Christmas and the Holidays

As many of you know, I'm a pretty cynical guy. For a lot of years, I didn't care about the Christmas holiday, and felt that it was over-commercialized (it is!), with little remaining of its true meaning. The speculated birthdate of Christ is on the 25th of December, and should be a time of thanks, reflection, and family gatherings. For so long, I neglected to enjoy any of those things, but as I've aged and come to grips with my own mortality, my thoughts have shifted.


What is even more enjoyable is my family's desire to not have "stuff." Yes, we still exchange gifts, but they have evolved over time to meaningful items that carry with them an emotional value, as opposed to a monetary value. I much prefer a nice photo of my children and their families over other things, or handmade hats and scarves knitted with loving hands, rather than store-bought things.


I value Christmas now because of what it represents, AND what it has evolved into with my family. Getting together and laughing, spending time with one another, eating, and simply carrying on are the greatest gifts in my life. These are the things I have come to value much more so than anything else.


Over the past few weeks, I have had some life changing events transpire. This is what we call life, and learning to roll with the punches is a part of maturity. Appreciating the punches and jabs life throws at you can also be something that we welcome; detesting life's curveballs only serves to push us further into the abyss. So, during this Christmas holiday season, I will be thankful for everything I have and everything I've received, even the not-so-good-stuff, because it all serves a purpose in this old world.


I hope and pray you all have a glorious Christmas season and 2019 brings you each happiness, and whatever you define as prosperity. Having a ton of money doesn't necessarily bring either one of those things, but maintaining a well-oiled sense of self and family will!


Be glorious to one another, hug and love your family (even the family you don't like), and enjoy this holy season.


Merry Christmas!

Time to Consider

I am at a crossroad insofar as my blog is concerned. I use it to convey thoughts, plans, happenings--it is a virtual stream of consciousness that I have enjoyed penning for a few years now. Unfortunately, social media has decided that the content isn't worthy of distribution, or perhaps my readership is such that they want "their cut." I suspect the latter, but that isn't the point of this entry.

Over the past several days, I have considered discontinuing my blog. Since it doesn't seem to be in the best financial interest of the Facebook or Google gods, perhaps it's time I move on to a different form of communication?

I realize this is the second time I've posted about the reverse engine going on with this blog. Understand, I have access to the analytics and can easily see how many page views it is getting, as well as countries it is read in, and upon what devices you are viewing it. No, I have no idea who is using an Android or an iPhone, but it does give me a quantitative number of devices by which the blog is read. It also details the number and type of operating system used to read it. Interesting, huh?

The most important stat of late, though, is the total page views globally. Previous entries have garnered thousands of views--then all of a sudden a hundred or less. I considered the content being produced for my readers, but I have been pretty consistent over the years of being inconsistent regarding topics. What, then, could it be?

Simple deduction tells me that the throttling of my blog (and similar experiences have been logged by many friends attempting to communicate to a broad group of individuals across the web) have coincided with Facebook's sudden financial plunge. Look, I'm a business guy and I understand revenue generation, but to do it on the very backs of those supporting your platform isn't the smartest business plan in the world if you ask me!

So, I am back to my earlier conundrum--do I continue this thing or not? Do you have thoughts on content that you would enjoy reading? I try to keep this relatively light, but would consider much headier topics if demand were high enough to warrant it.

I'm going to give it a few more days and think about it a bit more. The future of this blog is in the various social media outlet's hands. We'll see what they (and you) decide.

Throttling it Back!

I will continue writing about Facebook's practice of unsubstantiated and punitive punishment of anyone they feel threatens their profiteering platform. Facebook--a social media interface created by a pimple faced Harvard kid in order to rate how hot chicks were. Yeah, that's how it got started. Read about it here.

Once it went public, stock holders demanded more profit. Stakeholders, in conjunction with founder Mark Zuckerberg created ad spaces for prospective businesses to share advertisements with members. Their lust for Uncle Sam's fine green currency would never be sated, however. In fact, as artificial intelligence took on a more expanded role, Facebook went after small businesses and people like myself-bloggers who managed some modicum of success. What did they do? They throttled back readership/viewership.

No matter if I tag someone, Facebook will likely not allow you (the owner of your personal page) to post it there. If you are like me, I control who posts what on my page. When someone attempts to post something there, I decide if it gets published. Unfortunately, if you have a successful blog, even if you allow it to be posted, Facebook will likely not allow for it to be posted.

Nice, huh?

Make no mistake: if I chose to pay Facebook to publish my blog to a much larger audience, it would do so without thought (artificial or real).

Now, this: I have spent money with them when I advertise my books. But my blog is free to anyone interested in reading it. I merely share my thoughts about whatever I feel like discussing, but no matter to the democrat-socialists on the left coast. If they don't like my content, or if I'm not paying them, YOU are penalized!

I've always enjoyed the interaction with everyone on my friend's list during the past ten years I've spent on the book of faces, but I must tell you, should this continue, I may just delete my page. It's frustrating to try to express myself, only to watch my readership go from thousands globally to less than two hundred nationally.

Disgusting behavior by you, Zuckerberg--even by your own "community standards."

The Rally--Please Read

I get it--we are a politically polarized nation. We are democrat and republican flavored ice cream with sprinkles of fence riders (did I say that? I meant independents). Sometimes I wonder just how far apart we truly are in our beliefs, but so long as we allow the media, and social media, to pave the proverbial narrative, we'll continue to barb, jab, punch, and call each other names.

Regardless of how you feel about any candidate, getting involved in the political process is exhilarating and informative. Make no mistake, my political motivation is of the extreme conservative nature. I like to think of myself as a Constitutionalist--and sometimes that it makes my life difficult when people say and do things I disagree with, but fall within those God-given rights penned by our Founding Fathers. I do not think, no, I know, The Constitution is a "living document" as liberals espouse; it is as it is written--the basis of our system of law and order.

Sunday, November 4th, 2018, I bore witness to the right to peacefully assemble. That's the First Amendment if you're keeping score. Tens of thousands of like-minded individuals held closely to that right and came together from near and far to hear the forty-fifth President of the United States speak. Forget the hyperbole, the political inferences, or even the fact that we are all about to head to the polls to exercise our right to vote and elect our public officials. What I would like for you all to understand is how this event transpired as I saw it, and to share in some of my experiences.

Renowned Atlanta radio talk show host (and personal friend), Shelley Wynter put together for his listeners an opportunity to ride together to Macon, Georgia to see and hear President Trump. For those unaware of Shelley, allow me the opportunity to introduce him: Shelley is a New York City born and bred conservative. He admits to being sucked in by the former President, who he voted for, but now clearly sees the nation as it should be. Shelley isn't politically correct and is heavily involved in educating the metropolitan area, and most importantly misguided black Americans, who may still be living, as he puts it, "on the plantation." This political speak for being lied to and still beholden to a political faction who uses people for its own power and political gain.

So, we met and bussed to Macon, Georgia. Fifteen of us to be exact. Of the fifteen, three were former New Yorkers, and two were black. We also had with us a Hispanic couple. You cannot imagine my exuberance!

We made the two hour trip and got in line around 11:00 AM. The event began at 4:00 PM, but already the vendors and visitors were lined up and ready! Once the gates opened at 1:00 PM, thousands of people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside. Let me restate that: people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside.

The short walk to the hangar found us between the Presidential podium and the backstage of fake news media. Har har har!

The good news was we arrived early enough to find a spot approximately thirty feet from the President gubernatorial candidate Kemp. Thousands upon thousands of people continued to funnel in until a spectacula

r portion of the tarmac was covered. The bad news? We could not leave to use the restroom for fear of losing our spots. Ah well, you win some, you lose some!

Music played, politicians spoke, and people cheered and cajoled on cue. We laughed and had a great time listening to President Trump, and aside from the multitude of races present, I would like to share something even more exciting: the place was covered with Millennials and Generation Z'ers! Not only were they paying attention, they were engaged.

