Tag: #Reading

Learning

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https://booklaunch.io/billyraychitwood/59553847c4cab27328cf4aaa

 Learning?

 Today, Brandon is a PhD, teaching at a mid-west University. My son, Brandon, ‘A Phud!’ Really!

The older mind, mine, hearkens back to his baby-days when he was playing with his plastic toys in front of a television screen. A commercial would come on interrupting a drama series we might be watching, and Brandon would stop his playing and look at the TV screen…we finally realized it was sound, voice, and color-flash differentials that caught his attention, but he kept his eyes glued to the set until regular programming continued.

Like many parents we were sure that Brandon was a precocious child and were thrilled that he picked up quickly small tidbits of learning.

Late afternoons, when I arrived home from my marketing office, Brandon and I went to the master bedroom. From the bedside table, I took a pack of playing cards and a book – usually, a novel I was reading. I would daily toss playing cards on the bed and ask my son what number he saw. It was ‘fun learning’ for him, and, soon, I would grab the novel and point to a ‘letter’ at the beginning of a chapter – you know, many novel formats are such that the first letter of the new chapter is a larger type than the ensuing text.

So, slowly, through the days, Brandon learned his letters and his numbers. He began to read early and found great enjoyment in the process, proudly giving me a capsule description of what he was reading. It was obviously such a delight to see your child still in the baby range, reading.

Then, there came a separation through no cause of his or mine. I went to Los Angeles for one week on a business trip, and, upon my return there was no wife and no Brandon.

What had escaped my notice through the months was my wife’s lack of interest in doing things, like, I would suggest we drive to the park for the day. She seemed lethargic to a point where she did not wish to go, to do… She just wanted to stay at home.

Her parents knew what I did not know, that the wife had a mental condition, a phobia for being in crowds, a psychological condition that rendered her not attentive and seemingly uncaring. I did not help her situation as I was so professionally busy and time spent at home was usually with Brandon…with only light conversation with his mother, my wife.

So, while in Los Angeles, she left me, returned to Phoenix, AZ where we had lived prior to my transfer to California, and her mother checked her in to the hospital for psychological evaluation and treatment… She left me a letter which I still have to this day, her ‘why and wherefore’ of deserting me. For her, it was her only way, departing without confrontation, without the obvious ‘hurt’ I would feel for her and Brandon leaving…

Long story short, she got better, left the hospital, but we never got back together. My mother lived in Phoenix at the time and cared for Brandon while his mother was in the hospital, and there I would visit Brandon during free space at work in California.

Brandon’s mother died too young and would not live to see his attainment of a PhD. When they moved to Minnesota where her life began, there were years I heard nothing from Brandon, knew little about his life, except helping with a monthly check for child support.

There is an inscrutable, lamentable disassociation we’ve had over the years…we talk only occasionally, when he calls, or, when I call him. It is perhaps a sad situation, but neither of us suffer too much from the absence. Our love is there. It’s somehow ‘parked’ in a place we each never want to meet. My pride at his accomplishment is there, and, somehow, we both know of our love for each other. That has to be enough.

Of my other three children, Scott and Shelley are my pride and joy, and we do communicate on a regular basis. Steven Ray died while in a Las Vegas nursing home.

So, I’ve written much of this in two memoirs, and won’t be writing another. There is some burning wish to make people aware of my personal life when there is no damned reason to do so. I figure it must be further effort to cleanse somehow my soul.

Why did I write this?

Damned if I know!

 

Billy Ray Chitwood – July 18, 2019

 

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Dream

Photo art by Aaron Andrew Ang – Unsplash

 

Dream

 

To dream is to escape!

To escape is to free yourself!

To free yourself is to disappear!

To disappear to visit your Soul!

To visit your Soul is to create!

To create is to dazzle your senses!

To dazzle your senses is to be bold!

To be bold is to be new with yourself!

To be new with yourself is to view life on your terms!

To view life on your terms is to give the world a piece of you!

To give the world a piece of you is to go beyond imposed limits!

To go beyond imposed limits is to find a magical you!

