With some shame and omissions, I can honestly say that the mind is a most perplexing combination of stupidity and bright ideas!
“Huh?”
Okay, instead of saying ‘my mind’, I said, ‘the mind’. MY MIND is the perplexing combination of which I write. There are times when I hatch an idea on this laptop and it flows very well for a while until…until the mind is sidetracked with too many different themes coming into play, and they are darn good themes, just mildly disconnected from what I intended for this post.
“So!”
So, I look back over my over 500 post writings and find posts quite similar to the one I’m writing.
“Disconcerting?”
Indeed, because I want to be ‘fresh with what I write.
So, after reading over my 300 or 400 words, I wipe them off, clean and clear of my other posts…but I pushed the wrong button and ended up not only wiping out the post I was writing but the post in front of the one I was writing… Yes, I know, I used ‘I was writing’ twice in a sentence – a mistake because the ’wipe out’ was from exasperation and I went too far back and wiped out two posts… please don’t ask me why and how I could make such a mistake. Suffice it to write, for an ‘old coot’ like myself, I embarrass myself and my wife who reads all my posts and comments, generally always positively to them like a good wife (and writer, herself) should. When she begins her comments negatively, she acts like she’s embarrassed herself.
It’s enough to take an author to ‘drink’!
So, we doubled up that night – meaning we got half-soused on those two ‘hyped-up’ cocktails.
In this post, I wanted to be honest with my readers and let them know it hurts to make this admission…
So, with this post I apologize to readers of my words and their generally wonderful comments. It appears the ‘Writing Gods’ are reminding me of age factors…don’t get me wrong, I can get around rather handily, and it appears that I’m being reminded by some good and wholesome author friends that I should not cease my writing – you know, ‘good for the mind’, ‘good to be active in what you are good at’, and I know they are being kind and generous…some of them have written great reviews of my books – twenty books, in all! Many of my mysteries are fiction taken from actual crime cases.
Now, it would be nice if the readers of this post will join my writer friends and check out my books on my Word Press web site… https://www.brchitwood.com – Just saying!
Some say I should have been a comedian instead of an author.
No? I knew him, not so well, some forty years ago…he was a habitue, a devotee, of the Phoenix neon night life, searching for parts of himself he lost along a long emotional road from the hills of Appalachia: lost in an abusive and disoriented childhood; lost in a flawed and impetuous marriage; lost in the glittering promise of booze and women. Yes, I knew him, not so well, as he made all his stumbles along the way, losing not only himself but the connections to family and friends, to the people who loved him.
Yes, of course, I’m the man in the photo, and there’s a lot more to the story…hope you’ll read THE CRACKED MIRROR, Reflections of an Appalachian Son, by Billy Ray Chitwood.
In the end, my story must be like so many others, a story of a simple kid who grew up eating emotional soup and spending a lifetime trying to digest it. There are no spectacular or heroic moments. I’ve been in the United States Navy, but I’ve never fought a war—except the one I’ve declared within myself. So I know not the pain of holding a bleeding comrade to my bosom as he or she gasps the final breaths. I know not the anguish of a parent losing a child in an accident, or, in war—unless losing a child to drugs can be comparable. I’ve loved and been in love, but I’ve never stepped far enough from myself to know the true and natural profundity of its happiness and joy. I’ve been born but never died—unless the demon of the past is segmented death. The prospect of dying scares the hell out of me—not so much the prospect itself, but the pitiful legacy that is left behind. I’ve known insecurity and fear, along with self-confidence, loyalty, and pride. There have been the sins, small enough, I hope, to keep me at least somewhere in the thoughts of those I’ve loved. At times I’ve longed for ‘Nepenthe,’ the drug mentioned in ‘The Odyssey’ as a remedy for grief, the potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain and sorrow. But, then, without some pain, can the soul truly seek refuge when the long journey is over?
