A lucky man I have been. A lucky man I am. I get to be old now and watch the rest of the world in a blur of uncertainty, unrest, unified, and not unified. With all my mistakes upon this spiraling speck of universe, with all my unfulfilled dreams and wishes, with all the modest achievements, I can bring no ultimate wisdom and leave no notable legacy. But, here is what I believe has sustained me along all the orbits made on this magical place we call Earth. Luck has of course sustained me, but the most exquisite and precious gift of sustenance has come from Love.

"The Bible" Spectacular just concluded on television recently. The 'Special' was watched by millions and it was ignored by millions. Raised in an area of the United States often referred to as the Bible Belt, Appalachia, Hillbilly Country, and other names that could easily be determined unflattering by many, I watched "The Bible" with special interest. All through my early years of lower class mobility and family separation, there was a bewilderment that only a child can know and have difficulty in expressing, the anxious feelings, the fear, the frustration, the great unknowable elements that controlled his life. There are two indelible memories that have remained in my mind with some relative clarity for all the years and have convinced me of their subtle manipulations of my life, my wanderings, and to the ultimate conclusion that Love must be the most precious gift.

Number one memory, there were the family disconnects, the broken home, the terrifying and ugly fights of Mom and Dad when they were together (all too brutally one-sided against my Mom). The memory is so clear, sitting, paralyzed by my fear, too small, too scared and stupefied to make any kind of difference, so smothered by the invisible walls that surrounded me. My sister was there in her own little hellish enclosure during these fight scenes but I was totally immersed in this electrified frenzy within me. The facts would later settle within me that these fights were the result of the times, the Appalachian poverty, no jobs, the economy, health conditions... My sister and I would spend time in state institutions until the times got better. In these institutions we would see the good, the bad, and further bewilderment. It is perhaps impossible to quantify the effects this number one memory brought to my later life.

Number two memory, there were my Southern Baptist church experiences that came during those times when my Mom would make another attempt to reunite us as a family. There were the loud sermons that conveyed to me all the many sins that would keep me out of heaven if I did not repent from my evil ways (it seemed that the preacher man was talking directly to me although there were hundreds seated in the big congregation). There was not the paralysis that overtook me during the ugly fight scenes, but there was a heavy emotional magnet pulling me to the front of the church at altar call time. "Just As I Am" and "Let's All Gather At The River" and other beautiful hymns were sung by the choir and by the congregation throughout the big church, and there went I, this elementary schoolboy, down the aisle with tears on my cheeks to confess to sins I knew little about... I just somehow knew that I must go and be saved. Memory number two would contribute to the enormous sense of guilt my later life would carry

These two memories have in so many ways shaped my life, have driven me to find love and family. What do these simple memories say about 'matching and mixing' and about a world anomaly? What do they have to do with the TV Spectacular, "The Bible"?

My memories are not so unique... The world offers up so many memories like my own, some much more terrible and laced with the darkest edges of evil. "The Bible" TV Spectacular reminds me that the world has been fighting since the recording of it started in our oral and written histories. The world has known poverty and family disconnects by the millions. Church leaders still sermonize about the wicked ways of man. Today, we have more sophistication to go with our wars and with our family fighting and feuding. What is relevant today and through the ages is the incapacity of people to find peace within themselves and among the nations... Pretty tough when you think about it: different languages, different cultures, different skin colors. There is so much mistrust, envy, and hate to be found in any city, town, village, and country. AND, there is Love...

Love! Faith! Hope! Love is the greatest gift of all, but it won't come to everyone in the right proportions during anyone's lifetime...that is, with all of our differences, how could it be otherwise?

When I look back on my Southern Baptist experiences and my family disconnects, somehow I know that Love and Faith have to become something that each individual finds on her/his own. My God-view has been altered since my childhood, but I still have my faith, fragile though it has been. I believe the Bible has truth and that different interpretations can be drawn from its pages. I believe in Jesus, that He lived, that He performed the acts attributed to Him, that He died for our sins, that He was resurrected, that all who believe in Him will live again after death. My early experiences in the Southern Baptist environment does not portray my God of today, nor does it make me feel cheated. Forgive the truism but we all do not believe the same. My faith was not destroyed by my childhood. My childhood experiences and my life up to now have simply clarified my faith for me. I cannot look at the orderly turn of each orbit of our Earth, at the Sun, the Moon, the planets and stars, and make a choice as to the 'chicken/egg' conundrum of our existence. I cannot look at the precision of a nine-month birth cycle and determine that we exist because of a 'big bang.' No, I have Faith that we exist for a reason other than just living, making our marks, and dying. Yes, we must exist in a matched and mixed world of happy and sad, good and evil, confusion and doubt, but, up to the very last mortal breath that escapes us, even in that last fleeting second, we can see the eternal light of God.

