The Word

Books Alive 2012 photo post

2012-02-17T16:51:00.001-06:00

So Books Alive was last weekend. And you are there:


Robert Leleux and his mother, Jessica

Leleux, Melissa Conroy, and me

Leleux, Conroy at After School Program

Leleux, Olivia Byrd, Michael Morris, Kathie Bennett

Ruth Corley, Lori Carver, Pat Sabiston

Lynne Hinton and Debra Simmons

Frank Walker gets a Bday cake from Jackie Papke

Leleux session Saturday a.m.

Jeff Shaara session

Morris session

Find out more here:
Books Alive
Robert Leleux
Melissa Conroy
Lynne Hinton
Michael Morris
Olivia (deBelle Byrd) Cooley
Jeff Shaara
Kathie Bennett

>See more photos at my Facebook page<

>Read my blog this week about the visiting authors, "Secret Stories of the Soul"<

Author carries family storytelling to new level

2012-02-08T15:35:00.009-06:00

Michael at 2008 Books Alive.

PANAMA CITY — Some people are born to be storytellers. They may work in the fields or run a store or paint houses for a living, but when they speak, they spin tales.

Michael Morris is such a storyteller. Born and raised in Perry, where he claims he was a “C student at best,” he had the good fortune to be encouraged by a teacher to become a writer. (Some of us who thought we could be writers had teachers who encouraged us to seek treatment instead. But enough about me.)

Michael said he never took the idea seriously — writers didn’t come from places like Perry, he thought — so he pursued a career in public affairs, later working as a state senator’s aide and then a pharmaceutical salesman. But the stories wouldn’t go away until he found their shapes and described them in print. He says he “became a writer” at 31.

Michael now lives in Birmingham, Ala. He’s the author of the novels “A Place Called Wiregrass” and “Slow Way Home,” as well as an authorized novella based on the Grammy nominated song, “Live Like You Were Dying.” His short stories have appeared in the anthologies “Stories From The Blue Moon Cafe II” and “Not Safe, But Good II.” (Learn more at MichaelMorrisBooks.com.)

He has made the trip to Panama City for Books Alive and other workshops several times in the past few years, visiting local schools, speaking to writers’ groups and otherwise finding time to encourage fledgling writers.

We met in 2008 at a gathering of the Books Alive authors and volunteers. Barbara Clemons introduced us. She said he was someone I would want to know, and as usual, she was right.

“It’s always great to be with my friends in Panama City,” Michael said in a recent Facebook exchange when I asked him about this weekend’s visit for Books Alive, where he will once again be a featured presenter. “I feel like I probably have more friends in Panama City now than I have in Birmingham.”

Michael has a new novel due in September, “Man in the Blue Moon,” which he has been working on for a few years now. I first heard him discuss it during a National Novel Writing Month workshop at Florida State University Panama City in 2009.

“It’s set in Apalachicola during 1918, and Panama City has a cameo in the novel too,” he said this week. “The story is based on a story my grandfather (who was raised in Wewa) used to tell.”

When Michael’s grandfather was 10, he said, a man was shipped in a crate via steamboat down the Apalachicola River to his family’s store in Apalach. The man was allegedly on the run for killing his wife and her lover. The man claimed he was innocent and that his in-laws were hunting him down for vengeance.

“My grandfather was one of the greatest storytellers I’ve ever known,” Michael said. “Through the years, I had him retell the story many times, to sort out fact from fiction. The bare bones of the story never changed. He died last year at 101 — the same year I found a publisher for the novel. He died knowing that I had completed it.”

His story lives on through the storyteller, and really, that’s all any of us can hope for.

Peace.
(This is my Undercurrents column for Feb. 9, 2012.)

Review: No simple fairy tale

2012-01-29T18:06:00.000-06:00

She’s a strong, independent woman, but life literally sucks for “Bo,” the heroine of Syfy’s newest scripted series, “Lost Girl."

Bo (portrayed by Anna Silk) is a 30-something brunette with dangerous appetites — a full-blooded succubus who feeds on the sexual energy of humans. She was hidden among humans as an infant and raised without knowledge of her lineage, only learning about her “Fae” powers when she drained her boyfriend’s life during her first intimate encounter.

Now, after years on the run and faced with the choice of joining either the light or dark factions of the fairy realm, she shuns both. She takes the middle path, aligning herself with humans, and making her the go-to outsider for Fae with problems. She takes their cases while searching for the truth behind her heritage.

Premiering two weeks ago (the third episode is Monday), “Lost Girl” is new to American TV, but it is soon to start its third 13-episode season in its native Canada.

The setting takes the Syfy channel deep into the dark urban fantasy territory of popular novel series like those of Patricia Briggs, Laurell Kaye Hamilton and Kim Harrison, which also focus on strong female protagonists. It’s the latest new TV series dealing with fairy tale creatures in the modern world, such as ABC’s “Once Upon a Time” and NBC’s “Grimm.”

The regular cast includes Kris Holden-Ried as “Dyson,” a wolf-like Fae working as a human police officer; Ksinia Solo as “Kenzi,” a human pickpocket and con artist who becomes Bo’s confidante and aide; Zoe Palmer as “Lauren,” a human doctor working for the Light Fae, who also crushes on Bo. A notable recurring guest star is Emmanuelle Vaugier as “The Morrigan,” the leader of the Dark Fae.

The first two episodes provided for review show the series getting off to a bumpy start. The pilot, “It’s a Fae, Fae, Fae World,” is sexy and violent (sometimes simultaneously), though the explanations of the show’s setting tend to slow the pace. Episode two, “Where There’s a Will, There’s a Fae” is just as goofy as it sounds, lapsing close to self-parody, which is odd territory for a show that (in the U.S., at least) hasn’t yet established itself.

In Canada, the series received positive reviews and developed enough of a following for the second season to be boosted to 22 episodes and an order placed for the third season. “Lost Girl” was developed and produced by Prodigy Pictures, in association with Shaw Media and Showcase.

(This review originally appeared in the News Herald prior to the season premiere of the show; I just recalled that it wasn't added here, so here it is now, slightly altered because of the passage of time.)

Catch “Lost Girl” at 9 p.m. CST Mondays, following the second season episodes of “Being Human,” Syfy’s Americanized adaptation of a hit BBC series, which airs at 8 p.m. “Being Human” follows the struggles of a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost who share an apartment in Boston.

Carmel Mikol: Creature of Habit

2012-01-26T13:47:00.000-06:00

Carmel Mikol @ Central Square

SEASIDE — I met Carmel Mikol by happenstance. I had detoured into Seaside on the flimsiest of reasons, checking with Central Square Records about a Mountain Goats rumor, and then wandered into the recently renovated back room to look at posters and vinyl records.

A portable typewriter crouched low on the decoupage table by the old brown couch. There was paper in it, and words on the paper: “What Kind of Creature are You?”

I started to jot information from a sheet beside the typewriter; it told about the “Waywords” project singer/songwriter Carmel Mikols was conducting during her tours across North America this year. I looked up as a woman approached.

“Whattaya think?” she said.

“Pretty cool,” I said. Then I realized she was the same young woman pictured on the sheet beside the typewriter, and stated the obvious: “You’re the artist.”

Introductions exchanged, I gave her a business card and asked if she had time for an interview. I sat on the table beside the typewriter, and she settled on the couch.

“I spend a lot of time writing,” she said. “That’s really what I do; I’m a songwriter first. And I find that traveling around and touring and getting to play festivals like this in places I probably otherwise wouldn’t get to visit adds a lot to my writing portfolio.”

From CarmelMikol.com

Originally from Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada, Mikol recently released her second album, “Creature,” and a related booklet of poetry, lyrics and stories, “Creature of Habit.” Her song, “Twenty Something Girl,” (from the new album) took first place in the Folk category of the 2011 John Lennon Songwriting Contest.

“I’m not in denial at all,” she said when asked her age (for the record, 29). “It’s a good thing my song ‘Twenty Something Girl’ did what it did this year. Otherwise I’d be a liar.”

Mikol was quick to smile and laughed easily, emotions as true and earnest as her lyrics, which explore themes as big as social conscience and as universal as personal loss. She claims to be a “creature of habit” and wonders what sort of being other humans might claim to be.

To that end, she employs one of the manual typewriters that she said she collects “obsessively” and uses when writing.

“Along with my tour, I’ve been taking my typewriter to all the towns that I play in and leaving it in public spaces for people to respond and participate in this public art project,” she said. “I type ‘What Kind of Creature are You?’ on the top and invite people to give me some kind of response. I’m collecting all these pages for the next couple of months … and will be turning it into something else, which is still a mystery at this point.”

This was not her first visit to Seaside. Mikol stayed a month in 2011 as an artist-in-residence with the “Escape to Create” program (which she called “lovely and supportive”), working on short film scripts and poems that resulted in her book. During that stay, she spent a lot of time at Central Square Records.

“I would come and sit on this couch and write,” she said. “They always play amazing music. … It’s a really good hangout, and they also supply you with caffeine. It’s like, a record store that gives you coffee? How could that be better?”

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 26.)

Holding on to hope of better days coming

2012-01-23T16:57:00.000-06:00

SEASIDE — We arrived at the square in the setting sun and lowering fog of a Sunday evening.

John Darnielle, singer/songwriter and founder of The Mountain Goats, walked past us into Sundog Books. I browsed there, too, while my wife and daughter sat outside, eating ice cream from the gelato shop and waiting for my son to meet us. Later, I would ask Mr. Darnielle what children’s books he had set aside for purchase later, but he couldn’t recall the titles.

Upstairs in Central Square Records, a crowd was beginning to gather. Darnielle browsed the stacks as I purchased two of his albums on vinyl (free digital downloads included). I picked up the new one, “All Eternals Deck,” which includes the songs “Damn These Vampires” and “Birth of Serpents,” which I had heard recently on public radio. My son got “Tallahassee,” which for us is the iconic Mountain Goats album.

I said, “Excuse me, Mr. Darnielle,” and introduced myself to the man. We shook hands. I told him I didn’t want to take up his time, but I felt compelled to tell him that I was introduced to his music through my son and his best friend, Marisa.

Nathan walked up then, and I introduced them. They shook hands, and I told Nathan what I had been saying.

“Mountain Goats was one of her favorite bands,” I said. “We lost her a few years ago, and your music became sort of fused together with that time in our hearts.”

The look on his face was touching. He was stunned and perhaps embarrassed a little, curious and I think maybe honored. He asked if it was all right to ask how she passed.

I told him it was. It happened in 2008. She was killed in a car accident. He said he was sorry for our loss and I’m not sure what he said after that. My emotions were clouding my senses.

“I just wanted you to know that your music was part of what got us through that,” someone said. And I don’t know as I write this if it was me speaking or Nathan. For a moment, I was outside myself.

“When we heard you were playing here, there was no way we would miss it,” I said. “We’re so honored to be here and hear you perform.”

He shook his head and smiled. “I hope no one’s disappointed. I’m only playing a few songs. This is just an in-store, not a full concert.”

“It will be remarkable,” I said.

He thanked us again and said he would like to browse some more before the show. We thanked him for his time and stepped away.

He played to a packed house and invited everyone to sit down on the floor if they wanted; no one did. People of all ages stood and swayed, tapped their feet, mouthed the lyrics along with him.

He told us stories between songs:

... Of how he had looked at a map when he lived in the Northwest and thought about how Florida was on the other side of the country; how it was somewhere people ran away to; how disappointed someone would be when the pavement ran out.

... And of his stepfather, whom he described as abusive to the whole family, and how he grieved bitterly when the man died, and he sat on a floor somewhere in France and wrote songs about how weird it was to grieve.

... He joked about his lyrics being about the squalor of people treating each other terribly, and that it seemed odd to be singing them in this place of beauty.

He played “Cotton” and “Dance Music,” “See America Right” and “You Were Cool” ("We held on to hope of better days coming/and when we did we were right"), and he sang “Matthew 25:21,” which is when the tears welled up. He played more. He had no set list, just pulling songs out of his head as they felt right.

He did, near the end, ask if anyone had a request. I wanted to hear “Old College Try,” but didn’t shout the title because what I really wanted to hear was whatever he wanted to play.

After the set, he signed albums. Nathan’s he embellished with the boy’s name in Hebrew. Mine, he decorated with a star and the words “all love.”

And we all left in the dark and the fog, carrying something bright inside us.

Peace.

Songwriters festival brought the good vibrations

2012-01-20T16:15:00.000-06:00

Beach view at Watercolor Resort.

SANTA ROSA BEACH — The breeze was gentle, if a bit cold, coming off the Gulf of Mexico last Friday afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon. Except for a single woman in dark sweats climbing the stairs to the boardwalk, the beaches were empty for as far as the eye could see.

I stood on the water side of Fish Out of Water restaurant on Friday the 13th in South Walton County, waiting for a press conference to begin. Inside, headliners for the annual 30A Songwriters Festival were gathering to meet the press. Outside, the afternoon was perfect, and my luck was holding out.

I circled the area and strolled the resort, stopping in at the Blue Giraffe to meet the proprietor and one of the clerks. Traffic was picking up along 30A as I crossed back to the restaurant.

Gibson prize winners with artists.

The event organizers paraded eight people onto a stage to say a few words and pass the microphone. They laughed with each other like old friends, though most of them never had met. Later, they milled among the media representatives for brief one-on-ones.

The mood was light, friendly and fun, though I was still a little bit star-struck.

Jim Lauderdale talked about changing the debt ceiling before he “realized” he was at a different sort of press conference. Then he told a story about staying up all night Thursday penning songs with John Oates.

Oates joked he was, in fact, Darryl Hall. “I used to be tall and blonde, but ever since I started working with Jim Lauderdale, I shrunk,” he said before turning serious about how honored he was to be invited to participate in the festival.

Joan Osborne also claimed to be Hall and showed off her blond tresses as proof. Up close, her smile was as brilliant as her dimples were deep. She spoke of her new album project and the beauty of the beaches with equal enthusiasm.

“Everybody says, ‘Oh, the most beautiful beaches in the world,’ but I went out there yesterday with my daughter and it’s like powdered sugar,” Osborne said. “It’s incredible. You all know this, but I live in Brooklyn, so this is like a really nice break for me to have in January.”

Matthew Sweet stood in the back of the room and smiled and waved when he was called out by the folks on the stage. Arriving on the heels of a tour of Japan and the West Coast, he was jetlagged but grateful to be here. He also was excited to be playing the entirety of his landmark “Girlfriend” album live.

“People are very nostalgic about the album,” Sweet said. “It’s amazing that it’s been 20 years. This year it will turn 21 — so she can drink, I guess.”

Mullins and Simmons

After the interviews, Shawn Mullins paused and took a photo with a fan. Amy Ray delayed her exit long enough to hear how much my sister loves the Indigo Girls — and to agree with her good taste. She also posed for a photo with a PanamaCity.com car sticker.

Amy Ray

“I’m so psyched to be here,” Ray said. “The house I’m staying in is gorgeous. … It’s just a great area. I love being in the South.”

On the way home, I stopped by Central Square Records in Seaside to check out a rumor about the Mountain Goats and ran into another singer/songwriter visiting for the festival: Carmel Mikol was hanging out, watching people hunt and peck on the manual typewriter she had placed on a decoupage table by the couch.

But that’s a story for next week…

Matthew Sweet

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 19.)

Book of Gabriel reviewed in The News Herald

2012-01-17T12:29:00.000-06:00

My coworker, Jan Waddy, wrote a review of The Book of Gabriel that appeared in today's Panama City News Herald and online at newsherald.com. It's only the third time the paper has written something about my books, (the other articles are not available online) and I'm very pleased with it. Here's the text:

Book of Gabriel: Be aware of dreams
By Jan Waddy / PanamaCity.com

PANAMA CITY — Have you ever had a dream and wondered if it was real, contemplated your existence as a human and spiritual being or been surprised by your own intentions?

Let Tony Simmons guide you into another realm with his latest novel, “The Book of Gabriel: An Endtimes Fable.”

“This project started as a serial for a friend’s website, part of a year-long daily fiction writing challenge I gave myself in 2008-09,” Simmons said. “My family had suffered the loss of two dear loved ones that year, which made it very difficult for me to express myself creatively. This was a way of forcing myself to exercise that part of my brain, and it allowed me to work out through fiction some of the emotions, fears and memories I was dealing with.”

Other work from that period is featured in “The Best of Days,” a collection of short stories, poems and experimental writing Simmons published in 2010.

“The Book of Gabriel” opens with Gabriel, known by many names, sitting alone under the stars on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico, waiting to die from an overdose of alcohol and prescription pills. When a beautiful woman rises up out of the sea, he thinks she’s a hallucination. She drafts him into a mission that pits them against angels and demons alike in a desperate attempt to reunite the shattered aspects of God and stop the coming apocalypse.

“It starts out weird and gets stranger as you go,” Simmons said.

Even if you can’t fully relate to Gabriel’s circumstances, his experiences will leave you pondering questions about your own destiny — setting the book down to think and then picking it back up to see where it leads.

“The Book of Gabriel” does what all great books do; it opens your mind. The story includes regional locations, some stuff Simmons “just made up” and actual Biblical references. If you find yourself unsure of what is based on fact or fiction, you just might want to follow up by reading the Bible.

From Shekinah to Lucifer, the characters in Simmons’ book are so well developed that setting the book down is akin to pushing pause on the mind’s video. And if you have read Simmons’ weekly Undercurrents column since it first appeared in The News Herald, a familiar face will come to mind when you read about the secret power of Joy.

Along the way, Shekinah and Gabriel meet Cain (the first murderer) and his daughter Death, the archangel Michael and the mysterious Watchers that live among the stars. The quest becomes a dangerous road trip through parallel realities, dream worlds, time/space paradoxes, myth and legend — with side-trips into chapters from “The Book of Cain,” lessons in forgiveness and Joy.

“It’s pretty experimental in some places,” Simmons said.

The experiments will be refreshments for those who wander in random thoughts.

Meanwhile, Lucifer has his own plan to subvert the power of Shekinah, the female aspect of God — and Gabriel’s weakness is key to the devil’s plan.

“Every chapter ends with kind of a cliff hanger,” Simmons said. “I wanted to give myself a reason to go back and follow it up.”

The author is a writer and editor for PanamaCity.com and The News Herald. Originally from Century, Fla., he has lived in Panama City for more than 18 years with his family.

His other books include the literary novel “Welcome to the Dawning of a New Century” and the collection of his newspaper columns “Dazed and Raving in the Undercurrents.” Simmons also compiled and edited the two volumes of “City Limits,” the official literary anthology of the Panama City Centennial, in 2008 and 2009. His short fiction has appeared in numerous anthologies, including the recently published “Between There” from Pulpwood Press.

You can follow his reporting at NewsHerald.com or PanamaCity.com, and his personal blog at TonySimmons.info. Find him on Twitter @midnightonmars and @PCTonyS, and Facebook.com/WriterTonySimmons.

Don't feed the animals at the Spring Break zoo

2012-01-12T12:30:00.005-06:00

Maybe you haven’t heard of the primitive Jarawa tribe or the controversy involving them.

The last 403 Jarawa inhabit the tropical forests of the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal off the coast of India. They are protected by law from outside influences, as they are susceptible to diseases carried by more “modern” people and their culture is dying out. It is illegal to photograph them or otherwise come into contact with them.

However, several unscrupulous tourist companies, working with a local police officer, have ferried visitors to the island so they can photograph the tribeswomen dancing and singing — most of them topless — in exchange for food. Video of one encounter is posted at the Guardian UK newspaper website; you can see and hear the women and children asking for food while an off-camera voice tells them they already got their food and should share it.

(A police officer responded that locals had not taken advantage of the tribe; it obviously was a British journalist who had broken the law by videotaping the Jarawa.)

You ask, “What has this got to do with Panama City?”

And I respond, “Have you ever been here during Spring Break?”

Just last night, as I write this, I saw a TV show called “40 Greatest Fails” (or something like that) which consisted of videos gathered from YouTube. One of the video clips was of a bikini contest in Panama City Beach during Spring Break that showed a young woman slip and face-plant while strutting across a plastic stage over a swimming pool.

Then I read in the next day’s paper that the TDC is planning to challenge a Guinness world record for the largest bikini parade during the upcoming Spring Break season. You can be sure the video cameras will be in abundance that day, and the footage will be online. Let’s just hope they wear sensible footwear on slippery surfaces.

Obviously, the Jarawa and the ’breakers are very different from one another, but the two situations set the old brain to thinking.

The big difference between what happens in the Andaman Islands and what happens along Panama City Beach is that the perspectives are reversed. That is, rather than the locals dancing half-naked for tourists to photograph in exchange for solid food, the locals here generally try to steer clear of where the tourists are dancing half-naked for each other to photograph while imbibing liquids.

PCB during Spring Break is less of a “human zoo” and more of a free range you might drive through very slowly with your windows rolled up.

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 12, 2012.)

A new way of seeing through music

2012-01-04T12:36:00.002-06:00

PANAMA CITY — Paul McAuliffe is one cool cat, as he recently demonstrated while serenading a Florida panther, Takoda, at the Bear Creek Feline Center outside Panama City.
“People with autism spectrum disorder have a real affinity for animals,” Paul said.

Known across the Southeast as a talented flute player and flute maker, Paul is also an autism advocate and social services worker. Three years ago, at age 54, Paul discovered that he had Asperger’s Syndrome, a type of autism spectrum disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction.

“We have a real hard time reading social cues (or) looking people in the eye,” he said. However, he said the deficit can be compensated for: “It’s like learning to play the flute: the more you practice, the better you get at it.”

Paul has presented his “Flutes, Autism & A Different Way of Seeing” program across a seven-state area. He recently gave presentations in Greenville, S.C., and Valdosta, Ga. He’ll next present at Hattiesburg, Miss., and on Feb. 17 he’ll present to the Psychology Department at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa.