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The jail cell brought back sobriety and a stark reality. Sitting on a hard dirty ‘bed thing’ in the dimly lit, tiny barred enclosure, the demon thoughts came and possessed me. My world was disintegrating around me! The claustrophobic cell was my coffin of contriteness, a veritable symbol of my languishing life. There again was the ‘dark closet’ feeling within me, an anxious and suffocating hell! Grabbing at the bars I pitifully called out to the jailer, but no one came. Within the limited space I paced, stopped at the ugly stained wall, splayed my body against it, and tapped my forehead against its roughness. The jailer eventually came. He showed me a smile of compassion and told me that morning would come soon; then, I would be arraigned. The fitful night would pass.
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It is Time that wears down the acts and deeds of man into something forgettable, mundane, heroic, noble, historical, and unforgettable. It is Time that leads us warily toward the greatest secret of all: That which lies beyond the dark veil!
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“…There are men like you in the world, Prentice, through whatever kind of intervention, divine or otherwise, who must make us cry and laugh, who record for us the stirrings of the soul which we might otherwise never know.”
…
BR Chitwood
Okay, here I am today, no longer chasing those windmills, still trying to figure out this ‘one foot in front of the other’ thing. There are times when it seems I’m pretty close to figuring out this grand production, but those times are little teaser moments to stir something in the soul — sort of like a dreaded visit to a doctor or dentist, getting the car repaired – feels great when you find out the blood pressure is normal (thanks to a little round pill taken each day), the teeth cleaning and exam present no new cavities, and the car now carries no shameful dent.
All in all, living for some years on the rolling bluegrass hills of lovely Kentucky, a good wife, an aging, lovable cat, great daughters and sons, have given me happiness and joy. Back in Arizona the past still gets in my way at times in inscrutable ways, like a misty longing for something valuable I’ve left behind. I’ve never abandoned my faith, though fragile it might be, and there are many more good days than bad,
With all this said, I’m still writing, still searching…guess that only stops when mortal time gives up on me…
BR Chitwood – April 6, 2022
If you like books of mystery, suspense, action, romance, many of which are inspired by true events, please visit my website at https://www.brchitwood.com – after a short bio, just scroll down the ‘home’ page to preview the books and synopses of each.
Nine of the author’s 20 books shown below… Go to https://www.brchitwood – Website with synopses of all 20 books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, poetry, songs, author info, and BUY SITES AT YOUR AMAZON SITE…
Please visit! You will find some good reading with ‘BUY SITES’, book reviews, et al!
BR Chitwood – Author
April 6, 2022
NOTE:
All books below have 5-STAR REVIEWS on AMAZON!
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If you like books of mystery, suspense, action, romance, many of which are inspired by true events, please visit my website at https://www.brchitwood.com – after a short bio, just scroll down the ‘home’ page to preview the books and synopses of each.
Nine of the author’s 20 books shown above… Go to https://www.brchitwood – Website with synopses of all 20 books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, poetry, songs, author info, and BUY SITES…
Please visit! You will find some good reading with ‘BUY SITES’, book reviews, et al!
My mother was a gentle, generous, and kind woman from a large loving family of four boys and four girls, the matriarch of the brood fervently involved in her Protestant Faith. The father was a quiet, gentle, corpulent man, a railroad foreman for the Louisville and Nashville Railroad Company, a most pleasant person who seldom interfered with the demands of his pious wife who each day offered a loud, long, tearful, prayer to her Father in Heaven, with all present kneeling for her long wailing wishes for blessings and forgiveness of sins committed by her and her brood. Despite the parental toughness of her ways and the seriousness of her moods, she was a kind and gentle person.
Two of the four boys would serve their country in World War Two, one ferrying our brave warriors to the shore at Omaha Beach. The youngest of the brothers was murdered as he was closing down his ‘Filling Station’ late at night in Knoxville, Tennessee. Stanley was his name and a most wonderful Uncle. Uncle Stanley saw me through some difficult times in my early life. I loved this good man and think of him often through all these years.
