Perhaps it’s a silly misnomer to call myself ‘A Stranger’ in the Country of my birth, but born in the Appalachian Hills of Tennessee amid Bible Belt fear, parental disunity, a wildly emotional parttime father in brutal anger beating on a tearful mother and sister I was in a neuronic and small frightened body that was terribly malfunctioning.
The years passed and life – without Dad – passed with some accomplishments…graduated from high school, joined the US Navy, got a college degree, wed the corporate world for some years, opened my own business, began to write, and, after a few ‘picket fences’, found a miracle lady who came to be all that I had needed and wanted.
Now, in the last cycle of my life, I still write an occasional book, some poetry, Flash Fiction, Short Stories, blog posts. For anyone interested, many of my novels, in most genres, the narratives embrace true crimes – some, still in ‘Cold Case’ files – with my suggested and plausible scenarios… Anyone with interest in my writing can find my books, blogs, and poetry at:https://brchitwood.com
So, why am I a stranger in my own country?
My mind swirls in desperate rotations when I see the direction our country is being taken by our current leaders – I’m almost squeamish when I use the word, ‘leaders’. The rhetoric of some government officials defies adult credulity, seemingly and tediously changing the true meaning of what our United States ‘Constitution’ so precisely lays out, written in the blood of our brave historical heroes. With ‘Covid’s evil tenure’, with ‘CRT’ (‘Critical Race Theory’) by a ‘Teacher’s Union’ wanting to replace the age-old disciplines of education (History, Reading, Math, Science, Geography, et al) with ‘race-baiting’ CRT corollaries. The NEA seems oblivious to the natural devastating progression that will come from racist nonsense. We are not a racist nation! Our history is clear, though some would deny it. It is there in the pages of our past for all to read.
Seemingly hundreds of millions of people across the planet wish to come to the United States, and our current ‘majority leadership’ is precipitating the mad flow of people across our southern borders, with tens of millions crossing in mad repetition. Some who have crossed our borders made it into seats of government and wish to change the policies and the principles of our grand Constitution.
Crime is devastatingly in an ‘open season’ in the United States – people killed on the streets, robberies of our stores in broad daylight without restraint. The murder of our youth from the ‘Wild Side’ of random disregard…
I’m through with my mini-tirade. I can almost see eyes moving upward in their sockets.
Admittedly, I’m one-sided. I have Democratic friends and Republican friends. When together, we are quick to determine how far we take our political certainties, and it’s amazing how close we come to being sane and sensible… Of course, that could simply be my friends of different persuasions just love my ‘Maker’s Mark’ bourbon.
Now, if you don’t like my political stance, you will like my books, poetry, and blog posts…hope you will go to my website/blog – http://brchitwood.com and take a look.
No matter your political persuasion, I wish you happy times with family and friends.
Between the ticks and tocks of passing time, the music of my life played the songs of balladeers that somehow knew how to reach my Soul with music and words to make me sad and lonely, to haunt me in my constant search for love and meaning, for the urgency of my quest.
Everyone comes from somewhere with different sets of genes, different time zones and privilege, needs fed by emotions, by disciplined pursuits, purpose and wealth. Some come from the murky depths of poverty, dark thoughts, ugly actions and deceits.
Everyone comes from somewhere!
Almost everyone reads books of different genres, see movies of Laughter, Love, Mayhem, Murder.
Some of us are ultimately destroyed by the nature of our birth and biography.
There are beautiful love stories that warm the hearts of those in love or seeking love.
There are shadowy and sinister crime thrillers where evil is the key ingredient and where the audience can regale in the death of the villain and/or the victory of good over evil.
Reading books, watching movies, writing your own story can answer the need of some nagging element of your Soul.
Everyone comes from somewhere!
I come from that ‘ugly somewhere’ many people call Appalachia during a time in our history when the world seemed to be going to hell in that proverbial hand-basket. There were enough emotional triggers in my life that, at times, I could hardly find my missing breath…family eruptions, mean fights, blood and tears, as I sat watching my mother and sister being beaten by an absentee father – himself, a product of his time.
I chose writing later on in an attempt to understand ‘where I had been’ and ‘where I was going’… Through all the years, I searched for love, the ‘picket fence’, and the meaning for it all.
After twenty books, over 375 blog posts/poetry, there have come some answers – a lovely wife (after three tries) and some wonderful kids.
You want to know if time has helped in my own mending program?
Beautiful wife? Yeah!
Wonderful kids? Yeah!
All settled? Nah!
Still searching for something that was taken from me!