Click for a link to download Paul McAuliffe's new CD

“Not too shabby for an old flute boy,” he said. “It’s a unique program that I seemed to have stumbled upon. I discuss my own journey of self-discovery mixed with information about Asperger’s and autism in general, interspersed with flutes (from various different regions across the globe).”

During the summer of 2011, the NPR affiliate in Tampa did an online article and interview about Paul’s musical autism advocacy program that went viral. It was picked up by the blog of Autism Speaks, among other organizations. CNN featured Paul on a “Health Minute” segment Dec. 1, after one of the cable news channel’s editors saw his presentation in Atlanta. The segment was shot in Maryville, Tenn., and was shown on CNN and local news channels all over the country.

“I’ve received reports of people seeing it as far away as NYC, Columbus, Ohio, and Little Rock, Ark.,” he said. “I’ve been joking with friends: ‘I can’t get arrested in Panama City — but they love (me) in Atlanta.’ ”

As Paul pointed out, Bay County gets into the national consciousness for many reasons — many of them not so nice — so it’s a good thing for a local to get positive national publicity. (Check out The News Herald’s list of Top 10 stories of the year for examples, including the BK Brawler and the School Board shooting, among others.)

“Behavioral scientists say 50 to 80 percent of all human communication is non-verbal,” Paul said. “The good news is we can learn these things. … Now that I have more of an idea what’s going on out there, it has made it easier to communicate.”

His new CD, “Young Cat Dreams: Quiet Time Music for Kids of all Ages,” is more than an hour of original, soothing solo ethnic flute music. Paul plays 11 different wooden and bamboo flutes on the album, three of which he crafted himself. It’s available for sale at the Visual Arts Center of Northwest Florida in Panama City, and Coastal Market at Pier Park in Panama City Beach; it also available as a digital download at CDBaby.com.

“I’m very excited about it,” he said. “We live in such a high-stress, high-stimulus society, and 21st century kids have so much stimulus coming at them all the time. I like to do anything I can to help people slow down and relax.”

Paul’s music reflects his peaceful attitude. He describes it as music for lullabies, general quiet time, meditation or “just to help relieve the stress of the day.” He has been told many times that when children or grandchildren are having difficulty sleeping, his flutes are the only thing that will help them “relax enough to drift off to Dreamland.”

“They said, ‘You should bottle and sell that,’ ” he said.

Peace.

(This was my Undercurrents column for Jan. 4, 2012.)

Forget the Mayan calendar, my calendar ends on Saturday!

2011-12-29T03:15:00.001-06:00

PANAMA CITY — I don’t want to alarm anyone, but the end of the world may be closer than you think.
I mean, I’m pretty sure everyone on the planet is familiar by now with the ancient Mayan calendar or has at least heard of it. I don’t use it every day, or ever, but apparently the ancient Mayans were really good calendarians, or whatever, and they ended their desk calendars on Dec. 21, 2012.

The word on the street is that the ancient Mayans believed that date marked the end of one cycle of the world. I Googled that to be sure. I saw it on the Internet, so I’m certain it’s accurate.

Here’s the thing: The ancient Mayan calendar may end on Dec. 21, 2012, but the calendar on my desk ends Dec. 31, 2011 — which is only a couple more days away! I’m afraid that MVW Consumer & Office Products Inc. of Sydney, N.Y., might know something the ancient Mayans didn’t know.

I haven’t called them to ask, or anything. I just jumped straight to the panic.

I suppose the ancient Mayans were way smart, but they still ate each other’s hearts, so it’s not like you could really trust them. And as far as I know, no one at MVW Consumer & Office Products Inc. ever ate anyone’s heart. I think that’s even illegal in New York.

I haven’t called to ask them about that either. I’m afraid to. When I Googled “Is eating human hearts from live sacrifices illegal in New York?” the Internet showed me entries on cannibalism, infanticide and the “most common questions asked by non-Muslims.” (I am not even kidding about that part.)

**

What? What’s that?

**

Excuse me. I have just been informed that we have additional desk calendars for 2012. They even go to Dec. 31 of that year. Apparently, MVW Consumer & Office Products Inc. printed more and the world is NOT, in fact, coming to an end on Saturday. The nice people in the white suits tell me that more calendars are EVEN NOW being made for 2013.

Imagine my relief.

You’ll notice the ancient Mayans aren’t making new calendars. (You may have noticed by now that I use the term “ancient” when referring to the Mayans so as not to offend so-called “modern” Mayans, about 10 million of them, who are looking to cash in on end-of-the-world tourism next year.)

I suspect the ancient Mayans were just being lazy and didn’t want to have to chisel a whole new calendar in another stone. That stuff isn’t easy to do. You can get bad finger cramps.

Or maybe all that eating each other’s hearts made them lazy, and it was just coincidence that they designed their calendars to be recyclable every eon or so.

Smarty pants ancient Mayans with your calendars that end on Dec. 21. Eat your heart out: My new calendar goes 10 days longer.

So, you know, never mind what I was saying before. Carry on with whatever you were doing. I’m sure 2012 will be fine.

Happy New Year

----------

(Link to a NASA FAQ about 2012 rumors and myths.)
BTW, That image above? That's an Aztec calendar. It's not even Mayan. That's how little I care about the end of the world.

(This is my 'Undercurrents' column for Dec. 28, 2011. Check it out here too.)

Reading List for the New Year

2011-12-28T11:44:00.000-06:00

The death of Borders contributed to a gigantic haul of reading materials for the family's Christmas presents. Additional books came from Books-a-Million's discount racks. This is a list of the books I received and will be reading in the next several weeks:

Hardback Graphic Novels/Illustrated books:
Instructions by Neil Gaiman & Charles Vess (I love the children's books by Gaiman, and Vess' illustrations are wonderful; if there's a special girl in your family, you should get her "The Blueberry Girl" by these two. "Instructions" is a good one for the adventurous little boy.)
DC Comics Year By Year: A Visual Chronicle
Jim Butcher's Dresden Files: Storm Front
Angel: The Crown Prince Syndrome
Seven Soldiers of Victory (Grant Morrison)
The Green Woman (Peter Straub)
Black Kiss (Howard Chaykin)
SHIELD: Architects of Forever
Deathlok the Demolisher
Spider-Woman: Agent of SWORD
Captain America: The New Deal
Annihilation: conquest
Doorways (George R.R. Martin) - based on a TV series proposal he wrote in the 1990s.

Devil Dog
Shadow Knights
It's a Wonderful Life

Paperback graphic novels/illustrated books:
Fantastic Four: The End
Exiles Ultimate Collection
Exiles: Starting Over
Exiles: Down the Rabbit Hole
Incorruptible Vol. 2
Human Target
Wonder Woman: Rise of the Olympians
Wonder Woman: Contagion
Wonder Woman: Ends of the Earth
Ultimate Elektra: Devil's Due
Squadron Supreme: Hyperion vs. Nighthawk
Spiderman: Fever
Criminal: The Sinners (Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips)
Zatanna: Mistress of Magic

Hardback Novels:
Doctor Who: The Coming of the Terraphiles (by Michael Moorcock)
Manhood for Amateurs (Michael Chabon)
From Hell with Love (Simon Green)
Fatal Error (F.Paul Wilson)
Hunting for Hemingway

Paperback novels:
Ghosts of War
The Bloodstained Man
Final Crisis
Torchwood: Risk Management
By the Sword (F.Paul Wilson)
Managing Death
Countdown
Morlock Night
Conspiracies (F.Paul Wilson)

Memories of Jolly Old St. Nick

2011-12-22T03:23:00.009-06:00

(Note: This column initially posted as a repeat of this column. Sorry about the mix-up.)

Tom Needham gets a new suit in 2001.

Once upon a time, long ago and far away …

My father worked for Monsanto when I was a kid, and each Christmas we would visit the plant north of Pensacola for the annual Christmas party. I was amazed by all the lights and decorations arranged outside, and entering the plant was like walking into a science fiction installation full of strange machines.

These memories are dimmed by time, but I still recall the employee’s band playing jazzy versions of holiday songs on some kind of organ, guitar and drums. A woman dressed as an elf thumped a tambourine. Christmas cartoons — Woody Woodpecker and early Chip’n’Dale — projected on a screen in a darkened conference room full of metal folding chairs. The sound of a movie projector whirring.

Waiting in line to see Santa Claus in the big cafeteria, then receiving a toy. I don’t member a specific toy, or even what we ate in the cafeteria, but I seem to recall being afraid of the Santa fellow.

You never knew where he would show up. There he was, on a frigid Saturday afternoon, riding atop the Century Volunteer Fire Department’s big red truck at the end of the annual Christmas parade. Ringing a bell outside the Kmart store. Riding a Norelco shaver on TV (I was pretty sure that animated Santa was the same version you saw on “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”).

We even came across Santa one summer on a family road trip. Somewhere in Georgia, I think, a Christmas village where you could feed reindeer and have your picture made on Santa’s sleigh.

I’ve met quite a few Santas in the intervening years, covering Christmas events at the Navy base, schools, day programs and so forth. One of them was a talented and big-hearted photographer in the off-season, and I miss him especially when the days grow short and cold.

Writing notes to Santa was part of the childhood holiday routine. (I even tried sending him a note one summer, just to see what happened. For the record: Nothing happened.)

We had lots of traditions: Circling toys in the Sears & Roebuck catalog (Mego heroes were particularly important); baking and decorating cookies with Mom; visiting my great-grandparents along with all of the extended family; reading the Nativity story on Christmas Eve.

About a week before Christmas, we’d go to the tree farm somewhere outside of town to kill a tree in honor of Jesus. Sometimes I helped Dad bring it into the house after he trimmed the base. We always used silvery “icicle” decorations, which would sometimes melt in contact with the glass bulbs. The ornaments, also glass, were extremely fragile and shattered into a million sharp shards if dropped. You spent the last week of December picking glass or pine needles out of your socks.

Santa always seemed to come through, no matter my reluctance to speak with him directly. Something I had circled in the catalog would arrive — a Batcave playset, say, or a Major Matt Mason mooncrawler — along with other things I hadn’t thought to ask for. Often, this included a cowboy outfit with fresh rolls of caps; I loved the smell of gunpowder on Christmas morning.

Smelled like victory.

Peace.

(Note: This was my column for today's News Herald. You can see it here also.)

Library event was fun

2011-12-16T17:46:00.000-06:00

Sold a few books at the library's "Last Minute Christmas Gifts" event today.

Slim Fatz, a local bluesman, stopped by to drop off his newest CD, and I caught a photo of him while he was talking with flute maker and player Paul McAuliffe.

I met lots of new people and hopefully created some new readers. It was interesting to see that I sold as many of my older books as the new one. Two copies of "Welcome to the Dawning of a New Century," one each of the "City Limits" anthologies, and another "The Best of Days." Most people talkative and in a good mood, which makes those events worthwhile.

Every ornament tells a Christmas tale

2011-12-14T15:52:00.001-06:00

PANAMA CITY — I don’t know about your Christmas tree, but ours is full of holiday stories. It has been described as looking like a toy shop exploded all over it, and that’s not far from true. It definitely is a reflection of the things we enjoy and the memories we hold dear.

There are heroes and spacecraft from “Star Trek” and “Star Wars,” superheroes and heroines, TV and movie icons from Humphrey Bogart to Jimmy Stewart to “The Lone Ranger” and “I Dream of Jeanie.” There are memorial ornaments for those loved ones we have lost, as well as ornaments celebrating our first Christmas as a couple and the first Christmases for our babies.

Some of them light up. Some of them make sounds. Some of them just hang there looking pretty. The one for “It’s a Wonderful Life” has a bell that rings each time an angel gets his wings.

The oldest item on the tree is a small plastic reindeer, once white but now faded to yellow. I last wrote about this artifact of Christmas Past almost a decade ago, but I retell its history every year as someone new sees our tree for the first time — or just to make my kids sigh, “Yes, Dad, we know.”

Back in the days of black-and-white television, Grandma Simmons had an arrangement of four of these little coursers attached by thin red ribbon to a white plastic sleigh. They generally occupied a windowsill or a tabletop through the holidays. And when I was just a tadpole, I would sometimes use the sleigh and reindeer to transport my Major Matt Mason dolls around the living room.

At some point during my elementary school years, Grandma passed the sleigh and two of the surviving deer to me. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the set, but only this single deer remains — fragile, yellowed, with a broken antler and chipped snout, and stains of dried invisible tape around its torso.

Each year, I perch it in a place of honor close to the top of my family’s Christmas tree. It catches the lights and seems to glow.

Other ornaments on our tree have stories, too. The silvery “Joy” that hangs near the deer, for instance. The Scarlet O’Hara figurines that passed to us from my other Grandma. The “Enterprise,” and the Snoopies, and the Harry Potter. My kids have their favorites, and my wife has hers.

The reindeer is mine. I place it on a limb and fall through a doorway to childhood Christmastimes, and not in a melancholy way like you might get from that old “Toyland” song. I miss Grandma, yes, but the memories are warm and filled with smiles.

These stories are important. They connect us with our past. They put the future in perspective. Someday, I figure, some item I gave someone will be a story told to a great-grandchild, a smile recalled, a gift cherished. I might be a faceless memory by then, but I will remain part of that story so long as it is told.

What story will you be a part of? How will you be remembered? What yellowed artifacts will carry your story into unknown days and plant themselves in the memories of generations yet unborn?

Peace (on earth).

(This is my Undercurrents column for Dec. 15, 2011.)
-----

EDIT: After this column initially ran, my father sent me these photos from Christmas 1952, showing him as an 11-year-old and the complete Santa's sleigh and eight reindeer as they originally appeared.)

Christmas Song of the Day: Fairytale of New York

2011-12-09T15:41:00.000-06:00

On Twitter, I've been posting a "Christmas Song of the Day" for the past few days. Today, I put up the Pogues' "Fairytale of the New York." Tells you what kind of end-of-week mood I'm in.

Yesterday, the 31st anniversary of the death of John Lennon, the song was, of course, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)." I'm morally obligated to warn you that the video at that link has some gruesome imagery.

The day before, I chose the 21-minute long Francis Ford Coppola filmed "Junky's Christmas" written and narrated by William S. Burroughs. (So, the mood has been off all week, looks like.)

The day I started all this, I began with Bing Crosby and David Bowie's "Little Drummer Boy (Peace on Earth)." (Along with a bonus song, the scarily accurate Funny or Die recreation of the performance starring Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly.)

I'll bring you some more songs as the month progresses.
Peace.

Ghosts of Christmas haunt ‘Batman Noel’

2011-12-07T10:31:00.000-06:00

As the new original graphic novel “Batman Noel” opens, Gotham City’s dark knight is tracking a petty criminal named Bob through the snowy streets on Christmas Eve.

Bob is just trying to scrape by, running errands for the Joker so he can provide for his sick son. But while Joker seems the obvious “Scrooge” in this retelling of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” it is Batman who ends up being visited by specters. Indeed, in Bob’s world, Batman’s alter ego Bruce Wayne is the penny-pincher who begrudgingly gives him Christmas day off.

This version of the Batman is a weary veteran, emotionally scarred by his war on crime. He has lost his compassion for the victims he once swore to protect, focusing instead on winning the war at any cost. He has isolated himself from his friends and distanced himself from the common people of his city. All he cares about is the bottom line, and he will sacrifice anyone to achieve his ends — even the safety of a sickly child.

The story of “Batman Noel” (hardcover, 112 pages, $22.99) uses “A Christmas Carol” as the bones for a desperate adventure tale exploring what it means to be a hero. Batman must come to terms with his past, present and future as he battles villains from the campy 1960s to the dark and brooding menaces of today.

Download a preview of the book here.

It’s a familiar trope to longtime comic book readers to see their heroes involved in holiday-themed adventures, but this goes one better. “Batman Noel” gives readers a realistic variation on the Dark Knight (the designs are very similar to the current movie incarnation), as well as his enemies and allies from different eras of his career. Robin, Catwoman, Superman and Joker make appearances, filling roles similar to characters in Dickens’ tale.

This fast-paced and beautifully illustrated book was written and drawn by Lee Bermejo, who also illustrated the best-selling “Joker” graphic novel with writer Brian Azzarello in 2008. His Superman story in “Wednesday Comics” was serialized in USA Today.

The story doesn’t require an encyclopedic knowledge of the characters, and it doesn’t get bogged down by their negative aspects. There’s more gravy than grave about it, Dickens might say. Rather, it’s a good introduction to one man’s interpretation of the icons, a story anyone with passing interest in comics will enjoy, and a real gift for a true fan.

Occupy This

2011-11-21T23:09:00.000-06:00

I don't generally talk politics. I have my reasons.

But I've been following the Occupy movement via Twitter, the NYT live Occupy blog and other online resources, and it irritates me that I can't find anything about it in local media. (Or, in recent days, as I was watching live feeds of clashes via the web, nothing was being broadcast on places like Headline News.) At least, that was the case on specific instances when I went looking for more info.

I could easily find newspaper and TV reports on the protests in Egypt, where citizens were sporting bleeding head wounds from military or police. I couldn't find reports on U.S. citizens who were being thrown in police vans with bleeding head wounds after the billionaire mayor of New York City sent in his helmeted police.

Even when that wounded citizen was a NYC councilman:

New York City Councilman Ydanis Rodriguez screams police brutality while being arrested on Broadway after he was with a group who tried to push through a line of police officers. NYPD Clear Zuccotti Park of Occupy Wall St. Protestors. Tuesday November 15, 2011. NEW YORK, NY, USA. Photo by (Aristide Economopoulos/The Star-Ledger)

I could find stories about journalists being detained in foreign countries on trumped up charges because they were trying to cover the events there. I could not find stories about journalists being detained in my own country when they were trying to cover the Occupy movement:

A New York City Police Department accredited journalist is arrested while on Broadway. NYPD Clear Zuccotti Park of Occupy Wall St. Protestors. Tuesday November 15, 2011. NEW YORK, NY, USA. Photo by (Aristide Economopoulos/The Star-Ledger)

You can clearly see her press credentials on her lanyard. Journalists across the country -- 26 of them so far -- have been detained by police on charges ranging from disorderly conduct to obstruction just because they were on site of a breaking news story where peaceful protesters were getting the blunt end of what passes for justice in our country. Hit this link for info from Josh Stearns, who is tracking and verifying these arrests.

I could find stories about people being hit with tear gas or pepper spray or Mace while rioting in Tunisia, but there were no reports to be found of people being sprayed in the face with pepper spray while sitting and chanting on the sidewalk of an American city. That is, until this happened:


Seattle activist Dorli Rainey, 84, reacts after being hit with pepper spray during an Occupy Seattle protest on Tuesday, November 15, 2011 at Westlake Park. (Joshua Trujillo/seattlepi.com)

Does this sound like America? Oh, wait a minute:

John Filo's iconic Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of Mary Ann Vecchio, a 14-year-old runaway, kneeling in anguish over the body of Jeffrey Miller minutes after he was shot by the Ohio National Guard. (via Wikipedia.org)

I guess it does actually. No one has been killed yet, but give the people with the guns time; the movement is still young. Seems to me the last time this happened, there was a war on and our president was more concerned about China than his own people.

Larry Downing/Reuters

President Obama with Hu Jintao of China in Hawaii. Mr. Obama has stepped up his criticism of Chinese economic policies.

That's not who I meant, but man it's weird how history repeats. (And for the record, that photo ran with a story about how Obama and the Republican Congress found something they agree on: Criticizing Chinese trade practices. How nice for them. Did they also agree that pizza sauce counts as a serving of vegetables?)

Meanwhile, my friend Karen Zacharias today had some choice words about finding something to stand for before the movement falls apart because of a lack of singular vision or clearly stated mission, and because they're protesting the wrong folks -- we can't stop the rich from screwing us over, but maybe we can vote out the cronies that aid and abet them. Please read her essay, 'Occupy Congress.'

Anyway, I remarked on the lack of Occupy coverage in the media to a person who is ostensibly in charge of such things, and was told he didn't know about these stories. That a NYC councilman had been busted in the head and arrested. That journalists were being arrested. That U.C. students were pepper sprayed for sitting on a sidewalk; as I was telling him, the local TV news ran a clip from the video below, and he was shocked. Shocked, I say. (Really, you should watch this video.)

He also said the people who make decisions on "wire stories" are very conservative and wouldn't be interested in those stories.

I believe they are in the majority right now, and I say to them,

Shame on you.

Between There

2011-11-17T11:33:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty happy with Between There, a new anthology that was just released, containing my sci-fi ghost story "Space Oddity," as well as a poem by my son. There are stories by editor Anthony Buoni, GCSC professor Lynn Wallace, and several others. It's available through Pulpwood Press, or via Amazon.com here.

Tuesday, I read my story at the Writers Gallery meeting at The Purple Grape. Anthony read his story as well.

That night I also got some details regarding a Christmas Eve performance I was asked to participate in at Northstar Church. Apparently, the folks putting the event together like my "grandfatherly" reading voice and want me to narrate a portion of the show; they will dress me in a smoking jacket, give me a pipe as a prop and have me sit in an easy chair to read while the band goes through some music and some original paintings are projected on a big screen.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Meanwhile, I'm still behind the curve on my NaNoWriMo project. I hope to close the gap a bit tonight. Wish me luck.

Peace.

Off the rails

2011-11-14T10:08:00.000-06:00

David Angier met me at Purple Grape on Friday, where some of the local NaNoWriMo crew were meeting for a "write-in." He shot some pictures (including the one here) and interviewed us about the program for a story he plans to write for Panama City Living magazine. He also bought me a Coke, so an all-around win, I think.