I believe that Love and God are somehow synonymous, and that tug at the soul that brings a tear of sadness at a sad book and movie is a tender reminder of Love at a most spiritual level. My search for Faith and Love took many turns, right and wrong. I was lucky to find Faith and Love a number of times, only to misplace Them. But that search has led me to this point in the world anomaly. This post is not about corrupting anyone's belief system, not about converting anyone to Faith, Love, and God. You are superfluously allowed your own turns, right and wrong, in life. It's just my hope that we all keep steering our lives toward Faith and Love. In that striving may we find our peace.

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We who write, we who diligently do the daily maintenance of our twitter sites know about the time consumption aspects of the many activities involved. Most of us who write also have Facebook, Google Plus, Goodreads, LinkedIn, PinIt, and other writer-connection networks - those places we hash mark and direct others. For this 'twilight tweeter' there is discovery and newness, a new world that technological geniuses designed to drive me sometimes mad, to lead me other times to a deliriously delightful place in my
mind. For some the digital world and all its new terminology and operations come easily. For some of us this new world is exciting, fascinating, and, may I say, frantic and frightening - confused by protocols we are to follow here and there - frustrated when a hovering and/or misguided finger gets too close to the laptop keys and we lose some important data - sometimes disappointed and defeated by day's end.

This is one of those deliriously delightful places, my blog(s), where I can commune with my twitter friends and fellow bloggers about so many things that cross my mind - some things, I'm sure, that would be better left alone (like politics and religion!). Today, I wish to single out one dear blog and twitter friend because she has honored me with nominations of some of the blog awards that appear on this page. That twitter friend is Jhobell Kristyl. I thank her for honoring me - and, for putting me in an awkward position. :-) You see, I'm not sure what the protocols are - if there are, indeed, protocols. I wish Jhobell and everyone reading this to know that I'm so appreciative for her nominations of these three awards: 'One Lovely Blog Award ' - 'Very Inspiring Blogger Award' - 'Most Handsome Blogger Award' (Oops! My wife used that word in mentioning Richard Castle's name while I was tapping the keys here, and, since I never erase anything, STET!) - 'REALITY Blog Award' (replaces the 'Most Handsome Blogger Award' - Okay, I'll stop! :-)

Having voiced my appreciation and acknowledgment to Jhobell, I'm going to temporarily postpone fulfilling the various awards' requirements. For now I will just say to Jhobell, thanks so much for thinking of me and I'm honored with the nominations.

Jhobell has a busy blog site at http://bookmavenpicks.wordpress.com Please visit her site and be entertained and informed. She is also on twitter (@JhobellKristyl).

Finishing up some writing projects but a new post will be posted by week's end.

                                                        “The Sunshine Room”

     On consistently cloudy days outside, on dreary wintry days, on ‘bad news’ days, it would be nice to have a ‘sunshine room.’ In our rapidly expanding digital and technological world, there is likely already a relatively simple mechanism of sorts that will illuminate a room, maybe an entire house, as though the sun was present … maybe a ceiling fixture, a wall addition, a window covering, et al. If not clear by now, I’m a sun worshiper. That’s one of the reasons I live at this latitude on the Sea of Cortez. There is sunshine every single day. Some clouds may drift by on their way to a final destination but sooner of later the sunshine is there in a beautiful blue sky.

     Sunshine is important to me because of my make-up. The older I get, the more I see in our growing world, there is this tendency to become gilded in my thinking. Those folks who lean toward the liberal side might not like me too much for my views. That’s okay because there are times when I don’t like them too much. However, I do respect my liberal friends and sometimes think I’m missing something in their political and social comments. In fact, in my younger years I was more inclined to hold liberal views. Somehow, I had a change of mind along the way. Perhaps my perceptions are too simple, just too bound in historical clashes and events to think in any other way. I think about the fall of the Roman Empire, its laxity on the social issues. I think about how one man could master a large segment of the human race and murder over six million people. I think about Stalin, Russia, the purges, and the slaughters of millions. I think, in some ways, I’m seeing history repeat itself, maybe not so much for me, an old dog not able or willing to learn new tricks, but for my kids, my grandkids, and my great-grandkids.