Uncle Stanley and my mother were so much alike, both holy of heart, soul, and honorable in their daily living…
My Mom was a boarding house cook and a Bell Telephone Operator/Supervisor. Because of economic conditions at the time my mother had to rely on the state of Tennessee and my grandparents for boarding and financial help – it was a necessary procedure for many families at the time.
My most memorable years came when my mother brought my sister and me to live in a lovely home across from a beautiful college where I played tennis with some of the students and attended elementary school. Times got better for our small family. My sister blossomed early and wanted all that went with a pretty face and desirable body…problems, yes, but the family worked through it.
Much of my life was molded from those early days, still given to thoughts of a past with too little good and a lot of ugliness. I served my country, got through college, taught writing to high school seniors, did some acting, commercials and film, married a few times, sired three beautiful kids who constantly amaze me with their goodness, settled at last with a lovely lady who is all a man could possibly want.
Oh, and I have written twenty books, many based on true crimes, mystery and romance, a couple of memoirs, some 375 blog posts, many ‘flash fiction’ pieces, short stories, and poetry.
Okay, had this quiet afternoon of reflection, felt like writing some of it down, and I feel better…and, I just felt like sharing it with people who might be reading my posts.
Since my mobile and turbulent childhood my head fills with the events and movements of the days, the emotions that come and stay with me until I write about them from some subliminal heart/mind connection the words flow onto the screen of my laptop. I accept them and allow them entry on the page – as though they were destined to be there, an outlet for the subtle joy and pain of the soul…it is my belief that all artistic endeavors come from that similar sort of tingling.
As some subscribers to my blog posts might allow, most of my writing has a ‘Romantic’ cant, from my murder mysteries (some taken from actual crimes) to genres with historical essence, love, poetry, murder, and current events. My writing heroes of the past are many – …Hemingway, Steinbeck, Crane, DeMille, Grisham, to name a few. For Poetry, my favorite is an ex-Priest named James Kavanaugh.
I have written twenty books, their ‘buy sites’, 375 blog posts written over the years, plus poetry and tribute pieces to Arnold Palmer and other notables. That Website/Blog site address is:
You sleep while riding a ‘mare’ or ‘dreaming peacefully’. You awake in a ‘bad mood’, snack on quick and easy ‘coffee and toast’ (too much coffee!), and drive to your job – while your kidneys insist on your quick attention…
You sit at your desk, work menial tasks and have your fanciful day dreams and ‘Romantic Thoughts’…
You think of where you and your soulmate will vacation… perhaps a great resort in Aruba or an Ocean Cruise…
Work ends for the day, and you go for cocktails at your favorite pub with your favorite lady…
At home, feeling guilty, you open your laptop and resume writing the manuscript for your new novel…
You take a break, check your E-Mail. There is your new blog message: “5-Star Reads in most genres – 20 books, some based on true crime, Short Stories, Flash Fiction – some books are related to true criminal events: https://brchitwood.com – Also, Romance and Suspense…”
Ah, c’mon! Take a ‘tour’! There are some great books and writing at this website…
If you are a reader, avid or not, you will enjoy the books’ synopses, blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, poetry.
So, it seems I shall be ending this fascinating life adventure as I entered it, confounded by the sounds of jubilation and tears, yet, without a kindly grandmother slapping my rear end to bring the breath of life to a reluctant new birth in a small clapboard house in Appalachia, a saw mill hamlet of dirt roads and a railroad spur for bringing logs to the primary employer of most of its scant population of farmers, most of whom were in a prolonged ‘Great Depression’.
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As a man ready for his final destiny, a man with precious little of consequence for the reader who might chance upon these few words I write here, the words will have little historic value or any other kind of value that would perpetuate a useful understanding except for some amusing and pathetic experiences. At best, the words herein have been written by many others facing their final breaths of air on this orbital craft that ended up with the name of ‘Earth’.
