And like that, with a feather quill pen and aged parchment, the final jot and tittle on life’s chapter titled 2018 is now dry. A few musings rattle around within my gray matter regarding what I’ve learned and experienced this time around the bright glowing orb. Here goes …
Have you ever had an idea that takes hold and won’t let go? I’ve had this one nagging at me for a while, but I kept pushing it aside. Well, my gut tells me the time has arrived for me to stop procrastinating and get this one done. I’m sharing this so you can take part as well in your own way.
Valentine’s Day 2018 and we are once again reeling from another school shooting. Depending on what website or news source you follow this marks at the minimum eight school shootings or as many as eighteenth between January 1, 2018, and February 14, 2018. The REAL fact is one school shooting is too many. Ever.
Recently a fellow writer reached out and asked me what advice I’ve received from other authors. It’s a great question and I was happy to offer the insights I’ve learned on my own and what others have taught me since I began my own writing journey.
I remember where I was sixteen years ago on this day. And I bet you know where you were as well. We all have a story to share and today many of us will tell others what we were doing on a Tuesday morning. Two generations ago President Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared December 7, 1941 “A date which will live in infamy.” For most of us September 11, 2001 will always hold a similar significance.
We celebrate our Independence Day every July 4th. But here’s a little bit of history for you. We actually adopted the Declaration of Independence on July 2nd. Then for two days, the founding fathers debated over the wording of the document and finally came to an agreement on July 4th. It wasn’t until August 2, 1776, the Declaration was signed. A few signed it after that, and even others would not sign what became our most sacred document.
Merriam-Webster defines a hero as, Someone admired for achievements or noble qualities. Also, One who shows great courage. Actually, I think they only needed two words to define a true hero, Terry O’Hara. Now, I don’t use that word lightly, but on March 10th 2017 we lost a man whom I believe exemplified what it means to be a hero. Terry O’Hara was a husband, father, son, and brother. Many people called him a friend and even more who never met the man - myself included - considered him an inspiration and a warrior.
Part X – Go BIG, or Go Home (The Conclusion) Washington, DC/Tacoma, WA
He looked down at his watch and silently swore to himself once more. His brother should have called fifteen minutes ago, which meant he was late, and that could only mean something went terribly wrong. The American’s, he thought, They must have interfered. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and slowly followed the deep contours of his wrinkles down his bronze colored face towards his square jaw. But is he dead? He wondered. Captured? His mind swam with the possibilities and a fierce anger boiled deep inside and slowly rose to the surface.
The heat, always the heat. Troy hated the sandbox as he not so affectionately called Iraq. When he stepped off the plane and his feet touched the concrete tarmac the wind, filled with granules of sand, smacked him against the side of the face causing his cheek to sting. He took it as Iraq’s way of saying screw you to him one more time. Dammit, he thought, I’m back again. Curiously, his mind wandered back to Drexel where he grew up. The harsh climate of Iraq made him miss the quaint town and long for the days of his youth. Quickly he pushed those thoughts aside and walked with purpose a step behind the Colonel.
Troy climbed the stairs of the G450 but his feet felt like lead as multiple days without solid sleep started to take its toll. Standing at the top of the stairs Harry blocked the entrance into the sleek jet. “Move it squirt,” barked Troy with a playful grin plastered on his face as he gave his medical sergeant a forceful shove with his carry-on bag. Harry stumbled a little and turned around, “Sorry Cap, Sarge is yapping his trap and jamming the aisle.” “I heard that,” hollered Terrance from inside the plane, “Don’t make me hurt you, boy.”