     Look, I’m no scholar who can spout off the words of the US Constitution, its Amendments, or the Declaration of Independence, but those important papers brought us to a grand place in the history of humankind. Those documents said that people can have liberty, are free to go out into the world and be all that they can be, based on their honest efforts and their brain power. I don’t have to be a scholar to know that most of the people in the world would like that scenario. Yes, we’re all created equal at birth but it doesn’t stay that way. Some of us don’t learn as fast as others. Some of us are ambitious. Some are lazy and try to figure easy ways to live off others’ toil. Some are handicapped, need and should get help from a caring nation … ‘Equality’ means different things to different people. How can a diverse nation (or, world) live up to the word, ’equality,’ when the word was meant to convey our right at birth. Where is the fairness for someone who has an idea, grows that idea into a major business where he hires people, gives them work for their daily bread, only to be regulated by a government with a long list of do and don’t. Should it not be simple enough for a vigorous person with a business idea to pursue that idea without fear of what his government is going to take from him? Should not a tax code be simple enough for everyone to understand without having thousands of pages of regulations? Should not a person expect to die and leave his legacy to family without having the government take a large chunk of his estate? Should not ‘entitlements’ be the exception and not the rule? Was the government meant to be so intrusive in our lives? Did not those beautiful documents from our forefathers postulate what the essential roles of our government branches should be? It seems to this wary and weary old dog that, through the years, we have cleverly rearranged with our fancy legalized posturing the true meaning of those documents.

     So, many can justifiably counter my simple remarks here, but they are honest thoughts. There are at work in this nation and this world forces that are focused on undermining our religious and social freedoms. These forces are evil, treacherous, and they are here in large numbers. These ramblings of an old man will have no effect on this evil. These words are but a Sunday morning sermon on our times.

     In any event, I’ve clearly exposed myself. That’s okay! Most of you who have read some of my posts clearly know that I’m an anachronism, a conservative, a traditionalist, whatever the convenient word. Well, that’s all I can be! My DNA lines up that way. I’m a helpless, hopeless, wanderer in this land of ‘machines’ and madness. I’m not much of a debater, so those who lean the other way can punch all the holes you wish into my little dissertation here.

     Hopefully, I can sell people on the idea that I do try to adapt, to learn new tricks and new ways to please the newer order. There is clearly a newer order! Having lived this long, I see our new ‘machines of progress’ and I see new problems to go along with the old problems. In my vision it is natural for me to see old mistakes from my generation being repeated — you know, that ‘history repeating itself’ thing. It is natural for old fools like me to see new free-thinking people wanting a world community at any expense, at the expense perhaps of the freedom and liberty some forty old timers like George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, William Blount, and others all in harmony felt would connect a country’s people. That ‘Constitution’ these great people of history signed was to be the blueprint for not just our country but for any country who held dear the ideals that went into that document. Amendments were added, and the road was perilous then as it is now … But, wow! what a great blueprint for a country to have!

     The world changes. Knowledge explodes into rich new innovations and inventions. So, why can’t we all be on the same page in history? We know the answer, of course. The old fools collide with the new fools! It becomes more and more difficult to find consensus on this or on that. Different times? Different political persuasions? Different World views? Do any of us know who is who and what is what anymore? So much to absorb and so many machines!
 
     I no doubt spend too much time in the ruminating room — those ‘good old days’ cannot be retrieved or altered. At least, some of us think they were good old days. So, this old fool just might as well watch the world do its thing and make an idle comment here and there…

     While I’m at it, here are a few more of those idle comments:

     1) The music of today ‘sucks’ (to use the vernacular)! It's too damned loud and the lyrics are lost in the mighty cacophonous
screeching of brass, drums, strings, et al. 
 
      2) We’re repeating some of the same mistakes today that brought much trouble in our history; we don't seem to learn!

     3) Technology has created too many horrific 'gang and war games' to fill our kids' minds; there is too much laxity of control on the part of parents; today's games are not necessarily 'Cowboys and Indians,' tag, and hide and seek.
 
     4) We are an ‘over-reaction’ nation: we have some beautiful children killed and we suddenly want to amend and/or make new laws; maybe the gun laws do need some modifying --- we must care and act!
 
     5) Each side of the political spectrum uses tragedy for their agendas when all must know , should know, we can never stop all the evil that lurks in our world.
 
      6) We should be sane and sensible, change things that can make a difference, and understand that there are some things that cannot be changed; 'We' and 'sane' and 'sensible' are the operative words.

     7) Guns do not kill people — people kill people and those who are evil will find ways to carry out their evil intents …

     There are many other idle comments I could make, and they are negative. People want positive, reassuring, words of promise. They want answers and problem solving. Our scientific and technological knowledge is exploding, doubling, tripling, in relatively short intervals. There is so much to absorb, of which to be aware, that we ordinary citizens stumble over it all. We are bewildered, confused, but, then, Google will help us find an answer. We go on with our lives because that is what we are to do.

     Sound political? Not intended. (Well, maybe a little!) Just looking at serious minutia roaming around in my head … back in my day, we had a sniper killing off students at the University of Texas in Austin; we had the Kent State riots; we had Charlie Manson and his ‘helter-skelter’ crew; we had a socially prominent and politically active Ted Bundy killing pretty young women all around the country; there was the Los Angeles ‘Hillside Strangler’ and there was the Oregon ‘Green River’ serial killer … History from the dawn of time is dotted with evil acts — there in William Shakespeare’s time you will find evil. On and on I could go with the evil incidents that enter our lives … We react to these horrible events, particularly those that kill our children, because we can’t understand how such evil can exist. It staggers us, takes nips at our hearts and souls, and leaves us in a stupefied state of mind until — until we can go to our ‘sunshine room’ and start feeling better. The best invention in the world would be a machine that can determine without question the evil among us … then we could dump all the evil people on an isolated island far from civilized land and let them find ways to annihilate each other.

