Saturday Road Trip
I just got home from a college visit with Amanda to Flagler College, a small private liberal arts college in St. Augustine, FL. Oddly I have lived in Florida on again and off again for many years. Today was the first time I have ever been to St. Augustine. I have probably violated some cardinal sin of tourism in the past but then I never visited Disneyworld and Universal until I had moved from Florida to Connecticut. Hey it happens. When you live here you always think you have all the time in the world to get around to seeing the attractions.
Anyway, I have a lot of pictures to post; I hope you like pictures. Besides going to see the college and meet some of the administration we went site seeing. We walked down the historic St. George Street, one of the oldest streets in the Spanish Quarter. We also toured the Castillo de San Marcos and Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum. It was quite a day.
Based on today even though it was chilly, windy and gloomy - toward the end it even drizzled - I had a pretty good time and would recommend St. Augustine to anyone for a must go see.
Everyone probably remembers from school that St. Augustine is the oldest city in America. It was established in 1565. It was a key location and a port of call for the Spanish during their exploration and colonization of the Caribbean, Mexico and South America.
Being in the presence of history has always impressed me. Maybe the only think I like more than science fiction and fantasy is history. That is probably a little weird but it's not like I have never been called a little weird before.
As for Flagler College, I am very impressed. First of all three students said hello and introduced themselves to Amanda and me. Of course they were on the committee to welcome the visitors but that was very nice. Then one of the administrators spotted us, came over to us and offered to show us where we were going, also very impressive. Come to find out she is in charge of student activities and their quality of life. She was a Flagler graduate.
I admit that I had never heard of the college until a year ago when Amanda started thinking of attending. Having attended two of the nation's larger universities (Purdue and Texas) I could relate to many of the benefits and virtues they were extolling for a small college learning environment. Even so they were up front in stating that Flagler may not be right tfor every student.
There are only 2000 students at the college and the average class size is 25 students. There are no teaching assistants. Students know their professors and their professors expect performance from the students.
Even though I relish my experiences at both Purdue and Texas, there were times that I have to admit that the size of the classes at times reduced the quality of the instruction I received. I would support Amanda's decision if she wants to attend Flagler.
The main building for the college is the former Ponce De Leon Hotel, built in the 1870's by Henry Flagler and first wired for electricity by Thomas A. Edison. Sorry the whole city is steeped in history and I guess that part of me that likes it so much was a bit over stimulated today.
The fort (a.k.a. Castillo de San Marcos) is probably one of the most impressive national parks I have visited. I know Yellowstone and Sequoia are awesome but there is is all about nature. Mt. Rushmore is all about the achievement of a great and partiotic sculptor. Gettysburg is about a pivotal battle in a war that no one wanted to fight. In each case, I have been there and I have been impressed. Castillo de San Marcos is unique. It is a fortress that stood for defense of St. Augustine from the 16th through much of the 19th Century. It never fell to an enemy. Six flags have flown over it but in each case it was a transition of power that was negotiated away from the field of battle. It is an impregnable fortress that the Spanish constructed in the 1500's, adding on defensive features over the years. Some of the features were extended to create a city wall in defense of the garrison in St. Augustine that later served to protect the city that grew there.
I took a lot of pictures and read a lot of plaques. I'll post the pictures. I hope you like them.
E
Historical Re-inactment: Live Cannon Fire
If I had clicked one instant later you would see the muzzle flash. The troup did an impressive and historically accurate live fire of a cannon, in Spanish, something that they do regularly if anyone cares to visit as a tourist. I have to tell you that as a guy blowing up stuff and things that go boom loudly have always excited me. This impressed the heck of out me. It was very loud. I did not cover my ears as I was trying to get a photo. But I would recommend covering ears. It was pretty darned loud.
The historical re-enactment troup. They do this voluntarily, giving of their free time to provide a realistic feel of what it was like to live fire a real cannon.
Testimony of the Stone
The holes in this wall indicate some of the battle scars on the walls of this impressive defensive structure. During the tour I was told that six times the fortress was under seige but it never once fell to an enemy.