To find a magical you is to give expression…

To the magical you!

In a chosen Art!

Go beyond imposed limits!

Show a piece of you!

On your terms!

Being bold with the new you!

Dazzling even yourself!

Creating what you find beautiful!

Calming your soul with your creations!

Disappearing in that new, free, world of Creation!

Escaping the world’s mock-up and foolery!

In those dreams to which you have escaped!

A marvelous revelation that comes for your salvation!

To Dream is to live and escape the surly bonds!

There, high above the clouds of reality and Man-made truth!

 

B R Chitwood – July 14, 2019

 

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There

-Photo art by: Jakub Dziubak-

There

 

There in that sacred space

Where dreams lay crumbled

From all the yesterdays –

 

There where songs are sung

And stale memories play on

The soft notes of piano keys –

 

There in the unfulfilled dream

Heaps of all tomorrows amid

The rearranged bar stools –

 

There in the Bacchus mist

Among the sad souls of night

Love comes briefly to delight –

 

There in that play parlor for

Lonely souls of poetic pawns

The tortured Romantic sits.

 

Thank you, Romantics of the

World for the beauty of your

Musical notes of such sweet pain.

 

  • BR Chitwood – July 9, 2019 –

 

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And, The Beat Goes On!

And, The Beat Goes On

And, The Beat Goes On is a colloquial expression not heard so much today, and, yet, it says so much. Somewhere in all areas of the world someone’s heart will stop beating. In those same areas, a baby is born, And, The Beat Goes On…rather fundamental truth of life, so why make a blog post out of this one-time hep phrase?

In the darkness, the body splayed out for repose, and the mind is tossing out to you these nuggets of redundancy – Doctor’s appointment tomorrow, Pest Control guy coming tomorrow, ‘how do I get back on track with my new piece of writing? SciFi, no less! Am I in over my head? New genre? New characters that have noble goals? During the marathon of thoughts pounding within your brain, do you ever reach over your body, place a thumb just above the left wrist and feel for a pulse? Ah, the beat goes on.

Okay, nutty professor! Why make a blog post out of, And, The Beat Goes On?

Hey, I’m thinking of the right answer as I write. This is one of those, ‘Pick a Phrase’ and run with it. How am I doing so far? DON’T answer that!

Well, the way I had it figured, living here in Sunset, I was ahead of the curve, living maybe beyond the time I should be joining Mom and ‘Clarence’ – Heaven’s Bell Ringer – up there where angels dwell… Yes, I’m an angel in a gosh-awful earthly disguise!

Now, I must not get started on Angels because I’ve known in this long span some really beautiful women angels who made the beat faster and louder… I digress (but you don’t know for how long!).

Anyway, I figured I was way ahead of the curve, when I’m watching these beautiful 97-year old, 103-year old, World War 2 vets at the celebration of D-Day in France. On Utah Beach and Omaha Beach that fateful day, our American casualties were in the tens of thousands. For the really young ones not very likely reading this, these guys and more like them belonged to the Golden Generation. I was around as a ‘pup’ during those days, had an uncle who was a belly-gunner on a B-17 at Hickam Field in Honolulu during Japan’s surprise attack on a Sunday morning in December. Those B-17s were part of the Flying Fortress that dropped more bombs during WW2 than any other airplane… It’s my prayer that the younger generation will read of our proud history, find out how dear were the cost of lives for our freedom and liberty…And, The Beat ‘Went’ On.

The Beat Went On from WW2 to Scientific and Technological advances that make the head spin. Our human knowledge at the end of WW2 doubled every twenty-five years. Today, human knowledge doubles every twelve months, and it will soon be doubling every twelve hours. Oh, yes! The Beat Definitely Goes On!