     But, then, what the hell do I know? I’ll let the grandkids and great-grandkids handle the problems. I’m way too old and too tired to be trying to figure it all out … Hey, how about a real humdinger of a pep pill, a smart pill? Oh, well, a highball in an oversized glass might do it!

     I’m going to the ‘Sunshine Room.’ Guess I’ve given enough ‘pleasure’ and ‘displeasure’ for one day.  

Remembering that a picture is worth a thousand words, I offer this excerpt from Book 1 of 'The Bailey Crane Series'. There are five books in the series:

Book 1: "An Arizona Tragedy - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 1)

Book 2: "Satan's Song - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 2)

Book 3: "The Brutus Gate - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 3)

Book 4: "Murder In Pueblo Del Mar ' A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 4)

Book 5: "A Soul Defiled - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 5)

"An Arizona Tragedy - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 1) is rather close to my heart as it was inspired by the brutal death of a personal friend. The book is fictional but some of the crime data was taken from newspaper accounts of the day... the two principal murders (one in Phoenix, AZ and the other in Washington, DC) actually happened. The story, my words and plot lines
are from my imagination, are not intended to cast aspersions on anyone as to guilt, are simply my way of paying homage to a young mother and actress who was taken so horribly from her family and friends.

Here is the excerpt from "An Arizona Tragedy - A Bailey Crane Mystery" (Book 1):


                                                           Six

                                            Monday, September 4


Roy Martin's private office on the twentieth floor of Arizona Bank Building
afforded a panoramic northern view of Phoenix, west to east. The great sweep of
space beckoned the eye to see forever, awakening the senses.

Remembering the green lush mountains of my native Tennessee and its own
special beauty, my mind made its comparative notes: the incredible mountain
trails of the Great Smokies, the great gorges and verdant valleys of that hill
country with this spacious land of sun and desolate desert. There had been in
Tennessee those chronic cloudy days to dampen a mood and marvelous sunny days
that brought a multitude of fun activities. Here in the desert, there was a
consistent pattern of sunny days and that spatial quality that overwhelmed my
senses … made me wonder what psychological messages might be hidden in my
obsessive love affair with the desert.

It was time to put the comparative thoughts away, to concentrate on the work
at hand.

Spread across Roy's small conference table were several documents, some
bills, a check book, and a cup of coffee. Roy wanted me to familiarize myself
with the Cooper estate, pay the bills as they came in, and catch any seeming
inconsistencies that might appear. The court had approved my executor role in
the estate, and I was a bit nonplussed in the sense that, here I sat, with the
ability to manage a deceased man's assets, to have legal authority to write
checks, even, made out to myself. It was all rather new for me, and, in some
respects, a bit daunting.

At the moment I was scanning a limited partnership printout, a real estate
transaction that involved some land west of Phoenix. My eyes stopped abruptly
when they encountered the name of Steve Langford. He was listed on the document
as a general partner. There was that annoying, tantalizing thought again. Just a
coincidence perhaps, but one that sent a mild shock wave through me. All the
thought given to Cathy's murder and Steve Langford, and there in front of me is
his name on the Cooper document. It had to be no big deal. No fateful nonsense.
It was just a stupid coincidence.

The discovery had most definitely gotten my attention, and, because I knew
nothing about the technical aspects of a real estate limited partnership, I made
a note to ask Roy for an explanation. At the moment he was in Lenny's private
office. This could wait.

There were some bills which needed to be paid, so I wrote out the checks,
signed them, and put them in the proper envelopes along with the billing. There
were some sizable funds also to be deposited to the estate. The deposit slips
were prepared. Then, I turned my attention to other papers relative to the
estate. There was nothing unusual, nothing that appeared inconsistent to me. In
fact, I was impressed with the wise scope of the Cooper portfolio, even envied
the magnitude of the estate and the sound management that had been given.

This whole business made me do some wishful thinking. Maybe one day my own
estate would be of such size and worth. There were now only a few bucks in
savings, a little raw land, and an annuity. My spending was too spontaneous and
reckless, too much devoted to living the good life. This Cooper guy knew what he
was doing. He was big time wealthy. My financial situation was okay and would
get better, but Mr. Cooper did impress me with his business acumen.

