Wednesday, October 5, 2016

How Dare They?

Thought for the day: My fan club broke up. The guy died.  [Rodney Dangerfield]

It's that time again. Time for the regular monthly session of the Insecure Writer's Support Group, which was created by that amazing ninja writer Alex Cavanaugh, and now boasts an ever-growing membership of writers from all over the world. Some are still in the beginning stages, and others are well-established, but one thing we all have in common is the sneaking suspicion that we're frauds and our talent is non-existent. (i.e. We're a tad insecure.) Within the sheltering arms of this group, writers have the freedom to air their shared insecurities, lament their difficulties, and cheer for each writer's successes. It's all about the support, baby. All about the support.

To see what other writers are complaining and cheering about this month, you can find a list of this month's participants and links to their posts right... here.

[morguefile]

Okay, so what kinda support am I looking for this month? To tell the truth, I could use a little bit of commiseration and perhaps, an Amen, sister reassurance that some of you have experienced what I'm going through now.

What I'm talking about is representative of a grievous disrespect of Rodney Dangerfield proportions, a blatant and total disregard for my wishes, all neatly wrapped up in a complete lack of gratitude.

No, I'm not talking about other writers... or about the dear people who've read and reviewed my previous work. Nope, I'm talking about my own darned characters!

I mean, how could they??? If it weren't for me, the snotty little ingrates wouldn't even exist, so how is it possible, that after I, their benevolent creator, went to such great lengths to outline their personalities, experiences, and everything else about them in such painstaking detail, they've yanked the reins out of my hands and are running off willy-nilly in the directions they want to go?  I'm the one who's supposed to be in control, right? I'm the one who should be guiding the horse... but it's taken off without me, leaving my bruised ego and stellar preconceptions lying in the dirt. What chutzpah!

Seriously... or as serious as I'm likely to get... in my first book, I felt more in control. This time, it really does feel like the characters are developing the way they want to develop, which is often at odds with what I'd planned for them. Verrrrrry weird. I've heard other writers mention this before, but just between you and me, I didn't think it was even possible... until it happened to me. Son of a gun. How about you? Do you control the direction of your plot, or have your characters staged an insurrection as well? (How dare they?)

Okay, this month's question is When do you know your story is ready? 

Hmmm, interesting. For me, I write and rewrite and rewrite some more. Then I set it aside and try to ignore it for a while, before giving it another read-through with fresh eyes. (Yes, I know it's my same old not-so-fresh eyes, but gimme a break, okay? You know what I mean...) When I can't bear to look at it for one more minute think it's ready, I'll let some other writers read it and give me their opinions. But ya know what? Maybe I don't have to go through all of that stuff anymore. Since my smart-assed characters have decided to take over the show, maybe Ill just wait for them to tell me when we're done.

The ingrates.



I get no respect. The way my luck is running, if I was a politician, I would be honest. [Rodney Dangerfield]

                           Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[NOTE: To my regulars, this is the only post for this week. Be back to our regular schedule next Friday. Seeya then!]

Friday, September 30, 2016

The Ace of Her Heart

Thought for the day:  Not all heroes wear capes. 


[Flame, superhero of the 1930s and '40s-  wikipedia]

It's true. It's fun to read about cartoon superheroes, and to see them come alive on the screen, but the real heroes in life don't need... or want... a spiffy outfit or cape, because they generally don't want to draw attention to themselves.

One definition of hero is someone who risks personal harm to protect and serve others, like firefighters, police officers, and members of the military. As you know, we're losing more and more World War II veterans every day, so I think it's important to share some of their stories from time to time, so we can remember their places in history.

I'm gonna tell you about one such man today. His name? Louis Curdes, and he didn't  need no stinking cape,  because that hero man was a brilliant aviator. Matter of fact, he was an ace, and he also bears the rather unusual distinction of being the only person who has ever been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for shooting down... his girlfriend.

[Louis Curdes, with his plane Bad Angel]
Intrigued?

Good. That's the idea.

Curdes was already an ace with a ton of war and flying experiences, including being shot down and escaping from an Italian POW camp, when our story opens. Following their mission to attack Japanese positions on the island of Bataan in the Philippines, one squad member, low on fuel, had flown back to base, one had been shot down, and was floating in the water on a rubber dinghy, another was flying at a higher altitude, trying to summon a rescue plane by radio, and Curdes was flying a low-altitude pattern above his fallen friend, prepared to protect him, and provide cover, if need be.