My project got derailed this weekend; too much to do, too many things on my mind, too many voices in the house. I'm not complaining. It was a good weekend and we got lots done around the house, enjoyed a couple of visitors, spent some money at Books-a-Million, and watched Captain America last night, (which was just as much fun as I remember it) . Didn't even get around to seeing The Walking Dead yesterday. See? I was busy.

I hope to get back to the grind tonight and make up some words. I'm still a loooong way from finished.

NaNoWriMo

2011-11-02T16:48:00.000-05:00

I have jumped on the fun train that is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). My visits here may be shortened as a result of the requirement to write about 1600-some-odd words daily in order to reach the 50,000 word mark by Nov. 30. (In my case every single one of the 1600-some words will be odd, but that's OK.)

My project is called "This Mortal Flesh," and it's a zombie survival novel. It's the first time I've written a detailed outline for a novel project rather than just having some beats mapped out and flying by the seat of my pants. We'll see how well it works.

You can track my progress here at my NaNoWriMo profile.

So far, so good. One day in, and I'm ahead of the curve. I doubt that will continue. Wish me luck.

Peace.

Local Books Alive Photo Blog

2011-10-31T17:00:00.001-05:00

Saturday was Local Books Alive 2011 at the Bay County Public Library. Here are some pictures:

David A, & Cash Money

My friend and former News Herald colleague David Angier bought the first-ever trade paperback of my novel, The Book of Gabriel. I told him I wanted a photo of the first buyer, and he said it was more important to get a photo of that first money.

Michael Lister & Nick May

A total of 23 area writers showed up to play along (24 were scheduled). I sold both copies of the hardback version of Gabriel that I had on hand, three of the trade, two of my column collection (Dazed and Raving in the Undercurrents), one of the City Limits anthologies I edited, and three of my Best of Days collection. A pretty good response for two hours of sale time.

Mark Boss

Lee Baker

Dax and Jim Dodge

Mom and Me

Some names (you might recognize from this blog) that were there included authors Mark Boss, Lee Baker, Nick May, Michael Lister, Dax and Jim Dodge, Olivia Cooley (deBelle Byrd), Jeannie Cooper, Pat Douglas, Michael Brim (Goldcraft), Karon Phillips, Marlene Womack, and several others.

I had a visit from my mom, my daughter, and Donna Williams, whose daughter Marisa was the inspiration for a character in Gabriel. We also visited with Kayla, who appears in a sequence of the trailer for Gabriel being edited now by my friend Lou.

Me and Donna Williams

Pat Douglas, right, and wife.

It was a good day, beginning with presentations by Karon, Michael Brim and Olivia. I managed to give away a bunch of PanamaCity.com stickers and copies of our new tab insert that replaces The Entertainer in the News Herald now. Met some new readers and spread my brain worms into unsuspecting victims. One young woman really wanted a copy of The Best of Days, but her partner wanted Gabriel (and she had the funds); when her partner bought Gabriel, she went ahead and bought Best of Days, saying this was rent money she was spending.

I signed the book, "Thanks for the rent money." It seemed appropriate.

Peace.

Lou1492 & LightsUpOnKayla & HeyNickMay make a movie

2011-10-25T19:58:00.000-05:00

Kayla & Nick as Shekinah & Gabriel

I have some good friends. Possibly even courageous ones.

This evening, Kayla and Nick met me, Lou and my daughter Jessi at the shoreline behind Oaks by the Bay Park to shoot a sequence that opens my novel, The Book of Gabriel. Kayla assured us the water wasn't too cold (she was more concerned about the crabs crawling in the sea grass and the jellyfish we spotted). To say she was a trouper is an understatement. She dunked herself under water several times so Lou could get just the right shot, while all Nick had to do was sit and be cool.

Lou and Kayla in the bay.

Lou was great to offer to make a trailer for the story, and Kayla and Nick were great to volunteer for the shoot. We were concerned about Kayla being too cold (the temp here has been cool in recent days), but she said she was an "art martyr" anyway. Jessi and Lou both joined her in the shallows to get a couple of shots, while I stayed dry on the shore with Nick (and we laughed at the antics out in the water). Let's just say, we had a slowly gathering audience of onlookers on the boardwalk who had more to look at than a gorgeous sunset...

Reviewing the shots.

We then got a shot of Nick pocketing the photo of the angel Gabriel meets along a back road. These shots will be added to others that Lou has gathered, and a few more we have yet to shoot. I'll post the trailer as soon as he's pleased with it.

It was great fun, and it warmed my heart to have such helpful and willing friends (and daughter, too) to participate in the project.

Lou & me, in the brilliance of the moment.

If you'd like to read the book this trailer is being made for, just come by the Bay County Public Library on Saturday for Local BooksALIVE, a gathering of area writers and authors. (Or download the ebook version for cheap.) We'll have informative presentations from 10 a.m. to noon, break for lunch (you're encouraged to bring a sack lunch and talk with the authors), then have sales and signings from 1 to 3 p.m. I hope to see you there!

Peace.

Writer's Gallery Tonight

2011-10-18T17:02:00.000-05:00

I'll be reading at Writer's Gallery tonight. Last time I read the first chapter of The Book of Gabriel. The time before that, I read a couple of shorts from The Best of Days. This time I will read a work in progress, the first sequence of my new novel project, "This Mortal Flesh." It will not be for everyone, and I'm very nervous about reading a first draft piece of a work I'm still nudging to life.

Writer's Gallery details here.

I had coffee today with Kathie Bennett, who gave me an ACTION PLAN for this new project. She was to address the Panhandle Writers Guild later today on some of these same topics. (She was in town for her dad's birthday, and because it was just a year ago that they lost her mom.) Kathie is a great supporter; she makes me believe I can actually write.

I work well with deadlines. My biggest success in recent years was forcing myself to do the 366 Days project that resulted in Best of Days and Book of Gabriel. I plan to use NANOWRIMO to make myself finish a first draft of the new project. And then, to Kathie's action plan. Cross your fingers.

Peace.

Creative Con is Coming

2011-10-17T16:50:00.002-05:00

PANAMA CITY — Saturday promises to be a noisy one at the library, as superheroes descend on the facility for the second annual Creative Con.

Creative Con is the Bay County Public Library’s effort to recognize the growing popularity of the graphic novel format — and the fact that lots of kids started reading because of comics. Event organizer Bettina Mead (who generally signs her emails to me with lots of Xs and Os) said it was important that the library provide relevant information to all the citizens of Bay County, no matter their age.

“Many adults are still under the impression that a comic format automatically means juvenile content, but the average age of the comic reader is 30, therefore this is certainly not true,” Mead said. “Libraries are the first and best place for diversity. We play an important role in introducing the public to new formats.”

Not only are comic books “valid literature, expressing both the written word as well as art,” Mead said, but they are also valuable educational tools for children — especially those who are struggling to read.

“I believe partnering with Creative Con, we are creating a new cadre of library supporters among the young people who read graphic novels, and as you know, libraries are for everyone — young and old alike,” she added.

Superheroine with art card by Cassandra Collins.

Guests of Creative Con will be given two blank sketch cards to get free sketches of their favorite heroes or cartoon characters from the artists at the show. Costumed heroes will be on site, and visitors can register for giveaways including T-shirts, graphic novels, comic books and more. Josh Hughes, a local artist who writes and draws the web comic AtomicTerrier.com, will be one of the guests.

Bring your favorite pencils and try your hand at drawing a sketch card in the All Ages Sketch Off. There will be creative activities throughout the day, including a belly dance lesson and demo, with a panel discussion on comics beginning at 5 p.m. Details are still being finalized.

Local graphic artist Jayson Kretzer (who is working on character designs for a graphic novel version of my novel, "The Book of Gabriel") helped Mead organize the event. Kretzer has more than 12 official sketch/trading card sets on his resume, including cards for a recent Marvel Comics set. His work has appeared in the “Art of Voltron” book and online in a weekly web comic, “Wannabe Heroes.” He regularly participates in a drawing “jam” at Arena Comics in Panama City. (Check out his Deviant Art gallery.)

Art card by Jayson Kretzer

“I never quit drawing after kindergarten,” Kretzer said.

Mead said last year’s inaugural gathering was a success in many ways. She received notes from parents thanking the library for “creating something special.” One patron told her it was a great way to show children and teenagers “how cool” the library is.

“Everyone had such a wonderful time last year,” Mead said. “You couldn’t move for all the young people sketching their own cartoons, trading their comics or their sketch cards, and parents with little ones just having fun coming together.”

Station Identification

2011-10-13T11:16:00.001-05:00

My buddy Chris Arrant did this recently on his Tumblr. Warren Ellis, comic book writer and novelist, does it regularly on his website. I say always steal from those you admire, so here are places you can find me:

I tweet about anything I see that interests me here: Twitter.com/midnightonmars. I use Echofon on my desktop to keep up with the twitter accounts I follow.

I have a tumblr that I still occasionally add to. I suspect it might see renewed interest in upcoming weeks. It's here<<

Facebook continues to be an obsession despite the recent changes and the fact that I seldom see posts from the majority of my friends any more. Facebook.com/midnightonmars (I've been wondering if I should create a Facebook fan page for my writing? Yes? No?)

My columns for the News Herald and random blogs appear here<< (Some of these are rewritten/repurposed items from this blog, or vice versa.)

My work with PanamaCity.com is generally uncredited. Bylined versions of these entries often appear on the Get Local page at NewsHerald.com.

I still have a MySpace, though I seldom even visit there.

You can check out my self-published stuff in my "author spotlight" page at Lulu. (While you're there, click some review buttons. I'd appreciate it.)

I have a YouTube account as well. There's no telling what you'll find there, as it has been used for News Herald work, home videos, short films and so forth.

This is me at Linked In. I have no idea what use this place is, and I haven't updated it in a while.

I'm probably other places online also, but just can't recall it right now.

Catching up & Things to do

2011-10-10T17:54:00.000-05:00

Mike Brim and a Vampire

Mike Brim (who writes horror novels under the name of Michael Goldcraft) was the guest author in my Education Encore class on Friday. He talked to the class about how he builds his characters, getting to know them before he begins writing about them. He wants to know how they react, and why they do the things they do, so he'll recognize immediately if they do something "uncharacteristic." He is scheduled to do a presentation at the Bay County Public Library on Oct. 13 at 6 p.m.

Minutemen by Nick May

Nick May will kick off his "Follow the Oil" tour to debut is new novel, "Minutemen," on Friday with stops all over the place for the next several days. I have read a pre-publication copy of Minutemen, and it's a hoot. (Look for my review here with the complete schedule of appearances on Thursday after it hits the web at NewsHerald.com.)

The Offer at The Axis Venue

The Offer made their official Panama City debut with new lead vocalist Nathan Simmons on Friday night. (I'll be posting a video of one of their songs later.)

I will be participating in Local BooksALIVE at the Bay County Public Library on Saturday, Oct. 29. It's a full day of local writers and their work, with a slate of speakers beginning at 10 a.m. (then a lunch break at noon) and book sales and signings from 1 to 3 p.m. I will be there with The Book of Gabriel as well as remaining copies of The Best of Days and other earlier works. I hope you'll stop by and see me before you head downtown to the second annual Panama City Zombie Walk at 4 p.m. (More on this as the event details are arranged.)

Meanwhile, check out this video I shot of last year's Zombie Walk:

What's up?

2011-10-05T17:40:00.001-05:00

Mark Boss at Education Encore.

My friend Mark Boss, a local author, visited my Education Encore class last Friday to discuss "plot" in the craft of short fiction writing. While he was talking, a class member downloaded his latest novel to her smartphone. How cool is that?

Disembodied floating heads.

I toured the Jaycees Haunted House yesterday, where the good folks showed me some of the shocks they're planning. It opens Friday, and proceeds go to support a Christmas charity that buys toys for needy children.

Enlightenment-era Hipsters.

I also visited a dress rehearsal for AMADEUS at Gulf Coast State College. The show opens Friday and runs two weekends. Check out my behind the scenes video below:

Coming up later this week: Headed to the First Friday breakfast meeting of the Bay County Chamber of Commerce, grand opening of the Tervis store at Pier Park, and a concert where my son will debut as lead singer of The Offer. Check out their latest:

The final 13 of the New 52 (updated)

2011-09-28T16:42:00.002-05:00

Today is new comics day all over the U.S., and here is a brief rundown of the comics I have read from the latest batch of DC's New 52 relaunch. (Read about the first release, Justice League, here; the 13 issues released on the first full week here; 13 more issues in week 2 here; and 12 more issues of week 3 here.)

The Good:

Justice League Dark No. 1: Dislike the title, which comes off like a joke from the movie "Mystery Men," but the art is strong, and the characters are coming together organically to face a threat superpowered heroes can't punch into submission. Always liked Xanadu, Zatanna, Shade, Deadman and Constantine, and this looks to be a decent adventure for them.

Aquaman No. 1: In which we see regular folks making jokes about how lame an idea Aquaman is, and we see how powerful he truly is. I used to enjoy the Jim Aparo Aquaman adventures in the 1970s, and this seems to hearken back to that (an attempt to make the hero less Silver-Age wacky and more modern). The art is excellent.

Teen Titans No. 1: Kind of liked this, although I feel like they've made Tim Drake (former Robin, now "Red Robin" and looking more like the old Black Condor) look too old. He should be a younger teen. But anyway, he's gathering other teen heroes to take on the forces of N.O.W.H.E.R.E.; lots of action and attitude, and worth a second look.

The Meh:

Flash No. 1: In which Barry Allen makes mistakes, finds out an old friend is now a clone trooper or something. 't's'alright. Wish they'd lay off all the lightning effects.

Superman No. 1: Eh. Too much shoehorned into too few pages, and lots of posturing about the "death of print" in this new media world. Also, why is it that DC's definition of "modern liberated woman" = "sleeps around," while the definition of DC's heroes seems to = lonely guy.

~~I haven't read these yet (expect an edit here when I do):~~
I've read these now, and wish I hadn't, for the most part:

Batman: The Dark Knight No. 1: Meh. Another Batman story about him fighting goons trying to escape Arkham Asylum. Been there. Done that.

Voodoo No. 1: AWFUL. JUST AWFUL. The whole book takes place in a strip club, where the title character strips while people talk about her, then she has a discussion with more strippers in the (un)dressing room, then she gives a lap dance to a guy who reveals that he's had her under surveillance, then SHE KILLS HIM and takes on his form. Feel like I spoiled that one? You'd feel worse if you'd read it. I plan to write a whole blog entry about this book and why it is representative of what went wrong with DC's rebooted universe. TERRIBLE BOOK, unless you're a sex-starved 13-year-old or a man with a cartoon fetish.

Blackhawks No. 1: Bad. And that's from someone who likes the idea of secret organizations fighting behind the scenes to keep people safe (i.e., Doc Savage, Buckaroo Banzai, etc.) And I liked the original Blackhawks okay, just not enough to buy a series about them. These Blackhawks are kind of dumb, though, as they fly around in aircraft with big Blackhawk emblems on them, then get upset if people take a photo of the emblem.

All-Star Western No. 1: Featuring Jonah Hex in a Wild West version of Gotham City. ~~Er, pardon? I thought Gotham was on the East Coast?~~ This is a good book. I should've expected no less from the creative team that has been knocking Hex stories out of the park consistently. Hex is hired to come to Gotham and find the "Ripper." He gets mixed up in a secret society that runs the corrupt city. Well done. Add to the "GOOD" list.

The Fury of Firestorm: The Nuclear Men No. 1:
Meh. Two guys who used to be firestorm in old continuity both become Firestorm in a new reboot of the idea. Kind of generic.

Green Lantern: New Guardians No. 1:
Meh. A reboot of the Kyle Raynor GL character in which he is chosen by rings from the spectrum of power ring-wielders.

I, Vampire No. 1:
Meh. Disappointing, as I have fond memories of this title when it was just one of the stories running in the DC mystery comics of the 1980s. The art is moody and dark, sometimes too dark to tell what's going on or even who is supposed to be speaking. And not very much happens except talking.

The Savage Hawkman No. 1:
Meh. Good to see them trying to give us a clear and concise origin of Hawkman; a reboot of this character was needed long ago. But the execution was off.

Education Encore and Others

2011-09-26T11:05:00.000-05:00

Nick May speaking to my class.

It has been a good month for writing, reading, and talking about writing and reading.

My Education Encore class began Friday, and I think it was a success. I had 13 women in the class (no men) and a visit from Nick May, author of Megabelt and the upcoming Minutemen. We talked about the elements of story, wrote character descriptions of ourselves (I encouraged them to make things up so the reader wouldn't know what was actual and what was virtual), and had a drawing for a writing book (I picked some up at the Borders slash-and-burn sale).

This Friday, we define "plots" (where characters are buried when they die), have another book drawing and a visit from author Mark Boss, who recently reviewed my novel "The Book of Gabriel" on his blog. I think it will be another productive and fun day. (I made the mistake of promising to try to write a story based on a few of the odd topics in the news that day. I'll share it here later this week.)

Writers Gallery

Last Tuesday was the first anniversary of Writers Gallery, a gathering I've been attending lately where we read samples of our work. It's open to all ages, genres, genders, and ability; there's no judgment passed, just sharing. This month, we met at Purple Grape, a wine bar in St. Andrews.

Writers Gallery

I took a few pictures, read the opening chapter of TBoG, had a glass of wine with my friends Sean and Stephanie, talked with people I don't get to see often enough, and heard some interesting poetry and stories. Lou and I discussed briefly the ongoing plan. I also met Shelby Vick, an editor of the online pulp magazine Planetary Stories. (I plan to send him some tales soon.)

Michael Lister, Olivia Cooley

A week ago Saturday, I sat in on two sessions at the annual Gulf Coast Writers Conference at Gulf Coast State College. The event, organized by author Michael Lister, brings readers and writers from across the region together. I participated in a panel on Short Story and one on "Other" types of writing (memoir, essay, review, etc.). In addition, the author John Dufresne gave the keynote address at lunch. John is a terrifically talented short story writer and novelist, and university professor. He stayed in town for the week, leading sessions at the nearby Rosemary Beach Conference for Writers; I had planned to get out there during the week for the evening readings, but could never swing the free time. (Here's something I wrote last time I went to the Rosemary conference; I was in a weird mood.)

Aside: The mail just arrived, including 13 more "New 52" first issues from DC. I'll have brief reviews in the next couple of days.

Peace.

12 more closer to 52

2011-09-22T15:04:00.001-05:00

Got another shipment of new first issue comics in the NEW 52 relaunch of DC Comics' superhero universe earlier this week. Finally had a chance to work my way through all of them. This brings us to -- what? -- 39 total, leaving 13 more for next week.

The Good:

Wonder Woman. Spookiness and action meet in a story mixing Greek mythology with X-Files conspiracy (and giving me the first indication that this reboot is going to represent the gods of myth as akin to what we recognize in today's culture as "grey aliens" with high, rounded heads and big black orbs for eyes. Compare Hermes in this issue to Rama Kushna in the Deadman story below.) The art by Cliff Chiang is stylized and strong, and the story by ~~Greg Rucka~~ Brian Azzarello (Rucka was a previous WW writer) makes our favorite Amazon a force to be reckoned with.

Birds of Prey. Strong art and a story with flashbacks used in a cinematic fashion introduce only two of the regular team this issue, although there's a visit from the team's former leader, Barbara Gordon. This is action adventure that could easily translate into film, which I maintain is the primary reason behind these reboots: Making the DC Comics universe more multi-media friendly, and more accessible to readers who like their books to reflect their video games and movies rather than vice versa.

Supergirl. (Am I seeing a pattern here? This week's best books seem to feature female characters?) This is another origin story for Supergirl, who was just relaunched a few years back in the pages of the Superman/Batman title (a story that was also adapted direct to DVD.) What can I say? The art is very good, and the story drops you in the heroine's thoughts as she wakes from a long sleep in a crashed spacecraft in Russia, only to discover she has frightening powers when she is attacked by armored goons. There's fun in her discovery, her confusion, and the way the goons react to seeing her costume. Worth a second look at least.

DC Universe Presents: Deadman. Boston Brand was a prima donna who died by an assassin's bullet and gained the power as a ghost to possess living people. In this new 52 version, he has a mission to complete in order to balance the scales; he just isn't sure what that mission requires, and he feels like a failure. Good storytelling, atmospheric art, and a blue Avatar alien for Rama Kushna. I want to know what happens next. (My understanding is that this series will tell a complete story about a DC character -- Deadman's tale is set for five issues -- and then begin a new mini-series that focuses on another DC character.)

Batman. Some reviewers are touting this as the second-best book of the New 52 (after Grant Morrison's Action No. 1). I don't know if I would say that, because it's just a pretty average Batman comic, with the exception of a teamup in the first seven pages that will make you go WHAT?! That was well-played, DC. The final panel drops a big bomb on the Batman family that will be interesting to see play out. You should see this one for sure.

The OK:

Nightwing. Dick Grayson goes back to fighting crime in a new costume that's closer to Batman Beyond than the original Nightwing suit. He visits old friends at the circus where his parents died. Nightwing fights a mercenary hired to kill Grayson. All solidly told and illustrated, but not enough to make me want to grab issue No. 2.

Legion of Super-Heroes: I'm familiar with the Legion, so this tale was not outside my realm of experience, but it was still a little thick with characters and catching up on continuity. This is not a reboot. It's a continuation apparently unaffected by the events of "Flashpoint," the recent mini-series that reset the DC universe. There's even a comment to the effect that the Flashpoint event has made time travel to the past impossible, meaning they can't expect backup from Superman again. Still waiting to see a reason why I should want to pick up a second issue.

Green Lantern Corps. I have a coworker who always pronounces the "p" in "corps." I think that would be appropriate with this book, which seems to be about piling up the body count so the heroes can make up things with the power rings. Never liked the Guy Gardner character, and don't understand why people keep reading him. Otherwise, solid art and portions of a decent story (John Stewart's portion).