Hey, I thought, that's why they make 'thirty-one flavors.' Some people were
successful as bankers, financiers, entrepreneurs, and workaholics. Some were
like me: didn't overdo the 'work thing;' left some time, lots of time, for fun
and frivolity; worked just enough to make those ends meet. People like me did a
considerable amount of procrastination, and we did a lot of daydreaming. Perhaps
it was a phase people like me went through. One day, there would likely be some
second guessing: why, oh, why didn't I do this or that? Hopefully, not. Some of
us have to smell those flowers.

There was always a price paid for what one did ... someone very important
must have said that. The corporate CEO works sixteen hours a day for twenty
years to be on top of the heap, then discovers his kids are grown and he has an
all of a sudden urge to do things that would have been better done twenty years
ago. Perspective must not uniquely mean a mental view that fits all sizes.
Perspective must be relative to a person's time and place, the DNA, environment …
oh, Bailey-boy, my alter ego speaks, please, stop with the philosophical
digression, already!

The Cooper estate business had me thinking too much. Knowing myself, twenty
years from now, I'll still be full of my bible belt guilt, second guessing my
choices, and still making a goodly share of goofs. Just what flavor is that?
Vanilla? Strawberry? Pistachio? It is what it is!

The office door opened and closed. Roy sat next to me at the conference table
and asked how I was doing.

"Doing fine. This is all just a little new to me … makes me think too much.
Did have a little shock a moment ago when I saw Steve Langford's name on one of
these real estate limited partnership documents. Been doing so much thinking
about Cathy and Steve, it was just a strange coincidence."

"Well, that's his business," Roy responded. "He does land deals and other
kinds of syndication. He's really a wheeler dealer, an operator."

Roy may not have intended it, but his last comment came across as
disparaging. So, I asked: "Operator? As in scam, or, just a good honest hustling
entrepreneur?"

Roy chuckled. "More, the latter. So far as I know, Steve's all legal. But any
guy who hustles as aggressively as Steve will sometimes be on the fringe of
legality. It's funny but I remember Cooper raising some questions about a
particular land deal. He had heard something, just general, not specific, that
led him to believe there could be some impropriety. I gave him my honest
appraisal, told him these deals were being done in Arizona all the time and most
were in step with current statutes. Of course, I told him that things like
physical description of land, legal definitions as to numbers of partners and so
on had to be within the purview of those statutes. There was some changes made
to Cooper's satisfaction and the deal went through." Roy retrieved an ashtray
from the desk and lit a cigarette.

"Well, I know precious little about these things It just gave me pause to see
his name there. My problem, Roy, is that I don't somehow trust that guy. He
seems nice enough when I run into him during the business day, but when he's had
several drinks he changes. Hell, for that matter, I guess we all change when
we're drinking. It's just that Pam remembers some bad occasions when she and
Cathy lived together, and it got me to thinking and analyzing too much." The
coffee had gotten cold, and I declined a refill.

Roy said, "Cathy probably got very unlucky and was at the wrong place at the
wrong time. There was probably some drug-crazed hippie-type hanging out around
the school. Or, maybe someone from the apartment complex had been keeping an eye
on her. Did you see Willis this morning?"

"No, heading there after leaving you." It occurred to me that no one called
Willis by his first name, Herman ... on reflection, guess I would prefer Willis
to Herman, as well.

"By now," Roy went on, "Willis ought to have a thick file on Cathy's murder.
Maybe he's got something solid by now. Seems to me Steve has too much smarts to
kill someone, but who the hell knows, with the way things are these days? Hey,
I've an appointment coming in. You pretty much through with Cooper's stuff for
now?"

"All done. I'm out of here. See you later."

The way things are these days!

Going down in the elevator, I thought about that phrase. How were things these days?
Much different than ten or twenty years ago? Much different than ten or
twenty years from now? Did our lives really change all that much? Or, did we
just get bigger and more visible? More visible because of technology? We can get
from one end of the country to the other end so fast these days. People are
moving more frequently, mixing up the 'salad bowl' ingredients with anxieties
and frustrations. Mass media blasts are assaulting us. 'Right' and 'wrong' was
still 'right' and 'wrong' in any time, in any generation. The genes and
chromosomes are still there. The mix! Was that the difference? If there was a
difference.

Ugly and brutal murders happened in other areas. Richard Speck! Jack, the
Ripper! Bluebeard! The mad Chicago doctor who had his own special torture
chamber for his grisly meetings with young women!

"Whoa! Stop the thought machine," yelling at myself as I drove out of the
underground garage on my way to see Herman Willis. He was a fellow police
officer and a friend for whom I had a great deal of respect. My tendency was to
over think things … really! Moi?


END OF EXCERPT...   Go to http://www.billyraychitwood.weebly.com and scroll down the 'Home' page and preview my books. The buying spots are listed after a short preview of each book. Click on the blog section on the 'Home' page if you would like to read my recent posts.