I want to stop here to make a point: what we witnessed with President Trump's election was nothing short of miraculous and revolutionary. In my opinion, he is the greatest President of my lifetime, and I am a Ronald Regan fanatic. He says what he means, and he means what he says. And the greatest part of this refreshing leader? People from all walks of life are waking up and listening!

Get out and vote, America!

Tough Mudding

On the 20th of October, 2018, I checked another goal of mine off the list: a half-Mudder, or a five mile jaunt through excessively muddy hills, valleys, and wooded trails. This wasn't your typical Tough Mudder event where pools are dug to create obstacles, or walls are built in an effort to facilitate teamwork and camaraderie; on the contrary, God helped muddy the land further by having it rain the night before and the day of the event.


Here's a breakdown of the day's events and how I perceived them as I ran and trudged through mud and muck:


At the start line:


We stood as a singular group staring straight up a hill, which was the exact course we were to take. Maybe I should have down more up-hill/down-hill road work, I think to myself. The hill looked daunting and I immediately began questioning my cardiovascular conditioning. After topping the hill, I was correct in doing so. My lungs were promptly afire!


The one mile mark:


This wasn't too bad, at least after that first uphill jaunt we took at the start line. There's a chubby girl outpacing me, and I can't have chubby girls getting to the finish line before I do. Time to pick it up a bit!


Once I passed the one mile mark, I was feeling pretty good. My knees were in decent shape, I wasn't sweating profusely, but the rain was falling again like it did the night before. I passed the chubby girl up and smiled to myself. The guy running to my right gave me a I ain't getting passed by a chubby guy look. Damn him!


The two mile mark:


After the first mile, the trail took us into the woods, up and down small hills. The scenery was nice, but the trail was beaten to a mushy pit of mud and gunk, mixed with a large portion of sweat and despair. I slipped two or three times, almost falling, but managed to keep my footing through a very difficult part of the course.


This sucks!


I ran from the woods onto firmer ground and saw the two mile marker. Another smile crept across my face.


No Man's Land:


Just past the two mile marker, a large, muddy hill loomed in front of us. Behind me I heard screaming and calls for a medic. Someone fell and broke a leg. I hope it wasn't the chubby girl I passed earlier, elsewise I would feel horrible.


I begin the slow trek up the muddy hill. The footing is treacherous and slow. I watch as two or three people fall and tumble down the side of the steep clay terrain, while making a mental note to be careful.


At long last, I reached the precipice (if you can call it that) and began the arduous decent back to lower ground and firmer footing. The trail zig-zagged down the hill. I felt my right foot slip and widened my legs to create a stronger base. In an instant, both feet flew from under me and my left hand shot out in a senseless attempt to break my fall. I slammed to the ground, simultaneously driving my left hand and butt into the merciless ground. The pain was instantaneous. At different times in my life, I've had each shoulder operated on--the pain shooting through my rebuilt left shoulder is amazingly sickening. My stomach lurches, but worse yet, is the feeling that I ripped two inches of my anus into the next century.


Even though my shoulder was sending waves of agony to my brain, all I could think about was getting hauled out on a stretcher and having a couple honeymoon stitches literally placed in No Man's Land. Never mind dealing with the gloriously hilarious "friends" I have who follow me on social media; the thought of work-place retribution on Monday when my peers learned of my dilemma was enough to get me back on my feet and jogging again, despite my injuries.


Where is Mile Three?:


Either I passed it and didn't see it, or it was MIA. Either way, my aching shoulder and delicate starfish had me running like a cast member from The Walking Dead. I noticed other participants getting out of my way; it was probably the look of agony on my face, or quite possibly a fear of me biting them and turning them into an injured Tough Mudder zombie.


Mile Four:


After wading through some more sloppy mud, and belly crawling under another obstacle, I see the four mile marker. My aching anus wants nothing more than a cushioned donut to sit on, and my teeth get closer to my shoulder to begin the self-starter surgery process. I wanted to chew my own arm off, but the mile marker assured me I was close to the end.


My knees were now screaming at me, and I questioned what I was thinking by even showing up to this event. Dozens of young adults ran past me, some shooting sideways glances in wonder that the old injured guy was still in the game. If any of them had bumped into my shoulder or buttocks, I would have stomped them into one of the mud pits lining the running trail.


The End of the Line:


The last obstacle was called Electric Shock Therapy, or some such nonsense. A guy with a microphone was shaming people to run through it, and I figured what the hell, I'm already injured, so a little electric shock won't hurt. Right?


I enter the make shift structure with wires hanging from the overhead beams. The first one I encounter touches my head. I feel the rip in my anus seize up and my right knee buckled. Down into the mud-slop I fell. Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I stand up and catch another ten volts in my (thankfully) right shoulder. I stumble once more into the pit of despair wanting nothing more than to punch every living soul in my sight.


At last I emerge from the house of pain and cross the finish line. I'm hurt, I'm aching, my heart is pounding, but by God I finished.


I can't wait until next year!


P.S. My shoulder still hurts, but my anus was just in shock and, you'll be happy to know, uninjured.

Hanging out in Pittsburgh

Many who follow me on social media know I'm involved in the martial arts. It's a passion of mine--something that transcends what most believe to be a hobby. It's a part of who I am and how I think and act. And for the majority of my life, it's been exactly that to me--my go to, my happy place, my New York state of mind.

I also realize that the majority of folk who read my blog don't have a passing interest in the Okinawan or Japanese martial arts (what those of us in the trade refer to as budo), so I won't bore you with those details in this entry. I do, however, sometimes pen a martial arts blog, so if you'd like to read it, just let me know and I will include you in that particular distribution list one I write the next entry.

No, the purpose of this article isn't to reflect on the weekend's training, but to discuss one of my favorite topics--human interaction with people from different areas of the United States and Canada, as well as those with varying interests and political affiliations.

Before we traverse that glorious road, I want to first focus on this anomaly we call social media. On its surface, "places" like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and other such cyber locations offer us connections with those we otherwise would never have made. That side of the cyber world is wonderful.

The dirty side of social media is how we treat certain topics. We (most of us) tend to focus on singular topics and overplay them to the point of annoyance. A couple years ago, I came to terms with how I was doing that very thing. Yes, I engage in political dialogue on my Facebook page, and yes I love to discuss that very topic. But like martial arts, not everyone is interested in politics or my opinion of them. It took me a long time to realize that, because some people do enjoy that very thing, but I soon realized I was losing more friends than making them.

Losing friends to a given topic sometimes means they simply disagree completely with my political perspective, and other times it means they are just sick of reading the same old thing. Many times, though, they just aren't interested in reading about the very thing that inundates their lives every waking second.

What does any of that have to do with my trip to Pittsburgh this past weekend? Nothing, and a bunch! We gathered, almost sixty of us I think, to share and sweat together on the dojo floor. We learned from some of the best instructors I've had the pleasure to be around, and we shared some of our own knowledge when called upon to do so.

Here's the really interesting thing though--a few of us have had run-ins with one another on social media. One fellow in particular is a great guy, and one I've let go of on Facebook. Our politics don't mesh and we rub each other the wrong way on-line, so I figured it was better to let him go on social media in order to preserve a friendship. It worked too. He and I spent hours together training, telling jokes, and just generally cutting up. I love him to death, and I think he feels the same way.

Another fine gentleman blocked me on Facebook. We all had a good laugh about it too. He is a great guy, but we don't see eye to eye on politics. The lesson here is a great one, I believe: it's okay to spend real, human time together and be friends, than to force yourself to read someone else's opinions day-in and day-out that you don't necessarily agree with.

This past weekend was another great one! More memories made, tons of laughter, and just good old fashioned hard work on the dojo floor. For me, there are few things finer.

Love, peace, and chicken grease, y'all.

Is Open Dialogue Still a Thing?

Social media is the devil! With all the glorious connections it's brought to the world, its very existence has ushered in an inability for two humans to have a logical, polite conversation about ANYTHING. This is truly a sad time in our history, as colloquial as that may sound.