Catwoman. Great art. Sexy character. Starts with a bang. Good action. But this one is definitely not one you want young readers picking up. Hint: The first issue is titled "all the costumes don't come off" and the second issue is supposed to be called "the morning after."Between the main character showing off her boobs at every opportunity and the three-page spread as she and Batman strip each other for some sexy time, this is a grown-up story ripe for a PG-13 (soft R?) movie adaptation.

Captain Atom. I picked up the 1980s launch of this character; DC had bought the Charlton Comics characters and introduced them via "Crisis on Infinite Earths," then launched them in solo comics as part of its combined and streamlined universe of 1985. If you read (or saw the film of) The Watchmen, you'd recognize a version of him as Doctor Manhattan. This comic brings the good captain close to Dr. Manhattan depth as he begins to see his body as atoms connected only by cosmic forces, and learns he can change matter into other arrangements by thought alone. Intriguing concepts and execution.

Blue Beetle. Another Charlton character, but this time rebooting and reintroducing a latter incarnation created only a few years ago by "Leverage" producer/co-creator John Rogers as a Mexican-American teenager. I'm familiar with the character as interpreted on the "Batman: The Brave and the Bold" TV show, but haven't seen much of him in comics, so this is pretty new. However, I don't read or speak Spanish, so much of the dialogue is beyond me. Doubt I'll give it a second look.

The Bad:

Red Hood and the Outlaws. Oh, this is just awful, especially if you have any history with the main characters. Red Hood is a jerk (but then, he always has been, which is why callers voted to kill him off when he was Robin back in the 1980s). Roy Harper (the former Speedy) is a douche, willing to hop into bed with his buddy's girl because she invites him. And Starfire, the former Teen Titan, interstellar princess, fierce and honorable warrior, and love of Dick Grayson, is now a slut from outer space who apparently cares so little about earth and its people that she can't be bothered to remember any of them for any length of time. Which makes it easier, I think, to forget about reading a book featuring her.

Next: Coming to comic shops on Sept.28 are ALL-STAR WESTERN #1, AQUAMAN #1, BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT #1, BLACKHAWKS #1, THE FLASH #1, THE FURY OF FIRESTORM: THE NUCLEAR MEN #1, GREEN LANTERN: NEW GUARDIANS #1, I, VAMPIRE #1, JUSTICE LEAGUE DARK #1, THE SAVAGE HAWKMAN #1, SUPERMAN #1, TEEN TITANS #1, and VOODOO #1.

Halfway Through the New 52

2011-09-17T20:27:00.000-05:00

Still working my way through the issue No. 1 extravaganza DC is throwing. Here go some short reviews of the 13 books the company sent me this week:

The Good:

Batwoman: I would buy this book for the art alone, but the story is creepy and intriguing. JH Williams III continues the storyline from the original run of Kate Kane's adventures as the Batwoman, folding her ongoing personal story into the mystery of kidnapped children and ghostly intruders, as a secret government agency takes an interest in her activities. The most solid of the set this week.

Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E.: Quoting Milton as he should, the creature leads a group of mutant monsters based on the Universal creatures (vampire, mummy, amphibian creature, and werewolf) to liberate a town overrun by Lovecraftian horrors. It reminded me of Hellboy and BPRD (in a good way), with the crazy technology of a Warren Ellis Authority tale. Try it.

Demon Knights: Gathering the various characters from DC's "past" that could be shoe-horned into a Medieval tale, we get to see Etrigan the Demon bonded to Jason Blood, Madame Xanadu pretend to love Jason so she can get close to Etrigan (or is it really Etrigan she's fooling?), Vandal Savage ... anyway. Good Lord of the Rings style fantasy adventure.

Resurrection Man: Without missing a beat, the original creators of the character return to his story, which could have been relauched without a change of universe. Mitchell Shelley gains a new superpower every time he dies and resurrects. Now he's being chased down by demons and angels as well as some of the same old enemies. Worth a try if you never sampled his series from the 1990s, and a can't miss is you remember him fondly.

The Bad: (Yes, I actually found a few I simply couldn't stand.)

Deathstroke: Spoiler alert, but if you couldn't see the ending of this story, where the super badass Deathstroke kills all the young up-and-coming members of his unwanted team, well, you probably shouldn't be reading comicbooks anyway. The book not only glorifies murder, it tries to make the villain into some kind of anti-hero. And it goes about it in a simple-minded way that's just insulting.

Red Lanterns: Atrocitus. Rage. I get it. Whereas the green lanterns tap willpower, and the yellow ones tap fear, the red ones tap hatred and rage. And their leader is called Atrocitus. They vomit blood while they fight. Awesome. I hate them. They make me want to vomit blood on this comicbook. They are one-note villains, not central characters of an ongoing series. Make them go away. Please.

Suicide Squad: They should just get it over with already. Ugh.

The Meh:
These could go either way. Not terrible, but not actually good. Sort of just there.

Superboy: Story of the clone of Superman and an unknown human, experiencing life in a virtual reality while he's studied by Deathstroke's daughter and a redhead who may be Fairchild from Gen-13.

Mr. Terrific: A "legacy" character taking the name of a hero from the 1940s, this guy uses super science to solve crime and save the world. He's also apparently knocking boots with Powergirl (is Karen Starr Powergirl in this new universe? I don't know. Maybe we'll find out soon.).

Legion Lost: Seven members of the Legion of Superheroes from the 31st century get trapped in the 21st century, but other than that I have no idea what's going on. I like the Legion, but these guys? I don't know yet.

Green Lantern: Starring Sinestro. Yes, I realize he was a Green Lantern in the recent movie, but he's not the character I tune into Green Lantern to watch at center stage. Also, why do you relaunch a whole comicbook universe, introduce it with Justice League (which takes place "five years ago" and shows us Hal Jordan as a new, brash, happy Lantern) and then give us Green Lantern No. 1, in which Hal is no longer a lantern? Confusing, yes. And frustrating. I want to see more of young Hal and his journey as a lantern in this new universe.

Grifter: Never read the old Grifter series, never got into the Wildstorm group series he was in, and doubt I'll read another issue of this one. Not that it was bad, it just made no impact whatsoever. Meh.

Batman and Robin: Most disappointing of the bunch, probably. This is Bruce Wayne and Damian, his son with Talia Al Ghul, taking up from the continuity of Grant Morrison's recent run on the title, with Bruce reclaiming the Batman cowl from Dick Grayson. Damian is a little punk, hateful, mean, disrespectful, careless. I'm hoping DC will ask fans to call an 800 number to see if he lives or dies. It worked once...

Okay, so we're halfway through the New 52. If I keep receiving these, I'll keep telling you what I think of them. You know where to find me.

Peace.

Adapting

2011-09-16T18:02:00.000-05:00

I met with local artist and graphic designer Jayson Kretzer this morning to talk about adapting The Book of Gabriel as a graphic novel or comics mini-series. I knew we had a love of comics in common, but what I didn't realize until we talked was that we have similar views on theology. He has a great project of his own that mirrors some of the things in Gabriel, so we should click on all cylinders real soon.

His first order of biz was to put together character studies of the main heroes and villains. (He will be using a grittier style than you see in his web comic, which is very cartoony.) I'll post some of those as they come in. While he's doing that, I will be reworking the text of the book into a comic script, rearranging some of the scenes to get more action up front and leaving some of the specifics for his brain and pencil to interpret.

I think this is going to be lots of fun. Our hope is that we produce the first 20 pages, inked and lettered, and shop it around to the publishers out there. While that set is making the rounds, we'll work on the next 20 pages. I believe the whole thing can be retold in five issues, or about 100 pages. We'll see. I'll let you know how it goes.

Meanwhile, check back later tonight for my reviews of 13 more New 52 books from DC.

The 13 (or so) New 52 I read this week

2011-09-12T18:33:00.002-05:00

The DC reboot continues, and the company sent me 13 titles last week to read. That's a lot, even for comics. So I'm going to keep it simple with a list and short takes on each one. Here goes:

The Good:

Action Comics: Taking the idea that no one has ever seen a superhero before and running with it, Grant Morrison went back to the roots of Superman for this first arc: He has no actual costume, he can't fly (he leaps), and he has no qualms about beating up a guy who beats his wife, or dangling a man off the edge of a skyscraper to scare a confession out of him. This Superman has never met his match; he has the sheer power to make things happen even if police and governments can't; he wants to change the world. He's young — in his 20s — and brash, and impatient. And he enjoys the heck out of being Superman. This is my favorite book of the relaunch so far.

Swamp Thing: Told us what had changed since we last checked in with the elemental who thought he was a man. For one thing, Alec Holland is alive and has the elemental's memories. For another, Superman stops by to give the human part of the duo a pep-talk. Favorite line (something to the effect of): "I have memories of a woman with white hair. I've never met her. I have ...feelings for her." And the invunche-type creatures are just scary. (I'm a long time Swampy fan, with the whole of the 1980s/Alan Moore run, so I'm bringing some baggage along.)

Batgirl: My son and I disagree on this one. He didn't buy into the storyline, but I like it because it brings everyone's favorite Batgirl back to the fight, and the joy she experiences is clear in the expressions on her face (awesome artwork by Ardian Syaf). She's also not quite ready yet, freezing when a gun is pointed her way (her years as the wheelchair-bound Oracle are still in-continuity). Writer Gail Simone was the right person to bring Barbara Gordon back in black.

Animal Man: I never followed Animal Man's adventures, but an issue like this would make me interested in trying the series. It has an indie-comics feel, with domestic matters leading into his super-heroing, as well as the art style that also reminds me of 1980s horror comics (I mean, look at that cover!). Very scary bad things are happening in this story, and I want to know more.

OMAC: Again, I have baggage that pre-disposes me to being interested in this title. I own the original run of OMAC stories by Jack Kirby from the 1970s, was a fan of the other Kirby stories of era (including Kamandi), and this book purposely recreates his art style and storytelling sense (even mimicking some of the panels in the original tales). It's an updated Kirby with a feeling that any crazy thing might happen next.

The Meh:
Batwing: Meh. I predict this will be the first title from the New 52 to be cancelled.
Detective: Awesome art, terrible dialogue (both by Tony S. Daniel). Generic Batman story (up until the final image, which is all kinds of sick and makes me want to see what happens next). But still, any time you "hear" Sylvester Stallone as Judge Dredd when you're reading a Batman caption, someone made a mistake.
Green Arrow: (zzzzzzzzz.) This read like a rejected "Smallville" TV script. Young Ollie Queen fights bad guys who got their powers from a mystery source and who like to videotape their crimes for YouTube.
Justice League International: Again, my son and I disagree. He liked this one. I think it's the issue where nothing interesting happens. I don't care about any of the C-list characters (at least, as they're represented here) chosen for this international team that Batman horns in on for no known reason. Biggest gripe, though: If ANY character needed a costume overhaul in the DCU, it was Guy Gardner. Why does he still look like a Joe Staton caricature?
Stormwatch: I was a fan of The Authority in its early run. So much so that I went back to find the Warren Ellis-scripted issues of the series that it launched out of (the original Stormwatch title). I am not so much a fan of this one. I will give it another issue to see if it catches on, but so far, the muddled timelines of the characters have me a little confused (i.e., some of them that were Authority have never been in Stormwatch?) but maybe that's just because I keep forgetting this is "new" continuity.
Man of War: This is a war comic in a superhero world. The lead story is OK, in that it introduces a regular Joe who is the grandson of Sgt. Rock of Easy Co., the legendary WWII character. Rock stories were almost always worth your investment of time and emotion. Here, the new Rock is a guy who's good at his job and goes where he needs to go to get the job done. The backup story, however, read like war propaganda (gun worship, liberal-bashing and all) and just turned me off.

~~The ones I have yet to read: Hawk & Dove, which has horrid Rob Leifeld 1990s-era artwork, and Static Shock, which I'm looking forward to. I'll let you know.~~

Hawk & Dove: Terrible. It was everything I feared it would be, and worse. It looks and reads like it was stolen by a time traveler from Image comics in 1995. May beat Batwing for the first new title to be canceled.

Static Shock: OK. Nice to see this getting another shot. Crossing over from the Milestone line of comics DC helped launch in the 1990s, Static is a fan favorite because of light-hearted attitude and the WB cartoon. This has great potential.

Video Brainstorming

2011-09-09T11:09:00.000-05:00

I met with Lou Columbus at Layla's Gelato yesterday for a coffee and brainstorming session. He offered long ago to shoot a promotional video for my novel, "The Book of Gabriel." And when I say "long ago," I mean back when the storyline was still a serial appearing randomly at PCityLive.com as part of my "366 Days" project.

Lou is a professional videographer, so having his enthusiasm for the project is gratifying and inspirational. (He's also a fellow fan of Bill Nelson and David Bowie, he has old Vampirella novels in his collections, and he once gave me — I repeat, gave me — something like a thousand comicbooks he had kept for decades. I'm still working my way through them.) In short, Lou is a giving fellow with my weird taste in music and entertainment. I'm lucky to know him.

Anyway. Gabriel:

Lou sees certain images from the story as essential to the video, and I agree. Many of them are probably unobtainable on a $0 budget, even taking advantage of public domain video and images. Some things we hope to work out include the opening image of the woman rising out of the sea; a shot of an armored form grasping a flaming sword; men walking on water; the other-worldly visage of Lady Grinning Soul; the Watchers twirling in the night sky; Satan in his nice cotton suit; portions of a chase sequence; and the photo of Joy in Gabriel's jacket pocket.

I'll let you know as we proceed.

Meanwhile, go here to see samples of Lou's videos; the sixth item down is a spooky trailer Lou shot for my friend Michael Lister's novel, "Double Exposure."
T

The New DC Begins

2011-09-02T11:26:00.000-05:00

I've been a DC guy since childhood. My heroes were Superman, Batman, the Justice League, and all their assorted allies. I kept up with the Marvel heroes via my cousin's and friends' collections.
My favorite stories were the "crisis" multi-chapter tales that took the heroes of the regular DC universe to parallel earths, where they met the Justice Society (their 1940s counterparts) or the Freedom Fighters (heroes DC had bought from another company), and so on.

So when DC collapsed its multiple universes into one during the "Crisis on Infinite Earths" in 1984-85, I was OK with seeing all the heroes brought together into one reality; even if that meant the alternative versions had to cease to exist. You could no longer say those Batman adventures from the 1940s actually took place on "Earth 2" while the modern Batman's adventures were those on "Earth 1." Instead, you had to take all those old stories and say, hey, those were cool and we remember them fondly, but now we're going to tell all new stories about the hero. John Byrne got to retell the origin of Superman that threw out decades of old continuity -- and it was pretty cool.

They did it again several years later with "Infinite Crisis," which was kind of a bust. And there have been lots of little reboot attempts in the interim (anybody remember the electric Superman of the 1990s?). Now the heroes get all new costumes and origins (again) in a total revamp.

The difference is, with the rise of the Internet in the interim, every bozo and fanboy with Wifi thinks he's the font of wisdom, and nothing is better than tearing apart your heroes. Thus, lots of bad reviews of the new books -- the "NEW 52" -- and long before anyone ever saw anything more than some promotional art. (I firmly believe that's also what killed the Wonder Woman TV pilot made by David Kelly recently; fanboys savaged it online, having only seen a few promo photos, like the one at right. I watched it this week, and while it had some very weak points, it had some great ideas as well and might have turned into something worth seeing if it was allowed to go beyond pilot stage. Remember: Most pilots never air. They're just proof of concept. This concept was pretty good.)

Likewise, I'm here to tell you: Having read Justice League No. 1, the only book of DC's "NEW 52" titles to be released so far: It's going to be OK.

What we're getting is the beginning of these heroes. Batman is a young vigilante, hunted by the police and suspicious of all these other costumed adventurers appearing around the world. I hear Christian Bale's voice when I read his dialogue, and not in a jokey, growly way. There's no grand arsenal yet, no rogues gallery of weird villains, no baggage. (There's a great moment when Green Lantern realizes Batman is "just a guy in a suit.")
Superman is a mystery; people think he might be an extraterrestrial, the first one anybody on earth has ever (officially) seen. There's no ongoing relationship with Lois Lane. He's superpowerful beyond anything on earth and he has no perspective on what that means; he's never met another superhero, and he's never been tested to his limits (so far as we know). He has yet to realize there are tougher things than him out there.
Likewise with Green Lantern, who comes off very much like a Ryan Reynolds character: brash, over-confident, like you'd imagine a young test pilot might be. He thinks he's God's gift to the world, until Superman knocks him down without breaking a sweat. This is not the proven veteran of the Lantern Corps, not the legend. It's the "poozer" before he got taken down a peg, before he lost everything, before he battled his way back to life.

(I also think it's no accident that the characters are written -- and their costumes redesigned -- to emulate the movies being made about them. At left is Henry Cavill as the new Superman, and though it's difficult to tell in this photo, he has no red Underoos on the outside of this tights.)

These are the only three heroes introduced so far. I like that we get to see these guys grow and learn, and the writers get to establish a new status quo. I hope it lasts long enough to tell a bunch of good stories before the next reboot comes along. Please, people: Put it in perspective. None of this is permanent.

The other 51 titles DC is relaunching will make their debuts over the next several weeks. I look forward to seeing what they try to make of my favorite fictional universe. And I'll let you know.
T

Sneak preview: The Book of Gabriel

2011-08-25T11:35:00.000-05:00

This is the image/cover mockup I'm working on for 'The Book of Gabriel,' which is a collection of my serialized story "The Traveler," which was in turn part of my "366 Days" online writing project. The story is "an Endtimes Fable" telling how a man named Gabriel got mixed up in the return of the Shekinah (the female aspect of God) and Satan's scheme to subvert her power. It explores parallel realities, dream worlds, time/space paradoxes, myth and legend, chapters from 'The Book of Cain,' the meaning of forgiveness, and the power of Joy. Look for it to debut in October at the Local Books Alive event at the Panama City HQ of the Bay County Public Library.

Words

2011-08-24T14:17:00.000-05:00

Jack Saunders, Tim Riley and Matty.

Tuesday evening, I attended the opening reception of "WORDS," an exhibition of mail art organized by my friend Matty Jankowski (he of the bowler hat in the photos).

Matty, Jack, and Bettina Mead.

This is a quick photo blog to show you some of the folks in attendance. And considering how Matty told me the history of the saying, "A picture paints a thousand words," I'll let my pictures do the talking for his "Words."

Photographer Patrick Engman.

Artist Paulette Perlman, right.

The show will hang through September, as part of the library's upcoming focus on censorship and Banned Books Week. Watch your words.

Peace.

Happy birthday, Mr. Bradbury

2011-08-22T14:34:00.000-05:00

Ray Bradbury is 91 years old today.
Here's a little something I wrote about his work last year. Please check it out.

I, Zombie

2011-07-07T23:20:00.000-05:00

That's a working title for my next project. I just moments ago finished the outline for a zombie novel unlike anything you have ever read or seen in a movie. I guarantee it. It is brutal, disturbing, tragic, disgusting -- as such stories should be -- and will also be hopeful, artistic, funny, and enlightening, if I can pull it off the way I hope to.

It's a story that started with a bad dream and was added to by some skin-chilling brainstorming sessions with my son. (for one thing, the dog was his idea. You'll know it when you see it.) I anticipate using him as a sounding board throughout the process; so far, if I know my ideas sound insane and terrifying to him (and not just to me) then I'm still going in the right direction.

I'm excited to get going on this.

Don't want to Hava Java Anyway

2011-06-16T11:15:00.000-05:00

PANAMA CITY BEACH — The less said about this place, the better. You don’t even want to mention the name except to warn people away.

You park in a lot with a handful of cars and trucks in it and walk past empty shop fronts until you find the open door of the coffee shop. You enter the narrow cafe that includes a small table and a scowling man behind the counter.

You are wearing your press badge and carrying a camera on a strap. You mention that you’re seldom on this end of the beach and glad to see the shop has stayed open when so many others have closed down.

“Everything’s for sale. You know somebody who wants to buy it? Let me know,” the man says before disappearing into a back room.

It’s a hot day. Rather than buy a coffee, you buy a soda. You consider the ice cream in the glass case. The man takes your money and walks outside, where he sits at a café table and attacks the keys of a laptop.

You sip a Coke and look around at the photos on the wall: the man is pictured with the Rolling Stones, Tina Turner, the Spice Girls, David Bowie and many other musicians and performers. His name is on a gold CD.

You step outside and stand by his table. You remark that Bowie is one of your favorite performers and that the photos are pretty cool.

“Yes, I used to be a VP with Virgin. I have a lot of things going on,” he says, not looking up from the laptop. He continues typing.

You offer your hand and try to introduce yourself again. He glances at your hand and keeps typing.

“I’m very busy,” he says. “Like I said, a lot is going on.”

You wipe your hand on your pants leg. You walk away.

You will not go back to the coffee shop. Ever. And you will tell anyone who will listen about the incident. There are better places to go and nicer people to talk to.

Odd Man Out

2011-05-18T10:50:00.000-05:00

John.

The man felt odd even as he parked his truck and walked in the cool evening rain toward the Spanish-style town hall. The place was beautiful, slickly designed and finished. Ambience built-in. He wondered if the opulence was making him queasy.

Older people, richer ones, better ones, walked ahead of him. They sipped wine from long stem glasses. They giggled, or at least the women did, and they chatted. Even as he thought it, he knew he was being unfair, and he realized how strange he was feeling and that it was affecting his mood.

Some 40 or 50 of them gathered in the hall to listen to the authors who had led a writers conference in Rosemary Beach this week. The man gathered with them, feeling odd, the odd one out, the outsider. Not for any reason obvious or because of anything said or done by the others. In fact, he had friends here, or at least acquaintances. People he knew were present.