Now, when anyone cares to know, this old author-fart – oops, heart. has gone through a hellava lot of beats. And, may I remind everyone of another major point of this fantastic post (he says with tongue pressed in tooth-gaps on either side of the jaw) – NOT both sides at once! The Reminder? I’ve written eighteen books and one shortie with my stylistic wonders – samplings of my Flash Fiction, Short Stories, Poetry, and Book Excerpt. It’s about time you readers out there buy and read a few of my books and leave some Amazon reviews – Do Not Be Embarrassed To Leave 5-Star Reviews. I’ve instructed Amazon not to accept any rating lower than 4. Just saying! Amazon is saying: “Hell, Son, you’re not getting hardly any reviews, so don’t be telling us how to do our jobs!” Okay, sorry, I spoke without thinking, Oh, Mighty OZ of the book world! Ah, what the heck, they’re nice folks over there at AMZ’s place: they let me publish my books, warts and all. Oh, and need I remind you, ‘git ta buyin an reedin’! Then, the beat will go on!

I’m now working on a SciFi novel, having fun with it, and it’s still several months out there… It’s about three young business partners who find their zeal for fishing on the Sea of Cortez yielding more that Groupers and Blue Fins, in fact, world-changing yields. I’m having fun writing it.

Well, I guess the point is made: And, The Beat Goes On…

BR Chitwood – July 2, 2019

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‘All Author’ Interview With BR Chitwood – Author

‘ALL AUTHOR’ AUTHOR INTERVIEW

Billy Ray Chitwood Interview Published on: 19, June 2019…All Author:

Crime fiction writer Billy Ray Chitwood came into the world as a ‘blue baby’ in rural Tennessee, during the aftermath of a big depression, and into a world of poverty, malaria, and broken homes. He had an abusive father, but was blessed with a hardworking and wonderful mother that did everything in her power to keep the family together. To Billy, writing is his therapy and he finds it hard to imagine good writing coming without passion. Though inspired by many English Romantic poets in college, he didn’t start writing till after the end of his first marriage. Many, but not all, of his eighteen books stem from some real life’s true crime cases. He is currently working on a book which is temporarily titled, THE SOUL DOME PROJECT, a novel about three young lifetime friends, enterprising businessmen who love to fish in Mexico’s Sea of Cortez, who encounter other-worldly treasures in lieu of fish. This book is a different genre for the author, and he’s having glorious fun writing it. Hopefully, it fits in the SciFi genre. The young men are more than simply fascinated by one of their fishing adventures. They are overwhelmed in a major way. I’m working hard, trying to fuse my brand of humor into what is a first-class, supreme world shocker kind of book. Obviously, it is my hope that I can ‘pull it off’, as they say (whomever ‘they’ are supposed to be). I just wish it to be a fun read by the reading community. I’m still some months out on this ‘fishing boat’.

Here is ‘All Author’s’ Interview with author BR Chitwood:

AA Question: Tell us about your life and your struggles.

BRC Answer: Wish I could put a ‘smiley face’ on my life and struggles, but I must be truthful. I came into the world as a ‘blue baby’, born in a clapboard house up a muddy lane in a sawdust hamlet of rural Tennessee. It was the aftermath of a big depression. Poverty was everywhere as were malaria and broken homes. I’m rather fond of a phrase I used in my memoir: ‘I ate a lot of emotional soup as a kid and have been trying all my life to digest it’. The broken home, family, the times, the world were vague message carriers at the time. There were emotional and physical abuse by an itinerant father. There was a strong and hard-working mother who tried to keep the family together, working as a telephone operator by day, in war assembly plants at night, and as a boarding house cook. She was a wonderful mother.

AA Question: How passionate are you about writing?

BRC Answer: Writing is my therapy. I find pieces of me on and between the lines of what I write. Writing for me is as much about finding those loose ends of my life smack in the middle of a sentence or paragraph as it is writing a polished piece of prose that readers will enjoy reading. Nothing gives me more pleasure than grabbing a word or phrase that says exactly what I want it to say. It’s difficult for me to imagine good writing coming without passion.

AA Question: How long have you been writing and what inspired you to become a writer?