I have tried to temper my written tone. Although my dry, sarcastic, bombastic, and deplorable political perspective is gently and cerebrally strained like a house through a giant sinkhole in a Florida neighborhood, it often comes through as harsh and condescending. Yeah, chew and swallow on that simile for a few moments. 👀


Our emotions get this best of us when we engage in debate, whether the discussion be about religion, politics, sports, and now...social reform. I would go so far as to put each of these topics into one sports bucket; religion, politics, and social reform have all taken on similarities to beach volleyball. You know, we slap a topic back and forth until we find a weakness in our opponent's defenses, then we slam that thing into sand with all the ferociousness of an African lion assaulting a young zebra for his evening meal.


No longer are we capable of casual or intellectual discourse. In our wake of debate comes the win at all cost mentality. We do not seem physically able to shut our mouths for a few minutes while someone else shares an opinion. Becoming a better listener, even if you cannot be dissuaded, is a learned trait, and a gift from the hearing gods. Two ears, one mouth...you know the rest.


Don't get me wrong. I'm a practicing martial artist and a lover of all things boxing. The sweet science, as boxing is called, is a favorite of mine. Two men engaged in an act of pummeling one another into submission is my kind of entertainment. However, verbal sparring has lost its finesse, its suave, and its swagger.


Open debate is healthy and educational, but when you shut another person down, just because you can, you should ask yourself what you have accomplished. Was your goal to demonstrate your wonderfully acquired verbal skills, or was it to show another how attuned to a particular topic you are? Those of us who throw verbal jabs at others should consider the means to the end. The art of persuasion is subtle, yet strong. At its core, persuasive argument should give the individual you are arguing with some room to maneuver before you demonstrate your intellect and fact-finding skills.


Ultimately, if we find ourselves in political banter, we should keep in mind that we want to win a person to our side of the debate, rather than push them away. I am the first to admit that I fall victim to low-road verbal tete-a-tete, but I am working hard to overcome that character flaw. Let us work hard to position ourselves to win over an individual who may seem hard and politically sallow. Who knows, maybe we will find ourselves on the real winning side of debate?! 

Life's Totality in One Weekend

For a few months, Cathy and I planned on flying to Chicago's Midway Airport then driving to see our brand new granddaughter. As a part of this weekend's festivities, we would bear witness to her baptism followed by a joyful family gathering at our daughter and son-in-law's home.


As life would have it, we learned that a family friend was battling cancer. "The Big C," as many call it. She was initially diagnosed and told the cancer would not be problematic, but alas, she would soon be overcome by the deadly disease. It finally consumed her just before our trip to Chicago. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, our friend was from and lived in the Chi-town area. Our weekend took on several new meanings as a result...


Friday evening we would attend her wake. For my non-southern and non-Catholic friends, that's the viewing where family and friends go to pay their final respects. Saturday would be the day of the funeral, and finally, Sunday would be Maya's baptismal and subsequent celebration.


Everything went according to plan (except our delayed flight back to Atlanta, which, if you follow any of my posts about my own air travel you know delays are built into my traveling plans) and we found ourselves on a flight Sunday night heading home. Like a lot of people, I tend to look at life events in buckets: we live, we die and everything in between is a bonus. Except, this time, as we flew the hour and a half flight home, I had time to ponder what just happened the previous three days.


What we bore witness to was, what Walt Disney productions and the Lion King referred to as The Circle of Life. Right before our eyes, we saw the dead, and all around us we saw the dying (we, as a whole are living and dying in the same moment), and we witnessed what Christians see as a spiritual rebirth. This all happened in the span of three short days!


Oftentimes, we hear people saying things like "dust to dust," or you have "come full circle." Mostly, I look at euphemisms as trite and colloquial. This, however, was the epitome of full circle! The death of the elderly and the renewal of the young. And somewhere in between was/are the rest of us.


So, while we mourn the loss of a friend, and celebrate new life, it wasn't lost on me the inconceivable odds that I would live to see all of it transpire over a seventy-two hour period. I would like to point out that I don't believe in coincidence or luck, good or bad. In my mind, there are missed and taken opportunities. In this case though, I can't fathom the opportunity missed or taken that would have me in the same place for both the end and the beginning of life.


Thus it is, that I think we, Cathy, Abby, and I, were brought into that weekend for a specific reason. Perhaps it was to do exactly what I've outlined here: bear witness to both events. On a grander scale it is possible that we were brought together on that particular weekend to see and share life's tragedies and triumphs. Finally, it is plausible that God himself put us in that time and place to see the Alpha and Omega and share the fragility of life with anyone willing to listen.


I don't pretend to know the answer to any of this, but I suspect there is something bigger than any of us at play. There is, as I stated, a beginning and an end, and all the stuff in between. The crème inside the Oreo, or books inside the bookends is how I see it. How we live and what we do with that stuff is up to us, but know that we all have faced a beginning, and all walk around decaying until our final moment. What we do and how treat one another is what matters, and how we perceive the unlikeliest of events will help guide us.


Live well!

The Interesting Thing About a Football Game

It's no secret I am passionate about college football, most especially the reigning national champions, The University of Alabama. Hey, I've been a fan since I was old enough to say "football," so don't throw the bandwagon moniker at me. My old F-150 has been a part of my life since the Mike Shula days, and the faded Bama banner that covers the back window was put on during his tenure at head coach, a couple years prior to Coach Saban's arrival.

That said, Cathy and I ventured down to Orlando, Florida to witness Alabama's opening game against the University of Louisville. Granted, there wasn't much fanfare about the opposing team; their previous Heisman winner has since entered the NFL and is making millions of dollars as a result. The guy was a great collegiate quarterback, but his replacement is a wonderful athlete in his own right.

On the contrary, the hub-bub surrounded which quarterback would earn the starting role with Alabama. It's been debated since the last national championship when a second stringer entered the game to beat the University of Georgia in a thrilling overtime victory. As tough as the decision was for Coach Saban, it was settled Saturday night.

It was interesting, as we sat in Camping World Stadium in Orlando that so many people can come together in the spirit of gamesmanship and sportsmanship to cheer for their team. We sat immediately adjacent to the Louisville fanbase and the school's band. Surrounding using Louisville took. Hey, no one really expected less, right?

What struck me as I sat there, however, was that everyone watching that game came from different walks of life. Different races were represented, and you can believe different political points of view were there to witness a ballgame. No one talked about the upcoming Supreme Court hearings, what was happening with the economy, large corporations, or international issues. We all gathered to watch finely tuned athletes play a game, and for four hours that's exactly what we did.

See, that's what entertainment is supposed to do--it's designed to take us away from the mundane and the real and put us in a place where we are just thousands of people sitting together cheering and jeering. That's fun, it's human, and it's as it should be.

It was an ugly night for Cardinal fans, but the ones I interacted with seemed to still have a good time. After all, we were in Orlando--the happiest place on earth according to some. A monsoon-like rain hit us just a few minutes before the game, but it didn't dampen the spirits of the fans. We were just a bunch of adults acting like kids enjoying a game played by kids. And for a few hours, we suspended our reality to just have fun.

Summer Thanks

This Summer has been a whirlwind for those of us in my home! I watched with both pride and sadness as my youngest daughter climbed on the shuttle to Montgomery, AL to be processed into the United States Army, then just like that we were driving to Ft. Sill, Oklahoma to watch her graduate basic training. What an honor that was. Hooah!


My third book, a short treatise of conversations with our ten pound dog Rex entitled (click the title if you are interested in purchasing a copy) My Dog's P.O.V. and How He Sees the World, was released. As always, thanks to Y-O-U, Mr./Ms./Mrs. Reader for supporting my writing habit and providing so much excellent feedback. Your reviews have humbled me, and that's just not an easy thing to do. :)


The third and fourth Bill Evers books are underway (one of them is a collaborative effort!). Writing action/adventure novels is my passion, and completing one brings me a sense of accomplishment like few other things I have achieved in my life. Again, thank you to everyone who supports this strange affliction I have; sitting in front of a monitor and keyboard for countless hours seems ridiculous, right up to the moment a proof copy of a book is in my hands. It is at that time I realize an overwhelming desire to continue the process so many writers refer to as "the craft."


