Essay on Radioactive Dirt

Let’s be clear, I’m older than dirt. That would be radioactive dirt. Sure, radioactivity is around us all the time because it’s a natural thing in the environment with levels that are normally nontoxic. The dirt I’m referring to is the kind that became enriched with Strontium 90, a product of nuclear fission. Forget the spent fuel from nuclear reactors or their radioactive waste: I’m talking atomic and hydrogen bombs. The testing of those bombs, both above and below ground, was the cornerstone of the Cold War, and went on from WWII until a partial test ban was signed by Kennedy and Khrushchev in 1963.

As a child of a time without computers or the internet, I knew little of the larger world outside of my immediate family. But at some point, I did become aware of images of mushroom-shaped clouds over the desert sands, of horrific winds blowing away houses, and the danger it might present for my small self to get in the way of such things. Blame television. Blame the schools, too. They were the ones to come up with “Duck and Cover” drills. The “make like a turtle” and hide under your school desk all tucked up into a ball. I’m here to tell you that even a socially-unconnected little kid from that era can figure out how valueless those tactics would ever be in the real situation.

One of the presents for my twelfth birthday was the Cuban Missile Crisis. The tense standoff between the US and the USSR. Seriously, the grownups around me were worried. So was I. The treat of nuclear war was real. I remember that I wanted to come to some kind of understanding with this scary scenario, this unthinkable end of everything. I wanted to find a way to go on with daily life without being paralyzed with fear. I wanted to just be a kid.

My solution then was totally childlike and naïve: I chose to trust that the grownups would not let me down. They would fix things. Keep me and everyone safe. And it happened. An agreement was reached, and everyone stepped back from the brink of disaster.

So, here it is decades later and politics has us as bitterly divided, the newspaper headlines tell me the government has been shut down, there are new kinds of bombs out in the world, and homegrown terrorists seem to be shooting at random. I’m much too old and too cynical to wait silently on the sidelines.

It’s time for the current crop of adults to step up, work together, and fix things. Our children need to be safe, and it would be nice if they didn’t have to do all the work themselves.  

Sweet T and Timing

 I had a totally awesome experience last month. I found, by accident, an old Facebook message. Sadly, the enticing offer to do a guest blog post was six weeks old. I began beating myself up for not being on top of the social media game, all the while knowing that it would be futile. I do what I can.

Finding the old message was a verifiable miracle as far as I was concerned. But was it a real offer and not some scam? I’ve been tricked before. I have the infected computer (sitting in the closet) to prove it. I checked out Southern Writers Magazine online. It’s real. I clicked through to Suite T and started reading recent blog posts by William Walsh. I got down to his Jan. 26 post and came upon a familiar quote and a long-forgotten name of a writing instructor. So, two miracles in one morning.

I sat down at my new computer to write out my thoughts—to create one more miracle. I didn’t procrastinate, let those thoughts fade, I got on with some real writing.

I resisted the urge to send it in that first night. Totally GOOD IDEA on my part, because by the next morning’s light I could tell that while the basics were solid enough, I had to do some reorganization for flow and clarity.  

The second draft was better. Then, I took time to read the SUBMISSION GUIDELINES. Bad news. I had to chop out words to get from 640 to under 500.

That took some doing. In fact, I over did it, and got to add words back (saved my ending). Still, it’s good practice to weigh every word and thought.

The title of my blog post is FOX HUNTING, and I will be sure to let everyone know when it will be posted.

THE TRUTH: I’ve finally figured out that if I had found that message in a timelier manner, like, any time sooner than when I did, I would have missed the whole sequence of events that led up to my discovering the teacher’s name. I also would have been hard pressed to have anything relevant to write about. I hate to say this, but procrastination really worked out in my favor this time. Makes me wonder how many other times I benefitted by being lucky instead of being talented.

SPOILER ALERT:

I am going to look for books by William Price Fox.

Find Sweet T at: http://southernwritersmagazine.blogspot.com

Find FOX HUNTING at: http://southernwritersmagazine.blogspot.com/2018/03/fox-hunting.html

Bucktown Revisited

Jonathan Turner’s A Brief History of Bucktown was the star attraction at the last READ LOCAL event held at the Bettendorf Public Library.

I couldn’t attend. So, to atone I found last year’s Goodreads book review to post.

“This is a small but mighty volume that highlights the history and heritage of an important river town. Davenport was part of the Tri-Cities first and then the Quad Cities most recently as they all shared the banks of the Mississippi River. The river brought life, prosperity, and growing pains to an early frontier Davenport that rivaled the likes of cities many times its size. Turner documents it all with faithful quotes from a great many sources. He begins in the 1880s by showing us the booze-soaked red-light district and progresses forward through the boom and bust years of two world wars and a major farm crisis. He ends with an amazing come-back story of urban revitalization.

The high point for me was going to hear the Quad City Wind Ensemble preform at St. Ambrose University's Allaert Hall. I'd just finished the part of chapter four that highlighted the cultural influence of the German American population's love of all things musical. The title of the performance was "Fiesta" and the music was lively and uplifting. I felt like I had a direct line back to those rowdy beer halls of Bucktown in its heyday without having to stagger home.

There's just so much information here and the before and after photos are very helpful, but it left me wishing for someone to put together a tour to give me more.

Turner has done an impressive job with his brief overview. I think he has opened a door to a lot of stories waiting to be told."

Cucamonga Valley Wine Book Review

Co-authors George Walker and John Peragine have created a little gem of a book. Cucamonga Valley Wine is packed with facts, figures, and photos that highlight an area of California that needs to be remembered for its contribution to the history of the wine industry and to American society.

