to one of their friends - should I include the First Fan by name in the dedication? Perhaps it would be better only to dedicate it the Other Person? Maybe I should include my business card to legitimize the dedication?

  Did Stephen King have these dilemmas early in his career, and how did he handle them? I sincerely doubt that King has these quandary's now - he has a staff to help and guide. For me, it's a one person show.

  Perhaps that's the benefit of not being Stephen King. I don't have to sign thousands of books at mass events where people line up for hours. I don't have a room full of books that will need generic signatures before being shipped out. I still have that intimate fan base, where all (most of) my Fans are known to me personally.

  Not being Stephen King may have an advantage.

  I wonder if King ever sits around at book signings and asks himself "when is the next person that I know by name, going to show up."

  I would suggest that those people that King knows by name, are his First Fans that he took care of in the early years, and still takes care of now. They don't have to show up at book signings - he sends them First Copies.

  I'll write the First Fan into the dedication.

  Maybe one day King will ask me to write a dedication for him.



  

...so I contintinue to write.

  Google Plus is gone. Another batch of writings lost to technology..

  I write on paper - with a pencil. It's more enduring that a pen. It's more comforting that dipping into an ink well.

  Over the years I have owned numerous writing implements - all have been damaged long after the gift giver has left me. So I continue to use pencil and paper. The log books from the years are numerous.

  The diary to my eldest daughter is the only one which has ceased.

  In another part of my personal life, I am caring for a another, approaching end of life. It is, tiring.

  So I continue to write.

I Always Knew It Was Coming

  There are moments in time, where everything changes. When you know that nothing will ever be the same again. Sometimes, you get real quiet, as it was an unexpected event.

  Sometimes you get real quiet, because you always knew it was coming - and then once it arrives, you immediately recognize it for what it was.

  Several weeks ago, my father reached out to the mother of my children, attempting to get in contact with my daughters. The mother of my daughters said she would pass the message on.

  My father never heard from my daughters. He, too, has become the grandparent affected by parental alienation.

  Yesterday, the mailman arrived and made rounds. In the mail for me, was the birthday card I had sent my eldest daughter, in May of this year. It was marked "no longer at this address".

  The last point of contact for my children has now gone.

  Everything changes now. Nothing will ever be the same again. I got real quiet. I always knew it was coming.

Story Goes to Slashdot

Story goes viral.

Today, the San Diego Reader published my story on the nationwide outage affecting the receipt of pay for Uber drivers.

The story was picked up on Slashdot and has gone viral.

A piece of work created by me now appears on  /.  a site that I read every day.

Thank you to both the Reader and Slashdot. 

I Went To Denny's - Thank You United 93.

I went to a Denny's today. Ordered an All American Grand Slam and a coke. Thumbing through the Twitter feed I saw that the President was visiting Shanksville,  Pennsylvania.

The final resting place of 40 heroes on board United Flight #93.

 I imagine that seventeen years ago, someone sat in a Denny's before starting their day, either to cross the country on one of the ill fated flights, or before attending the World Trade Center complex. They could have ordered the same meal as me, not knowing what their day may bring.

For the passengers of United 93, their voices continue to be heard through the wind chimes of the memorial tower.

Their loved ones have a place to go to grieve, to remember and to thank. Their children can thumb through the history books and learn what their father, mother, did. To save us all.

I went to Denny's today not knowing where my children are. They will be no monument, no location that they will go to when I have passed. They will not know until long after I am gone.

And nor will I should they precede me.

Thank You United 93 - for saving our children.

Still Waiting on Email

Still waiting on email to transfer over. It's day seven and any mail sent to me has not been received.

Good thing I'm paying for this email server.

Migration to the server takes place at 0800 Tuesday 11 September 2018.