I accidentally signed up for a five mile obstacle course to be held in October. Obviously, alcohol should never be mixed when signing up for healthy endeavors or sporting activities. I have been pounding away trying to be just fit enough so as to avoid embarrassing myself at the event. So far, so good--y'all just throw up a prayer for me every now and again if you would.


With much excitement, I have watched some of my karate students grow and mature over the summer. Those who practice are making great strides in their personal development. As a teacher, this makes me happy and drives me to continue teaching.


Just recently, Cathy and I ventured to Las Vegas, Nevada where my old friends Robyn, Tommy, and Ricky Rhinehart met me for dinner on Freemont Street. I mention Freemont Street because if you have never walked it, you should...without your kids...or parents. Debauchery notwithstanding, it was wonderful to see my friends again. Doing so somehow restores my faith in humanity. There are still good people in the world!

This Fall promises a lot more action and travel. I am looking forward to what the immediate future holds and can't wait to get "there."


Love, peace, and bacon grease,


~h

Human Interaction Is Everything and I Have Proof!

The Interwebs and social media make being a keyboard warrior easy in every imaginable way. 99.999999999% of the time, there is no accountability or consequences for the things people write or post online, as they peck away on their phones or laptops in the safety of their own homes. This social separation, because that is what it really is, has opened the door to hate on a disproportionate scale.


Everyone has a voice; everyone has an opinion. No matter how factually incorrect something may be, it has little bearing on a person's willingness and ability to send it out to the world. Doing so only drives more of a divide, because, again, there are no consequences to speak of for doing it.


"But, Howard--you can always unfriend someone, or stop following them if they do that," someone may argue.


True, but their remark/post is still out there, and without fail it won't be removed because their "opinion is just as important as anyone else's."


This flawed logic notwithstanding, it is easy to see why society is in disarray. There is so little human interaction anymore. Even when we are with people, we are disconnected from them and attached to our mobile devices. As such, I have begun calling the networking sites, "unsocial media," because I feel that is a more accurate portrayal of what they have morphed into over the past decade.


This past weekend, I had the most excellent fortune to meet and see people on a human level. For weeks leading up to Saturday's event, I advertised my book signing for locals in my area to come see me and other local authors at a bookstore in Albertville, Alabama. The turn-out was 100 times what I was expecting. After all, I am just a guy from a small town in Alabama who enjoys writing. I am no one special, but I do get a certain satisfaction knowing my work may touch someone in a positive way.


People came from near and far; one drove all the way from Panama City Beach, Florida (an almost six hour drive) through thunderstorms to meet ME. Another drove from Knoxville, Tennessee just to meet ME. And so many new and old friends from the surrounding communities came out to meet ME.


And in all of their travels, and with all the books I signed, the discussions we had with one another, phones in our pockets or on a table, were the most memorable. We talked and laughed then talked some more. That, my friends, is social. It was brought about by an old media--books. Perhaps we should look to the past as we pave our way into the future.


To everyone who came to talk and hang out this past Saturday--you made my day. To those who could not make it, I hope to see you soon!


Peace, love, and bacon,


~h

This Event, Future Projects, and Time

Time--the invisible but ever-constant concept that limits what we can and want to do. Since the dawn of man, we have watched the sun cross over the sky, the stars move across the darkened landscape above, and peered into the elongated shadows of a waning day in effort to understand the here and now. We build clocks and electronic devices to measure that which we can not see, but feel it slipping through our fingers like water over a stone.


This weekend, Saturday morning at 10:00 AM until 1:00 PM central time, Cathy, Rex, and I will be on site at a local bookstore (*ahem* Shades of Pemberley in Albertville, AL) to meet, greet, and sign books. Those three short hours are always something I am grateful for when at a book signing event. It makes me gloriously happy to meet new people who have read, or intend on reading my work. It is also a time for me to see old friends once again who come out to support a middle-aged guy intent on writing and bringing some form of realistic escape to his readers.


I have said this many times before, but I will write again here: without readers, there are no writers. We share a soul-linked bond with one another. When someone reads another person's work, they invariably take a look inside the mind, heart, and soul of the writer, and as a result, forever share a level of intimacy unlike any other.


Perhaps that sounds a tad dramatic, but I believe it down to the very marrow in my bones. The only thing better than bringing to life the characters, dialogue, and locations that waft freely inside my mind is hearing from someone who shared in that experience by reading my work. That is the truest definition of intimacy in my book, if you will pardon the pun.


All that said, those who follow my "author" Facebook page know I have been slowly working on other projects as well. One such work is a compilation I am putting together of the trials and tribulations others have faced. The stories are all gut-wrenching, true life accounts, and as such I wait patiently while others pen their stories. This book will take me into unchartered territory, as I am a writer of fiction, rather than non-fiction. Getting outside my comfort zone will do me good, I know, but like most things new, this one makes me nervous.


My return to action-adventure fiction, however, is something that has already occurred. I am working on the next Bill Evers novel. As with my previous two Evers' novels, this one will be filled with conspiracy, martial arts action, much travel (mostly U.S. centered this time), and technology interspersed with the somewhere that is not here and now.


To all who continue to support me and other writers: thank you so much! You make what we do worth it.


Cathy, Rex, and I will see you all Saturday (if you can make it), and look forward to sharing a few moments of time.

Not So Patiently Waiting...

My newest release, My Dog's P.O.V. (and How He Sees the World) is officially available. This is that unnerving time when all those books begin filtering into their new owner's hands and the reading begins. For any author, this is a gut-wrenching moment.


Waiting to hear from readers on their perception(s) of the a work, no matter how large or small has a way of working on a writer's mind. "Will they like it? Will they hate it? Perhaps I should stop writing altogether! What if I just jumped from a really high building (nah, I'd probably live through the experience and still be forced to read their reviews)?


That said, I have always maintained that feedback, whether positive or negative, regarding my work is a gift of monumental proportions. Good reviews are wonderful, but I also try my best to take well scripted "negative" reviews or feedback, and use it to my benefit in future works. After all, isn't that how we learn and progress? We make mistakes then attempt to correct them, yes?


Reading is a very intimate affair between the author and the reader. The author offers up several glimpses of himself or herself in their work--no matter whether the book is fiction or nonfiction, there is an element of the writer's soul present in the words on the pages bound between the covers.


Conversely, the reader takes on the emotions conveyed by the writer, or at least that is the hope of the author. When you read, you are soul gazing (stolen with pride from the Ghost Rider) into the writer and assuming the character's personalities, ingesting the information being shared, and passing judgment on all of the above--not to mention the writer's style and conveyance of thought.


So, here I sit waiting as patiently as possible for you, the best readers in the world (no, I'm not trying to butter you up...not entirely anyway), to receive, read, and offer up reviews on my latest work. Yes, I'm reenergized and am plugging away at my next Bill Evers novel because action/adventure/general weirdness is my passion. But understand, I am happy and excited that my little conversations book is now available and you are able to take a look inside my strange and warped mind, and the hope is that you gain some enjoyment from doing so.

If you are interested in receiving a signed copy of any of my books and live in the continental U.S., click HERE!


If you prefer ordering through Amazon, My Dog's P.O.V. is available HERE!

As always, my best to you and thank you once again for supporting my writing.

~h

I'm As Excited as a Fat Kid in a Doughnut Shop!

Okay, okay, I could have been a little more sensitive to fatties (like me) when I titled this entry, but hey, when you are excited, you are just excited! In a world that seems, according to the Interwebs and nightly news, upside down, I take great pleasure when something revs my happy engine!