Malayne, from the town’s promotions office, lit up with genuine happiness when he introduced himself. She was slim with short-cropped dark hair and positive energy radiating. They shook hands, and she held the grip loosely for a moment longer, welcoming him. And John, the featured author at the conference, the university professor and novelist and flash fiction writer with Einstein’s hair and a ready grin, welcomed him in a similar fashion, if a firmer grip.

“Where’s your daughter?” John asked, recalling the man’s youngest child, who had accompanied him to a similar evening reading in Seaside many years before.

“Actually, she had a date,” the man said, happily surprised that John had recalled his daughter. John put the fingers of one hand to his mouth as if shocked. “She’s 19,” the man added, and John laughed and said he would have done the same.

Michael.

The man stood with his friend Michael, a novelist specializing in regional suspense, who was a presenter at the conference and was reading this evening after John and a memoirist named Lynne. Michael was with his lady friend, Linda. They talked to the man and were gracious, and the man sat there wondering why he still felt so odd, old, and alone.

They asked if he wanted to grab a bite with them after the reading; he mentioned that John had asked the same thing — though, John actually had said “Maybe we can have a glass of wine and catch up?” during a telephone conversation earlier in the week. John apologized then and said he had agreed to meet someone else, and the man said it was no problem, he understood.

In fact, he wondered if he understood at all.

“I have a present for you,” the man said, and he handed John a copy of his short story collection. John asked him to sign it and handed the man a pen. He signed it, “To John — You’re an inspiration,” and he said it would be good bathroom reading because the portions were small.

Everyone took their places except the man, who took a chair but still wondered where his place was.

The woman who introduced the authors received a note from Malayne in the middle of her intro and thanked the man for attending. He tipped his hat and smiled at the audience, glad to be there for a moment and aware of the emotion. She asked if the man would write about the event, and he admitted “Most likely.” The man looked across the crowd, saw John sitting beside his wife on the front row; John was looking at him with a smile in his eyes.

During the readings, the man took a couple of photos and a few notes. He wrote down when John said “I write about love and death. That’s what all stories are about.” He wrote it down because he agreed with it. It was true. It’s even what this story is about.

The giggling women sat behind him, and the man wondered what their stories were. What they loved and what was killing them.

Lynne.

After the readings, the man introduced himself to Lynne and told her he had really enjoyed her reading, if that was the right word. Her story had related a time when she was young and a man had tried to force himself on her. “Enjoyed” was probably not the right word, though he had been caught up in her story and relieved by its resolution.

She was gracious and asked if he had been the one who wrote the advance story in the local newspaper about the conference, and he said he had. An awkward moment followed as neither knew what else there was to say, and perhaps there wasn’t anything, but then a woman from the audience came up to hug Lynne and talk to her, and the man stepped away.

John was helping Malayne to gather the folding chairs. He put down the one he held, leaned it against one leg, and shook the man’s hand again. The man told John how much he enjoyed hearing John read. John said there would be another conference here in September, and would the man want to participate, maybe present or read something?

The man almost groaned, seeing an opportunity present itself from a genuine and interested source. “Oh, John. Thank you, but no, I really couldn’t. I’m not up to this, I’m not — I’m not in this class.”

John grinned, shrugged, having none of that. He said how he hoped the man would come back.

The man slipped through the lingerers then, and stood on the stoop of the hall and felt the cool rain on his face. He remembered that Michael and Linda had asked if he wanted to join them for a bite after the event. He did, but he didn’t want to impose, and besides, he was feeling odd tonight. Out of place. Queasy. An older woman asked if he needed an umbrella; he looked at the broken and bent mint-green one she held over her head and smiled. “No, thank you. I have a hat.”

And he walked into the lightning and soft rain, across the gravel parking lot, between small oak trees surrounded by a carpet of pine straw. He climbed into his truck, circled through the signal and around the other side of the central square to the book store, which was now closed. He parked anyway, got out and walked along, looking in the windows of closed shops.

He called his daughter and left a message. He drove 30A to U.S. 98 and turned toward home. Almost immediately off to the right, he saw the looming shapes of forgotten houses, multistory beachside properties some company had begun to construct before the bubble burst, left now to the weather and time. He turned onto their lonely lanes.

Torn skins of Tyvek and tar paper flapped in the wind. Windows were dark against the roiling gray. Buildings became black obelisks backed by the lightning. Around the houses empty lots and brick driveways indicated where other houses were supposed to have grown up. Almost there, he thought. They almost made it. Not finished and slick like the nearby buildings of Rosemary, these were the almost-homes, the gaping holes shaped like houses where no lives would be lived. The missed potential.

He could live here. He fit. He wasn’t odd. This was a place for him.

Free Comics

2011-05-05T18:33:00.003-05:00

The best things in life are free, and Saturday stores across the country will be giving away some of the best things in life.
That's right. FREE COMICS.
(Hit the link for details. You can see which comics will be offered and find a comic shop near you.)
If at all possible, I will be visiting Arena Comics and/or Comic Emporium in Panama City with my kids.
Dig this video John McDonald made at the News Herald a couple of years back:

Remember when it was ‘mall or nothing’? Not any more …

2011-05-01T05:33:00.002-05:00

PANAMA CITY — Not that long ago, I would have been incensed by the idea of the Panama City Mall declaring itself off-limits to teenagers on the weekend nights. Not so much any more.
And not because my attitude toward mall rats has changed over time.

In 1996, I wrote an article titled “Mall or Nothing” that appeared in our teen section.

The kids I interviewed talked about how they had nowhere else to hang out that was safe. They ate at the food court, played games in the arcade, watched movies at the discount theater, and looked for friends and fished for significant others.

They told me they were there to walk around, get numbers, play games, buy food, buy clothes and spend money. But they would prefer to go somewhere else. Just about anywhere else — but not bowling, one specified.

“All we’ve got is parking lots or the clay pits. There’s nowhere to go,” one girl said.

Yes, lots of them merely loitered. Yes, some of them sat outside and smoked. And regularly, some of them got into trouble for acting up, driving recklessly in the parking lot, shoplifting or other things.

That was fifteen years ago, admittedly, and most of the kids I talked to at the time are about to turn 30. But there still aren’t that many places for teens to go in this county. In fact, one of the big teen hangouts of the day — Miracle Strip Amusement Park — is no longer around.

Now, you can scratch the mall too — at least so far as teenagers are concerned.

As reported by Chris Segal on April 15, and covered by Meridith Kaufman on Friday, Panama City Mall has now instituted a new “escort” policy for teens that requires a parent or guardian over 21 to accompany anyone younger than 18 at all times on Fridays and Saturdays after 6 p.m.

Young people should be ready to show their ID to security guards, mall officials said. They added that the policy was enacted after feedback from parents, shoppers, retailers and “community leaders” about large groups of unaccompanied minors not adhering to the rules.

I’ve been to the mall recently. I haven’t noticed large groups of any kind. And what older folk I’ve seen there had their walking shoes on. (They weren’t shopping either.)

So watch out, Pier Park. If they aren’t there already (and we know many of them they are), they’re coming your way soon.

Peace .

----
This is my Sunday Undercurrents column.

Mall or Nothing

2011-04-29T17:33:00.000-05:00

(Story originally appeared in the 'Generation NeXt' section on May 19, 1996)

It's Friday night at Panama City Mall — the perfect time and place to observe the peculiar courtship rituals of the human teenager.

They circulate through mall corridors, falling in and out of gravitational alignment as heavenly bodies of varying attractions pass through their orbits.

At the archway entrance to the Pocket Change arcade, starry-eyed girls form a globular cluster. There's hair to note, belts to touch, fingers to point, whispers and squeals to share. It's a scene repeated in various forms throughout the mall tonight.

But when it comes down to basics, they're at the mall for only two reasons: phone numbers and guys.

OK, maybe that's only one reason.

"What are we doing tonight?" says Cindy Jacobson, 14. "Life!"

Cindy, a student at Merritt Brown Middle School, is going to Miracle Strip Amusement Park tomorrow. Fellow Brown Bear Kelly Heflin, 14, plans to lay out on the beach, as does Christina Jacobson, 15, a Mosley High School student. Stephanie Barfield, 17, "don't go to school," and she doesn't have any plans to speak of.

But tonight, they are of one mind.

"We come here every Friday," says Cindy. "To walk around, get phones numbers ..."

"Meet guys ..." says Stephanie.

"Play games, buy food, buy clothes, eat food ... " says Kelly.

"And spend money," says Christina.

Like test animals in a B.F. Skinner maze, these mall rats know their way around — and where to find their particular cheese.

They like the mall. Plenty to see, if you get their meaning.

But if they had their druthers, they'd be at a teen nightclub "like Club La Vela, except, like, for kids," Cindy says.

***

It's a common enough request.

Bay High School student Lisa Moses, 17, says she would like to find and frequent a teen dance club. Since the last one closed down some unknown time ago, she has had to hang out with her younger brothers — which is not altogether cool.

Ask some teenagers and they'll tell you: Bay County is a boring place to grow up.

(Just like everywhere else, but that's beside the point.)

"There's got to be some nighttime activities that are safe, fun and don't require a fake ID," groused a Mosley High School student recently. "And I mean fun — not bowling. All we've got is parking lots or the clay pits. There's nowhere to go."

Nowhere, that is, once you eliminate any number of team sports, Goofy Golf, go-cart tracks, Skeeball, bungee-jumping, the beach and related water activities. And we won't even go into the myriad of church-organized time-killers.

But that's not what she meant, of course. She wants a place to hang, to schmooze, to socialize. To network, gossip, dis. To be or not to be.

And all of it out of the glaring electric lights and watchful eyes of disapproving adults. That's what they do in the parking lots. And, perhaps with more freedom to abuse alcohol, that's what goes on at the clay pits.

But that's not for everybody.

Some older teens frequent the downtown streets of Panama City on Tuesday and Thursday nights — skateboarding on the sidewalks of McKenzie Park, kicking hackey-sack in the street across from Panama Java, and smoking on the steps of the gazebo.

"You gotta be a freak to hang out there. Alternative," says Janna, 16, flashing green eyes and even greener fingernails.

But even they would rather be someplace else — just about any place else.

"If you build it, they will come," says Raymond Moses, 16, a Bay High student and Lisa Moses' brother.

Originally from Newark, N.J., Raymond found Panama City "hard to adapt to." But don't get him wrong: He now says P.C. is a "nice small town." He feels safer here, less worried about the hardships of city life.

But bored.

Raymond would like somebody to build a go-cart track in town (the one in Springfield was torn down, and Lisa says it's hard to get a ride to the beach sometimes). Raymond says he'd be happy to cruise the halls of a mall closer to his home in Callaway, too.

"I go out to the mall sometimes to chill out, play games, stay out of trouble, get away from the whole school-and-homework thing," Raymond says. "Plus, I have an after-school job, so it's nice to relax."

***

As the evening wears on at the mall, trolling for boys continues — and the bait is still fresh.

Lisa Bellamy, 14, and her friend Jordan Dunleavy, 13, both attend Merritt Brown Middle School. Lisa's mom and dad dropped them off at the mall to spend "the whole day" — or at least a few hours. So what will they do all that time?

"Try to pick up guys, and see how many phone numbers we can get," Lisa says.

"She got one already," says Jordan. "Well — she gave one out.

As they talk, a trio of boys walk past, dangerously close behind them. Lisa's eyes grow suddenly large and she arches forward when one of the guys pokes her spine with a finger. Jordan playfully shoves her off balance.

Jordan says the two often play arcade games — but "just to flirt."

Flirt — while blasting aliens and radioactive zombies in Area 51?

Charm eligible guys — while kick-boxing Street Fighters?

"Yes," says Lisa — all eyes and innocence. "It's a way to meet guys."

Courtship is, after all, purportedly the be-all and end-all of teenagerdom. It certainly dominates these girls' plans for the rest of the evening — at least, until Mom and Dad return.

Their mission, spoken in unison:

"Go follow those guys that just went by."

----
(Posting this to put my upcoming Sunday column in perspective.)

Ava Gardner / Amanda Palmer

2011-04-25T13:26:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed that you never see them in the same place at the same time?

I'm just sayin'.

So far, April is the coolest month

2011-04-25T11:53:00.000-05:00

T.S. Eliot would have us believe that April is the cruelest month. I would argue that, despite the illnesses visited on the family this month. So far, April has been a pretty good one, all things considered.

This month I …

… Hovered over a man getting tattoos at a local shop in order to shoot video of the process. The artist asked me if I had any tattoos (I don’t) and if I ever considered getting one (I have). If I ever lose my wedding ring again, I’ll probably get one tattooed to my finger.

It would hurt, I’m assured, but my wife is OK with that.

… Took off my shoes and socks, and rolled up my pants legs so I could wade in the surf and take photos of skimboarders along the shoreline behind Sharky’s. One young skimmer’s dad told me how he and his friends made their own boards when they were kids: cut out a shape in plywood; soak the wood in water, place it on blocks with a heavy block in the middle to bend it, and let it dry; coat it in varnish.

You could see the past come alive in his eyes when he watched his daughter skimming.

… Had lunch at Bayou Joe’s with a couple of writer friends. We talked about craft and our experiences at bookish events while boats docked and diners filled the tables. A group of women asked me to take their photo, and I backed to the edge of the dock to try to fit the whole table in the frame.

“Just take one more step back,” one of them suggested.

… Patted the hide of a pony as a trainer led it out on the grass at Frank Brown Park. Then I shook a 10-year-old’s hand and listened to her talk about competitive riding. She double-looped the reins in her tiny hands and slipped her flip-flops into stirrups.

What she really wanted to do, she said, was visit the beach.

… Talked to the only female at a collectible card tournament held at a local comic book emporium. Most of the boys were too shy — or distrustful of outsiders — to allow an interview. It was April Fools Day, but you wouldn’t know it from watching the games unfold. Or maybe there was a meta-level meaning there that I overlooked.

… Crashed a party at the Temple B’nai Israel in Panama City. (Not really; a couple of the organizers expected me.) Tables were arranged with the good dishes, and plates were set aside for the traditional lamb shank, bitter herbs, egg and other symbolic foods for the Seder celebration.

I hugged a man who was wearing a yarmulke, and that’s not something you get to do every day.

Peace.

---
(This was my Undercurrents column for The News Herald on Sunday.)

Praying for Strangers

2011-04-14T18:37:00.000-05:00

In April 2010 my friend River Jordan (who, among other reasons I like her, has been known to support me in occasional “Star Trek” slap-fights on Twitter), sent me and others on her mailing list an odd request: “Would you care to join me in praying for a stranger every day for 30 days?”

It was an intriguing concept that grew out of her New Year’s resolution for 2009, she said. Facing the inevitability of her two sons deploying to Iraq and Afghanistan as the year began, River realized that she was praying selfishly for their safety. Instead, she resolved to pray daily for strangers.

She never intended to tell the strangers about her prayers, she said.

“But then something happened a few weeks into the year where I met a woman in a bus stop and felt I should tell her she was my special stranger that day,” River said in her letter. “Her amazing response is what led me to telling others.”

And although she’s a writer, she never intended to write a book about the experience. But her prayers opened her eyes to the personal stories of the strangers who crossed her path — and her husband, Owen, kept telling her she needed to be writing these stories down. Their stories became part of her story. The result is a memoir, “Praying for Strangers: An Adventure of the Human Spirit” (Berkely Books, $24.95, 336 pages, ISBN 0425239640). It’s a quick read, with tales doled out in short, thought-provoking and inspirational chapters.

River, who grew up in Bay County, now lives in Nashville with Owen and their dog Titan. She is the author of novels “The Gin Girl,” “The Messenger of Magnolia Street,” “Saints in Limbo” and “The Miracle of Mercy Land.” She teaches and speaks around the country on “The Power of Story,” and produces and hosts “Clearstory Radio” on WRFN 107.1FM in Nashville.

“Praying for Strangers” is about how reaching out to people she had never met allowed River to examine forces at play in her own life, her heart and her motivations. What she discovered was life changing. She had planned to let the resolution die when the year ended, but it has demanded more of her.

More than a year later, she continues praying for strangers.

“This is not a conversion prayer, or a testimony time,” she explained. “It’s simply a beautiful way to connect with another human being on a personal, spiritual level. No one has ever been upset with me or called store security for me pausing and telling them that they stood out to me in a special way and that I was wishing them blessings and prayers for their good year.”

Peace.

-----
(This was my Sunday "Undercurrents" column for The News Herald.)

The beat goes on: Ten years later, Stan’s still bangin’

2011-04-03T05:10:00.001-05:00

News Herald Photo by Robert Cooper

In the summer of 2001, a young man with a passion for urban music stopped by the office to promote his efforts. Stan Jones, 18, had recently graduated from Rutherford High School, and he was looking to break into the local music scene. I interviewed him for a story in the teen-focused “Generation NeXt” section.

Things didn’t work out according to his plan, but that’s not always a bad thing. Stan served in the U.S. Navy for six years, deployed overseas where he made loads of contacts with artists, promoters, musicians and venues. In Japan, he had his own radio show.

And when he left the service, he had a new plan.

“I wanted to come back to my hometown and connect my hometown to the rest of the world,” he said. “I could’ve gone anywhere else in the world, but I decided to come here and contribute to the development of the independent music scene — try to do it right.”

For a while he ran a small recording studio and worked with lots of independent local artists in a variety of musical genres. Then he got the idea to publish his own magazine focusing on urban music and independent performers. The third issue of “Bangin’ Bay” magazine hits shelves later this month in stores all over the Southeast.

“It’s taking off fast, but it’s still a hobby at this point,” he said in a conversation last week. “I think we just might be onto something. When you have a passion, you can work with people but don’t rely on them. You have to pursue your own passion.”

Now 28, Stan attends Gulf Coast Community College part time, and he travels a lot to attend musical events, conduct interviews and promote his magazine.

“It takes me to a lot of places and blends into the personal side,” he said. “You’ve got to balance it with a little fun in there. … I want to have a little fun in the bank too, definitely.”

He’s still working to promote local and regional artists, and to that end he organized the recent All-City Jam that featured several regional rap and R&B performers. A diverse roster of talent performed for hundreds that night, but it was a mixed success, he said.

“It was a packed house, a big turnout, but not the caliber of show I expected,” he said. “Each time, you want to get better, and you try to surround yourself with people who share your vision and support that. I set my standards really high.”

Peace.
---
(This was my Undercurrents column for Sunday, April 3.)

Recognize!

2011-04-01T17:22:00.000-05:00

I've been a bit busy recently. New responsibilities at work mean I'm out and about, interviewing, writing, making videos, etc. much more than in recent years.

I got flowers today along with a box of sugar cookies, courtesy of the Panama City Roller Derby, to thank me for a story and video I did this week. They also brought gifts to Jan (the Entertainer section editor, where the story ran in print) and Andrew (the photographer). It's nice to be recognized.

This week I was in a choir room at the United Methodist Church where I was doing a story and video about a blind singer who has a friend that helps her transcribe her sheet music into Braille. As I was leaving, I thanked the ladies for inviting me out, and the choir director stopped me. She took my hand and looked me in the eye and said, "Peace." Everyone laughed together.

Peace.

Still haven't found what I'm looking for

2011-03-23T09:29:00.000-05:00

Spring Break meets the Tao of Poo.

PANAMA CITY BEACH — Thursday afternoon, I jogged through the shoreline sand to catch up with two college students who had walked ahead while I shot video of them. They were in flip-flops, board shorts, T-shirts and sunglasses. I was inappropriately clothed for the beach, and my dress shoes weren’t helping me get traction in the sand.

The bright red shirt and black slacks earned me some dubious glances from the sunbathers. So did, I’m sure, the sight of a gray-bearded guy with a funny hat shooting video in the middle of Spring Break.

My companions for the afternoon were students from the Campus Crusade for Christ, who were strolling on the beach in hopes of sensing a person in the crowd who might be open to having a spiritual conversation. “Divine appointments,” they call them.

I’d been having these sorts of conversations on a daily basis lately, as one story has led me to the next. A talk about paddle boarding directs me to a local surfer/pastor/comic book artist, which leads me to the Christian Surfers Association. A story about free pancakes for spring breakers provided by a Christian group is across the street from the annual Campus Crusade rally, where the students gently turn the questions on me.

“Do you mind me asking …” the question begins. It’s how I have started any number of interviews, and the young woman asking me uses the technique well. No, I don’t mind you asking. I will do my best to answer.

Even a visit to Zen Garden Market turns into a talk about the healthy body/mind/spirit connection. A belly dance teacher stops short of bringing enlightenment into the equation, but it hangs unspoken in the air. Later, I stop in at a Goodwill store and walk out with a book called “Zen Environment.” Maybe I’m just impressionable.

Someone early in the week said I was soon going to be pegged as that guy who only writes about Christians. I thought that was funny because a friend still kids me about all the wiccans, pagans, palm readers, numerologists and Goths I wrote about back in the day.

“Found any witches to report on lately?” he says.

No, but I’m looking. If I find them among my divine appointments, I hope they don’t mind me asking.

Peace.

Springtime adventure: 'Find the cool'

2011-03-09T22:07:00.000-06:00

PANAMA CITY BEACH — I realized what I had been missing this week.
It wasn’t Friday morning, as I kneeled in the sand and watched surfers catching waves near the jetties at St. Andrews State Park, although that was part of it. The sun was warm, the wind fresh and crisp. The laughter and good spirit among the surfers was a tonic for the soul.

And it wasn’t Thursday evening as I shot video of women in a belly dance class at the City Arts Cooperative in downtown Panama City, although that was part of it too. The women were, without fail, gracious and tolerant of the stranger in their midst. As they practiced footwork and veil choreography, they showed a sisterly bond with one another that made mistakes a welcome part of the learning experience.

It wasn’t even when I toured the Zen Garden, admiring the blooming desert roses and the tiny goldfish schooling in a lotus pond, though that was definitely part of it as well. The sea breeze in the trees, the trickle of water down a manmade waterfall, the soft conversations floating through the hallways all combined for a peaceful state of mind.