Further links: http://www.about.me/brchitwood

http://www.thefinalcurtain1.wordpress.com

http://www.twitter.com/brchitwood

http://www.goodreads.com

For an author interview by author John Dolan, visit GALERICULATE at http://ow.ly/fVZIF

“What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale” (An excerpt)
Posted on December 10, 2012 by  billyraychitwood1      
      
Like a picture that is worth a thousand words, it’s my thinking that an excerpt from an author’s book can reveal enough pro and/or con for a reader to determine whether or not he/she wants to read further. So, here’s an excerpt from my newest book, “What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale,” a non-fiction sketch of my life. It is a relatively short book which covers my Southern Baptist roots, the state of my faith, and some not so savory confessions of how I have lived my life. The book might very well be deserving of any label one wishes to put on it, but it is disgustingly honest and true.

Here is an excerpt from the Early Adult section of the book… 

The couple resides in a second floor apartment on a lovely tree-lined
street in Williamsport. It is Sunday afternoon, and Steven Ray is sleeping in
his crib just off the living room. The wife is ironing. The husband is listening
to classical music and day dreaming, idly chatting time to time with his wife.
It is a soft afternoon somewhere between bliss and boredom.

Somehow, the conversation turns to the first month of their marriage when
the wife left Washington, D. C. for Williamsport to await her husband’s Navy
discharge. The wife is telling him about an affair she had with an old high
school boyfriend during that month she was away. It is an attempt to purge
herself of the guilt of that not so long ago tryst. The wife is wrought with the
pain of the revelation but she must be done with her guilt.

The man’s world suddenly caves in on him and he is lost in the frenzied
twittering quake of his neuronal wiring. The man is immobilized by the wife’s
confession, hardly able to move and speak. He is mindful that the time frame of
his wife’s unfaithfulness happens to coincide with the birth date of Steven Ray
and this fact adds to the anxious frenzy within his mind.

Hardly able to breathe, the distressed man leaves the apartment and his
sobbing wife. He wanders to houses of in-laws and leaves abruptly, leaving them
to ponder his dazed, pained expressions. He moves mechanically as though willed
to robotic, mindless action. He drives aimlessly and finally sits on a bench in a park,
trying to get his brain to work, trying to figure out what he must do.

The thoughts tumble down to him: ‘Is he my son? Should there be a blood
test? Do I leave? Do I stay? Where do I go? What do I do?’ He finds himself
opening his memory pages to the feelings he has when his father beats his
mother. It is that same kind of feeling of helplessness and hopelessness.

The man feels lost like that little boy of yesterday.

He returns to the second floor apartment. His wife’s eyes are red and
swollen from her crying and she is so very sorry. For whatever reason, baby in
the crib, the honesty of her confession, her sobbing wish for forgiveness, or
the simple expediency of the moment, the man forgives his wife and stays. He
simply finds it easier to capitulate, to be done with it, than to continue with
the aberrations of his mind. It seems he is an emotional cripple, unable to
handle the traumatic matters that enter his space. It is his wont to place the
blame for his inability to handle stress on his mobile and uncertain past. Is it
time for the shrink’s sofa? No, he will not give in to that.

Strangely, life is fairly good for the couple until a Sunday afternoon
gathering at Lycoming Creek’s edge in Montoursville. It is a peaceful spot where
families gather, pull their cars to the water’s edge for washing, allow their
children to wade in the shallow waters, have their picnic lunches. It is a wide
creek, and the mother-in-law’s cabin sets among the trees some hundred yards
across from where the families, cars, and kids are gathered.

A beautiful day is about to get very ugly…

That dreadful ill fated Sunday afternoon begins with all the family
oriented activities the man would want. He drinks beer with his men in-laws. The
men are gathering, lounging outside on soft comfortable chairs, looking across
the creek at the families on the other side of the river. He listens to the men
tell of their different job experiences and participates with his occasional
anecdote laced with humor.

The sun shines in a near cloudless sky, and the women bring their plates
of goodies out and spread them on the picnic table for the men to prepare and
eat at their leisure. It is the sort of day the man has always factored into his
vision of family purpose and unity. He sits with baby Steven on his lap,
alternating his adult talk with baby talk.

The man’s wife sees across the creek a family she knows, takes baby
Steven from his lap, and walks through the shallow water to the other side. The
man watches as the wife sweetly engages a young couple in conversation there at
water’s edge. A peculiar sensation hits him and at once he somehow knows that
his wife is talking to the man who could be the father of his son.

The man sits, his mind filling with accusatory, hateful thoughts. He is
lost to all conversations around him. He is riveted to the moment and the
building storm within him.