It’s been near a year that I’ve noticed an adjective or noun or some other connective element taking longer to reach their space in my writing projects – NOT a constant ‘thing’ but annoying as hell…I’m dumb enough to believe the blog post, poem, story, I’m typing still come out with some literary merit – at least, my talented writing buddies make me think so…Bless them even with some possible ‘lay-it-on’ blather.
After some negative ‘Adonis’ thoughts and years of ‘women chasing’ I settled down with a lovely caring lady who encouraged and praised my writing. Aside from near-400 blog posts, flash fiction, short stories, poetry, and songs, I’ve written twenty books, many of which were fashioned fictionally from my interest in crime and the people so shaped to brutal action and violence. There have been poetry and songs mostly fashioned from those long-ago romantic days and nights of beautiful women and love.
Sales from my writing efforts?
Disappointing and small! However, I did not do the extra labor and money-spending to market my books… I simply relied on the internet, a few ‘iffy’ promo places, and my own tweets, blog posts, flash fiction, and short stories. Another blunder, some would consider, I did my own editing and proof-reading (having been an English teacher, I was vain enough to think those bucks were better spent on ‘Maker’s Mark’ bourbon).
There were some Amazon 5-Star Reviews, and I did realize a younger dream of mine to be an author. The mind can make you believe, make you calculate your worth as a writer much higher than expected.
That said, I still believe, there are ‘winners’ among those twenty books, blogs, and poetry.
SO, I shall dwell here in my place of leisure and sunshine for some few more years, I suspect, write an occasional post, some poetry, songs, and, what the hell, maybe one more book.
A Novel for our troubled Times AND ‘A beautiful Love Story to shade some of our Realities…
Year of the Covid-19 Pandemic!
A man is presumed dead., left in a ditch by the side of a-State-road near Scottsdale, Arizona, badly beaten, with two bullets in his body…
This scenario begins THE POWER MERCHANTS, a book that explores political intrigue and malfeasance at the highest levels of our Federal Government, and the sexual appetites of a billionaire who seduces under-age prepubescent girls for his evil pleasure and to curry favor with some highly placed politicians…
“The Power Merchants” is also a beautiful love story that ‘Romance genre’ readers will find pleasure in watching how it all unfolds…
Plus, there is actual truth in this fictional narrative that encompasses some of the events shaping our world today, certainly not the least of which is the Corona Virus Pandemic and the new policies set in place to fight this juggernaut, some people feel are corrupting our civil liberties…
This is a fast-paced novel that deals with the issues of today, the economic spillage from the pandemic that is affecting every major country in the world…
This novel will keep your interest as you follow the good and bad characters that are on display in “The Power Merchants” – yes, it’s fiction but it smacks of so much truth…your enjoyment is guaranteed in reading this finely crafted literature…
In present time Blake Fielding’s life changes forever after a smash-up on a Phoenix freeway. At the hospital he is given pain medication, and strange things begin to happen…he experiences a ‘time travel’ episode back to 1838 to one of history’s greatest despicable acts – ‘The Trail of Tears’. Back in present time Blake will find the woman of his dreams, find power and money, be involved in a murder, and live some unforgettable moments…both eerie and poetically divine. It is an exciting and beautifully written book – a love story for the ages, plus a whole lot more… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
A book inspired from the unimaginable horror and murders by a Colorado man of his wife and two small daughters…sentenced to ‘Life’ in prison – a ‘life’ imagined by these humble words.
In the pre-dawn hours of August, 2018, a narcissistic, sociopathic father/husband brutally smothered to death his 4-year-old and 3-year-old daughters and his wife who was 18-weeks pregnant, after announcing he wanted a divorce. They argued. He choked his wife in his rage, and the 4-year-old daughter walked into the master bedroom as the husband was wrapping ‘Mommy’ in a sheet for easier carrying her to his pick-up truck. The father then killed his two daughters, drove them to an oil field, buried the mother in a shallow grave, and dropped the daughters into separate crude oil tanks… He then went to work and had coffee with his co-workers. These 36,000+ words cover the horrible homicides, and the narrative covers fictionally the murderer’s life in prison… He is serving a life-sentence.
Three young businessmen find much more than their special deep-sea love of fishing for Grouper and Marlin can bring. This ‘Science Fiction’ adventure brings them to a fateful place in their successful lives when a classic clash of ‘good and evil’ empowers them with a special civic responsibility that can win the battle but lose their lives. This fascinating Sci-Fi story has all the reader might want in a thrilling race against time and a villainous ‘Satanic Group’ set to bring a great nation to its proverbial knees. If you like ‘edge of the seat’ thrills, patriotic heroes of the first order who will fight until the end protecting their faith and the sovereignty of the land they hold dear, this novel will be an exciting escape for those who enjoy. The reader will also find some of the scary elements of our too current political unrest…
Please enjoy the read and leave a book review if you are so inclined…book reviews are the authors’ favorite gauge for further writing.