What I had been missing, and what I recognized this week, came upon the spur of a moment when I decided to try something outside my experience. Not a big thing, just a small thing. A token that illustrated for me how insular my world had become in recent years.

I asked for, and drank, a shot glass filled with the pulpy green squeezings of wheatgrass.

Right? Not a life-changing trauma. Not an earth-shattering revelation. Just a tiny swig or two of springtime condensed into a thick, vibrantly green liquid. Sweet and charged with life.

Work has kept me indoors in recent years. Changes have thrust me back into the sunshine. (A coworker joked that he couldn’t imagine seeing me with a tan. It could happen.) And I have a directive to seek out the places, people and events of local interest. “Find the cool,” I was told.

I invite you to come with me. Suggest some subjects. Discover what we’ve been missing. You’ll find our videos, stories and photos at newsherald.com in the “Get Local” and “Outdoors” pages, and presented in print.

It’s springtime, the world is waking up. Let’s see what it has for us.

Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for the News Herald on Sunday, March 6.

Busy-busy-busy

2011-03-09T21:57:00.000-06:00

Work responsibilities have changed again, and I'm doing more writing/videography. Here are a few of the things occupying my time in recent weeks:

Group offers free 'life changing' pancakes for Spring Breakers

Finns Island Style Grub: fresh, homemade and consistent

Mr. Surf's offers free skateboard street course Fridays

From earth to spirit: Zen Garden feeds body and soul

Drawing on faith: Local pastor, artist, surfer remains a seeker

Independent spirit: New theatre brings indie films to light

Early catch: First cobia of season reeled in a pier

Paddle board basics: A surf sport for all ages

Which just goes to show, I suppose, that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Peace.

Three years later, she remains more than just memory

2011-02-20T02:19:00.002-06:00

Marisa Joy Williams
before the prom in 2005,
just less than three years
before her death.

What wounds time fails to heal are those whose aches remind us that we have survived.

I still walk outdoors on a cool springtime morning when there’s not a cloud in the deep blue sky and tremble at the memory of the day, three years ago, when a trooper’s phone call awoke us to tell us she was gone.

It’s amazing how much life has changed in that time. And how little, considering the most beautiful and perfect of days remains a bittersweet reminder.

Marisa Joy Williams was my son’s best friend, and she was like a second daughter to us. Regular readers of this column will know that she died in a single car accident on Feb. 23, 2008, driving in a thunderstorm to pick up her boyfriend, who had been stranded when his car broke down. She was 18.

The next morning, the sun rose anyway. The sky was blue, the air crisp and cool. For three years, the sun has continued to rise each day.

As those days passed, Marisa’s parents, Donna and Charles, and her extended family and friends raised money and last year established a perpetual scholarship fund in her memory at Gulf Coast Community College, where she had earned her associate’s degree in technical theater. A playground was constructed and named for her on the grounds of her church, Springfield Methodist.

She will not soon be forgotten. Years from now, children will play in the Joy Playground and students will continue to receive the scholarship in her name. Her memory will live on long after those of us who tremble at perfect spring mornings are gone.

Three years later, I still can hear a noise at the front door in the morning and look up from my coffee, half expecting Marisa to be standing there. Every day for the better part of two years, she would come by to pick up my son for school and would have apple juice in a Mason jar. He was always late getting ready, and we would talk as she waited.

Now I can’t even buy apple juice without thinking of her — particularly, how she reacted one morning when she came in to get her regular jar and discovered brand name juice in the fridge instead of the Walmart label. She gave me a skeptical look as she poured and drank.

“Yuck,” she said, and I asked if the new juice was too refined for her palette. She took another drink, made a face and shook all over.

We still only buy the store brand.

Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for the News Herald on Sunday, Feb. 20.

Drive-In Saturday: A Marisa Film Festival

2011-02-19T14:13:00.002-06:00

Presented without further comment because I'm missing her today:

Tony The Tiger Song

Tony | Myspace Video

Peace.

A true story from the heart for Valentine’s

2011-02-14T15:19:00.000-06:00

If you don’t know what today is, this is your wake-up call. Meanwhile, here’s a true Valentine’s Day story:
It was 1981, and “Brother Tim” was a youth pastor at a Baptist church in Flomaton, Ala. Part of his job was to open the church’s recreation center on Saturday nights for teens and pre-teens to hang out.

They had skating on the indoor basketball court some nights, and some nights they played basketball. There was a bowling lane, a snack room with cola and chip machines, and upstairs was an open balcony/loft with pool and foosball tables.

As he checked out the skates to a long line of kids, Tim played music over the P.A. — contemporary Christian tunes and love songs. You know, to match the day. It was a good crowd, and he enjoyed joking with the kids, even though he’d have preferred to stay home with his own family on this night.

As they skated, he’d call out girls only or guys only, or all-skate or couples only, and the kids would comply. He noticed no one was skating during the couples-only calls, but he kept trying.

One time when Tim made the call and everyone dutifully found a place to sit off the court, two strangers met. The boy had been attending the church for a few months, and the girl had come to the rec center with her cousin, who was a church member. The boy admitted to the girl that he could barely skate and said that, if she’d hold him up, he’d skate with her.

She held his hand and they circled the boundaries of the basketball court. For a minute or two, they pretty much had the space to themselves.

(Within a couple of days, they both would discover that she had been exposed to poison ivy when helping a friend haul firewood that morning. To say she got under his skin would be an understatement.)

She started attending the church too. They sang in the youth choir together, and Brother Tim led them in music as well as their moral development. Too young to date, they saw each other on weekends at the rec center, and Tim kept an eye on them.

In a couple of years, Brother Tim left the state for a job at another church. By then, the kids had begun dating for real and stopped hanging out at the rec center.

Tim returned almost five years later to sing at their wedding.

Now 30 years later, and with at least one broken heart between them, that little girl is still holding that boy’s hand and helping him get around — and they owe it, at least in part, to Brother Tim, who opened the rec center one Valentines Day.

Peace.

This was originally posted as my Undercurrents column for The News Herald in 2008. I slightly edited for use today.

Drive-In Saturday: Remember Her

2011-02-12T11:12:00.000-06:00

It was a day just like this one.

The Tao Of Pooh

2011-02-11T17:22:00.004-06:00

Tao: It's pronounced "dow," like the stock market listings. Simply put, it means "the way."

In Confucian confusionism, it comes to mean "teaching," as in a knowledge that must be imparted, learned and followed. In the Lao-tzu path, it means "the source" - where understanding is found; the "uncarved block" that will become whatever it becomes.

All of which, at first glance, seems a stretch when considered in the context of Winnie the Pooh.

The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff uses the characters of A.A. Milne's classic stories to illustrate lessons in this ancient philosophy, a method of thought as well as a way of life.

Asian legends and teachings have long used animal metaphors or animal "guides," so is it really all that different to ascribe the traits of human thought and emotion to the creatures in the Pooh stories?

There's pessimistic Eeyore who frets and complains, insecure Piglet who hesitates and is lost, scheming Rabbit who looks out for Number One, know-it-all Owl who preaches about things he doesn't understand.

And then there's Pooh, who just is.

Pooh, the uncarved block, the childlike voice of simplicity.

It's little wonder, really, that Western thinkers have such trouble wrapping their minds around Taoism.

To understand it, you really have to stop thinking about it so hard.

Go have some honey instead.

Yeah, that's the way.

The masters know the way, and it knows them. They listen to the simple voice within, the child's voice - the still, small voice.

And a Pooh shall lead them.

---
This was originally published by The News Herald on Thursday, Nov. 20, 2003. I was reminded of it after a conversation with my daughter about the parts of the psyche represented by the characters in Pooh stories.

Eats, shoots, leaves a bad taste in my mouth

2011-02-10T16:38:00.012-06:00

I have a visceral reaction to the misplaced apostrophe. Seeing a plural turned into a possessive on a billboard because someone doesn’t know any better can send me into fits unfit for publication.

Suffice it to say: Punctuation is about clarity of communication. It’s isn’t its. Learn the difference. End of lesson.

That’s probably why I recently received a copy of Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Lynne Truss. ("Tony will love this," thought the person who gifted me with the book. "It’s just the sort of thing he obsesses on. This’ll shut’im up.")

(Boy, was he wrong.)

For one thing, there’s the title. It’s not a funny joke.

I mean, we sticklers get it: It’s a misplaced comma. But if you’re really a stickler, you wouldn’t find it all that humorous. If you’re not a stickler, you wouldn’t understand. If you’re Truss, the author, you feel the need to explain it — and nobody likes having a joke explained to him.

Therein lies the rub, and it rubs the wrong way, for about 200 pages.

Perhaps the earliest warning that the book is not for American audiences should have been in the foreword, where it was explained that no changes were made to adjust the English edition for American publication. American punctuation, like word usage, is vastly different from English punctuation, so almost every paragraph of the book makes for a painful read

for an American obsessivecompulsive punctuation stickler.

Consistently seeing Truss end sentences with the punctuation outside her quotation marks is enough to send any American stickler into hysterics. After a few chapters, it became unbearable for this one.

I suspect the people who made this a bestseller in America, like the person who bought the book for me, bought it for their friends and not for themselves.

But the clearest indication that this book is not for sticklers of the U.S.A. variation came only a few pages later, with the author’s declaration that sticklers "got very worked up after 9-11 not because of Osama bin Laden but because people on the radio kept saying ‘enormity’ when they meant ‘magnitude.’"

I think a good editor would have done Truss the favor of removing that bit of "levity" for the American edition.

Begin quote: Truss can keep her opinions and her "rules." Full stop. End quote.

(You’ll note the punctuation is inside the quotation marks.)
---
This originally appeared in The News Herald on Sunday, February 20, 2005. I unearthed it because a friend and coworker last week read this book and hated it, and I printed this out to give him my reaction.

This is prose, not poetry, but let’s be sincere

2011-02-09T16:34:00.000-06:00

The truth will out, but do we take the time to note it, and will we recognize it when we see it? I ask because it’s a question of vision.

Sure it is. Follow me here, if you will.

See, I have this thing about roadside billboards that have been left to the weather — the paper withered and lacerated, mixed messages from sundry times melding into unintended meanings, rust and wood showing through. It appears flat but betrays secret depth.

And I wonder (sometimes, for no apparent reason, I wonder things like this) if maybe people are like these billboards torn by time, maintaining their shapes while hinting at the secrets hidden under layers of paper, ink and glue.

Sure they are.

See? Scratch the surface. People, too, camouflage enigmas under the cover of happy colors and bright slogans. Mysteries are concealed beneath their skin, forgotten layers that sometimes push through of their own accord, and other times are torn free by mere circumstance, memory or wild catastrophe.

Water-softened and sun-dried, the weathered membrane peels back. Real lives squirm under the onionskins we turn to show the world, the smiles like billboards by which we advertise something that maybe never truly was — reality now revealed by juxtaposition with that which lay secluded just beneath, that which would not (or could not) remain buried.

This is the viscera, the rawness poets ache to glimpse, the honesty Kerouac was seeking when, in Book of Blues, he wrote, "I mean / This is prose / Not poetry / But I want / To be sincere."

But what does it mean, this contrasted with that — the before and the after, both fading together in the sun-bright face of the now?

The rusted backboard, the termite-eaten and time-rotted wood. The bleached paper and spotted ink that make up a person’s past? The half-messages, now garbled and misunderstood, ghosts of meaning left by those who came before, who passed this way, pressed their designs upon our surfaces, and have since moved on.

All of it, taken at once and jutting above the treeline for all to see?

It is what it is, and we must not make more of it than that. Look quickly, gaze deeply, take it in when you can. Because tomorrow, if not sooner, a new skin will be placed — bright smiles, fashionable slogans, happy colors on fresh paper.

It’s the only way we can survive together, after all.

Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for The News Herald on May 15, 2005, during a particularly trying time of life.

Drive-In Saturday: 'Changes'

2011-02-05T11:04:00.002-06:00

Once again my titles reveal the Bowie connection.

'CHANGES' is an animation experiment created using a VHS Panasonic camera in 1990; the camera had a function that allowed it to shoot one second of tape every minute, so I changed out the pages of typewriter paper in between activations.

NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH:

(No extra charge for tonight's double feature. You're welcome.)

Books Alive weekend

2011-02-04T18:09:00.000-06:00

It's Books Alive weekend, when authors from all over the country come to Panama City for a festival. Check the link for details.
We're about to head out to the meet-and-greet. I'll post photos later and give you more details.

Drive-In Saturday: 'Hours'

2011-01-29T16:13:00.001-06:00

This was recorded on a VHS camera in 1988 in the trailer that Debra and I (and newborn Nathan) lived in in Flomaton, Ala. The writer/performer is Julianne Thomas, my step-sister, and the knight is her husband Guy, both of whom were at one time involved in the Society for Creative Anachronism in Pensacola. Guy still makes impressive bladed weapons for a hobby. The video has some noises in it, some of them caused by the camera. As you can see from the quality, the video itself was barely salvageable. But it's a nice song, and I'm glad we preserved it. Here is "Hours" by Julianne:

Check out 'L-5'

2011-01-27T19:42:00.000-06:00

There's a new sci-fi series coming to the web: "L-5" is the story of a crew that returns to earth after a 200-year journey in suspended animation and has to solve the mystery of what happened to the human race while finding a way to survive. Check out the official trailer:

L5 Teaser Trailer - HQ from Stanley Von Medvey on Vimeo.

I would have saved this for a "Drive In Saturday" but you need to see it now.

'Being Human' loses something in translation

2011-01-25T21:54:00.000-06:00

Courtesy Syfy.com

It sounds like a joke: A suave vampire, a nervous werewolf and a cute lady ghost rent an apartment together — but there’s no punch line. Instead, that’s the basic premise of “Being Human,” promoted as a new Syfy channel “original” series.

The only thing new about it is the accent. The series, which premiered Monday on the cable channel, is an Americanized version of a BBC series that has been a hit for the past two years on BBC America.

It concerns three of the ultimate outsiders trying to blend in — i.e., desperately working at “being human.” The premise sounds corny, and while the original Brit series milked the comedic aspect from time to time, it was a full-on drama, with plenty of blood, death, sex and yes, even love.

The U.S. version appears to be following the lead, updating and Americanizing the jokes (there’s an obvious “Twilight” reference that falls flat in the premiere). The action is moved from London to Boston.

“Being Human is a smart, contemporary, young and imaginative series that reflects Syfy's new brand positioning,” said channel president David Howe, quoted in promotional materials for the show. “We are very excited to adapt this for an American audience and bring it into Syfy's family of programming.”

The series stars Sam Witwer (“ Battlestar Galactica ” ), Meaghan Rath (“ The Assistants” ), Sam Huntington (“ Superman Returns ” ) and Mark Pellegrino (best known as Jacob on “ Lost”) .

Syfy has ordered 13 episodes for the first season, which premiered on Jan. 17. That initial outing scored nearly 2 million viewers, making it the most-watched scripted mid-season premiere for the channel in five years.

(Read the rest of this News Herald review, including info on other British shows that became American hits and links to clips of 'Being Human,' at this link.)

Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it

2011-01-23T08:45:00.001-06:00

News Herald Photo: Robert Cormier
speaks at Gulf Coast Community College
in February 1988.

PANAMA CITY — I met this week with a group of women who are putting together a plan to commemorate one of the darker times in their lives, when the community was divided over the appropriateness of certain books in our schools.
This year will mark the 25th anniversary of a controversy that put Bay County in headlines across the country and around the world. It started in 1986 with some books in a middle school teacher’s classroom library that a parent thought contained inappropriate content, and it continued in 1987 with the schools superintendent listing more than 60 books and plays to remove from student access.

Teachers fought to retain the books. Other teachers opposed them. The School Board held special meetings. Petitions were circulated and thousands signed them. Oprah had some of the participants on her show. Church members were bused to School Board meetings and spoke in tongues during the sessions.

Teachers received death threats. A fire was set under a TV reporter’s car.

The final outcome was a new School Board policy to review challenged books and other materials.

An outcome that no one seemed to expect at the time was that sales of the challenged materials increased during the controversy — one of the top local sellers in 1987 was “I am the Cheese” by Robert Cormier, which had started the whole controversy the year before, according to a News Herald article.

Ten years later, the books being challenged were those in the popular “Goosebumps” series — only this time, instead of raw language or “mature” situations causing consternation, it was a fear of children embracing the occult. The review process kept those books in classrooms, as it also kept “Of Mice and Men” in classrooms in 1997 after a local pastor objected to the racist slurs in the text.

The controversy continues. In 2008, the School Board voted 3-2 to remove Avi’s Newberry Award-winning “The Fighting Ground” from school libraries after a parent objected to language in the book.

I will moderate a discussion on censorship during the Books Alive festival of reading at Gulf Coast Community College on Feb. 5. Some of the panel members will include central characters in the banning controversy of 25 years ago. I encourage you to come out and participate, hear what they have to say and share your own thoughts.

As the good book says, “Come, let us reason together.”

Peace.

(This is my Undercurrents column for The News Herald for today's edition. To read a complete list of the books banned in Bay County in 1986 and 1987, click this link.)

Drive-In Saturday: 'Future Warning PSA'

2011-01-22T08:13:00.004-06:00

Shot on a VHS home video camera (a Panasonic, I believe) in 1988 or so, and recently re-edited and tweaked. (Way back then, I had no way to create credits or on-screen titles, so the project was never completed.) This was made for a contest where you had 60 seconds to present a public service announcement about the future. I created mine as if it came FROM the future, what was then the distant world of A.D. 2005. I aimed the camera at the TV it was hooked up to in order to create the visual feedback, and used some Halloween makeup to build a layered scar on my face. The hair was my own; no special effect required.

Hope you liked it.

Next Saturday: A real live music video from the same era. (Not starring me, thank God.) Meanwhile, do you have any videos you'd like to share with the class? Post the link in comments.

Peace.

You Can Be Okay

2011-01-19T21:35:00.000-06:00

Shameless pimping:

"Nathan Simmons and Andrew Hubbard are pleased to bring you 12 songs they collaborated on over the course of a semester at the University of West Florida in 2010. Mixing confessional lyrics with a pop/folk sensibility, these are songs you will hopefully have stuck in your head until they get around to recording again!"

'You Can Be Okay' is available on CD for $8.

It's good stuff, if you like that hippie rock'n'roll stuff, written and performed by my son Nathan and his friend Andrew.

In other news:

I met with a group of folks at the Bay County Public Library tonight to discuss plans for observing Banned Books Week in September, and also for marking the 25th anniversary since Bay County had a national spotlight turned on its leadership when some fundamentalist locals decided the books in a few teachers' classroom libraries should be removed from ALL schools; the superintendent put together a list of 60-some-odd books and stories that were to be removed from schools (including several Shakespeare plays); people began speaking in tongues during School Board meetings; a fire was started under a TV reporter's car in the middle of the night; teachers received death threats that the cops didn't investigate; Oprah came for a visit ... The story goes on and on. It was going to be a TV movie (one of our members has the third draft of a Warner Bros. script to prove it).

I will be moderating a discussion on banned books and censorship during the Feb. 5 "Books Alive" event at Gulf Community (State?) College, featuring some of the people involved in this part of our local history. Be sure to come check it out.

Carry on.

A soak in bath salts won't fix stupidity

2011-01-16T20:22:00.000-06:00

(The following was my 'Undercurrents' column for today.)

I’ve heard of brainwashing, but using “bath salts” to get high?

Staff writer Felicia Kitzmiller reported last week that so-called “bath salts” are being sold in the area in small, flat packages ($35 each) that contain a half gram of a crystal substance users crush and snort. Side effects include chest pains, hallucinations, paranoia, anxiety, seizures and increased heart rate — and if that doesn’t sound like a good time, I don’t know what does.

“You couldn’t bathe a hamster in this,” Bay County Sheriff’s Capt. Faith Bell told Kitzmiller.

I always wonder about the people who sit around and try to figure out what is in their house that they can get high off of. How many people snorted crushed Drano, or shot up rat poison before they figured out this “bath salts” thing? What is their thought process — “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stranger”?

Every kid with a chemistry set thinks he’s a rocket scientist. Apparently, every meth head with a soda bottle thinks he’s a chemist.

Submitted for consideration: A recent Bay County Sheriff’s Office incident report shows what you can expect if you’re seeking that clean, refreshing (paranoid, anxiety-inducing) bath salts kind of trip.

Seems a man called authorities about 1:35 a.m. on Wednesday after he thought he had gone home to the camper trailer he lives in off County 2301 and found two men rifling through his stuff. A third was crawling around under the trailer, he said. He ran outside to his car, and they ran and got in two vehicles, a car and a truck, the report said.

The 39-year-old man claimed he followed the truck in an attempt to get its license number, but somehow it started chasing him south on U.S. 231. He pulled onto Jarvis Street and ran from house to house, knocking on doors. On Charles Street, he found a house where the occupant let him call 911, the report said. (The man must have forgotten that he had a cell phone on him.)

A deputy took the man back to his car and followed him from there to his trailer, the report said. The deputy found no signs of forced entry; the windows were all closed and locked from the inside, and nothing was missing.

The man’s landlord explained that his tenant had a recent history of mental problems “after using a synthetic drug called ‘blue bath salts,’” the report said. He had been found in the past walking around the area and knocking on doors because he thought he saw an intruder on the property.

Most recently, the man claimed to have seen “a young woman in dark clothes with an all-white face” at about 10 p.m. that same night.

Calgon, take me away!