The Fortress
An observation tower at the point of each corner of the fortress provided ample warning of impending attack. The range of the cannon in the fortress approached 3 miles. There is a good reason why this fortress never fell to an enemy.
A very impressive specimen. Some of the cannons on display were captured during the Spanish American War and are on indefinite loan to the Castillo de San Marcos. These cannon are more modern than the ancient origins of the fortress but they are contemporary to some of the cannon that have been used to defend the fortress and St. Augustine over the centuries.
Some pretty impressive museum pieces: cannons along the south side of the Castillo, their barrels aimed menacingly as a warning through the revetments notched into the walls.
Weapons from back in the day when real men fought real wars and the technology did not sanitize away much of the suffering from the two parties in any one on one struggle.
The origional layout of the fortress.
A shot of the ramp leading up to the upper deck where the cannon are arrayed. Apparently in the early history of the fortress the ramps were used to bring the heavy cannon up to the fortifications. After the fact over the course of a year or two in the 18th century the ramps were replaced with stairs.
A shot of the interior courtyard of the Castillo.
Amanda caught in the act of trying to lie down on the common sleeping arrangement in the guards quarters in the Castillo.
Amanda almost posing with a guard, part of the historical re-enactment troup that voluntarily presents a historically accurate feel to the Castillo. The flintlock that he is holding is real, by the way. It is also very heavy.
Camera shy Amanda looks at a replica of the original Spanish coat of arms. The actual coat of arms is on exhibit in a protective case and has deteriorated a good bit from the near pristine quality of this display.
Approaching the Castillo de San Marcos from the south west.
The Spanish Quarter
This is an anachronism. The old and the new coverge in St. Augustine.
Some of the walls of buildings in the Spanish Quarter were constructed of a cement that employed sea shells instead of gravel. This wall is over 400 years old and still serves as part of a wall of an occupied building.
Ever pervasive, the Girl Scouts dispatched their best to a high traffic area, outside the Florida Cracker Cafe to hawk their tasty treats. At this point the girl on the right was telling me that she had a mere five boxes left to sell.
Amanda, the ever camera shy, standing outside a courtyard on the historic St. George Street in the French Quarter of St. Augustine.
Flagler College
A little dark picture, but this is an example of the ornate Tiffany stain glass work in the main building of Flagler College. The estimated worth of all the stained glass is said to be $30 million.
The Former Ponce de Leon Hotel, constructed in the 1870's by Henry Flagler; now the main Building of Flagler College
Change of Strategy
Hey all who have been visiting regularly. I will continue to post though probably not daily for a while. I have a good many things going on with editing/revising Book 1, doing some promotional things for myself and some marketing things for a couple of friends (somewhere or the other I have a degree in marketing adminstration).
I thinkt he overall quality of the posts will improve. The daily postings were fun for a while and I eve came up with some things that I am rather proud of and may rework in the future into something longer. I plan to post several times a week, perhaps nearly daily at times. It is just that I have so much going on right now. The other night I was up until 2AM and had to be in at work at 10AM. Oh yeah, I had to wake my daughters up at 6AM and drive them to school at 7AM. I can do that once in a while but it is beginning to be a daily thing and my day job is suffering.
I hope you all understand. I want you to keep checking back though. I will post often enough to be worth your while. I promise.
E
Abe Birthington's Washday
When I was young there were two Presidential birthdays observed in February. Neither of them was a school holiday. I don't recall but I think banks and the post office were closed though. I guess that for such a short month, two legal holidays were too much. Thank God there was no official observance of Groundhog Day or St Valentine's Day. Other than the passing reference to whether Phil saw his shadow, I ignored GHD.
Observing St. V's Day was kind of silly too. There was the annual, traditional and almost mandatory exchange of valentines with all the members of the opposite sex. Not only did you give them to the prettiest girls - those that would never otherwise give you the time of day but also you had to include all those that you feared might actually believe that you had some cloistered amorous intentions. I suppose in these politically correct times it has not occurred to anyone that this practice probably violates some obscure federally-mandated something-or-the-other as it discriminates against those that might want to exchange some same-sex valentines. Don't laugh.