BRC Answer: Most of my life. As a kid I played around with words, writing silly poetry, mimicking the famous singers of the day – loved to sing. After a ten-year marriage came to an end, I played with the ‘lotus eaters’ for a number of years – booze, gin mills, piano bars, pretty ladies, and lonely motel rooms…wrote my maudlin poetry on bar counter napkins and motel stationery…my ‘self-pity period’… In college the English Romantic poets – Wordsworth, Lord Byron, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge – appealed to my emotional hunger, as did the group known as the ‘Naturalists’: Emile Zola, Thomas Hardy, Stephen Crane, Theodore Dreiser, Frank Norris, Jack London, et al.

AA Question: How did you get the idea for your first book?

BRC Answer: A dear actress friend of mine was brutally murdered in Phoenix, AZ. She was twenty-six years old, a mother of two small children, and had her entire life in front of her. Her body was found in the desert six weeks after her disappearance and savage murder, ravaged by the summer heat and denizens of the desert. My first book, PROBABLE CAUSE, was published and went out of print. That book became the first ‘mystery’ book out of six of the ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ (Books 1-6) – AN ARIZONA TRAGEDY – A BAILEY CRANE MYSTERY (Book 1 of 6). The book was my way to say goodbye to a lovely lady whose life was cut short by an evil predator…the killer has never been caught, so far as I know, and the case remains a ‘cold case’ for the Phoenix Police Department.

AA Question: While choosing a name for your characters, what elements do you consider that will determines what you finally call them?

​BRC Answer: For me, the sound of the name, how it reads to me on the page, means a lot. Also, if a name comes to me that somehow seems to fit the character’s personality, in her/his strength or weakness, I will use it. Names are important and should be chosen with care.

AA Question: Do authors in general and you in particular plan series beforehand or do they just happen?

BRC Answer: After the Bailey Crane Book 1, there was another gruesome murder in Phoenix, a decapitation homicide of a lovely young lady. That gave rise to the Bailey Crane Mystery Series (1-6) and would become Book 2 of the ‘Series’…my fictionalized version of the crime. That homicide was a cold case for some years until just recently. The Phoenix PD finally found the killer.

AA Question: How do you choose which stories to tell?

BRC Answer: Many of my books have some basis in fact – not all, but, some. A story can come from an interesting news article – like my novel, MAMA’S MADNESS…a story of a mother in California who tortured and murdered two of her daughters and an ex-husband. The torture events and murders are related in the book, but there is also my fictional narrative.

AA Question: Do you ever get writer’s block?

BRC Answer: Not really. I just won’t allow it to happen. Usually, a line will come to me and I’m off and running. Lazy? Yes, I get a bit lazy at times…lazy in the sense of watching a football game or golf match instead of writing at a particular time. Much of the time I look over at my lovely wife and say: ‘Give me a phrase! Any phrase!’ She does, and I write a blog post based on the phrase. Crazy, I guess, but it works for me. At least one of my books came from that process…HAMMER’S HOLY GRAIL is that novel.

AA Question: Do you have a “reader” in mind while writing?

BRC Answer: Oh, sure. That’s why I rewrite, edit, rewrite, edit, over and over, in an attempt to eliminate boring sentences, spelling errors, grammatical goofs, et al. AND, guess what? I can almost assure something will be missed. That’s why an editor is part of most authors’ output…and even they can miss something now and then.

AA Question: Who is the first person to read the first draft of your books?

BRC Answer: My wife, generally, and I have a very wonderful fan and friend, Dr. Timothy Tays in Scottsdale, Arizona, who is also an author, a noted Clinical Psychologist, and he gets the first file to read and critique.

AA Question: How do you get reviews? Which was the best review you ever got?

BRC Answer: Of course, I request reviews in promotional blog posts, tweets on Twitter, Facebook, et al. You have touched on an area in which I am remiss. I really don’t know how to promote my books in the best way. I certainly like the way All Author and ‘QUOTESRAIN’ promote my books with sample chapters. Of the many great reviews I’ve gotten for MAMA’S MADNESS, this one from Amazon UK lifted me to the heights:

MAMA’S MADNESS – Amazon Review by Diogenes – Amazon UK:

“Compelling and Disturbing” 5.0 out of 5 stars By Diogenes – Amazon UK Format: Kindle Edition Billy Ray Chitwood’s novel `Mama’s Madness’ is a real find. While many Indie authors follow well-trodden paths of `popular genres’, Chitwood’s work cuts its own route through the underclass wilderness of modern America. Based on real-life events – but fictionalised in the telling – Chitwood’s story is by turns compelling and disturbing. The central character, Tamatha Preen, is a monster for our time. Inhabiting her own self-centred and embittered world she inflicts psychological and physical damage on her daughters while keeping her sons cowed by alternating violence with affection. Chitwood has an authentic voice articulating the world of the grifter and petty criminal hovering at the margins of society. The writing is gritty, laying bare the animal beneath the thin veneer of civilisation. Child abuse, theft, deception and murder all feature in a heady cocktail of corrupted morality – yet these topics are handled without sensationalism, and at times the novel has an almost journalistic feel to it. This is a brave book, swimming against the tide of literary popcorn, and it deserves a wide readership.

AA Question: What does the word “story” signify for you?

BRC Answer: a) a piece of writing (or vocal rendering) that tells of an event, experience, short or long, true or fictional… b) a floor in a building…

AA Question: Do you think an author should be bound by Genre?

BRC Answer: Readers dictate the genre – some readers like romance, some like mystery and suspense, thrillers, true crime, adventure, ‘how to’ books, et al. Of course, the writer is not bound by genre. As far as writing in different genres, I plan on writing in most before my fingers can no longer hit appropriate laptop keys.

AA Question: Are you currently working on anything?

BRC Answer: Yes… Working title is “The Soul Dome Project” – likely will be the title. The book is about three easy-going businessmen who love fishing in the Sea of Cortez in Mexico. On one of their fishing trips, they encounter some startling truths their minds cannot initially wrap around. It’s a SciFi romp for me, and, a lot of fun. Still some months away before birthing…

AA Question: Do you have a special time or place for writing?

BRC Answer: Usually during the day, after breakfast, and most of the day in the den on a Lazyboy leather recliner, I write, along with too much social media activity. Many good thoughts are lost at night when I can’t sleep and refuse to get up and put them on paper or the laptop.

AA Question: How do you promote your work? How will AllAuthor (QuotesRain) help you in your book promotion and sales, would you like to refer this platform to your author friends?

BRC Answer: Through QuotesRain/AllAuthor, Twitter, Facebook, Blog Posts, other authors, readers comments, blog posts, tweets, and referrals… As I suggested earlier, I welcome reviews of my books and suggestions for better marketing… An author can spend lots of money on promotion. I’m not a miser, but I need some assurances that the money I’m spending is leading to books being sold. Regarding referring Quotesrain and AllAuthor platform to my author friends.I’s my pleasure and no problem with that. In fact, I do some of that myself by re-tweeting some of your original tweets for my books.

AA Question: Would you like to share something with your readers and fans?

BRC Answer: I gratefully thank my fans and readers and wish them all GOOD READING. I might sheepishly ask that they write reviews of my books they read and refer me to their friends.

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Posted by: BR Chitwood – June 26, 2019

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Down and Deep

 

Down and Deep

Down and Deep, in shadowy Soul of Man,

Among wanton desires and greed,

Can there be a winsome plan

For Love and nascent need?

Can some benign and gentle force

In shapeless wonderment

Come to settle in due course

Fulfilling noble Testament?

Were we to call such Phenomena

A Deity from No Time and Space

Would we be judged Anathema

Or God’s servant full of grace?

Wander and wonder we through ageless

Eons of Earthen causes and effects

Glimpsing beauty and sages

Man’s mortal goodness and defects.

Until the Orb upon which we dwell,

Spins one last earthly time

And settles some in Hell,

Others in Heaven’s Holy Clime.

On a long-ago parchment it is said

Man’s search for the Holy Grail

Doth lead Man to dread

The fiery furnace of Hell.

So, see wonders of this ageless Orb

Listen to the music of your Soul

Allow not your lives absorb

The leaf of the Lotus toll.