In a very short time--I don't want to predict a go-live date--my third book, and first compilation of short stories/conversations, will be released. Yes, I hope that it is ready by the end of July 2018 (that is the goal), but the reality of book publishing is predicated by Murphy and his ridiculous law.

When my first book was scheduled to be released, I made a big announcement before having to walk it back after a call from my publisher telling me there was a "snag." The snag turned into a month delay and caused me much embarrassment, especially with those who pre-ordered the novel. As with my second book, I will take pre-orders, but not until I am assured that everything has been green-lighted.

My newest title, My Dog's P.O.V. (and How He Sees the World) is a compilation of "talks" I have with my dog, Rex. It is true...I talk to my dog, but what pet owner doesn't? Is it possible to look at your pet and not speak to him or her? Perhaps the difference, though, is--via body language--I "hear" his responses. In my mind I hear Rex tell me to mow the lawn because the grass his slapping him in the face, or ask if he can drive when he hops in my lap while I am driving down the highway.

You may call me crazy for having these conversations, and you certainly would not be the first, but I prefer to think of myself as a Rex Whisperer, rather than "not quite right in the head." Ever since we first adopted the little turd, he and I have had a peculiar connection. I get him, and he gets me in a way that only humans and their animals can. No matter what, he is there to greet me, console me, or simply to talk when I need to talk.

My Dog's P.O.V. (and How He Sees the World) is a book of our discussions. Whatever pops into Rex's mind is discussed and hashed out, including his neutering and how he always blames me despite he was neutered prior to adopting us. His short term memory is not that great, it would appear, but nevertheless, he has a rather prophetic way of looking at life, the yard, and everything (tips hat to Douglas Adams).

I do hope you enjoy this newest release, as I am so very happy to bring it to you. The hours spent in front of a monitor and mapping out the conversations on my dry erase board have finally come to life, or at least they almost have. Every pet owner, most especially dog owners, will enjoy this read. Rex's wit, sarcasm, and world perspective is hilarious and thought provoking.

As we get closer to the release date, I will be sure to keep everyone updated!

http://www.howardupton.com/

Conversations With Rex--a Step Closer

I haven't seen any of my words make their way to print for a few years now, and I've grown somewhat disheartened. That's why, after taking a break to work on this small soon-to-be-book, I predict that writer's glow that will surely hang about me for a while.


Unlike many who enjoy putting their thoughts to paper, creating new stories or content hasn't been a problem; on the contrary, I sometimes overwhelm myself with ideas and struggle to remain focused on one. To say I am a victim of my own creativity is probably true, but I don't really know how creative I am to be honest--maybe I simply think I have something to say. 😃


I often hear people say, "I don't have time..." and usually roll my eyes at the sentiment, but to be honest, time hasn't been a friend of late. During the Spring and Summer, like so many, it seems as though I am running from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. When I do have some downtime, I'm exhausted and find it difficult to think logically, much less work on a book.


Other times, I believe I'm just being lazy and lack focus. This is probably a true sentiment, as well as my inability to manage time. The minutes get away from me, and although I my heart tells me to get to work, my body tells me not to move. My body usually wins the argument.


With a renewed vigor, though, I have pushed forward to finish my latest creation, Conversations With Rex. The cover design is in process, and I am working on a few graphics for insertion into the script. The book will be a small one, but it is one rife with passion and love. It also provided a break for me when it comes to action, adventure, and conspiracy. Now that I can see the  proverbial Rex at the end of the tunnel, I hear Bill Evers hollering for me to get back to work on his stuff (I have three different Evers stories at various points in their respective creation).


The book, Rex that is, is about my discussions with my small dog and his reflections on the world at large. His unique perspective and quirky idiosyncrasies, I felt, were worthy of documentation. Some may call me weird or strange (most do anyway), but pet owners talk to their animals all the time. Rex answers and carries on conversations in my head. His personality makes it easy to understand what he's thinking, and his body language speaks volumes. As my buddy Gary has said on occasion, "Rex knows things." Yes, yes he does.


Lastly, I realize I've posted about works before, and don't want to be the boy who cries wolf. Conversations will be released by Summer's end, if not sooner. So, I beg forgiveness of those who enjoy my writing, and ask that you continue to bear with me (although I doubt anyone will die without reading the next Evers's novel).


Rex's smart mouth will come to you soon--and no, I have no idea where he learned to be so cynical and sarcastic.

The Possibilities

Like most, I spend time on social media getting a feel for how others think. I make my political affiliations known--I am an open book when it comes to things like that. Try as I might, I work to convince others that my skew on things political and social have merit, but attempt to not get into the muck when the conversation devolves into personal insults. Yes, I am more than guilty of doing so, and sometimes post things I wish I could take back, or should not have posted to begin with--but in my defense, the logical side of my mind can take only so much.


It is interesting to me to find that my discourse with most people, regardless of political slant or perception, is very typically civil. Only from the safety of a person's computer or phone will the vileness rear its ugly head. Why folks feel it necessary to take the dialogue to the nasty abyss, I will never understand.


I would love to meet or find a person with opposing views from my own to simply hang out with and have some friendly debate. I run in circles with like-minded individuals, and miss the days of having these debates (I have lived in areas where the majority think differently than I).


Onto social media! Some semblance of civility should be a requirement for anyone with a Facebook or Twitter account, in my opinion. There seems to be a social disconnect, ironically, when engaging is social or political banter. The disconnect, of course, stems from ones inability to control his/her emotions when someone doesn't agree with their point of view. Give it a rest, keyboard warriors! The chances of you impacting someone to the degree that they will change their min on a topic is minimal at best. So, do not get your feelings hurt when someone disagrees. Keep to the facts and try real, real hard to not get personal (this is a difficult thing to accomplish).


It is also interesting to me, when discussing hot political topics with those who may have opposing points of view, to see how much we actually have in common. At best, most people have one, two, or three things they may strongly disagree with the majority about, but other things that do not personally impact them, or things that do not strike an emotional chord on, are largely overlooked. We should all keep that in mind when talking to our friends about touchy subjects.


If we could all sit down and speak face-to-face about various topics, we would most likely move the needle forward. It isn't always about whose side you are on; instead, focus on what makes our lives better. If we do this, the possibilities for human evolvement are endless.

That Uncomfortable Topic

I want to tackle a difficult issue, or at least an issue that makes a lot of people uncomfortable: racism. More specifically, the complexities of racism in today's society and what the word truly means. And lastly, and more specifically, I would like to discuss racism as it relates to business.


At the onset, it is important to understand that there is a clear delineation of racism and misconstrued social injustices perpetuated by one and assumed by the "victim." If we can agree upon a clear definition of the word, it is easier to have a discussion about it--

Racism: prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one's own race is superior.


By definition, there are actions associated with racism--prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against...


Nowhere in the definition does it say, "...or feelings hurt because of perceived injustices or biases..."


What do I mean by that? If your inner child is bruised because you did not get your way, you aren't a victim of racism; on the contrary, you are a victim of your own bruised ego, even if the person who did the bruising has a different skin color than you.


There now, we have set the stage for an open and honest dialogue about the topic.


Without a doubt, racism has existed and continues to exist around the world. All races are guilty of it, and some even act on their irrational fears. The action of racism is what really matters and is at the heart of this entry. After all, changing a person's heart is as difficult as redirecting the sun, but addressing it in a purely capitalistic sense is much easier.


I am a product of a capitalist society, and believe the almighty dollar has a way of righting wrongs. What do I mean by this?


Let's say, in today's society (and I don't care what region of the country this occurs) that someone is racially discriminated against in a retail environment. What does that discrimination look like? It could take several forms, but let us assume a black customer was refused service solely upon the color of his or her skin by a white attendant. That is blatant racism, by definition, and must be addressed. How it is addressed is an interesting topic, as well. Oftentimes, some greedy lawyer will take up the charge of racism, and his only demand is thirty percent of the take. When a person litigates, the litigation takes on a life of its own and is suddenly thrust into the public eye. Once media outlets pick up the story, the lawsuit becomes a political hotbed.