It usually takes Congress to create something utterly ridiculous. A case in point may well be President's Day.
You may have noticed on the calendar that Abe Lincoln and George Washington's birthdays are ten days apart. It is kind of obvious; even Congress noticed it. I think it was around the same time that Congress decided to make the daylight appear to last longer, that they also created a holiday so that we would not have to officially honor each of the two individuals that were born in February. If they were still alive to know about it they would pprobably react the same way that my daughter Amanda might if I told her that since her birthday is on the 19th of December and so close to Christmas that we are just going to pick a day between the two and celebrate that instead.
I could be wrong but as I recall in the years that followed the tragic assassination in 1963,there was a little discussion about making John F. Kennedy's birthday a national holiday and as should come as little surprise Congress could not seem to agree on doing that. They had already replaced the venerable Ben Franklin's likeness on the 50 cent piece to create the Kennedy Half Dollar.
Anyway, the creation of a combined holiday eventually sort of served to quell all the emotionally driving and politically controversial good intentions; thereby the new holiday was extended to honor all past and present presidents so that in the event that someone might ever think of creating a holiday to honor someone else, say Harry S. Truman, Calvin Coolidge or Chester B. Arthur - well you see my point. There could have been a situation that almost everyday in the year was a Presidential birthday and national holiday giving Congress an even greater excuse to not be in session.
The way that President's Day emerged it became a simple way to honor, remember and basically have excuse for the rest of the year to ignore the times of the greatest and the most obscure of all the Presidents. Combine everything into one grand celebration that could be remembered in a tribute to the office itself and the individuals that have served. There is a sort of egalitarian logic about that and it strikes me as being a particularly American sort of thing to do. At any rate it was a fairly intelligent and therefore probably unintended after thought pursuant to the legislation. I was there and I know that at the outset the holiday was only intended to honor the two patron demigods of American myth and legend: George that could never tell a lie and good ol'honest Abe.
When Congress was debating the matter. It wasn't like the creation of the holiday really needed a whole lot of discussion but just that debating is one of the things that Congress seems intent on doing and they are pretty good at it since they have had a lot of practice. Someone asked my mother what they were going to call the combined holiday. Her reply was classic and clearly it made me laugh because it was just as ridiculous as the whole concept of combining the two birthdays. Then and ever after February not only has been unique for its having merely 28 or sometimes 29 days. It is the shortest month of the year given to honor the history of Black people - like the issuer of tribute months could not muster up a 30 or 31 day month not to mention how easily the contribution of the Black men and women of this country is for the most part conveniently ignored for the other 11 months of the year. February has been forever associated in my mind with everything else that is kind of off-center and maybe even sideways about our country.
By the way, my mom's suggestion was, what else - 'Abe Birthington's Washday'.
E
On Mind and Perspective
Someone that I do not even know just sent me her comments regarding Hunter S. Thompson's rfecent suicide. I know that he was an author but largely he was someone that I did not know. I am sad whenever someone dies but it is always particularly distressing when someone takes his or her own life. In my experiences whatever there has been that has not personally made sense has always been the direct result of imbalance. I one way or another Thompson's life was so out of balance that it must have seemed that only the final act of desperation remained.
As I say, I did not know the man. I have not even read any of his writing. We are equal in that regard I am sure. Still, I have heard things in passing. His remarks were often newsworthy. In that we are not equals, not yet anyway. I guess that we might have had a lively discussion had we ever met. From what I have heard about him any such discussion would have resulted in a panicked call for the men in white coats and the padded van. Let's just say that one of the things that I have in common with almost anyone that writes is the shared out-of kilter view of the world.
I am not sure why I even received the odd email except that the sender felt a need to share her grief with others. Apparently she knew him personally or at least felt that she did. Perhaps it was only that having read everything that he had ever published, she understood how he thought. Her comments moved me enough to think about the problems that I have endured in my life; certainly the worst of them have been the most recent ones. Even so, I have always kept moving and had other options from time to time.