The wife and Steven shortly return, and there is a confrontation. He
cannot deny his own disturbing thoughts and must know if he is correct in his
presumptions. His wife tells him the truth. It is the old boyfriend with whom
she had the previous January affair. She does not feel that her husband has a
right to question her innocent move to say hello and show off her son. She does
not give any priority to the husband’s own perception of yet another betrayal.
She feels she has done nothing wrong in saying hello to an old boyfriend and his
wife.

The words are cross, sharp, designed to hurt. There is no stifling
anxiety now for the man, just red-hot anger. The husband abruptly and with
little fanfare leaves the hillside retreat. He motors away from the family
gathering. He is not sure where he is going but he knows he must be away. The
harsh words between the couple and the quick revving engine of his car driving
away are not lost on the in-law family gathering. Except for baby Steven crying,
all is quiet on the hillside.

Clad in a white t-shirt, dungarees, and sock-less brown penny loafers, he
goes to a military club recently joined. It is a private drinking and eating
club for veterans situated in South Williamsport. There the sourly disposed man
drinks away the afternoon, gets rowdy, surly, becomes obnoxious with some
patrons, and is asked to leave. It is dusk. He is drunk. He is unsteady and
sorely without the faculties he needs to drive his car.

After he crosses the bridge into Williamsport and turns onto the street
where he lives, he drives into some parked cars along the curb, damaging three.
He is less than a block from home. He is still inebriated but stunned back to
some semblance of awareness.

He sits at the curb as police come and a crowd gathers. He fights with a
policeman when the latter tries to put him in a cruiser and take him to jail. He
is clubbed by the cop just above the right eye. Now, his t-shirt and pants are
covered with the dirt and blood of the scuffle.

He finds himself for the first time in his life in a jail cell, and as 
his sobriety slowly returns to him it might just as well be hell. His mind
begins with the scenarios. Some are woefully unclear in the focusing. He sits on
the hard cot in the small enclosure, his head throbbing with pain and
uncertainty. With his head bowed, he relives the hours of the Sunday afternoon,
the act by his wife he perceives as betrayal, the military club drinking as
plain stupid, and the ramming of the parked cars, the cop fight, as priceless in
‘Keystone Comic’ hilarity. He is not laughing, however. He is in a particular
black abyss of his own making.

The man mentally shovels on his guilt, plays the pity games, and
self-decrees that his life is over. He stands at the bars of his cell and weakly
yells at the jailer on night duty, pleads to be let out of his claustrophobic
nightmare. The jailer is kind to the man, tells him that morning will come soon,
that everything will eventually work out…

This ends the excerpt from “What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale.” Should
you care to read the entire book, please visit amazon.com (US and UK) and/or my
website/blog and scroll down the ‘Home’ page to my books. There you will find
the links for purchasing the book — paperback, kindle and/or other e-book
formats. Here is the link to my Website/Blog: http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com

Where Did Christmas Go?
Posted on December 1, 2012  by  billyraychitwood1      
     
Okay, Christmas has not gone anywhere. It is still the birthday of Jesus, a great man, and, for many, a Savior. Jesus gave birth to the philosophy of Christianity and he gave us many golden rules by which to live our lives. He was a simple man with a richness of heart, mind, and soul who sought to provide all of us, the poor, the rich, the disabled, with a vision beyond ourselves and beyond our problems. From the teachings of Jesus came many branches of religion to satisfy the soul-needs of many.

For some among us, Jesus has little or no meaning beyond His mere existence. For some there is no religion that has meaning. For some there is only this life that we shall live. For some, death brings down the final curtain…an eternal darkness. These people among us have this right to their secular non-belief in God, in Christianity, in all that is Holy. The Christian and the secular can walk side by side, be friends and neighbors, be tolerant of each other’s views.

For me, I say Happy Birthday, Jesus! I say, Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year. I say, enjoy the lighting of your Christmas Tree and the presents you place beneath it. It is the Yuletide season. It is a holiday season. Christmas is a federal holiday. Our Constitution was formed by those of Judeo-Christian values. We allow for a separation of Church and State in our federal and state business. Why is this not enough.

From the polls we get the information that ninety per cent of us Americans still want a Christmas holiday, a Christmas tree, presents under the tree. We ninety per cent see this time of year as a time to spread love, peace, and good will. Is that really so bad? Why is it that some want to make such a big deal about calling a Christmas Tree a Holiday Tree? Why is it that a Nativity Scene is no longer allowed in certain venues? Why is it that the majority does not seem to govern our affairs because of the ‘suffering’ minority?