If the person suing the company wins, he or she may receive a financial windfall if the company is large and financially solvent. Small businesses will likely shutter their doors and people will lose jobs. The small amount of money given the person will be split with the attorney. What justice was served when this happens? It's arguable at best, but if it was someone working a cash register, why punish the shop owner if the shop owner was not at fault? See, things like this can be addressed prior to litigation. The victim, in this case, could have requested a manager or owner to address his or her concerns. If the person responsible for perpetuating the racist act has his or her employment terminated, that should be the end of it. Sadly, that isn't always the case, and an individual feels as though they must take legal action.


Another way to target business without involving an attorney is to take to social media. This, in my opinion, is one of the most effective ways of righting the ship. A business owner does not want negative publicity, and will likely act quickly to resolve the issue. I would caution anyone considering this to first address the problem as I outlined in the lawsuit scenario. No one likes to see businesses shutter doors when the owner is unjustly accused of something as serious as racism.


Now then, I want to address something I wrote earlier. If you or I interact with any person and a given frequency, we are likely to have something said to us that we do not like. Or perhaps, an outcome will be undesirable, even when we expected something totally different to happen. Just because you do not get your way, does not mean you are the victim of racism!

Let me say that again, just because you do not get your way, does not mean you are the victim of racism.


Your feelings are not anyone's concern, most especially in a place of business. When you go to a gas station to fuel your car, you expect a certain amount of gasoline for a price that is determined by someone else. You either accept their price point, or you shop somewhere else. See, you aren't being discriminated against, nor have you been victimized. If you go to that same station and the pump doesn't work, you aren't a victim of racism, you are likely a victim of technology, or a failure thereof. If you see a person with a different skin color using the pump just before you, and it is working fine then fails when you pull up, go ask the attendant what happened. Do not assume they shut it off because of your skin color. Make certain of an action before you scream racism, folks--otherwise, you take away the meaning of the word for an individual who has truly been victimized because of the color of his or her skin.


Believe me when I say, I understand the difficult nature of this topic. For those who want to say, "You aren't black, Hispanic, Asian (insert any race here), so you wouldn't understand," you are correct. But, let me make something clear to you: I'm a pretty smart feller and I understand actions. I get that a certain action must be put in motion before a charge of racism can or should be made. I don't need to be a different color to understand that my service to one group of people and denial of the same service to a different group of people is discriminatory. This is not rocket science, and I do not have to be a rocket scientist to understand this basic fact.


So, please, for the love of God--if you own or run a business, treat everyone the same. Also, if you do not get your way in a certain circumstance, think before you cry "racism." You hurt people I love who are truly victims when you make false claims. If we can all do this, we can live much happier lives.

Peace, love, harmony, and blessings to you ALL.

Life Churns, but We Focus Not Only on Today

Human beings are rather complicated creatures. A college professor of mine once quoted the following, "The only thing that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom are table manners." For the longest I agreed with this trite sentiment, but over the years I've learned to disagree...somewhat.

We live in the emotional, some more than others. Since other animals can't speak, nor convey specific emotion, we assume they are either happy or content. But we are unique in this old world. We have at our disposal so many ways to communicate how we feel, our wants, our desires, and our obligations.

In our youth, we are often told we "believe the world revolves around us," but that is not really true in the purest sense of the word. While young, we only focused on the here and now, and have little concept of tomorrow or years down the road. Seventy years of age to an eighteen year old seems a million light years from them.

As we age, we become more socially, economically, and humanly aware. Our focus changes ever-so-slightly over time so that a legacy is left for our own children and grandchildren, however large or small it may be. Our impact on other's lives means more to us than it did when we had hair, lacked wrinkles, or the dreaded middle age spread.

This weekend, I was reminded of this more so than normal. As I normally do, my weekends are very busy with work, especially during the Spring and Summer months. However, I stopped for a moment to consider my children and where they are in their lives. I thought about my Mom, and my mother-in-law and how I hoped I made them proud. From deep down inside, I realized my legacy was two-fold: a desire for my children and family to be proud of me and what I have done in life, and to leave something positive for them all should I exit this world tomorrow.

All the money in the world doesn't matter, all the empty words, or simplistic and meaningless gifts we give have nothing to do with legacy. Memories and positive impact are what make us immortal in other's eyes. And while this sounds ego-centric, I believe this lasting legacy is what most of us want.

We are all human beings with our own faults, dreams, and desires. Why shouldn't we help those closest to us achieve those things they desire, or at least give them our undying love and support while they make way through this world.

Peace, love, and coffee to you all.

A Road Trip: Americana Style

It has been a few years since my last extensive road trip. If you exclude my daily jaunts into the metro Atlanta area, and eliminate the daily dose of road rage I suffer as a result of those drives in and out of the city, I really haven't driven very far. My last formidable drive was from Allentown, PA southward to Augusta, GA four or five years ago!


So, I headed off to Chicago this weekend to meet the newest addition to our family, our first granddaughter. I was so very excited to hold her, play with her, and teach her the value of screaming, "Roll Tide Roll!" After learning to articulate those three words, she will most certainly be destined for greatness.


My drive took me north into Tennessee; Chattanooga to Nashville, to be exact, before turning north and pushing through Bowling Green, Kentucky. If you have never seen glorious Nickajack just outside of Chattanooga, you are missing something. A broad expanse of water that lies in the shadows of Lookout Mountain, the wonder and beauty of it is difficult to articulate.

Someday, I would love to take the time to visit the Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky, as I have passed it by at least four or five dozen times in my life, but time is never my ally when I travel solo, so, once again, the museum will have to wait. That said, I think fondly of sinkholes and crying insurance companies each time I see that line of checkered flags just to my west as I cruise by it.


From Bowling Green, I passed over the rolling hills of central Kentucky until finally arriving at the construction riddled city of Louisville. Named after a famous French king, Louisville is the perfect name for a city whose roads are constantly being re-paved. King Louis XVI, famously beheaded on the guillotine would have been proud of Louisville's constant construction zones. Some of the potholes I have hit on Interstate 65 through that fair town have made me feel as though my head would fall off and fillings would drop from my teeth. That said, I do enjoy seeing Louisville's small skyline built upon the Ohio River and the highway tribute to Mohammad Ali, who was born and raised in the city.

In most places, I can find beauty. In Indiana, I find it in my rearview mirror. I apologize to all my Indiana friends, but that drive is five of the most boring hours of my life. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy corn, just not five hours of it. Your windmill farm north of Lafayette is cute, especially if you like slowly moving monstrosities winking a red eye at you with great regularity. It's enough to give Frodo Baggins chills up and down his spine! The state's saving grace, however, are its wonderful people. The place is full of good country folk that talk funny. I love 'em!

If you have never had the pleasure of driving through or around Chicago, you have no idea what you are missing. Bumper-to-bumper fun with millions of your closest friends. At least they use turn signals here; contrast that to my daily Atlanta commute and I have to smile at Chicagoan's curious road "politeness."

Seeing the Sears Tower (yes, I know, Willis...what you talking about?) to your east is really quite inspiring. As I drove north and saw the massive building fade to my southeast, I grew even more inspired. That meant I was closer to my destination!

At long last, I arrived at my destination. After a weekend of emotional highs and lows (you'll have to read my previous blog entry to understand this), I was relieved to be here and finally get to meet our newest addition to the family, Maya, affectionately called "Maya Papaya." Our little granddaughter is a perfect little piece of art. Even her shrill little cry makes me smile.

The return trip to Alabama is scheduled to begin in a few days. As I sat belly-aching about it last night, Cathy said, "We should check out the Bourbon Trail in Kentucky." And that, fellas, is why I married her. Naturally, the anticipation of getting to our Bourbon Trail starting point will be prolonged by our drive through Indiana, but at least the state has some great people. :)

My Baby and the United States Army

Something that is uniquely different about the United States and many countries around the world is the phrase volunteer force. Militaries around the globe still have mandatory requirements for men (and sometimes women) to serve for a certain amount of time. Here in the States, conscription is not in place and our service members serve of their own free will.