Stay out of the corner.
The other day The Rob said something to me that previously I had never hought about at all. "Regardless how bad things have been you keep going. You haven't given up." I guess it has never been in my nature to just give up. The times in my life when I have quit something there has been a very good reason. Always there were options.
I think that suicide is really just giving up. It is surrendering to whatever forces that have thrown your life's situation out of balance. It resolves nothing except perhaps for the pain and suffering of the immediate moment. I am not altogether certain that it even resolves any of that. I have not been down that dead-end ally. I have always had options.
I must admit that here and there in my travels I have been down some strange mental corridors. I am not content. I am never complacent. I have never done enough of the right things in life to even take a break. All the wrong turns have conspired to become my present situation. I could blame everyone else but they aren't the reason for my miserable circumstances. They may have contributed to the imbalance in my life, heaving more and more weight onto the load that I am trying to bear. Still, they are not the cause. This is a path that long ago I chose to take. I don't remember why I decided to take this detour and I doubt that it is even all that important in the larger context. At the time I probably didn't know any better. Even if I were to go back and change things, I would likely still end up here, exactly where I am. There are no conincidences and no accidents. I am where I am and even as I continue, I will always be exactly where I am.
A friend once asked me in the strictest confidence if I had ever thought of suicide. It was one of those strange questions that somehow you just know that the asker has other motives. I knew a lot of the secret things that were going on in his life; things that I doubt that he even thought that I knew. He was a quiet sort and didn't say much about his inner thoughts so the fact that he was asking me at all about something so serious gave me a bit of a jolt. I knew that for whatever reason he had obviously been thinking along those lines.
"I've always been too busy," I replied. I didn't realize the subtle humor in that remark. I really meant what I was saying, though. I really have always been too busy to contemplate suicide. There needs to always be altyernatives; always have some options.
I believe that as humans we are always one goal away from the next interim destination in life. You will never arrive where you believe you are heading. There are just a lot of way stations in life and it is my belief that you are supposed to visit all of them before you check out. It is the human 'race' and you are competing in the marathon of your life against the field of only one, just you. You may eroniously believe that suicide is a means of leapfrogging all the way to the end of the course and that you have somehow bent the rules of existence and short-changed the giver of problems. That is not the case. Killing yourself probably is contrary to some law of balance in nature. Even if you aren't religious you have to believe that murder is wrong even if it is committed upon your one special and specific unique minority.
Someone once told me that in order to not bear the burden of guilt for killing someone, you have to demonize another person. I think that is an amazingly profound statement. It is the means of justification for warfare throughout human history. Every struggle always renders down to an 'us against them' solution. 'Them' is always bad; 'Us' is always right. I guess that if you demonize yourself enough, you could generate enough self loathing that in your own twisted mind the act of ending it all seems justified.
The problem is that Death is not the final destination of Life. Life is a cyclical process. It may seem that it is finitely limited to a brief span of a lifetime but that is only our poorly refined human perception of the process. We do not see what is behind the exhibition's curtains. The portions of the side shows that lie beyond our mental grasp may be the foundations of our strangest dreams and worse nightmares, but they are not all that easily accessible. I don't know a lot of things but I am confident that suicide resolves nothing and ends only the perception that others may have had of your life.
And so others mourn and others see to your final affairs. Others accept the burdens of your wealth or debt. The only difference is that you are no longer directly involved in the daily affairs of those that you cared about and those few that really and truly cared about you.
Death does not complete a cycle, it only changes the perspective. Your problems do not go away; they are adopted and managed, somehow. Somehow we always end up managing all the problems that are thrown our way. The problems and cares of this world are, oddly enough, also part of the freak show illusion that underlies the reality to which we belong at any present moment. Also, we are always here and now. Nothing ever really changes except for the perception that we have of the passage of time through our eyes.