Drive-In Saturday: 'OUR DEAD'

2011-01-15T17:00:00.012-06:00

"OUR DEAD" was my final project in TV Production 2 class at Pensacola Junior College in 1984. We used a video camera that weighed about 25 pounds and required you to wear a battery belt weighing about 15 pounds. We were absolutely ordered not to point the lens into the sun or get the camera wet. Did you see the sunset we shot into, or the rain on the window panes? Even so, I got an A. Wish I recalled the names of the folks who worked with me on this, but it was long ago and far away.

Peace.

Colors, Patterns & Textures

2011-01-14T16:40:00.001-06:00

I'm heading tonight to the opening of a solo art show by Melissa Arrant, wife of my friend Chris Arrant. The show is in the Amelia Tapper Center at Gulf Coast Community (State?) College from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Come out and say hello. The show is called "Colors, Patterns & Textures," referencing Melissa's colorfield work.

EDIT: Back from the show, which had a BIG turnout. Here's a shot of Melissa getting her picture taken:

Meanwhile, I've obviously been away from the blog for several days. You might be distracted or entertained by the way I've been wasting my evenings, which will begin to become clear tomorrow as I launch a new regular feature that I'm going to call "Drive-In Saturday" (with that ever present wink and nod to David Bowie).

I have been salvaging old videos I created over the years and will be finishing the edits on them to make them presentable if not actually artistic. One per week, starting with my earliest effort, a "final exam" project for my TV Production II class at Pensacola Junior College in 1984, a mean and simple little black-and-white zombie short called "Our Dead."

Here's a screen capture from the film:

Next up, will be a 30-second PSA I made in 1989 for a contest I'm pretty sure I never entered. I call it "Future Warning," and it has been fiddled with a bit. Here's a screen capture:

Yes, that's me transmitting from the far future date of 2005. I have several others I'll be working on over the coming weeks, but the one I'm most pleased with getting some closure over is the one that goes with this screen capture:

That's the Scoutship Nokomis coming in for an emergency landing on an uncharted (and unfriendly) planet. My former brother-in-law, the late Karl Esneul, and I spent a long Saturday in 1989 shooting models and lasers and explosions to make special effects for a movie that we never got around to shooting the live action for. I have recently built a miniature set and used a vintage G.I. Joe astronaut figure to create a few segments that will allow a story to be told, though I confess that I don't recall if we ever actually came up with a storyline or just strung together some FX. This one is for Karl.

Look for the films every Saturday for the foreseeable future. (I have a lot of old video to work through.) If you see something you enjoyed, please let me know. It's pretty embarrassing to be putting some of this out there for the public to chew up. But then, I do that with my stories, too. So I guess I can take the shots.

Hope this finds you all well, and I sincerely hope the new year is being kind to you. Thanks for following.

Peace.

What a strange Shyamalan year so far...

2011-01-09T03:25:00.002-06:00

LEFT: A woman feeds a two-headed calf born this week in a village in the nation of Georgia.(AP)

Here we are, nine whole days into a brand new year, and I don’t think I’d be the only one who’s ready to call a do-over. This has been one long, weird week.

Does it seem to anyone else like we’re living in an M. Night Shyamalan movie? I keep waiting for the twist ending.

I mean, look at the evidence: 3,000 blackbirds fall out of the sky in Arkansas after apparently flying themselves to death; another 500 plummet to the earth in Louisiana. Hundreds more fall in Kentucky, 100 in New Zealand, 50 in Sweden.

Is it a “Happening”? Are the trees making them suicidal? Are they smacking into invisible spaceships? Is this one of the “Signs”? Have they run afoul of “The Last Airbender”?

Scientists say not to worry, that this kind of thing happens all the time. (Such as the mass whale stranding in New Zealand, fish kill off New Jersey and penguin die-off in Brazil, all last year.) Experts blame cold weather — or in the case of the Arkansas blackbird massacre, fireworks, maybe.

Meanwhile, two million dead fish float in Chesapeake Bay; 40,000 dead crabs wash up in England; a fish kill in Brazil is estimated at 100 tons — all in the last week or so. Is it the fault of “The Lady in the Water”?

It’s enough to make you consider reading (or re-reading) the book of Revelation. A learned friend assures me there’s nothing in there about birds falling from the sky, but with all the visions in there you just never know.

Not all of the weird the news is bad, however. In a Georgian village, a two-headed calf is born and becomes an instant TV star. And in New York City, a man jumps from a ninth-story window and survives by landing — no, not on a two-headed calf from “The Village” — in a giant pile of garbage. Is it possible he’s actually “Unbreakable”?

On second thought, maybe the fact that I didn’t have to make any of this up bodes well for the news business in 2011. It’s just going to be another typically strange new year. I have a “Sixth Sense” about it.

Peace .

Tim Dorsey on Serge and Electric Barracuda

2011-01-05T17:32:00.001-06:00

Someone you should know more about. Tim Dorsey is a Florida treasure.

Glimpses Through a Bay Window

2011-01-04T23:12:00.000-06:00

Short photo post tonight:

After leaving work, I headed over to the library where a showing of Barbara Mulligan's work is being exhibited this month. Tonight was the opening of her posthumous "Bay Windows" show, which will hang until February. Read all about it here.

I got to speak with Barbara's husband, George, and her sons Sean and Mark, all of whom were very kind in remarking on my columns or reporting in the past. I also got to speak with some friends and acquaintences, including Bettina Mead and Rebecca Saunders of the library, Martha Spiva (who is still finalizing her husband Ernest's memoir), Carroll McCauley, John McDonald, and Alvin Peters.

Above left is George, talking with visitors to the exhibit. At right are Rebecca and Bettina, discussing upcoming library events.

(The big event coming up is the annual Books Alive festival of reading, which will be Feb. 5 at Gulf Coast Community College. Some years I have participated as a local author, and some years I have served as a moderator and author wrangler. I hope to do a little of both this year. I'll let you know.)

If you're in the area, make time to go see the art and consider the talent and dedication of a truly visionary local artist.

Peace.

Goodbye, Altaira

2011-01-04T12:28:00.000-06:00

Anne Francis, the actress who first made her mark as "Altaira" (or Alta) in the classic "Forbidden Planet," died Sunday of complications from pancreatic cancer. She was 80. Read the People magazine story here.

We watched Forbidden Planet on Sunday night after all the family visitors had left, not knowing that she had died. I had recorded it from TCM over the weekend. At the time, we talked about her costar, Leslie Nielsen, and what a dashing leading man he made as Capt. J.J. Adams of the United Planets starship C57D, an obvious template for James T. Kirk. Neilsen died Nov. 28 of last year.

As I write this, Francis' official website is down, having been overloaded by visitors. Apparently she had used the site to keep fans updated about her battles with cancer. You might try it later, if you're curious.

She was also Emmy-nominated for her single-season role in 1965 as "Honey West," a noir detective who lost her clothes as she solved murder cases. And you might remember her from her Twilight Zone appearance in "The After Hours," in which the mannequins come alive after a store closes.

You can sign the online guestbook for Francis here.

Rest in peace, Ms. Francis.

Library art show pays tribute to Barbara Mulligan

2011-01-03T19:10:00.000-06:00

PANAMA CITY — Barbara Mulligan’s latest show will give you a glimpse into the natural world that she so loved — the wildlife and ecosystems of Bay County.

A talented and accomplished artist and writer, Barbara passed away on Aug. 28, at age 75, after succumbing to a brain tumor. But Barbara already had her next exhibit lined up, longtime friend Bettina Mead said.

“Well over a year ago, Barbara asked me if she could have the first show of 2011,” said Mead, who arranges events and art exhibits for the Bay County Public Library. “Naturally, I said yes. Of course, none of us knew at that time how tragic 2010 would be for her, her family and for all of us who loved and admired her.”

The show Barbara wanted to display was her “Bay Windows” series, a collection of art that was first presented in the state Capitol while Jeb Bush was governor. The work on the series was begun in the fall of 2003, and the show was hung in the Cabinet Meeting Room in Tallahassee from May 22 to Sept. 8, 2006.

The official opening will be Tuesday from 5:30 to 7 p.m., at the new Bay County Public Library, 898 W. 11th St. in Panama City. The show will hang there through Feb. 5. The event and viewing are free to the public. For more information, call 850-522-2120 or e-mail bmead@nwrls.com

Mead said she was hoping for a good turnout for the opening ceremony.

“Her family is so pleased that we are having the show per her wishes,” she said.

In a written description of the Bay Windows series, Barbara explained how she wanted to create a “stained glass” look for the work, first carving woodblocks that were printed onto watercolor paper. She also used custom frames to resemble old window sashes. The paintings were mounted on mat board and sealed against double-strength window glass.

“A ‘clear glass’ window pane was left in the lower half of the work to create a ‘view’ of a scene one might see in Bay County,” she wrote.

It’s also a view into the heart and soul of a mature talent, nonetheless taken too soon.

Peace.

-----
(This was my "Undercurrents" column for The News Herald on Jan. 2, 2011.)

A VERY ZOMBIE HOLIDAY (Instructional video)

2010-12-27T14:59:00.000-06:00

It really is a 'Wonderful Life'

2010-12-25T11:41:00.001-06:00

Among the holiday traditions at the Simmons compound is sitting down with some hot cocoa to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life.” (Though it’s also true my kids actually gather to watch my eyes mysteriously water at various times throughout the movie.)

The tale of George Bailey, a good hearted man who sacrifices his dreams to make life richer for others, is a true American classic. If Jimmy Stewart had never made another movie, his name would be cemented in film history for the humanity and desperation he brought to this role.

George does the right thing, even when it means foregoing his own desires, and his seeming reward for this is to find himself facing prison, financial disaster and humiliation for his family because of another man’s evil deed. Mr. Potter tells George he’s worth more dead than alive, and in that moment of hopelessness, George believes the lie. He thinks his family and friends would be better off without him, and that his insurance policy is all there is of value about him.

He wishes he had never been born.

George is blessed to see the world as it would have been without him in it. He learns how even his slightest remarks and actions made a difference in someone’s life, and they in turn enriched his world. The lesson being, a man of integrity and truth often interacts with others without even having to think about it, and may never understand the impact he can have on others — or how that impact reverberates back into his own life.

Now, don’t get me wrong, but I think there are plenty of Mr. Potters whose absence would make (or would have made, in their day) a better place of this old world. And not just those that are or ought to be behind bars; there are multitudes behind desks or countertops, or behind the wheel of a car or a wall of lawyers or a legion of goons — who we’d never miss if they disappeared.

But that’s not what this movie is about: We never even see if Mr. Potter gets his just desserts (although a hilarious Saturday Night Live skit of the movie’s “alternate ending” shows the townspeople taking vengeance on Potter.)

This season, the movie resonates for different reasons. This has been a year of struggle, heartache and loss for many of us, and we may wonder what good it does to keep up the fight. What you may not see in that darkest hour is how many lives you actually touch, or have touched in your time — or those you will affect as you continue. The payoff may not be what you expect. In fact, it probably won’t be.

But don’t give up. It really is a wonderful life.

Peace.

(Originally posted on my Freedom blog on Dec. 19, 2008.)

Even better than the real thing

2010-12-24T23:37:00.000-06:00

(This was my 'Catch a Rave' column for Dec. 15, 1996.)

The man was trapped: a miserable creature facing one of the most difficult actions of his miserable existence.

The boy, age 8, was unwavering. He had his suspicions, of course. He was old enough to have accumulated his share of cynicsm, but somewhere deep in his little heart a glimmer of hope held forth that he wouldn't get the answer he expected.

The hope was not to be:

"It's true," the old man said at last. "He's not real."

The glimmer died, but somehow the boy understood something even more important: All those years that Santa had brought the best-ever presents and his folks had disappointed him by giving him clothes -- it had been them all along who filled both his needs and his holiday fantasies. He could accept that.

***

That's not the way it happened, though that's the way it should have been. Instead, it happened because someone in the neighborhood broke into the home of the boy's grandmother and stole the Christmas toys his parents had hidden in Grandma's utility room.

The theft was not discovered until late on Christmas Eve, and 20-some years ago in rural northwest Florida, there was no 24-hour discount store where the distraught parents could rush to replace puloined presents.

Instead, the parents got up very early on Christmas morning and made breakfast and waited for the kids to awaken. And when the children rushed down the hallway to see the mostly empty living room where they had expected to find scatterings of Christmas delights, the parents picked them up and held them and told them what had happened and promised to take them shopping to pick out their very own presents.

The kids didn't cry -- not even the boy's 5-year-old little sister. Somehow, knowing that their parents had been the source of their past Christmas joys helped them to see beyond the morning's disappointments.

That -- and the possibilities raised by the thought of shopping with parents riddled by guilt.

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, lala!

---

Merry Christmas!

Ho, ho, ho ... and feeling the lowest of the low

2010-12-20T12:59:00.000-06:00

(The following was my 'Catch a Rave' column for Dec. 21, 1997.)

I am the lowest of the low, the blind albino worm that crawls in the silt under the slime at the bottom of the deepest, darkest cave. And yet, in doing the thing that made me feel this low, I know I was doing the right thing.

My 9-year-old son (who asked to remain anonymous when he learned I would be sharing this story with the rest of the planet) had been asking questions about THE TRUTH for weeks, off and on.

Questions like, "Do you really believe in him?" and, "Does he really live at the North Pole?" and, "Maybe it's not really Santa who brings the toys, maybe it's God."

And so I asked him if he knew THE TRUTH. Yes, he said.

He said YES.

I asked him how it made him feel. Okay, he said.

He said OKAY.

Lulled into a false sense of relief that he had only been pumping me to see how long I would hold out, I tried to talk to him about how he felt. figuring that somebody at school had already dashed his holiday beliefs, I told him how I had found out THE TRUTH.

Terror dawned in his eyes. Blank, abject, world-shattering denial.

To say that he cried would be like saying that Hurricane Opal had been an autumn shower. He bawled, he snorted. He shook and gusted. He said, "I can't believe you're telling me this!"

And the terror came alive in me as well, as I realize that he did not, in fact, know THE TRUTH until I had told him.

I had shattered his faith. I had betrayed his trust. In one fell swoop, I had killed Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy like some kind of virus deadly only to fables and archetypes.

I am guilty. GUILTY, I tell you.

But after a minute or so of allowing me to console him -- and after my wife tried to convince him that this was all just a really bad joke on Daddy's part -- he suddenly realized that this TRUTH stuff might not be so bad.

After all, his little sister still doesn't know THE TRUTH, so he's still assured of getting gifts from the Big Red S -- and if he gets, in his words, "really crappy toys" from Santa this year, he'll,know who to blame.

Who says THE TRUTH will set you free?

'Salvage Santa' does what needs to be done

2010-12-19T11:22:00.002-06:00

The last thing I wanted to write about this week was anything more about the shooting at the Bay District School Board meeting on Tuesday. I wanted to write about Christmas.

But then district security chief Mike Jones, aka “Salvage Santa,” stopped by the office Friday to see one of his fans, Byron Smith. Byron’s mom works in the district office Mike protected from a gunman Tuesday, and she had told Mike that Byron was worried about him. Mike often joins Byron’s Kiwanis Club chapter for luncheons. They’re buds.

Mike had planned to spend the day with his family, but this was one side trip that needed to be done, he said. That’s Mike, as long as I’ve known him: Sees a need and does what he can.

Seeing them hug in the lobby was, for me, a moment about connections and family, and caring about your fellow human being — all of which describe the Salvage Santa program, which Mike said was upmost in his mind as the past days have unfolded.

We’ve all lived through the horror of the shooting in some way by now, seeing it replayed over and over again on video clips, presented in photos, analyzed in articles and talked about on TV and radio shows. For me, an added weird element is that I attended literally hundreds of meetings in that room, sitting in the media area and watching the podium from the same point of view those videos captured. It’s too easy to put myself in that place.

Indeed, most of us have cycled through the stages of grief over this. Here, it started with disbelief when a meeting in my boss’ office was interrupted with the words, “There’s a gunman in the School Board meeting and shots have been fired.” You know the rest of the story, in which district officials narrowly escaped death and Mike took down the gunman, who then shot himself.

But the story isn’t over yet, as it has affected Mike’s life outside his work. Monday, he’ll oversee a massive toy giveaway to children who are clients of Early Education and Care — the 27th year since he saw a need and did what had to be done.

When I spoke with Mike Friday morning, he looked tired. He said he’d had little sleep, and who could blame him — he’s still being asked to relive those hellish minutes and the final deadly seconds of the confrontation over and over again.

But he also has had to worry about Salvage Santa, which was hurting for support this year. Until Thursday evening, that is, when he went to shop for toys and donors who had seen him in action this week pressed cash and checks into his hands, more than tripling the money with which he had started the evening.

And then Friday, School Board member Ginger Littleton’s famous purse went up for sale on eBay with proceeds to go to Salvage Santa, and Schwinn called to promise him 500 bikes and helmets, and others called to talk about making large donations.

In this season of thanksgiving and hope, that’s about as good an outcome as anyone could ever imagine, and all because Mike did what needed to be done.

Peace.
---
(This was my Undercurrents column for Sunday, Dec. 19, 2010.)

Writing to a different beat

2010-12-18T12:37:00.000-06:00

(This was my 'School Daze' column for Dec. 17, 1997, back when I was the education reporter.)

Got a chance, this week past, to march to a different drum -- that is, I changed ``beats'' and chased crime stories for five days. School was out, after all, and our regular police reporter, Monica Scandlen, was out-of-country for the Christmas holidays.

I actually /volunteered/ for the duty. (It seemed like a good idea at the time. Go figure.)

And the week had its brighter moments. The cops, clerks and courthouse folks all were friendly and helpful. But overall, working the police beat — while vicariously exciting — wasn't nearly as positive an experience as covering education stories.

(Those among you who wish to do so may now say, ``Duh.'')

I listened to the police radio scanner late into the night -- lots of domestic violence calls, disturbances, drunk drivers, robberies large and small.

I visited the stations each day to peruse arrest reports, checked in at the courthouse to rifle first appearance papers, and reported to the county jail to examine the log book and inmate files. I bugged the investigators and information officers, and I ran out to accident scenes.

Yes, I got the opportunity to write about the theft of a giant fiberglass Santa Claus head and the stripper who found her work clothes stolen — you don't get stories like those very often.

But I also had to write about armed robberies, the sexual abuse of a child and the arrest of three high-schoolers for making and detonating a pipe bomb.

Beyond that, there were the numerous police incident reports we don't print, but which we are obligated to read in order to determine their status. Reports of boyfriends beating girlfriends with pool cues; of unemployed women writing bad checks to pay for groceries; of teen-age shoplifters and burglars and drug abusers and vandals.

(It's enough to make you believe the bad things you read in the papers.)

But those readers who think the media is full of too much ``negative'' reporting should know that the sad truth is it's actually worse out there than you may think. Much — indeed /most/ — of the crime news goes unreported, simply because we don't have the personnel or paper to cover all of it.

Of course, on the flipside of that: much of the news about local education — both good and bad — goes unreported for the same reason.

But let me tell you, on any given day I'd rather visit a school and interview bright teen-agers about their science projects, artwork or hopes for a happy future.

I'd rather see the gleam in a little girl's eye when new books are donated to her school or when someone recognizes her hard work.

Call me an optimist, but I'd even prefer to deal with School Board members and superintendents and district staff and teachers and other people in our school system — who, in most cases, are busily working to make tomorrow's citizens a little smarter and more successful — than to deal with those people in the criminal justice system who are busy cleaning up yesterday's failures.

Having said all that, let's get back to work.

Christmas wisdom: Can't buy happiness

2010-12-17T12:36:00.000-06:00

(This was a 'Bay Book' column for Dec. 22, 2000)

There once was a day when visions of sugarplums danced in children's heads at the thought of Christmas. But that was another world, another time.

Today, their vision is ruled by Tommy Hilfiger brand clothes and Razor brand scooters, by PlayStations and Pokemon and Poo-Chi, oh my — so much "newfangled stuff," as one woman at the Bay County Council on Aging Senior Center put it this week, that parents trip over the items cast aside after a few minutes' diversion.

It wasn't always like that.

"For Christmas when we were kids, we might get an orange, an apple and a peppermint stick - and we loved it," said Betty Moore, 74, of Panama City. "Our children get so much that they don't appreciate things."

Moore said girls growing up now couldn't live like she had to — bathing in a creek, using an outhouse, cooking on a wood stove.

"We lived. We didn't have anything but the simple things," said Anna Boyarski, 83, of Panama City. "Today, the kids don't really enjoy what they have. They have toys scattered from one end of the house to another, but they don't enjoy it."

Boyarski suspected that such conspicuous consumption leaves people even less satisfied by life than those who grew up without.

"Are people more happy these days than we were with the little we had? I don't think so," Boyarski said. "Everybody wants to have the best. Nobody is really satisfied. In those days, they were thankful for whatever they had. Families stayed together and today they're scattered."

Hal Coggin, 81, of Panama City, said dissatisfaction would follow today's adults and children into their senior years.

"I think we, as seniors, enjoy life more than a young person will when they get to our age because they don't know what to do or how to appreciate stuff," he said.

"You can't buy friendship, and you can't buy happiness."

Peace.

Other side of parade exhilarating

2010-12-16T12:31:00.000-06:00

(This was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 15, 2002)

We ran out of trinkets too soon, which may have made some kids on the sidelines feel slighted but probably saved those of us "walking" beside the News Herald truck from falling dead of heart failure.

From the southern tip of Harrison Avenue to the intersection with Seventh Street, we had run back and forth between a garland-bedecked pickup and the crowded sidewalks, handing out newspapers and candy and goodie bags.

The truck managed to stay a half-block ahead of us, making us jog to catch up. Until, that is, the supplies ran out and all we had left to share was our spirit. We walked and waved and danced and shouted greetings. We shook hands and exchanged hugs with those who called out to us. We sang along to Joy to the World.

It was pretty cool.