When does this madness end? When do the encroaching seculars finally take over our country? When does the politically correct get to rule every aspect of our lives? Where did Christmas go? Have we not given in enough to the these minority groups? Can we still keep in place some vestige of our heritage as a nation? I know changes must come as we outgrow some primitive laws on the books. Some of our language must change when it is so obviously insulting to some. Some things just need changing. The difference between conservative and liberal does not escape me, not does ‘far right’ and ’far left,’ nor does ‘moderate,’ ‘progressive,’ ‘extreme.’ Neither of these groups will ever win all the political and social battles, but could we just call ‘Time Out’ for this beautiful season that is now here. Most of us will, but could the zealots call ‘Time Out’ as well. And, yes, I know the liberals want to blame the conservatives, the ‘talk show’ fringe, certain news channels, and it likely doesn’t really matter to most of us. It just seems to come up each year, this issue of ‘Christmas Tree’ versus ‘Holiday Tree,’ the issue of ‘Nativity Scene Displays,’ the issue of ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy Holidays.’ Guess we can say both, ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy Holidays.’ It just bothers me when some retailers warn their workers only to say ‘Happy Holidays’ because ’Merry Christmas’ might offend someone. So many of us have become hesitant in uttering something so naturally spoken over the years.

Christmas will never be for me the way it was so many years ago. I’ve aged and the season in upon me and past me before I know it. I overheard an argument about all this ‘Christmas Tree’ and ‘Political Correctness’ stuff and it just bothered me. Guess it’s kind of natural for an anachronism like me to be bothered.

Guess it’s kind of natural for an ‘old dog’ like me to wonder, ‘Where Did Christmas Go?’

Jack Durish (http://www.jackdurish.com) and Chris Martin (http://www.chrismartinwrites.com) write some provocative posts and they stirred my neurons. They got me to thinking about this frenzied two-polar high tech and emotional world in which we live today. They got me to thinking about a simple phrase uttered by Arnold Swartzenegger in one of his films: "I'll be back!" They got me to thinking about the 'yesterdays' that can be no more...two talented writers, concerned about, confused about, thinking about the misty elements that control the hours of our collective existence.

Does anyone really doubt that the 'machines' have taken over the world? Sure, the takeover was helped along by the dual wizardry of Computer and Corporate genius. It is very likely that these minds envisioned what they were creating. It is also likely that their creations far exceeded their expectations. For certain, these minds had no choice...their visions, their competitive juices, their incredible brain power made the reality of our 'today' inevitable.

As Jack Durish opines in his most recent post, most of the world has fallen into the routine of fast text messaging while dining out in a fine restaurant, while driving, while taking a walk, virtual slaves to their new world of electronic gadgetry. Writers of great talent wonder why their books are not selling. They are trying everything they know in promoting their novels, but nothing seems to encourage sales. The naysayers might suggest the product has flaws, that established authors always sell their books (sure! with mega-bucks for promotion, TV appearances, media blitzes, and, sure great writing), but the issue is not so basic and simple, methinks. The 'future' is now, that 'future' many of us saw coming but were so beguiled by its on-rushing dazzle and seeming utility that we accepted it without thinking...but, then, what else were we to do? Life could be handled by the 'machines' and without our expending too much effort.

So, here we are, smack dab in the middle of a 'science fiction' movie and we can't walk out of it. Our lives always had its routines, but today the routines are connected to the laptop, the internet, the social media, so many avenues of choice. Our days are gone before we know it as we lose ourselves in the magic of cyberspace. My wife still reads her books (on her laptop). I still pretend I'm a writer (on my laptop). God forbid our internet system goes down! We're lost, even angry at the down time. My wife gets her reading done. I get my writing done, sort of, because there is the need to nourish my twitter, my facebook, my goodreads, my, my, my!

We don't talk so much anymore because we might be interrupting each other as we peck away at our laptops. We don't talk so much because now we have gone through the laptop wars of the day and are watching our favorite TV shows we taped over a period of days. We don't walk as often as we once did. Our 'get up and go' just 'got up and went.' We don't go out to dinner as often as we once did, socialize one-on-one with friends as often as we once did...we do so much socializing on the laptop. We don't read as much or in the same manner we once did, and we perhaps don't read the classics so much anymore, or, that big old tome we call the Holy Bible.

The other consideration, even with all the above rambling, this new world of electronic gadgetry could be a fun and good thing. Maybe many folks still have time for conversing, for reading, for socializing outside the web fare, and for walking and staying in shape. For this 'old dog learning new tricks' the new digital world can get confoundingly frustrating at times. It is during those times that I wonder just where the world is heading. One thing seems rather certain to me: the machines are indeed a controlling factor in my life.

One thing is also sure, should I awake in the morning, I'll be sitting in this spot on the love seat beginning my day of routines. I'll still be promoting my books, still writing posts, still finishing my next book, and still waiting for some bright light to go off in my head that makes sense of all that I'm doing. I'll still be trying to figure it all out while I'm thanking my God for blessing my life.

Hope you were not thinking this post would offer some quick fixes to potential problems. Hell, who is smart enought to outwit these machines? Me, I'm hoping for 'Divine Intervention.'

And, how was your day?