What looked like useless, inhospitable soil at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains held a secret treasure that few outsiders would discover until Franciscan monks showed up with their Mission grapes. A century later, that wild wasteland of rocks, sand, and desert plants revealed a deep source of water that would allow for the dry-farming, or non-irrigation, of varieties of grapes familiar to Italian immigrants well trained in the art of winemaking. Those enterprising Italian families worked for generations to establish a strong wine-producing culture that outlasted Prohibition and wasting diseases. They persevered until modern times, when car exhaust and urban sprawl proved to be too much competition.

Wine enthusiasts will appreciate the attention to detail and the ending that isn’t an ending: There will always be a place for fine wine at the American table.

Sharing a Great Find

I found these thoughts on writing very useful for more than just flash fiction. It was one of those “I got it right” moments for me.    

-Mary

How to write flash fiction

By David Gaffney, The Guardian, Monday 14 May 2012 

1. Start in the middle.

You don't have time in this very short form to set scenes and build character.

2. Don't use too many characters.

You won't have time to describe your characters when you're writing ultra-short. Even a name may not be useful in a micro-story unless it conveys a lot of additional story information or saves you words elsewhere.

3. Make sure the ending isn't at the end.

In micro-fiction there's a danger that much of the engagement with the story takes place when the reader has stopped reading. To avoid this, place the denouement in the middle of the story, allowing us time, as the rest of the text spins out, to consider the situation along with the narrator, and ruminate on the decisions his characters have taken. If you're not careful, micro-stories can lean towards punchline-based or "pull back to reveal" endings which have a one-note, gag-a-minute feel – the drum roll and cymbal crash. Avoid this by giving us almost all the information we need in the first few lines, using the next few paragraphs to take us on a journey below the surface.

4. Sweat your title.

Make it work for a living.

5. Make your last line ring like a bell.

The last line is not the ending – we had that in the middle, remember – but it should leave the reader with something which will continue to sound after the story has finished. It should not complete the story but rather take us into a new place; a place where we can continue to think about the ideas in the story and wonder what it all meant. A story that gives itself up in the last line is no story at all, and after reading a piece of good micro-fiction we should be struggling to understand it, and, in this way, will grow to love it as a beautiful enigma. And this is also another of the dangers of micro-fiction; micro-stories can be too rich and offer too much emotion in a powerful one-off injection, overwhelming the reader, flooding the mind. A few micro-shorts now and again will amaze and delight – one after another and you feel like you've been run over by a lorry full of fridges.

6. Write long, then go short.

Create a lump of stone from which you chip out your story sculpture. Stories can live much more cheaply than you realize, with little deterioration in lifestyle. But do beware: writing micro-fiction is for some like holidaying in a caravan – the grill may well fold out to become an extra bed, but you wouldn't sleep in a fold-out grill for the rest of your life.

An Alzheimer’s Journey

My book review on:

My Two Elaines: Learning, Coping, and Surviving as an Alzheimer’s Caregiver

by Martin J. Schreiber with Cathy Breitenbucher

This timely little book is filled with big messages. The first being: Caregivers must care for themselves. The second: Make use of all your resources. The third: Accept help from family and friends. The fourth: By entering the world of your Alzheimer's loved one, you can avoid the conflict of clashing realities and find a way to cherish the small moments of comfort and joy. There's much more to find in this frank and readable volume. Martin Schreiber was kind and brave to share so much of his personal story.

On a current note:

I’ve been going to classes presented by Jerry Schroeder at Eastern Library for the past two weeks. He is Senior Program Specialist with the Alzheimer’s Association, Greater Iowa Chapter, and has a lot of knowledge and experience to share both with the slides he shows and the Q & A afterward.

There will be one more class titled “Where We’ve Been, Where We’re Going” next Tuesday, Jan. 30, from 3:30-5:00 PM, at the Eastern Library, Davenport, IA.

National Alzheimer's Hotline: 800.272.3900

alz.org/greateriowa

Writing Exercise 11

One of my writing rituals involves cleaning. Usually, it’s cleaning my house, my room, or in this case, tidying up my computer files. In doing so, I came across this writing exercise. It is of interest because I messed up yesterday’s writing challenge for the first meeting of COMMUNITY WRITE NIGHT. The prompt was “What have you done this week?” and I was too embarrassed to mention the cleaning I’d been doing. Like, how do you write about washing salty footprints off your wood floor and make it interesting? So, I didn’t even try.

BUT, during my computer cleaning binge, I came across this item and I will share it in its natural, unedited state since NaNoWriMo was mentioned last night.

Writing exercise 11/20/17  Thanksgiving Gone Wrong

The doorbell rang, and I opened the door to find my turkey waiting for me in a white carboard box. This year’s turkey was not frozen, not fresh, not soaked in brine. Something totally new for us … smoked.

I opened the box, as per the urgent instructions stamped on top of the box, and was hit by the overpowering aroma of smoke. Great, I thought, I’ll have a smoky fridge, and no doubt a smoky house for at least a week. It had better be worth it.

I really had no reason to grouse about my husband’s novel selection. I certainly had not contributed my part in the planning of T Day. Other than obtaining pumpkin pie fixin’s. I’ve been too busy with plumping up my NaNoWriMo word count. Lots of things have had to slide by the wayside. Important things yes. Things that will come back to bite me I’m sure. But that’s just the breaks for November novel writing for someone who procrastinates for the rest of the year.

Last year I went to Bettendorf for a writer’s group. I was there by myself some afternoons. This year I’ve stayed home, drank coffee, stared at my notes, and hoped that I could make some sense out of the bits and pieces of the story I was trying to imagine.

I don’t like playing by the rules anyway, so nothing new there. This month is for me and I’ll get by the best that I can.