Amazon.co.uk – UK -https://www.amazon.com/Serpent-Rock-Sci-Fi-Battle-Between-ebook/dp/B083YR8DT8/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=serpent+rock&qid=1617399203&s=books&sr=1-4
A Combo of Action and Love! A handsome internet ‘whiz’ is hired by a global leader in the ‘Information Industry’. Scott Mahlon attends his first company ‘Social Event’ in Dallas Ft. Worth, meets and falls immediately in love with a lady he declares the most beautiful creature his eyes have ever befallen. Scott Mahlon’s fast entry into ‘Love’ lasts all of six and one-half hours before tragedy hits…From there, Scott Mahlon faces inner demons never before encountered. His dream job, his first REAL LOVE, his career dreams all come ripping through his mind like cymbal clashes, and his life in Texas begins under dark gray skies… There is murder. There is a ‘sex ring’ operation. There is a corporate puzzle that Scott and his newfound friend and detective, Bonnie Boone, must figure out together, lest the person and/or persons trying to kill Scott are successful. There is so much more in this romantic thriller, a page-turner mini-epic that blends genres to make this novel an incredible and exhilarating experience. You, the reader, will not be disappointed in this wonderful foremost story of love. Down the evil corridors of despair, murder, sex-rings, will Love win the day? Read this beautifully written book and live in the story, love and hate the characters you meet therein… AND, please, leave a review of your read. Thank you.
A novel inspired by true events but fictionalized in its narrative…Some strange criminal elements are at work in the small town of Mackland, PA: a Mackland patrol officer is ambushed and murdered in 2013; a mother and common law wife goes missing in 2015; the missing woman’s father is killed in a suspicious hunting accident in 2016 -was he getting too close to some truths about his daughter’s disappearance? a mother and daughter are brutally murdered in 2014 – the mother’s & daughter’s throats are slashed, then shot separately in their bedrooms (the daughter went to high school with the missing woman’s daughter); at least two drug gangs operate in the small town, brazenly attacking citizens and bragging about bigger crimes they’ve committed…there’s more, and the town has only 11,000 + population.* Amazon Universal BUY SITE:mybook.to/B00BRBRH02
Hammer’s Holy Grail
Love – Faith – Hope = War – Redemption –
This is a story of love and redemption! Wesley Walton is a star-quarterback for the Grand View University Grinders. His junior high school girlfriend, Wilma, is a cheerleader and Wesley’s forever love…no doubts about their lifetime commitment. Wesley not only battles his gridiron foes but an angry father’s Appalachian heritage. His father abuses Wes’ mother and sister on his frequent visits until a fateful hotel room altercation alters the lives of the family. Wesley will meet a man ravaged by war and lost love, a man who has found peace within himself and accepts his spirituality. This man will become Wesley’s friend, mentor, and father-substitute. If you like football, love stories, family relationships, and Christian values, you will find this novel a tribute to Faith and the frailty of ‘Man’! The author enjoyed the writing of this book as he was able to go back in time and pick up some memories to build his characters and plot-line. The result of his efforts will resonate with readers of all genres. Whatever you’re reading, enjoy, and, leave a book review for the author.
It is a sunny Sunday in May, 1993. After church, a mother and her lovely fourteen-year-old daughter walk three miles to a country store for cigarettes and ice cream. It is a walk that members of the family often take in this rural Sulphur Springs Valley area of southeastern Arizona near the Mexican border.
The mother and daughter arrive at the store in a jovial mood, trading pleasantries with customers and the owners… The daughter timidly flirts with a boy from her school. The daughter and mother leave the store in a silly mood, finger painting ice cream on their faces.
They never make it home…
The deputy sheriff of the county believes there has been a ‘stranger abduction’.
There are lots of action, interesting characters, and romance to go with this fictional account of an incident inspired by true events…events that brought tragedy to a shaken family.
It is a piteous whimper, lost in the black void of the narrow closet. The weak and eerie sound of her own voice chills her more fiercely than the cold. The thought brings an aberrant amusement. Her own small voice frightens her!
A sound! A creaking sound. Far off. A footfall! Is it? No. It is not a footfall. It’s just one of the strange noises that comes in the night.
Is it night?
Time is lost. Time is gone from her world like a chunk of youth. The black hole draws her toward an uncertain vortex. She must close her eyes. But, not so tightly… With eyes open, the blackness comes alive with trickery…
Inspired by a California newspaper account some years ago, this novel has truth along with the author’s story line. It is dark and ugly, like the black closet used for punishment by a malevolent mother whose heart and mind can only know evil. It is poignant and sad in the penning, to know that such cruelty and debasement can exist in one family.