Yesterday, May 5th, along with members of my family, our youngest daughter was publicly sworn into the U.S. Army. Hooah! It was a site to behold--dozens of our young standing on the old federal building steps in Gadsden, Alabama, each wearing shirts representing their respective branch of the military. They stood their before their recruiters and family and repeated their promise to uphold and protect the United States Constitution, and to protect us all against enemies "foreign and domestic." Wow.

I spent time considering that oath and realized the things I have done in my life pale in comparison to the promise these kids made. And close to the top of those steps stood my daughter Cassidy. She was beautiful, smiling, excited, and happy. Her dad was proud, happy, sad, and apprehensive all at the same time.

It is a natural thing for a parent to worry about their child. My concerns are even higher for a kid who enjoys sleeping to the crack of noon, walks like a tortured P.O.W. when asked to wash her dishes, and grunts when told to make her bed. But...but...but...

Over the past few months since she elected to join the military, I have watched a form of discipline overtake her. She willingly goes to P.T. during the week and, literally, runs laps around others who were a part of the group standing on those steps. Her little arms started taking on a much more muscular shape, and my proudest moment...

Prior to her swearing in, our neighbor, who is a pastor of a local church, came over and asked if he could pray over her. "Sure," she said. Before praying, he asked her a few questions about God, love, and perseverance. Each time she responded, she said, "Yes sir." To say my heart swelled with pride would be an understatement. She gets it, I know she gets it, and a pastor who is probably used to hearing, "Yeah," and "Uh huh" when he speaks with youth gets it too. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the prayer he offered then went on to work on a chore I had assigned her. She didn't even grunt this time.

Yeah, I am nervous and simultaneously overwhelmed with pride.

Go Cassidy, and go Army!

The Trades--Real America

I am a guy who enjoys doing home repair. It isn't so much that I'm cheap (well, I guess that is arguable), but I just like doing stuff myself. Along with that, I also like building projects, which forces me to use my horrible math skills (I use this word loosely) and arcane construction knowledge.

Recently, I constructed a small shed that I am particularly proud of, despite my friends referring to it as an "outhouse." It serves its purpose, which is storage of a few yard maintenance tools like my mower and weed eater, as well as several other smaller implements. Cathy named my shed Aengus the Strong after my friends ragged me for its tiny construction. To them I say, "Build it and they shall come!"

Another project that I have undertaken is the construction of a lean-to on a different shed. I realized the numerous mistakes I made along the way, including a lack of support features due to its size. Friends and family warned that it would sag in the middle, and after some pride swallowing and consideration, I realized how right they were. As such, I have modified the lean-to in order to include some additional supports to keep it from becoming a punching bag by those I consider "friends."

The purpose of this particular entry is not to espouse my spectacular knowledge of shed and lean-to construction, nor is it an effort to offer up self-congratulations each time I change out an electrical outlet, repair a leak, or change out a wax ring under a toilet (one ring to bind them). Sorry for my Tolkien reference--I do that often.

My point in penning this short post is to say that I have much respect for those people in the "trades." The construction workers, the electricians, the plumbers, the concrete finishers, block layers, etc. The masters of these tradecrafts have my undying respect and gratitude. I stand in envy of your abilities and creativity and think they are oftentimes overlooked in America for their contributions.

We like to award trophies and awards to architects for designing buildings, but rarely congratulate the people who actually laid the foundation and built the tower. These guys and gals are the ones who should be celebrated. They realize the faults in design and bring solutions. Those in the trades bring dreams to life.

The next time you encounter someone masterfully skilled in the trades, I suggest telling them how much you appreciate them. They are the reason you have a roof over your head and the ability to power up you laptop or phone. Yes, these builders are America and we should let them know how great they are.

Some Time on the Mountain

For about three years of my life, I would venture to the top of the highest point in Alabama, Mount Cheaha, and navigate over the numerous trails. I would take my children there and let them enjoy nature as well; we all loved hiking that mountain. Fast forward twelve years, my kids are grown and either living in different states or are moving on with their lives. I couldn't be happier for them, but I lack hiking partners now.


That said, a buddy of mine has told me he wants to hike Mt. Cheaha this coming weekend, so I plan on grabbing a stick, packing a bag, wrapping my knees and hitting the Pinhoti trail for the first time in years. To say I love that place is an understatement of sorts. Heck, the protagonist in my novels lives just at the mountain's base, where he hunts and fishes when he isn't gallivanting around the world, meeting interesting people then killing them.




High atop Bald Rock on Mount Cheaha

The history and mystery of Cheaha is steeped in Native American lore. Specifically, the Muskogee and Cherokee occupied the lands around the mountain before Europeans settled the U.S. Many believe the mountain to hold a sacred power. Some say you can feel a strange vibration while you walk the trails of Cheaha. And others, still, claim the mountain is haunted by Natives of ages past.

Perhaps all these things are true, or maybe they aren't, but my head resides in the realm of the magical and possibilities found in ancient tales. No matter, I am hoping for fair weather as we traipse across and around the rim of Mt. Cheaha that usually takes several hours to complete. Eventually, I would love to continue my trek across the Pinhoti and on up to the southern point of the Appalachian Trail, where I would love to hike and camp to Klingman's Dome in Northeast Tennessee. We shall see if that happens.

Maybe, just maybe I will catch a glimpse of Bill Evers's house when we finally turn north and round the western face of the mountain. I am hoping to look down into the Coosa River basin to see small creeks filled from waters running off Cheaha. And most certainly, I will post photos from our voyage.

Coming soon--my conversations with Rex

As many of you know, I have several passions. I love my family, practicing and teaching martial arts, I enjoy building sheds, and I even enjoy work. On top of all this and more, putting thought to paper and creating stories that readers relate to is something that brings me great joy.

I have written two full length action/adventure novels and continue getting so much positive feedback from readers. Please understand--the positives I receive have nothing to do with fueling my ego; on the contrary, when I can bring a few hours of escapist pleasure to a reader, I feel as though I have helped make the world a better place. That thought is what drives me to write and create.

Several have asked when my next Bill Evers novel will be available, and I do apologize to everyone for not having another one ready to hit shelves just yet. I continue to write, albeit at a slower pace than I previously knocked out the first two books. Rest assured, until my dying day, I will peck away at the keyboard in order to bring more stories to life.

Since an earlier blog entry last year, I have toyed with the idea of penning a short book about the conversations I have with our little Italian Greyhound, Rex. It has been with some trepidation that I moved from the genre that I so enjoy to one I am less sure about. This short work is one that I am tentatively titling Conversations with Rex: The World According to Our Dog.

The title may change, but the content will remain. As most animal owners do, I talk to ours regularly, and in my head I hear their responses. Rex has a way of conveying what he thinks through certain looks, body language, or animated jumps and rolls. He is quite the prima donna!

If you are a pet owner, or if you are just someone who enjoys off-branded humor, I think you will like this short work. I will keep everyone posted regarding updates to the work and potential release dates as we get closer to it. You can also follow me on my Facebook author's page for periodic updates and other nefarious topics.

Lastly, as we progress toward publication, I will post a few tidbits here and there specific to the work. I do look forward to this book's release. The compilation of my love for my dog and my twisted sense of humor will hopefully bring a smile to your face.

Stay tuned!

My Newest Tangent: Violent Media & Video Games

Since the recent mass shooting in Parkland, Florida here in the good ole United States of America, gun control, mental illness, background checks, et al. have re-emerged (as they are wont to do after such a tragic event) once again. Ideologues on both sides of the debate argue the same case over and over and the needle never seems to move on the topic. Depending on where you sit on the subject this may or may not be a bad thing.


First, we all acknowledge the loss of life as tragic, and more specifically the loss of innocent life from an act of violence as disgusting and unwarranted. For me, the taking of an innocent life is equally bad if it's committed with bear hands, a hammer, a car, a plane, a rock, a pencil, a knife, or any other object made into a weapon. Let us not forget that a singular murder is just as traumatic as any mass murder, although the latter always grabs headlines and is sensationalized beyond measure.