So, skipping over my apathetic problems with school and teenage acne, some good buddies, and a couple of young ladies I was too dull and dim-witted to approach, and an early entry into the United States Navy, marriage to a ‘Navy Wave’ with her own confused history, college, teaching, and emotional experiences that not only paralyzed me but would put me on the path of unrighteousness…yes, alcohol and lovely women of the night – indeed, a shameful and wonderful foray into an almost every night ‘Whoop-de-do’.
Mistakes of a shameful quality?
A ‘big time’ Uh-Huh! Years of willful neglect to career and inner peace. Still, it was fun and disaster – now, you know where the phrase came from, wait for it! ‘Honkytonk-Heaven’ or, ‘Neon Madness’.
So much time wasted?
I suppose – but it was my life for a time. Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias wrote and performed the lyrics and music For All the Girls I’ve Loved Before. It is a song I should have written. In other words, I could not have written a better epilogue for my life.
My good wife of nearly forty years has encouraged me in my writing efforts, always steadfast and loyal. She also with her love and unselfish nature brings a smile to each new day.
Somehow, in the aging process, I found the gift of writing, much of it venting moments of my life.
Twenty books– some based on true crimes, some in different genres, give glimpses into my life…Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Biography.
Short Stories, FlashFiction., Poetry and over 375 Blog Posts!
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Perhaps, I have atoned for some of my ‘low spots’ in life… Regardless, my writing speaks ‘Truth’, and it is my hope that readers can find in my books not only the joy of reading but some essence of inspiration. All my writing can be found at: https://brchitwood.com complete with synopses and Amazon Buy Sites.
Wishing everyone a happy and frustration-free 2022, with the scourge of Covid and Omicron all in our rearview mirrors.
I’ve written over twenty books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry, all found on my website and blog: https://brchitwood.com.
The books cover most genres, some crime novels depict the author’s factual accounts with some fiction to enrich the drama. There are romance novels, a ‘Bailey Crane’ six-book mystery series, some of which inspired by true events, one science-fiction novel, memoirs that perhaps tells too much about the author’s life.
THE CRACKED MIRROR – Reflections of an Appalachian Son is a narrative about my life, and I use a character – Prentice Paul Hiller – to depict me. In this memoir I use a two-track system for conveying the action taking place: PP Hiller (me) on a ‘Nursing Home’ track, PLUS a track that covers my life. I believe the reader will find THE CRACKED MIRROR an excellent read…of course, my selfish-side believes all my books are excellent.
In my Website – https://brchitwood.com – you will find all my books with cover pics, synopses, and Amazon Buy Sites.
The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son
(A fictional memoir – 90% + TRUE)
BR Chitwood
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 (Billy R. Chitwood) 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 BUY SITES:
Thank you for previewing and reading my books. Any comments you might have can be left on this blog or my Web site or at my E- Mail: brchitwood@gmail.com
In the day when Philosophy might have had a more urgent importance and significance, I wonder if Descartes’ singular ‘Cogito’ utterance and treatise would be one of the most recognized phrases in school rooms around the world, particularly those rooms where hungry minds were more inquisitive about their world and their existence in it.
In my Appalachian world of youth, it would never have occurred to me to question my existence…there were enough ‘negatives’ in my early life to keep my mind swirling with confusion and doubts – no intention to gain sympathy, just depicting my early life when our country was going through some ‘trying times’…well, kind of like, NOW!
I can say with certainty that my mind has no problem accepting the fact that I ‘think’ and I ‘exist’! Those days still linger, still bring occasional thought-demons and over-think. Decisions, mistakes have been made in my life, but, overall, there has been happiness and love to offset the bad stuff.
Descartes had some important influence in my college education, made me more aware of my lack of knowledge.
The tiny thesis I am putting forth in this post is that my
problem these days is that I ‘think’ too much in lieu of looking at the beautiful Arizona sky, writing, enjoying life with wife, home, and our wonderful children. So, Descartes brought back to me some simplicity to my life.
Hopefully, I can pass on some of this trivial verbiage to those who can embrace this sequitur nonsense.
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BR Chitwood – December 2, 2021
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Please read synopses of my 20 books, read my over 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry…
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