From the black closet to fiery murder in the high Sierras, this shocking tale will scar the soul… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son
(A fictional memoir – 90% + TRUE)
About a Tennessee boy who ate some emotional soup and spent a lifetime trying to digest it. It is the story of a young man leaving east Tennessee and going in search of himself, unprepared for the adult world he is about to enter. Behind him, and, within him, is the emotional debris of his childhood: abuse, broken family, and a substantial part of his soul. Searching for his identity in ‘isms’ and bars, he stumbles, gets up, only to find in the end that legacy and meaning are elusive, a ‘white buffalo’ always somewhere in the shadows.
“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son” is largely a true story of the author’s own life, a mirror of his past, cracked with the stress of all his memories: a family broken apart by their Appalachian circumstances and the ‘great depression’; a childhood tainted by a father’s abusive nature; an impetuous marriage and a sorrowful divorce; a subsequent search of ‘isms,’ for love and meaning in California and Arizona gin mills; a tableau of horrible events, including a senseless family murder, suicide, and a desert survival.
“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son,” is the story of fictional Prentice Paul Hiller (me), his life, his heritage, his mistakes, the events that have come to shape him, and the demons within that he cannot dispel. Along the way, he gives his passionate and provocative views on criminal justice, love, politics, religion, war, and his favorite writers. In the end he finds a new love, some hope for redemption, some semblance of meaning and legacy.
The author’s own family roots trace back to the eleventh century in Chetwode, a lovely hamlet north of London… 5-Star reviews on Amazon. Amazon Universal BUY LINK:mybook.to/B004ZGWQY8
The Reluctant Savage (Embraces the genres of Mystery, Suspense, and Romance)
THE STORY: High school sweethearts, Billy Jay Campbell and Marcie Dangino reunite after many years apart. They discover the fire of their young love still glows brightly. With the Air Force behind him, Billy now works as an investigator for a law firm,
Two problems threaten to spoil his homecoming. Marcie is now married to a junior partner at Clarkson and Dangino, a firm that has occasionally employed Billy for their investigative work. The second problem occurs when Billy’s close friend and boss is murdered.
The Reluctant Savage follows a mystery that connects greed, murder, romance, and a love triangle.
A Phoenix, AZ entrepreneur and an ad agency director fall in love in a most unusual way. Their quickly budding relationship is interrupted by sibling clashes, an out- of control gambling addiction, a senseless murder, a grand matriarch’s secret that will ultimately cause unintended emotional chaos and disorientation. This is a book that will draw the reader into the story and compel them to stay glued until the end. The gripping climax to PHOENIX FIRE is powerful, and tissues are recommended. Treat yourself to a marvelous romance, mixed with some suspense and a desert odyssey to save one’s soul. A truly great read… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale (A Non-Fiction Memoir)
A non-fictional memoir that covers the author’s time in East Tennessee and his whirlwind education in the big world of neon lights, gin mills, pretty ladies, acting, television, stage, and film. It is also a book that takes a remarkably honest look at some mistakes and triumphs. It is a story that has depth beneath the glitter of shiny piano bars and lovely women, beneath a family disconnect and sorrowful musings. The book reveals the author’s relationships in his life, the lamenting moments of despair and loneliness, the never-ending search for meaning, his faith, and the brutal assessments of who he really is. It has the family disconnect, even murder and suicide, and there is always a candor that is both refreshing and shocking in its self-analyses. In the end, it is likely a bio not so different from everyman…just changes in circumstance and event.
These six books are personal and special to the author, particularly Books 1, 4, and 6 – “An Arizona Tragedy”, “Pueblo del Mar,” and “A Common Evil”. In fact, my personal life was emotionally touched by one of the victims and prompted me to write about the various cases involved…
These books were inspired by actual crimes, and it seemed to me best to present the books in a ‘first person narrative’.
Please enjoy the ‘reads’ and leave Amazon ‘book reviews’ if it is convenient for you.
My best wishes to all readers…
NOW, THE SIX BOOKS:
An Arizona Tragedy
– Inspired by true events – Many years ago, a lovely actress friend of mine was brutally murdered in the desert northeast of Phoenix, Arizona. She was a young mother of two children, a legal secretary for two of my attorney buddies, and she was responsible for my acting avocation — we had the same great agent in Scottsdale, Bobby Ball. She had her life in front of her with all the dreams most of our young generation had at the time, but her biggest dream was to have someone to love and a home for her family…
(You are never far from our thoughts, dear lady, and we pray that justice will eventually prevail.)