Moving onto the topic at hand, and that which I would like to focus upon specifically, is the discussion around violent video games, movies, and television and the possible correlation between violence/violent outbursts and the aforementioned.


The gaming industry has gone to great lengths to suppress or ignore potential correlations between violent games and desensitizing the human brain to violent behavior. As a friend "in the know" recently told me, the United States military understands the psychological implications of taking a human life. In many cases, select soldiers are desensitized via violent video games. Perhaps you have heard the term "simulator?" This is a dressed up pseudonym for violent gaming.


It is here that I must point out that millions of stable individuals play video games every day without exhibiting abnormal psychological behavior. Certainly, there is a small population of people that exhibit violent proclivities toward violence and actually act upon those impulses. I would like to state that I believe gaming and its impact on certain humans is a reaction to a much larger psychological disorder. Naturally, this is my opinion, and I have no solid scientific data to support my position other than seeing very low numbers of violent behavior exhibited by gamers (as reported by the media).


There are, however, some interesting research articles supporting, or at least pointing to a potential correlation between playing violent video games and an increase in violent thought and agitation. One such article was published in USA Today and can be found here (note: this link will open a new browser window).


For further research, check out Lt. Col Dave Grossman's site, Killology. He has authored and coauthored several interesting books on the psychological impact of killing another human being.


It is beyond time for our nation to take seriously its own mental health, although the term has become almost cringe worthy. I do not write this statement solely on the basis of our Second Amendment rights; on the contrary, we have all witnessed mental instability play itself out at a significant price. Taking guns away from free citizens does nothing to solve its mental health issues. As I recently told a friend of mine, that is like putting a band aid on a volcano. It serves no purpose other than making the band aid manufacturer rich every time a volcano erupts.


Our country is at a boiling point, and until we remove emotion from debate and move forward with a science based approach at tamping down or eliminating violent behavior, specifically the desire to kill innocents, we are destined to fail as a free nation.

Your opinions on this topic are welcome!


~h

It's Time for Men to be Men (Again)

Whether anyone wants to admit it, there has been a war on men and manliness since the "cultural revolution" of the 1960's. The feminist movement had, and still has, its male supporters who declare that a woman can do anything a man can do and possibly better. In so proclaiming a woman's demonstratively superior position in the evolutionary chain, men became wary of their own manliness and elected to "get in touch with their feelings" instead.


Before we delve into the dissolution of men and their manhood, it is important to look at causation. The elevation of women as the superior gender notwithstanding, leftists began questioning societal norms when it came to manliness and manhood. As the counter-culture pushed their feminist mantra, the breakdown of the American family took root and generations of young boys were left without fathers to teach them how to be men.


In most cultures, becoming a man is a rite of passage. There is an age or an act that denotes a boy's movement from adolescence to manhood. Unfortunately, America (and other "developed" nations) has lost sight of helping its young boys become men. We have given into the precept that boys can be girls and girls can be boys.


Newsflash: our biology is NOT interchangeable.


I was prompted to pen this entry after reading an op-ed in the Failing New York Times. You can read it for yourself here, but rest assured, the premise was a simple one: boy's feelings have been suppressed, hence boys going on shooting rampages.

To say I was disappointed in the article is a misnomer. There was no data to support the author's position on the topic, but there is plenty of evidence to support mine. The breakdown of the American family has created a vacuum that is sucking the life out of future men. When lines are blurred between men and women in the family unit, what do we expect to happen?


Our society has pushed the ridiculous notion that we "need" gender neutral restrooms and that it is okay for boys to wear dresses and makeup. This abnormal behavior flies in the face of millions of years worth of evolutionary factors. Besides that, what lady wants to envy her husband's dress? I digress...


Before someone jumps on the "Howard's a misogynist" bandwagon, let me assure you that I'm not. I have daughters and encourage them to be the best they can be in everything they do or desire to do. They are all very smart and compassionate young ladies, and they each have a working knowledge of biology. We don't all trade the same political capital, but that's okay. I am happy they are all individual thinkers and do not fall into the dangerous abyss of group think.


If we continue down the path of gender neutrality, we can all expect, and should expect, a violent outcome. To do so defies nature. We, men and women, are wired differently. The hunter/gatherer/protector and the nurturer are not the same. Men and women marry, live with one another, co-habitate, or whatever you like to call it, because we need each other in order to complete the circle of life.


Take heed, please! Do not squash a boy's desire to do what has been seen traditionally as "boy stuff." Those things enable the youngster to become a productive member of society, and equally I would argue, a better man.

In the End, We All Die-How We Live is What Matters

I do what I can to be a positive influence on those around me. I cut up, I joke, I laugh. When I need to be serious, I'm serious. When I need to get work done, I get my work done. When it's time for me to mentor a young kid, I do that too. When one of my daughter's needs a shoulder to cry on, I am there for them. When I need to give them some advice, I share it with them. If my wife talks to me, I do my best to focus and listen (she might argue with this one, but it's my post, so...).


We are all faced with dilemmas, problems, and personal issues. I do my best to internalize those things and deal with them so as not to be a burden to others. Don't get me wrong. If I need help with something, I ask for help. My pride isn't quite that overwhelming!


My point is simple: as humans, we must engage and interact with one another on some level each and every day of our lives. That is, unless you live deep in the Maine or Montana wilderness without cellular, satellite, or internet connections of any kind. If we can all agree on this simple truism, isn't it in our best interest to be a positive influence on those around us?


Is it so difficult to simply speak to someone when we walk into the office? Perhaps a "good morning" will make a person feel good! What if you randomly brought someone a cup of coffee one day? Someone you don't really know, but occasionally see around the work-place?


There is so much negativity in our world today. We have at our fingertips unimaginable technology that was only dreamed about a decade or two ago. And here we are: at each other's collective throats on a regular basis. This confounds me! Technology was supposed to make our lives better and easier, but just the opposite seems to be happening.


Here is my challenge to us all: try being nice to someone you don't really know. I don't care what the compliment or comment is, just do something that is good. I'm tired of the bad; I think we all are. To be a little cliché, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

Be good, y'all.

The Fragility of the Human Ego

In the past few weeks, I have once again realized the fragility of the human ego. We all have "it," the ego that is. It dominates how we think, act, talk, how we function in our lives, etc. The ego is a part of the human psyche that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. There is nothing wrong with an ego unless it is allowed to overtake our consciousness; then it becomes problematic.

I have been as guilty as the next man or woman when it comes to having an inflated ego. Sometimes we believe our own press. When things go well, we tend to believe we belong on a pedestal, even though, deep down, we are only stroking our insecurities.

Growing up poor, all we had to cling to was faith, family, and honor. Those were the three things a person did not mess with, and it is/was even more pronounced in the Southern states where pride in self and family meant everything. A sense of pride in those things was always enforced in our family, but allowing the ego to overtake all else was not.

The difference between "a sense of pride" and an "overarching ego" is the former drives you to be better, while the latter takes over your ability to reason. You control one, while the other controls you. I am guilty of allowing this to happen, and unfortunately, I've watched as several others are currently allowing their ego to control their thoughts and actions. As is par for the course, those under the control of their ego have no idea what is happening and how it impacts those around them.

All that said, this entry is not written to berate anyone; on the contrary, it is written as a means to warn the reader and to help us all keep our ego in check. Let us not make excuses for our actions by calling ourselves "cocky," "filled with honor," and other such axioms that deflect from our insecurities and poor decisions.

Let us help one another grow and be happy. If you have a skill that someone could learn from or enjoy, share it willingly and openly. If you provide a service for someone, do not try to break another person financially in making it available. The possibility of helping someone less fortunate should be payment enough for anyone with a heart and soul. Oh, and don't always expect some kind of repayment for services rendered--that's just your ego talking.