Thompson had a writer's mind. Having been born with the curse or having had developed one of those myself, I can maybe speak to the odd way that he analyzed and filtered the data that the rest of the world easily ignores. The writer's mind is often thought to be more than the normal means to perceive the world. The ironical construction of the events of a liftime warp and distort a writer's perception of events in the endless procession of cause and effect; some of the causes we do not understand but we see every effect that is within the caress of our senses. Some writers will deceive themselves more than others and I admit that I have been guilty of taking flights of fantasy. Writers respond to what would bore others with a cocked head and a smirk, finding amusement in even the most mundane things.
I may be totally wrong about many things but in this one instance, I know I am right because things seem to work the way that I expect.
I can even understand why I am having the problems that I have in life. I can accept things because I do not have the power or momentary ability to dramatically alter course. As a human I have the option to change. We always can adapt. It is the dream that deludes us. We are forever immersed in our self-contained fantasies. 'If only I could' is the mantra that continues until we begin to listen to the advice of the naysayers and submit to the burden of proof that most of our dreams will go unfulfilled. 'If I could only' grinds down with the aches of pains of growing old to the abject, exhausted acceptance of 'If I had only'.
You are NOT old until you submit to your chronological age. Your dreams are not over until you accept the negativity of those that are only inviting you - whether out of love or envy - to share in the misery of their company. If there are so many among us that know exactly what should be done then why is it that almost every one of them is no better off than you or me? Did you ever notice that in every generation the few that succeed are never finished succeeding. They understand that life is a process. They have it in their schematic diagram to seek further failure. They are wired with access to the full knowledge that that is their nature and the very reason for their existence. They know that everyone needs to take necessary risks in order to advance.
We should live to fulfill our dreams and aspirations. Really, it really doesn't matter if there is an point of arrival anywhere near what might have been a goal. Life is not about resting at an achieving goal but about continually setting more lofty ones. Living is not even about the goals and goals only matter in that you need some guidance and direction. It is the journey that we are here to experience, not the accolades for having reached a goal. It is meaningless to pursue the praise, glory or condemnations of the others upon whom we rely for support as much as our general amusement. At some time we all have goals and in our fantastic premonition of how we will construct a personal utopia, we deceive ourselves. Everything makes complete sense and it feels like it really is very possible. We boldly and bravely set out to seek fame and fortune, in whatever way our fantasy defines both.
By the time that we are deluded and disillusioned into wrongly believing that our quest has ended in failure, we are also feeling and probably even showing the weathering of the many early mornings and late nights of struggle. Nothing is ever intended to end in failure. Failure is a way station even as much as is success. Neither are destinations because there are no personal destinations that we can perceive from within our own consciousness and reason; there is only the process called living. We always claim that we are trying to make the most of it; most of us never even try.
I go on writing, editing and revising. That is the process that governs my life. I imagine that I will be at it for a while longer. When I can write no more it will be because I have nothing left to say. If that coincides with my natural ending, then I suppose it will be fitting. Nature may have to ultimately conclude things as others perceive my passing because as I have readily admitted all along, I really suck when it comes to creating an ending.
E
Nomenclature Like Book 1-2E
I hardly ever refer to my own books by their real title. Perhaps you have noticed. Maybe I should pitch the titles a little more often and I try to when I am talking to people about my writing. It is just that I tend to use a shorthand when I write about writing. It is not intended to be a private code. I don't think it is too hard to follow.
Book 1 would logically also be Book 1-1E but I do not designate first edition versions as such. By default the first printing is first edition. What I am working on right now is Book 1-2E, the second edition of Book 1.
Where the nomenclature becomes essoteric is when you reach the second series. Book 7 refers to the actual sequence at the books were written. Book 2S-1 is the second series Book 1 which is also the same thing as Book 7. Since there is a series title change it probably will be designated as Book 2S-1. Of course Book 1 of the first series would also blogically be Book 1S-1 and what I am working on right now is Book 1S-1-2E. Again since it is the first series the 1S designation can be omitted as it is understood that the first series is 1S.