Dec. 7 marked my first time seeing the annual Panama City Christmas Parade from the inside-out, so to speak. Many a chilly Saturday evening in the Christmas season, I've enjoyed watching from the sidelines - reining in my children as they scrambled for candy, or videotaping or photographing the proceedings.

It was always fun to see people that I knew as they passed in the parade, silly grins pasted on their faces. I'd shout their names and sometimes they would even hear me through the noise of the crowd. We'd share a wave and smile, a moment of connection.

I never realized how much fun they were having.

Maybe not the band members, as they concentrated on their music and stayed in step. Of all those on parade, the musicians, baton twirlers and flag wavers probably have the hardest jobs. They can't afford distraction at the wrong moment or a tuba player might swallow an errant baton.

But the rest of them - driving their tricked-out cars, sitting on floats and waving, or just walking along and handing out candy (no throwing allowed) - the rest of them were just having fun.

They were soaking in the glimmer in little kids' eyes when a mint was dropped in tiny gloved hands. They were basking in a cheer from a halfdozen kids shouting "Merry Christmas!" back at them. They were enjoying the waves and the wishes, or surprise hugs from a cousin or an old friend they don't see often enough.

It wasn't the chill in the air that froze a silly grin on my face (or even the antics of the Pink Flamingo chapter of the Sweet Potato Queens on the float that trailed us).

It must have been some of that aforementioned "Joy to the World."

Peace.

Book Signings and PIZZA!

2010-12-16T00:05:00.000-06:00

My friend Michael Lister (whose new novel, The Body and Blood, I wrote about here, and reviewed here) has arranged a special Christmas party/pizza party/book signing/author gathering for this Saturday, and you're invited. Come out, have some pizza, meet some writers for a book signing, "and pick up great gifts for all the smart people on your list!" (Or so he said in a Facebook post.)

WHERE AND WHEN: Saturday, Dec. 18, 6 p.m. - 8 p.m. at Pizzeria Napoli in Springfield at the corner of Hwy 22 and U.S. Business 98.

Above: That's Michael and another artist/author friend, Dean Minton, at right in a photo from last year's Books Alive. Come out and meet us Saturday. The fiction is spicy and delicious, and the pizza will be good too.
Peace.

Bethel Village opens doors for the lost

2010-12-15T12:27:00.001-06:00

(This was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 7, 2008)

Not too long ago, Tia Tate said, she felt like she was coming apart at the seams.
“I was, you know, totally discombobulated,” she said. “Working, (I) had a semi-normal life, functional but dysfunctional, you know. Drugs, alcohol, just a lot of things going on that could have been a lot better. I knew God, but got away from Him in the midst of all of that madness.”

Tate, 39, is a resident of the Bethel Village women’s shelter operated by the Panama City Rescue Mission. She learned about the shelter through CARE (Chemical Addictions Recovery Effort), which also has a women’s program.

Now in its fifth year, Bethel is designed to serve single women and single mothers with small children. It helps them get their lives back together, said Rescue Mission director Rev. Billy Fox. (For more information, call 914-0533 or visit pcrmission.org)

Life at Bethel, with its Christianbased long-term residential recovery program, has helped Tate make sense of her life, she said.

“Bethel Village has really been a refuge for me,” she said. “I decided I wanted to change my life, a complete turnaround, not just get sober, but grounded with a foundation in a relationship with God. I knew in order to stay sober, I was going to need that foundation in my life.”

Tate spoke to me Wednesday morning amid the tinsel and lights and cheery holiday music of a crowded reception for the Festival of Trees, the annual fundraiser for Bethel Village at the Visual Arts Center of Northwest Florida.

Women wearing Christmas colors circulated through the galleries, admiring the decorated trees, gingerbread houses and wreaths donated by area clubs, businesses and individuals. They placed bids in a silent auction and sampled refreshments.

Tate was serving punch when we met. She wore a Santa cap and a ready smile.

She beamed as she talked about her children and how proud she is of their accomplishments. And she spoke without reservation about the obstacles she had faced and how doors had been opened for her since she came to Bethel. She has been writing music, she said, and the right people have heard it, and she’ll be recording it after she finishes the recovery program.

“God — it’s just another door He’s boomed down for me,” she said.

Peace.

At Christmas the best things in life are free

2010-12-14T12:25:00.001-06:00

(This was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 13, 2009)

It’s a tight year, and the number of families or circle of friends is small that hasn’t had a discussion about limiting Christmas spending or foregoing gifts altogether.
Fortunately, the best things in life are free, and there are lots of ways to give something meaningful without spending a fortune. Here are just a few suggestions:

Copy some old photos. You can put them in a scrapbook, or an album, or a shoebox — when you’re dealing in memories, the packaging isn’t that important. You can also create an online album and e-mail a link to those who would enjoy having these photos; be sure the images can be copied and saved at a good resolution, in case someone wants to print them.

Volunteer time and effort. Rake someone’s yard. Clean out their gutters. Fix a leaking faucet.

Share family recipes. One of the best parts of our Thanksgiving feast this year was enjoying the distinctive flavor of my grandma’s chocolate pie. She’s been gone for more than a year now, and it was wonderful to find that a cousin, Eric, had managed to get her “secret” recipe by cooking with her in the year before her death.

It brought her close in our memories — and the process of making the pies made us realize how hard she had worked all those years to give us those tasty memories.

Give away some of your favorite books or movies. This sounds crazy coming from me (I’m something of a hoarder when it comes to books, especially.) But unless you’re going to pass it on to your heirs, or you plan to read it or watch it again, why not share the joy with a friend or loved one? Give it with a card or note that explains why it’s important to you, and why the recipient is important to you, too.

Host a get-together. Opening your home to friends and family can be a chore to prepare, but it is also a blessing. Give the gift of sanctuary. Have everyone bring a favorite dish (and maybe a wrapped book or other personal treasure for a blind exchange).

Take a “Help Portrait” (as seen at help-portrait. com). It’s simple: Find someone in need; take their portrait; print out the portrait; give it to them. This is about giving pictures, not taking them. Rope some folks into participating along with you, or do this as your gift to them. (Official Help Portrait Day was Saturday, but that shouldn’t stop you from doing one later.)

The important thing is to share the joy, right? Isn’t that the reason for the season?

Peace.

Parade puts the redneck back in Christmas

2010-12-13T17:24:00.000-06:00

(This was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 20, 2009)

Antlers were everywhere: mounted on floats, on the grills of trucks pulling trailers, on ropes slung around the necks of children, on the headgear of passing dogs and donkeys – even on the target deer strung from a pole and “gutted” at the front of a boat being used as a parade float. It had a red nose, this deer, and red streamers spilled from its belly.
It wasn’t something you would have seen at the Panama City Jaycees Christmas Parade, which we had missed this year for the first time in a decade or more. Little on display at the annual Chumuckla Redneck Christmas Parade was (as you can see in photos on my blog at newsherald.com).

Thousands showed up at the country crossroads that marks a main artery through the unincorporated farming community a short drive north of Pace in Santa Rosa County. They gathered along County 197 last Sunday, and the rain held off long enough for the hour-long procession and then some.

Slow moving tractors, mud-covered pickups, stock cars, horses, buggies, 18-wheelers, four-wheelers and more eased through the puddles. On display were Confederate flags, comically misspelled signs, granny panties with the words “naughty” or “nice” written on them, garlands of beer cans and trees decorated with beer cans. One float had a tent marked “redneck resort,” a couple more featured girls in tree stands, and a couple of others led with bearded Santas in camo sitting on old toilets instead of “thrones.”

Costumes included wigs, caps of every condition, boots, fake “hillbilly” teeth, and camouflage — lots and lots of camo. Men carried spit cups. Some played musical instruments made of bed pans.

The riders threw Mardi Gras beads, Twinkies, packs of crackers, Slim Jims, Skoal cans, chicken feed, pecans wrapped in foil, novelty toys and other things — including actual candy. One float passed with a barbecue grill smoking, and a woman launched chicken hot off the grill into the crowd.

The parade was the climax of a weekend festival that included fishing games, a mullet toss and “cow patty bingo.” Everyone had a great time, laughing at themselves and the cultural stereotypes — and no doubt thumbing their noses at anyone who just isn’t in on the joke.

As a famous redneck once said, “I don’t care who ya are, that’s funny right there.”

Peace.

Joy Playground dedicated

2010-12-12T14:34:00.000-06:00

SPRINGFIELD — After the prayers of thanksgiving were offered and the blue ribbon surrounding the playground equipment was cut, the church courtyard filled with the sounds of happy children playing — swinging, climbing, sliding, laughing and shouting.

Springfield United Methodist Church, 701 School Ave., dedicated last Sunday a newly renovated playground area to the memory of former parishioner Marisa Joy Williams.

“She enjoyed being a kid, and so I’m hoping all of these children that came to the playground will get that joy and be able to spread it around,” said Marisa’s mother, Donna Williams, after she and husband Charles Williams cut the ribbon.

A 2006 graduate of Bay High School and 2007 alumnus of Gulf Coast Community College, Marisa died on Feb. 23, 2008 in a single car accident on Interstate 75. She was 18.

Marisa’s family attends Springfield Methodist, which raised about $15,000 and built the playground to create a space that honors her namesake joie de vivre. Many volunteers and church members committed time and money to the effort.

“When we did lose Marisa, Charles’ family wanted to do something to memorialize Marisa and wonderful heart that she had and the wonderful love that she had,” said Kevin Oakes, from the church. “And we took that on board as a church, and we considered and we prayed, and we said, ‘What would be appropriate for that?’”

The playground is the latest in a series of memorial expressions of love for Marisa that are having a positive impact on the community. Earlier this year, an endowed scholarship was established at GCCC by family and friends who began making art via “Project Joy Boots” and holding auctions and sales in the months following Marisa’s death. The scholarship will go toward the fees of technical theater students each term.

Meanwhile, in a covered space beside the play area, the church will install a brass plaque with Marisa’s photo engraved on it. The marker reads: “Joy Playground — This playground is dedicated to the loving memory of Marisa Joy Williams. May those who play here be blessed with the same joy that filled her heart.”

Peace.

This was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 12.

Weekend Update: Savings, new Anthology info, and Music!

2010-12-11T22:11:00.000-06:00

Quick one to catch up on some things:

BEST OF DAYS
You can get free shipping on my short story collection 'The Best of Days' through Dec. 19 with coupon code HOLIDAY305. OR you can discover a new way to save on you order every day this month by going here, where there are different coupon codes every day. (Today's special -- Dec. 11 -- is 10 percent off your purchase.)

DARK THINGS
My story, "Til the End of the Road" is the penultimate tale in the new horror anthology "Dark Things V" from Pill Hill Press, edited by Jessy Marie Roberts. "Embrace your dark side with this eclectic collection of horror stories. Missing children, closet monsters, ghoul men and strange keys; alien abductions, body collectors and demonic possession. Frightening fits of rage and terror are soaked into every page."

Tomorrow: My Undercurrents column takes you to last Sunday's dedication of Joy Playground, complete with video.

Meanwhile, I hope you've been enjoying revisiting Christmas Past on the blog this month. I have a few more yet to come. But first, let's share a Christmas song like you've never heard it before:

‘Nutcracker’ has proved irresistible

2010-12-11T12:45:00.002-06:00

One of my earliest Christmas memories is watching a television program with my mother — a musical presentation of The Nutcracker, which is rendered in my recollection in glorious fuzzy black-andwhite, though we may have had a color TV at the time.

(I’m sure I recall watching Star Trek during that same era in color.)

The particular images that linger from that night’s show are of the young heroine being forcibly separated from her heroic prince by the evil mice; the prince leaping and swinging his wide scimitar to scatter the wicked rodents; and, yes, the scores of beautiful, synchronized dancing women.

Who could say no to sugarplum fairies?

Apparently, there were some who could. Critics hated The Nutcracker ballet when it debuted in 1892. Its creator, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, (already renowned for his Swan Lake in 1877) wrote friends that "the periodicals" were "carving up" his new creation like a Christmas duck.

Here’s an excerpt from one of the ballet’s first reviews (Dec. 8, 1892), as quoted on the Web site www.nutcracker.com: "The Nutcracker cannot in any event be called a ballet … the production of such ‘spectacles’ is an insult. ... God grant that similar failed experiments do not happen often."

Thank goodness that newspaper writers aren’t the sole arbiters of good taste and cultural refinement, and that clearer-headed audiences continued to support the ballet.

The St. Petersburg Classic Russian Nutcracker will be presented Dec 18, 2010 (Sat) 7:30 PM at the Panama City Marina Civic Center, presented by Willis Ballet and featuring The Saint-Petersburg Classic Ballet Theatre of Marina Medvetskaya.

Then, Moscow Ballet's "GREAT RUSSIAN NUTCRACKER" will be Dec 29, 2010 (Wed) 7:30 PM at the Marina Civic Center, with director Vladimir Troschenko and principal dancers Cristina & Alexi Terentieva. This "spectacle" will feature several vignettes with local children who have practiced for their roles at area dance academies. Tour officials say that, over the course of their various tours, they have given more than 45,000 children a chance to perform with a professional production.

That’s a lot of sugarplum fairies — and full-color Christmas memories.

Peace.

(The preceding was originally written in advance of a Nutcracker performance in 2004 and was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 4 of that year. It has been edited to include updated performance information.)

Suffer not the little children

2010-12-10T12:42:00.003-06:00

Bailey went to see Santa Claus on Tuesday night.

The 4-year-old girl had been excited all day, even though she had just seen Santa at her church preschool only the week before. It’s not like you can get too much Santa Claus this time of year, though.

She had posed for a photo with him that day, too — she had sat on one of his knees and her best friend, Haley, had perched on his other knee. (They had suspected at first that he might not be the real Santa, but when their teacher pulled on his beard he said "Ouch," so they knew he was real!)

Tuesday, Bailey’s mother dressed her up for her visit to the mall in Pensacola, south of where they lived. She would sit on his knee again, tell him what she wanted for Christmas, and have her picture taken once more.

That morning, she played with Haley at preschool — just the two of them, so much to the exclusion of other children that Haley’s mother noticed and actually wondered if they would always be such fast friends.

And then Bailey went off to see Santa Claus. Her dad met them there and stayed behind to do some Christmas shopping when Bailey and her mother headed home.

Wednesday morning, Haley’s mother took Haley to preschool only to find that the preschool was closed. The teachers spoke to the parents, and the children were sent home. The parents were not sure what to say.

It seems that, at about the same time Bailey was whispering her secret wishes to a right jolly old elf on Tuesday evening, a man was having another drink at a watering hole north of Pensacola. He’d been drinking since noon.

At about the time Bailey and her mom left the mall on their way north and home, the man left the bar, headed south. He drove southward in the northbound lanes of a divided highway. He did not have his headlights turned on. It was nighttime.

Bailey died when the man’s car struck her mother’s car.

So on Wednesday morning, Bailey’s mother was conscious and in fair condition in a Pensacola hospital. So was her 1-year-old sister, Abigail, who was also in the car.

And Haley’s mother was trying to figure out how to tell a 4-yearold that her best friend was dead and what that meant — how to keep Santa Claus out of it — how to get through the morning without just holding her daughter and crying and not ever leaving the house again.

Because it wasn’t just Santa Claus that Bailey went to see on Tuesday, and it was Bailey they never would see again.

Peace.

(The preceding was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 19, 2004.)

Christmas angels get water wings

2010-12-09T12:36:00.002-06:00

(The following was my Undercurrents column for Dec. 17, 2006.)

Pardon me for being blunt, but part of the little boy’s brain was missing.
I mean, I can only surmise that condition because of the shape of his skull — concave on the right, like a grassy hillside where the earth below has been eroded and the surface collapses into the new shape.

He was happy, and he told me so, in words as well as the grin that spread across his face. Floating in the swimming pool at Gulf Coast Community College, the child splashed and kicked with the help of a man who supported him in the water.

And he was surrounded by other disabled children, who squealed and giggled with the adults who helped them enjoy the college pool. They tossed balls and brightly colored noodles and splashed water in each other’s faces.

I looked and saw. I listened and heard. I felt it in the center of my chest.

This was a happy place and time, where kids felt released from the limitations with which they’d been born or into which circumstance had rendered them. For an hour last Wednesday, they were free.

The children had entered the natatorium confined to wheelchairs or walking with the aid of teachers, parents and volunteers. They soon were liberated from the bonds of gravity, buoyed by the warm water and the full attention of their helpers. Lifeguards stood by just in case.

The noise of laughter, shouts of joy and splashing built to a roar. I asked people to step outside for interviews because of the cacophony. Outside the building, a grown man tried not to cry when he talked about the importance of this day. I understood what he was saying, even when words failed.

For 15 years, the college has hosted an annual Christmas swimming party for disabled students from Springfield Elementary School. I hadn’t been here in a while, as my duties changed over the years, and I was glad to have returned.

I first covered the event in 1995, its fourth year. GCCC President Bob McSpadden had to sit out the fun that year because of surgery on his arm. This year, as McSpadden faces his upcoming retirement, it was a leg problem that kept him out of the pool. Most Christmases, you could find him in the middle of it.

“This is when Christmas really starts for us,” McSpadden said that first time I visited. “This is what sets the mood.”

For about 20 children — and as many adults — Wednesday’s party set a mood of comfort and joy.

Peace.

I imagine you may say I’m a dreamer

2010-12-08T23:09:00.000-06:00

I can only imagine why he mattered to me.

I was too young for the Beatles — not yet born when they first visited America and not yet 6 years old when they broke up. Too young for Working Class Hero or Give Peace a Chance to mean anything when they were new.

But even as a kid, Imagine was a song that captured me.

I recall waking up that morning of Dec. 9, 1980, to the clock radio playing that song, one of my favorites, and wondering why that particular song was on the radio. I was pleased; you seldom heard it on the radio, and it was weird to hear it playing, especially since Lennon had recently released a new single.

But then the announcer came on, very quietly, and said John Lennon had died last night, Dec. 8, shot in front of his New York City home, and the suspect was in custody. He repeated that officials were saying Lennon had been pronounced dead at the hospital of gunshot wounds. Details were still sketchy at that early hour.

If a 16-year-old cried, you could forgive him that.

Maddening, though, was that the other kids at school that day thought it only a passing curiosity, this news of a celebrity’s murder. So what? He was in that band back in the ’60s, right? Just another famous dead guy. It wasn’t the first time I knew they weren’t like me.

Maybe it was all those darn 8-tracks.

When I was 12, I earned money by cutting lawns in the neighborhood, and used the money to purchase (on time) an 8-track player at the Flomaton, Ala., Western Auto. My uncle Joe gave me all of his 8-tracks when he upgraded to cassettes, and several of those were Beatles albums. That meant that most of my collection was comprised of the Beatles. So I listened, and learned and sang along.

Revolution No. 9, Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, Yellow Submarine, Julia, Blackbird.

Happiness is a Warm Gun.

Lennon was no saint, according to various accounts. He was as unlikable in many ways as any human being can be, particularly one with an artistic streak.

But that’s for folks who knew him to work out — the rest of us only have his music.

From this same era, an episode of WKRP in Cincinnati echoes in my memory because of how it used the lyrics of Imagine to expose how a would-be censor used religious fundamentalism for personal power. The song doesn’t ask for a world with no heaven or hell, you see. It just asks you to try to imagine a world like that.

Imagine living life in peace. Above us only sky.

In a world where Mick Jagger continues to strut on stage and Paul McCartney still rocks, Elton John tours and David Bowie reinvents himself, you have to wonder what Lennon would be doing now, 25 years later.

Imagine.

Imagine a world where peaceful folk aren’t murdered for no reason at all.

It’s easy if you try.

~
(This was my Undercurrents column five years ago, Dec. 4, 2005, on the Sunday before the 25th anniversary of Lennon's death. I repost it tonight on the 30th anniversary.)
~
Peace.

It’s beginning to sound a lot like Christmas

2010-12-08T12:31:00.003-06:00

(The following was my Undercurrents column for December 2, 2007.)

Music is a marvelous timetravel device. In a few notes, it can transport you to a specific place and era, resurrect all the minute sensory data you thought you’d forgotten and evoke the emotions related to those old memories. Christmas music seems especially effective for conjuring specific moments in life. These are the songs and the singers that take me back:

Gene Autry singing “Rudolph,” “Up on the Housetop,” or “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Suddenly, I’m 4 or 5, and we live in a little wooden house in Century. Santa brings me

Matt Mason astronaut toys, Hot Wheels and a cowboy dress-up set. There’s a gas heater in the living room and “Lassie” on the TV.

Judy Garland singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I’m at Grandma Massey’s house, 5 or 6 years old. I get a Batman play set, and I’m on the carpet with Uncle Joe, who’s playing the role of the villains attacking the Batcave. There’s a scent of evergreen and cakes. Later, I see the TV reports about Santa being tracked by NORAD.

The Ray Conniff Singers. A staple of holiday music throughout my life, hearing them makes me think of baking and decorating sugar cookies with my mom and sister. We’re not yet teens. Mom has a sugar-frosting recipe like no one else.

Just about any of the Carpenters’ Christmas songs. Hear them again and I’m newly married, and we live in a two-room cottage in Gainesville. It’s a cold winter. We use the stove to warm the place each morning because we have no heat. No money either, so we spend the weeks prior to Christmas window shopping for each other and listening to the few cassette tapes we have, including “Christmas Portrait.”

The Partridge Family singing “My Christmas Card to You.” I’m 6 or 7, and I think Joe gave me this record. I join the Partridge Family fan club, using a card that came with the album. I like zipper-front shirts and think Bobby Sherman is cooler than David Cassidy. I have a Bobby Sherman lunch box, which will be replaced by a UFO lunchbox next year.

These days, I play this on CD. It irritates my daughter, or at least she claims it does. But I’ve also caught her singing, “To you and all your family, your neighbors and your friends …,” and I wonder what she will recall when she hears certain songs in Christmastimes to come.

Peace.