Meet Bailey Crane, a transplanted son of the south. Bailey is an auxiliary detective, has a soft rep business that brings in easy money, and he’s a part-time actor. Bailey’s got golf, love, money, friends, a hearty life, and he carries an amusing personality with him wherever he goes. He’s a rowdy, good looking rogue with a lot of that southern charm. His heart and his emotions are in his eyes and on his lips … he is not reluctant to share his world.
The young actress/model is brutally murdered in the Arizona desert northeast of Phoenix. The lady is a friend and her homicide begins an adventure for our southern sleuth that takes him down the halls of our nation’s capital where he discovers that fact and fiction are strange bedfellows. Bailey is a marked man, chased by an unknown pursuer with a gun. Wounded, his body battered and bruised, his anger pushes him onward until the puzzle pieces begin to make sense. The exciting climax has a unique twist, and our musing son of the south does not quite know it but the ending is also a beginning… 5-Star reviews on Amazon. AMAZON BUY LINK:
A young woman is murdered in a most gruesome way. The authorities have no leads in the case, and Bailey Crane is sought out by the victim’s desperate mother. She must know the awful truth of her daughter’s death, must come to some semblance of closure. Homicides of young women in other states arouse Bailey’s attention and provide a trail that will lead him to physical and psychological confrontations that will leave his relatively sane world rearranged and shaken. The bizarre conclusion comes in a small mountain town in Colorado. Our always musing southern sleuth will find a very personal and near sacred part of his life finding its own end point. There is emotional pain and there is a new beginning for our endearing Crusader.
“Lake’s face was the face of a memory my mind carried, a face with no discernible sign of hope, a face with no sign of soul.”
This tale begins with a raging warehouse fire that nearly consumes our southern sleuth with the Cherokee blood. A thug arrested in connection to the fire is overheard muttering a cryptic phrase, ‘beware The Brutus Gate.’ The fire and the phrase are the starting point of this story about drugs, murder, rape and political corruption at government’s elite levels.
Bailey Crane and his Phoenix PD buddies chuckle about the pithy ‘Brutus Gate’ remark and the adventure begins. Our Sherlock hero is bounced around by the criminal elements and by his own personal demons of guilt and remorse — all standard fare for the Tennessee man of endless mind queries about his emotions and the state of his life. The action is keen, and the climax comes on an old ranch on the Mexican border just south of Yuma, Arizona.
This is likely a romp you don’t want to miss.
“The Brutus Gate – A Bailey Crane Mystery” is Book 3 in the ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series.’ Each Bailey Crane book can be read independently of the other. There is the natural progression of the central character in each succeeding book (aging, loves, experiences).
MURDER IN PUEBLO DEL MAR (BOOK 4) – Inspired by true events –
An Arizona wife and mother is murdered while on holiday in Mexico, and her three children find her brutally beaten and slashed body. Bailey Crane, an auxiliary member of the Phoenix PD, is visiting close friends in Pueblo del Mar, and is asked by the local police chief to assist him in building his case against the transsexual lover of the victim’s husband. Bailey’s Cherokee blood comes to an emotional boil when family and friends get caught up in the web of corruption, drugs, and sex. The highly intense climax comes in a ‘Whale Shack’ in the scrub brush and sand near the Sea of Cortez. This tale has the always soulful musings of our southern Sherlock, a chance encounter with a mysterious mystic who shares his thoughts on Time and Place, and fragile nerves that get edgy and frayed. This tale was inspired by an actual murder so
me years ago, and you don’t want to miss it… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
– Inspired by truth – Bailey’s intent is fun and sun on the beautiful Sea of Cortez, but an old friend’s request for help changes his immediate plans: the Homeowners Association at the lovely Mar y Sol resort is experiencing some financial problems and its treasurer has just been murdered. His friend’s request for assistance leads to some very scary moments for our southern sleuth. Kidnapped twice, battered, bruised, Bailey finds it all in this caper — murder, money laundering scams, and betrayal. There is a man of intrigue that brings another dimension to the story, and the climactic ending to the tale is riveting, bringing with it an emotional catharsis for our hero. Bailey goes through the mazes, eventually finds his bad guys but he is left with the knowledge that friendship can be fragile and tentative.