BR Chitwood – June 24, 2019

 

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The Mind – A Great Odyssey

The Mind – A Great Odyssey

 An octogenarian mind has a plethora of experiences to share, bemoan and cherish. The dips and sways during a lifetime are one great roller coaster ride. Some mind choices along the way will chastise and haunt. Some will make you weep. Some will make you smile with joy.

The wiring is likely the most important part of the mind – a well-engineered mind that keeps the mind focused on its chosen field and/or fields of interest…that DNA stuff that a relatively few can talk about. There are people who can stay their course, who have minds that stay focused on ultimate goals they wish to reach. There are those of us who are like moths to light, forever longing for some elusive Nirvana, some peaceful way station along the way where life yields pleasure and forever love. Often, we, those people are referred to as ‘Romantics’.

The environment can alter choices and deeds surely, but it is the mind that in its uncanny ability and unique engineering can wipe away most of its ‘carrier’s’ ugly parts and proceed with its eventual destiny. It is with joyous envy that I sprinkle dashes of remembrance to a few people of history that have given me small fractions of wisdom, hope, and pleasure, people who had those mind attributes that I covet and wish to have possessed.

My mind conjures up people like Arnold Palmer, Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Aristotle, Plato, Socrates. What could a golfer, a couple of scientists, and a group of philosophers really have in common?

At the Phoenix Open PGA Golf Tournament some years ago, I met and spent a delightful afternoon with Arnie Palmer and a small group of admirers. Arnie shared with us some of his experiences after leaving his Pennsylvania farm. Golf had been his obsession, and he knew early on that he wanted to compete and win major golf tournaments. He stayed true to that single-minded dream, and he became one of the most adored man in the sport. His ‘simple man’ of the land image endeared him to millions of fans, and the phrase, ‘Arnie’s Army’ became a television staple when talking about the great golfer’s fans. Arnie was simply a man who could walk among Kings, Presidents, and the common man. He knew where he was in his journey. Meeting Arnie, sharing space with this man who was my idol, was one of the singular events of my life. I loved the man.

Comparing Arnold Palmer’s mind with the minds of Einstein, Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, and Marie Curie would perhaps seem frivolous, but there is commonality. Each had enquiring minds, single-minded interests.

Albert Einstein, of course, brought our eager world into Science in monumental ways, his mind touching so much of what today we take for granted, in sophisticated manufacturing principles to household products. A German-born theoretical physicist, his mind was magnificently wired for Science, he would amaze his contemporaries with his scientific knowledge, would develop his ‘Theory of Relativity’ and win the Nobel Prize in 1921…and, he was also ‘human’, married, had two sons, divorced, lived a life lush with fame, alerted President Franklin Delano Roosevelt of the potential development of ‘extremely powerful bombs’ – which led to the ‘Manhattan Project’.

Marie Sklodowska Curie was a Polish French Physicist and Chemist who conducted pioneering research on the study of radioactivity, the first woman to win the Nobel Prize and the only woman to win the Nobel Prize twice. She was also the only woman to win the Nobel Prize in two different scientific fields. She was the first woman professor at the University of Paris…an amazing lady who contributed greatly to the world of Science.

With the great philosophers, their single-minded queries into the knowledge and thinking of their time would forever be a part of our educational system, and pass through the halls of colleges and universities…’Aristotelian Logic, Socratic Method, Platonic Theory’, all phrases heard daily in classrooms across the land. In his famous ‘Dialogues’, Plato discussed not only the physical world, but the metaphysical as well – immortality, the mind, Man. These were ‘Mind-Giants’ who led the way to logical thinking.

The lives of these few great people among so many that could be mentioned were astounding and serve as role models for those who tenaciously hold onto their dreams, their love of a specific subject, be it arts, industry, science, sports, those who have the minds and the wills to achieve.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste’, it has been said.

On a personal level, my mind was put ‘oh hold’ for much of my younger life by a chaotic Appalachian youth and a sojourn of ‘lotus-eating’ – then, in those early years of manhood, would have been the time to begin my serious writing. Something was missing in my life, a vague wispy dream of family and love, and the path I took to finding those most genuine realities were laden with ‘lotus flowers’ and ‘Mr. Bacchus’. I was blind to a sure path that would lead me to writing. One path was left to follow yet another.