[C-47 transport plane- wikipedia]







Another plane approached from the distance, and as it got closer, Curdes could see that it was a C-47 transport plane, AKA jungle jumper, bearing U.S. markings. It lowered its landing gear, clearly signalling its intention to land on the Japanese-controlled island. Curdes had heard horrific stories about the fate of people captured by the Japanese, so he simply couldn't  let that plane land. He tried to contact the pilot via radio, but to no avail. He dove in front of the plane several times, but the C-47 continued its descent. He fired a warning burst of machine gun fire across the other plane's nose, but that didn't work, either. So what could he do?


[50-caliber machine gun in  Bad Angel's wing]

The only thing he could do. 

He shot it down. 


First, he took out one engine... and then the other. The C-47 pilot had no choice but to ditch the plane into the ocean, where it settled close to the other fallen aviator's dinghy. Soon, all twelve occupants of the C-47 were floating beside him on life rafts. Curdes dropped a note down to them, saying, For God's sake, keep away from shore. Japs there. 



Only three WWII flying aces shot down planes of all three Axis powers, but only one of them, Louis Curdes, also shot down an American plane, thereby saving everyone on board.

Two of them were nurses.


One of the nurses was his date from the night before.

They later married.

 I guess you could say she really fell  for him... like a shot outta the sky.



Curdes' plane, as she appears today, at the Pima Air and Space Museum, in Tucson, Arizona. 





Indiana native Louis Curdes retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1963. In his twenty-two years of service, he earned many medals,  including the Distinguished Flying Cross, Purple Heart, and numerous flying awards. When he died in 1995, Senator Richard Lugar delivered a fitting tribute  on the Senate floor. In the senator's words, Curdes was truly an example and inspiration for all who follow him.

 Okay, so maybe this song isn't the perfect choice to go with this post, but it's stuck in my head, so in an attempt to get it out, I'm gonna share. Besides, it's never a bad time to listen to something that makes your toes tap and your heart sing...




You know, there are things other than danger that can define a hero. For example, I find it bordering on heroic for someone to work a job (s)he hates, day-in, day-out, without complaint... because that's what (s)he has to do to support a family. Maybe your husband or wife? Your parent? You? Appreciate their efforts, and value your own.That kinda love makes the world go around.

 Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. [Franklin P. Jones]
                                                              Okay, I sit corrected.                                   
                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. 

NOTE: Next week's post will be on WEDNESDAY, in conjunction with the monthly Insecure Writer's Support Group confab. If you've been thinking about signing up, it isn't too late. Go ahead! You know you wanta... so do it right here

Friday, September 23, 2016

Summer Re-Run

Thought for the day:  The healthiest response to life is joy. [Deepak Chopra]

According to the calendar, yesterday was the first day of autumn, but evidently, nobody bothered to let Mother Nature know, because around here, it still feels and looks like the middle of summer. Sooooo, why not go with a (ta-DA!) summer re-run? Not that I'm (ahem) lazy or anything, but it's been more than five years since this post ran first time around as Rhymes With Dreams, and most of you haven't seen it. So you could say I'm re-running it out of sheer laziness the goodness of my heart. Yeah, let's go with that. With a bit of editing, here ya go. I hope you enjoy it.

************************************************************************

Thought for the day: Why do people pay money to go to the top of tall buildings, and then pay again to look down at the ground through binoculars? 


One of the few good things I can say about growing up in a neighborhood of row homes is that there were always enough kids around to initiate just about any kind of game you can imagine: games like curb ball, dodge ball, red rover, Mother may I, spud, seven up, and of course, tag. A little convenience store down the alley from our house served as our meeting place, and the big metal pipe at its front corner served as home base for our tag games. Tag games always started by everyone yelling "Not it!" Whoever was slowest, WAS it, and would have to cover his eyes and start counting at that pipe while everyone else ran.

It's been 55+ years since I played that version of tag, but thanks to a very sweet fellow blogger, now I can play a different (more age-appropriate) version. She tagged me IT, so now I get to answer some questions, before tagging some other bloggers. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Here we go:

1.  If you could go back in time and relive one moment, what would it be?

It'd be that moment I spotted my husband at the airport when he finally came home from Vietnam. It was sheer magic.

2. If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?

The airplane spent an interminable hour and a half sitting on the tarmac in Atlanta, and should have already landed in Baltimore by the time it finally got off the ground. My sister-in-law and her husband picked me up at the airport and we drove straight to the hospital, but my mother died twenty minutes before we got there. So, if I could change one thing, I'd make that plane leave on time.