Book 8 is also Book 2S-2 and Book 9 is Book 2S-3. Book 10 is not in any series at all as it is a stand alone prequel to the first series. I could be ridiculous and call it Pre-1S Book. Then what would Book 11 be, Post-2S Book. No I think once I have left the serialized sequences the books will be referred to in the sequential order of their actual composition or alternatively by their complete title or some derivative declination of the full title, sich as Specter of Dammerwald (a.k.a. Book 10) is also called Dammerwald. I have not tyet called it Specter. I doubt I will but that is also an optional shorthand for the full title.
I may also refer to the Wolf Story. That originated from the stand-alone book that I wrote while Book 1 was in final edits and revision. It was only after I was written, revised and edited The Wolf Story that I decided to incorporate it into the first series, beginning in Book 2. I had felt that Book 1 was way too far along to start a major revision. It works out better for the overall flow. As it happened I inserted a couple of linkage sections to better tie into the Wolf Stuff. They then spawned a sequence of changes and an extension of plot that necessitated the second series. There is a continuation of the Wolf Story in the second series but as it was written into the series from the outset and never a stand-alone book I have never designated it otherwise.
The stand alone Wolf Story differs somewhat from the version that was incorporated into the first series. I have an early version although it was the first one that was revised and edited prior to making the rough edges fit into the plot of the series. I no longer have the very first version. I think Ela'na may have it on her computer, the one that does not work. She may have lost it along with the crashed hard drive, though. It is no great loss to the world of literature except thast it might have been of some passing interest to someone in the future that might have wanted to know where this or that character came from. A lot of the names were changed before the storyline was incorporated into the series.
I am making progress on Book 1-2E. It is better. It will be mainly error free and easier to read. I also think it may lose a few more pages before I am done with it. So for those of you who love Book 1, both of you (just kidding) your copies may one day be rare, especially if you have one of the ones that I signed.
Hey, allow me to dream. This IS my Blog.
E
Superlative Thoughts
When I was a kid I used to get into lengthy discussions with friends at school over such things as who would in in a duel between Superman and Batman or who is prettier Ginger or Mary Anne on Gilligan's Island. Come to think of i I never did arrive at the definitive answer to that last one. As for the previous one, I think Batman carried a little krytonite in his utility belt, just in case Superman ever got all bad and cocky around the Halls of Justice.
I usually avoid superlatives. It is like staking out a territory that you have to defend from ever which way. We all do it though. Which is better a Chevy or a Ford. Er uh, where are all thhe other car manufacturers in the world?
By the way, Ford is really an anagram although I have never determined which is the real meaning: Found On Road Dead or Fix Or Repair Daily.
Chevrolet is tricky. You might not think that it is an anagram but it really is: Constantly Having Every Vehicle Recalled Over Lousy Engineering Techniques.
I don't know why but it seems to me that men get into the superlative discussions. I know you may be thinking that men are always so competitive. Well, excuse me but females are just as competitive but perhaps in more subtle and devious ways. Women probably aren't as prone to the superlative discussions as men. I know they have them. It is human nature after all to use comparisons to organize the sum total of all perceived data.
What distinguishes a woman from a man, other than the obvious primary and secondary sexual attributes is the way that we establis priorities. Men and women are perhaps the most different when it comes to priorities.
If you have ever spent any time studying human psychology you know that there are a lot of pretty basic motives at work under the craniums of each and every one of us. After you have analyzed, scrutinized and told lies about the various observed and dissected behaviors of everyone around you, it is pretty obvious that somewhere in the process of learning all about the concensus on how we tick you have totally pissed off all but your closest circle of friends and your family. The later had no recourse but to accept you and love you.
I just thought of a superlative that I am comfortable with. Writing is the stupidest thing that a human could ever do. That is defendable. I have some direct experience. On a hourly wage basis, even if I were to make millions of dollars from my efforts it would be pennies per hour. Writing just does not make sense in economic terms but then again that is not a writer writes.
If you do not understand how someone could possibly be engaged in doing what even he believes is the stupidest thing that anyone could possibly do, then you do not understand creativity at all.
E