In short, my mind in so many ways I’ve wasted.

The latter part of this life that is left to me is taken up with writing. I call it my therapy. I love to write… Nineteen books, some 400+ blog posts, and some poetry thrown into the mix. There is no Nobel, no Pulitzer, no award I can imagine coming to me. I’ll be satisfied with some of my books being read and enjoyed – with, hopefully, some Amazon reviews thrown in.

Moral to the story here? To the extent there is one, if writing is your ‘dream’ and you feel you can do it well, begin and grow with each new Blog post, Book, and Poem. You will get better with each new stroke of your pen, or, sadly, you will become someday an octogenarian loving soft vanilla ice cream…

Two scoops on my cone, please!

BR Chitwood – June 22, 2019

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Awkwardness Becomes Brady Chilton

Awkwardness Becomes Brady Chilton

A housefly somehow survived the spray and swatter and mingled among the guests at my celebration party, honoring the fact that miracles can happen. I, Brady Chilton, made it through law scho0l and passed the strenuous Arizona Bar Examination. The housefly would not be the only irritable pest of the evening, just, the first. No, that little pestilent pest fly made its way to the high and lovely sculpted ceiling, there to look down on all the killer giants of its world.

To loosen the knots of pre-party apprehensive jitters, I drank two jiggers of a highly touted Kentucky bourbon, mixed sparsely with wisps of soda and a twisted lemon peel which was submerged on the bottom of my highball glass. In fact, feeling not quite the effect desired, I had another. Then, to make certain there were no pre-party nerves, I had a third libation. It was my wish to ‘shine’ with those present at the party as a wizard of the word, chatter that would enlighten and show the charm, the bold intellectual ability befitting a man of the law.

Suffice it, I arrived in a nether world of alcoholic confidence and jolly attitude at the beautiful Arizona Country Club. A surprisingly large gathering of well-wishers was in the grand banquet room, and an immediate trickle of applause came and grew into a loud mixture of hands clapping and voices shouting. Even in my rather bourbon enhanced mood, there was still the emotional stir that comes and almost brings tears.

After a few embraces and handshakes, I went to one of four bars set up to handle the crowd of people. It was my wish to fortify my initial bourbon intake with at least one more highball and possibly more. This meeting would mean a lot to my future as an attorney, and I wanted to be reinforced and loose enough for my words to form the phrases of competency and surety. In short, I wanted to be true to my game plan, impress those present with my ease of communication and depth.

All went well at the celebration until the near ending when an inebriated man I did not recognize took the mike on the bandstand and made a few asinine remarks, closing with this:

“Mr. Chilton, won’t you come to the podium and say a few words, among which you might explain how someone like you can leave a gorgeous woman broken-hearted by calling off an engagement to be married, then parlay that into why anyone would hire you as an attorney…”

Finally, one band member escorted the man out of the room, his embarrassed lady friend following behind.

It became very quiet in the banquet room and hundreds of curious eyes sought me out. The ACC person in charge of the room came to the microphone to apologize for the interruption of ‘everyone’s good time’.

Emboldened by Bacchus I weaved my way to the bandstand. It was my feeling that the ‘drunk’ would not have the last word. The ACC gentleman gave me a consoling half-smile and handed me the mike.

I stood uncertainly for a moment, not really knowing what to say but knowing that some words should come from me.

“Hi, everyone. I feel I should respond to the gentleman who spoke of my calling off an engagement to a lady… Please, do not feel too hasty to dislike the man. He was obviously a friend or relative of the lady in question and urged forward by the alcohol he consumed tonight.

“The man was not untruthful. I did what he perhaps ineloquently spoke of my doing. It is true that the ‘gorgeous woman’ was not happy with me for calling off our engagement, and I can only say that I felt very much like a total ‘ass’ for doing it. My only defense is that factors dwelling in my mind caused me to make the decision to call off the engagement. I won’t get into those factors, but they led me to believe at the late hour that it was better the option than proceeding and causing more harm later. She was, is, a most lovely woman, a woman any man would be proud to call his wife. You may feel free to think of me in any way you wish. I can only say I’ve learned from that experience and can say that it will never happen again. A private matter such as this should never have been aired here in public and cause unease to a group of people out to enjoy an evening, and, hopefully, no one knows but the culprit involved and not the lovely lady.