PASSAGE FROM THE BOOK:
At the beach, he gave the middle-aged vendor his wallet to hold for him, chatted with him for a while in Spanish, got astride the jet ski and slowly moved out to deeper water. He made a few fast figure eights some five hundred yards offshore, allowing himself some final and nebulous act of rebellion, then pointed the jet ski in a straight line toward the distant horizon. He accelerated, and the jet ski thrust forward, spewing up heavy sprays, bouncing on the sea ruts and ripples. The wind screamed and hurled itself at his face and body, his hair flaring out in demonic poses, his wide lips closed tightly against his clenched teeth. On he went toward a horizon that only got farther away. His mind and body worked to keep balance on the jet ski, his heart pounding inside his chest, his mind focused only on the never diminishing line ahead where the sea meets the sky. Something in the water ahead caught his attention, something orange and heavy metal. He gave the jet ski all that the throttle would give and headed toward the orange object.
Just before the jet ski hit the orange metal, his mind projected the picture of a little boy sobbing, standing sad and forlorn in front of an old deserted house. Tears now came in a mad rush to mix with the sea spray and wind and his ending.
On the beach, the vendor could no longer see the Jet ski and he somehow knew that he would never see the man again. With a premonition, the vendor pulled from his pocket the wallet the man had given him. Inside the wallet was a note and twenty-five hundred dollars. The handwritten note read: “Follow these instructions and you will be a very wealthy man. Do with your life and the money what you will. My hope is that you will use the money for good and noble deeds. You will find your ending a much nicer place to be.” Attached to the note was a website address, numbers and password for an online bank account, instructions for redirecting funds, and further linkage information.
The man in soiled clothes looked toward the distant horizon and saw nothing. While the excitement of the moment overwhelmed him, he replaced the wallet and note in his pocket, stood for moments looking out at the sea. An unaccountable sadness overtook him and he wept for the man he would never know.
Former sleuth Bailey Crane and lovely wife Wendy are enjoying their penthouse pleasures until a cartel sting operation at their Mexican resort brings chaos and emotional uncertainty into a blurry reality. Wendy is kidnapped, and Bailey faces the demons running loose in his mind as he struggles with his choices. Also, President of the resort’s HOA, Bailey has not only kidnapping and murders with which to contend, but other problems which add to this suspenseful chapter in his life. The surprising end point brings back to Bailey and Wendy those memories better left in the memory vault.
An exciting, intense thriller in the sand and cacti of Mexico’s Sonora desert by the beautiful Sea of Cortez. This is the final Book 6 of ‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’… 5-Star reviews on
What beauty for the once lonely heart and idle mind to absorb, and, to Karma and its co-workers, thank you for bringing me this gift of the heart and soul – perhaps not the romantic at heart stories one might read about in a book of love clips and poetry, but could easily make those pages.
A major freeway was not the ideal and idyllic storybook place to begin love affairs, and I was one hungry candidate for a love affair with all the fairyland add-ons. Whether it was my fussy and outdated expectations of how an affair of the heart was to begin and guidelines that must be followed to nourish those marvelous moments, I knew when I saw the exasperated lady on the side of the freeway trying to manipulate a flat tire exchange, my initial thought was, ‘I have to help her. There were no ulterior motives to my stopping, knowing there was no appointment I needed to keep. no one waiting for me. My 1:00 o’clock Tucson meeting brought an end to my satisfying day. It was my turn to make another person feel not alone in time of need.
The lady heard me pull in behind her, lifted her body from the pavement, her hand still holding a tire-bolt tool. She cautiously gave me an incipient try for a smile. (She obviously kept abreast of bad news as well as the good news.)
“Please, don’t worry. You seem to need some help…”
She gave a slight eye movement of some doubt, so I spoke again. “Let’s do this: close your trunk lid. Get in your car and lock the doors. I will get your flat tire off and put the new tire on. I will then get in my car and leave. Are you agreeable to that?”
My eyes could have fooled me, but I thought I saw some tear-streaks on her lovely face.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke softly the words, but I heard her. “This is not an occurrence I have experienced, and it is not my intention to be rude.”
“I know, the world has put up some disclaimers to civility and people helping each other… I will stand right here while you close the trunk lid and get into your car and lock it. If you get hot in there, turn your motor on and get your air going – it will not take me that long to change your tires. Okay?”
There came a sudden calmness, and it seemed we both had some sort of kindred acknowledgement. She smiled, “Oh, I’m sorry to be so rude to someone who wishes to help me. Please, thank you, do come and change my tires, and I will be happy to pay you for your work…”
“No, no, there will not be any fees for my work…I’ll get you on your way before you know it. My name is Curtis Morley. May I ask your name?”
“Katherine Bruce, or, just, Kate, if that’s comfortable for you.”
“Kate is fine. Now, just move away so I can get your tires changed.”
Kate did a barely perceptible dip with her head and seemed now perfectly content with our situation.
We talked while I changed her tires, and it became a most enjoyable span of work and pleasure.