3. What movie or TV character do you most resemble in personality?

I have no idea. Maybe a cross between June Cleaver and Lurch?

4. If you could push one person off a cliff, who would it be?

Geez, I'm boring. Can't think of anyone I hate, and even if I did, I'm not a push-somebody-off-the-cliff kind of person. I'm more of a guns or poison kind of gal.

5. Name one habit you want to change about yourself.

I need to exercise. Unfortunately, owning exercise equipment and a pair of spiffy running shoes doesn't do the trick. You actually have to use the darned things. Doesn't hardly seem fair, does it?

6. Describe yourself in one word.

Vulnerable.

7. Describe the person who named you in this meme in one word.

Family-oriented.

8. Why do you blog?

It started out (reluctantly, I might add) as a means to establish a "platform" to benefit my writing future. Now, I do it because I truly enjoy it, and because I've come to care about the people I've "met".

Okay, I'm going to deviate from the original post here, and instead of naming anyone in particular, I'll let all of you guys and gals who are interested snag the blog tag from the top of this page and answer the questions on your blog, and either pass it on to three other bloggers, or throw it up for grabs, like I'm doing. Kinda like a chain letter, but better. No body parts will turn black and fall off if you don't do it. (I don't think so, anyway. Personally, I wasn't willing to take the chance.)

Did you notice that word meme in question number seven? Familiar with it? In answering these questions on her blog, the gal who tagged me said, "What the heck is a meme? I never heard that one before." Since the only meme I'd ever heard of before was the French word, which rhymes with hem and means same, I decided to do some investigating.

It turns out that meme, which rhymes with dream, can best be described  as a basic building block of minds and culture, similar to the way a gene is considered a biological building block. Just as genes transmit biological information, memes transmit ideas and belief information, like catch phrases, melodies, the latest fads, and fashion trends. By extension, an Internet meme would be a concept that spreads via the Internet, like viral videos, tweets, and ... games of blogger tag.

So now we know.

On an earlier post, I told the funny-but-true story of my grandfather using most of my grandmother's clothes as diapers during their long voyage to America. Turns out, my brother acquired a copy of their ship's manifest through Ancestry.com and informed me that their ship didn't sail into Ellis Island, after all. The S.S. Columbia left Glasgow on April 28, 1923, and actually arrived in Boston Harbor eight days later. Eight days. When Mom-Mom described the voyage, she made it sound like so much longer than that, but eight days of seasickness must have felt more like eighty.

Now that I know they entered via Boston, I've been thinking about another story my grandmother told me. She said they lived in New York City for a while before moving on to Baltimore, which is why I thought they'd come into the country through Ellis Island, but maybe I misunderstood. Maybe they actually lived in Boston. Still, wherever they lived, the story was hysterical.

My grandmother could wax poetic about Scottish heather.

She said the temperatures were hot, hotter than what they'd ever experienced in Scotland. And the bugs? They were absolutely horrific, and also something quite new to them, she said. According to her, they didn't  have such annoying bugs in Scotland. So, picture this: they're in a cramped hotel room in the sweltering heat one evening, and the flies and mosquitoes are flitting and buzzing around the room, and about a hair's breadth away from driving my grandfather completely insane. So, Pop starts chasing them around the room with a fly swatter in hand. Bouncing on the bed, swinging the flyswatter like a baseball bat, and cussing as only an irate Scotsman can cuss. And oh yeah, because of the heat, he also happened to be naked. When my grandmother looked out the window, a small crowd was gathered below, pointing up, and having a jolly good time. Seems they found my grandfather's shenanigans quite entertaining.

Now whether or not that story's entirely true, I can't say, but she certainly told it to me often enough. One part of the tale doesn't mesh, though. That part about Scotland not having any annoying bugs? I did a google search to see if that's true. Not even close. There's a wee bug called the Highland midge that is so annoying, it's been known to make grown men cry. Those miserable critters not only bite, but they swarm. Not talking little swarms, either. I'm talking swarms of hundreds, and even thousands, that attack all at once. They've been called the scourge of Scotland.

Still, why ruin a good story with facts, right? My grandmother chose to remember Scotland as a perfect place, with fields of heather and nary a bug in sight. Works for me. I love good dreams. (rhymes with memes)

 rainbow above the highlands

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.