Kate was, of all the occupations in the Phoenix, AZ metroplex a Para Legal for Barnes and Dunlap, a firm with whom I worked occasionally. Talk of odd possibilities, I am an attorney with Morgan and Morley…
“Oh, my goodness. Do not tell me, but you are just coming from a meeting in Tucson on the Dexter Weeks case? Am I right?”
“I’ll be darn, this is absolutely nut stuff. With all the millions of people in the metroplex and, this chance meeting on Interstate 10…”
There was an easy transference in play here. I stood from my tire changing from time to time, faced Kate, and we talked easily. It had to be the same for Kate as we passed all the detours, all the mud puddles, became electrically fast in our mood shifts…and something else. In those few minutes we came as close as two people can come in such a short period of time.
Our eyes darted here and there as we talked, assessing our bodies, Kate at points lingering a bit long on my hair, just recently culture-cut, the angularity of my face, the hazel of my eyes, my well-built slender physique, kept that way with a multitude of exercises on a weekly basis.
The stunning assessment for me? Kate was absolutely beautiful with a bit of English accent, her skin so smooth to the point of perfection, her long length auburn hair that fell six inches from her shoulders, and her figure was an easy ‘Ten’ by any standard of measurement, visible when she turned and allowed her body to more firmly fit into wonderful nicks and crannies of her pants outfit.
So, with no shock to the readers, we became live-in lovers and have been in that magical place for two years now, with no demons on periphery trying to harm what our good God made perfect.
Well, except for the small pimple crisis on my love’s left cheek.
My life had its imperfections of the skin – a small outbreak of acne in high school that upset me, certainly not to an anxiety level onto which I placed it.
It was not the pimple so much that caused Kate’s nervous spells. She felt it was perhaps an omen of some kind, the first installment of some cataclysmic series of destructive omens in her life.
Now, I did mention she is English and can certainly, in true Anglo-Saxon form and bona fide heritage make cute little mountains out of cute little mole hills. Remember, they were the German inhabitants that arrived in England in the Fifth Century up to the Norman Conquest.
The pimple did not grow larger, but it did develop more talking points for my sweet Kate. The pimple became at its apex white with a red ring around it, then ugly yellow, but she would not let me squeeze it out, even with my teenage experience on the matter.
“Oh, you must truly hate me,” she would exclaim on the bear rug in front of the fireplace on a winter night.
“Oh, sweetheart, how could I ever hate the love of my life? Please, allow me to get a cotton ball, a bit of alcohol, no, no, not from your Manhattan. We will use the rubbing alcohol. I will most gently squeeze out that little white spot of ‘yuck’, put on the spot some soothing disinfectant, my little ‘star’ bandage, with soft kiss on top, and you will be rid of that pimple forever, no more to make home on your beautiful face… and the truth is, I’ve hardly noticed it being there… I’ve a great idea visiting my head – we can make a beauty mark out of that spot. What say you, my darling?”
“I say, ‘I’m cursed, having the man I love look upon me as a sorceress of some awful kind…oh, okay, get the stupid cotton ball, the medicine you plan to use, and put your ‘star bandage’ on the spot. Guess I have made as much hay with that as I can. You do still love me? You said…”
“Forever and any days beyond, my beautiful lady…you sure you don’t want to get married?”
“We can talk about that later. Go get your arsenal of pain and operate.”
“How did I get so lucky to find you on Interstate 10 – out of millions of people in the ‘valley of the sun’, and you chose me. I do so love you.”
“You damned well better…I don’t let just anybody pop my pimples.”
On our third anniversary I talked Kate into a tattooed mauve star for that spot where the pimple had the gall to inhabit for a short stay.
It will take a while after those terrifying pulls and yanks to get you out of your Mommy’s tummy darkness into the light and first sounds of human voices, and it does not take long for you to adjust to the calming coos, soft kisses, whispers of love after the umbilical is removed from your tender skin, and you are all cleaned up… Dad and Mom are sighing and smiling happily.
Depending on your inherited ‘lottery number’, other abnormal disease and health factors, plus the cognitive ability you might surprisingly already possess, you will likely settle into the adoring laps of caring people who really and truly love you. That wholesome family environment along with an adequate IQ and desire will ultimately lead you to other rewards of life offerings.
The early months of your living you learn to get diapers changed, food, and attention by displaying an angry squealing. As long as the ‘formula’ is correct you will be well attended with liquid nourishment, soft foods, and a pacifier, with relatives and friends visiting to glorify you and make you smile and at times heartily laugh. The good caring parents will have studied the writing of pediatricians on how to begin teaching your baby with gentle techniques the good and the bad of behavior patterns, the many positive and negative signals that can alert them to patterns of incivility.
Talking and walking can come early in a child’s initial stages, and parents can begin early preparing for schools’ early grades.
Parents bring to their children wide ranges of traditions and values. In our diverse and lovely United States of America we are daily witnessing some bizarre, manipulative, and most troubling events… Marxist-type Anti-Democracy groups, riots, murders, random assaults, thievery, and gross government inefficiency and our southern border giving way to millions of illegal aliens – what Trump-sanity put together, Biden idiocy takes apart.
Perhaps the biggest falsehood of all is that we are a ‘Racist Nation’, promulgated by groups who prevaricate their reason for existence.
WE ARE NOT A RACIST NATION!
WE HAVE FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND LIBERTY AS OUR HALLMARKS! WE ARE A ‘MAJORITY RULE’ DEMOCRACY – AND SOME OF OUR MOST PATRIOTIC CONTRIBUTING CITIZENS CARRY DIFFERENT ETHNICITIES…
The NEA – National Education Association – is working overtime to include in our schools’ Syllabuses a course called ‘Radical Race Theory’, a course to teach our young people that ‘Whites’ are prejudiced against ‘Blacks’… actually, to teach each group to ‘hate’ the other.
Not only is the NEA the costliest union in the nation, it is the most inefficient. Tax payers are footing the bill, and this sham of a group has far-outlived any beginning usefulness they might have had.
The children are America’s future. As we give them our love and guidance for good civic living, teach them our values and good sense for living, let us also make them solidly mindful that we measure our friends on the ‘content of their character’, not the color of their skin.
We cannot solve all the issues in our society, the crime, the IQs, and the selfishness of some, but we do not teach hatred in our classrooms – there is plenty of hatred in our government and in the world.
Impossible, perhaps, but can we not all wish for a ‘Mandate for Peace’?
Of course, I’m gullible, but I can have my dreams of a world unencumbered with wasteful hatred and power struggles.
Somehow, I get the feeling that ‘Arthur’ has finally taken complete control of my body…oh, I can still get up and down, write my fetching narratives and poetry, admire and feel the blood flowing with a bit more rapidity when the pretty ladies go by on my television screen and when I’m out shopping with the wife…of course I need to be more furtive, a bit more subtle with Julie Anne along…Julie’s my wife, and I would not, uh, for a moment, consider again being the ‘mean boy’ of my youth.
I will however confess to my long-held belief that women are the most beautiful distractions on earth…you might say that I do worship certain shapes, sizes, and hair color lengths. It is no mystery to me why some men are labeled ‘womanizers’ but too scared to wander too far from their devoted ‘purse lady’.
Now, I know this is a tough subject to dwell on, but, in my case, ‘dwell’ is the extent I can go – ‘Arthur’ has other ways and/or partners to keep most of us on the ‘straight and narrow’. And, hey, I know there are some good and honorable men who would never ‘dwell’ on the subject of shapes and beauty of women…for me, the psychological nudging for it unknown, the ‘dwell’ has always been there.
Please, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been happily married for many years to a beautiful and caring woman. I’m just saying, songs are written daily, artists, poets, authors have always explored and painted the captivating features of women and the different sections of their bodies. As long as civility and mutual agreements are made, what’s the problem? Beauty and Motion are to be enjoyed and honored without evil intent.
You will notice one of my twenty books, The Cracked Mirror, leads off my thought delicacy here. The Cracked Mirror is a memoir that explores my life from its Appalachian perspective, my youth, the tough times with a lot of anger, my Navy years, college, and women, all of whom had great meaning in my life. This memoir is 90% TRUE
I gave The Cracked Mirror a two-track delivery – one track dealing with time spent in care center for a hip-replacement and a track dealing with my life, ladies, and the neon world.
In the care center track – called ‘The Way Station’ – Prentice Paul Hiller (Me) meets Greta, a retired Psychiatrist (Patient), and the two become friends. Greta becomes the ‘sounding board’ for Prentice’s wayward life… Greta is fictional (blame me for the psychiatry!).
Suffice it to say, The Cracked Mirror goes a long way in giving some texture to my life… lovely ladies who crossed my path, historical periods of war and sacrifice, authors I’ve read and enjoyed.
The book, with little or no promotion, has garnered some 5-Star reviews…hope you have a chance to read it. It covers a large spread of my life and my insatiable poetic fascination with women a la ‘Mona Lisa’ and the tributes paid to them by the poets and authors of the day…hope you have a chance to read TCM.
BR Chitwood – June 21, 2021
Preview all twenty of my books and synopses at my Website/Blog:
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