“One last thing. You folks did not need to hear any of this tonight, and I only hope it will not diminish your enjoyment too much from this party in my honor. While mentioning that, thanks so much to my colleagues and friends for giving me this wonderful evening. Now, please, let’s converse, dance, imbibe, and leave us enjoy these precious moments together.”

From that point on in the evening, I could not reignite myself, felt a remorse not felt for some time. No highball or light talk could rid me of that. In the end I thanked my new colleagues and went home to a troubling sleep.

The next day I called the lady who was the unfair subject of part of the previous evening. Our talk was congenial and warm. I was surprised the evening’s flare had gotten back so soon to her, but she was well over the topic and apologized to me for having to endure that part of the evening.

We had cocktails together a few nights later.

Billy Ray Chitwood – June 17, 2019

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Living in the Moment

Living in the Moment

Are you living in the moment!

Well, sure, I must be. I’m still breathing. I just crammed a bunch of almonds in my mouth to crunch up – you know, like baseball players in a dugout cram those little pistachios in their mouths, or, whatever they are.

No, no, what I mean is, what is meant by the phrase, living in the moment?

My moments are solidly predictable. At this exact moment and for the rest of the moments during this day, I’m sitting in my comfy recliner writing a blog post and/or writing in my WIP…a new genre for me – a paranormal piece that I absolutely don’t know where it is leading me.

Now, if you’re after the philosophical living in the moment, I need to explain some not so healthy, not so philanthropic, some wacky and wild truths about myself. One truth is, I’ve already written a lot in blog posts and books about my living in the moments, and I am not taking a huge risk here of overamplifying just who the hell I really am. Nobody knows me anyhow.

Living in the moments of Childhood was psychologically conflictive in terms of inharmonious family situations where ugly behavior was pretty much the norm. My wonderful Mom tried very hard to make life good and wholesome, but she was a child of her times, as was an itinerant Dad, and the latter and former would argue, the latter placing thug emphasis on his side of any argument and beat my Mom. Now, I won’t dwell on those bruising one-sided bouts that left two siblings collectively traumatized ‘big time’, except to note that, well, they were children of their times.

Living in the moments of Adulthood was so much like those little wedges of vanilla fudge I would buy for a penny at the local grocery store – delicious, sweet moments…actually, I allowed my taste buds to rule my existence – that is, my moments. I joined the Navy and saw ‘the world’ of Adak in the Aleutian Islandsnot living in the moments of frivolity and fun, just a barren wasteland where booze, jokes, and dreams of naked women helped us 150 dit-dah-dit boys in what was called ‘Radio City’ get through eighteen months of isolation, snow, and gray skies.

Ah, but back in the states, the country boy came alive to the neon glitter, California, and gorgeous ladies. Now, those of you who have read my blog posts know of my use of the words, lotus eaters…if you have read Homer’s Odyssey, Book IX when the Greek hero, Odysseus, was on his return from Troy, he encountered a tribe of people who ate of the lotus fruits and flowers because they were the only food source, and because of their narcotic value. Today, lotus eaters are the figurative euphemism for people who spend their time indulging in pleasurable pursuits in lieu of dealing with the practical concerns of their lives.

That was I for a long spell, drank, loved the ladies, and slept until mid-morning, neglecting my work. I did manage, after a time, to get a college degree in English, taught school for a while, started books that never got finished, did a little acting, some commercials, and continued living in those moments, until I met, married Julie Anne and started writing for real. I’m currently working on my 20th book, and I just throw them out there and see if they might sell. I surely don’t live in the moments marketing the books I’ve written and cannot tell if they are indeed marketable. Do I think they are? Darn tooting, I live in those moments. My books meet my standards, and, yes, that might seem foolish, but that’s who I am – I write them, I edit them, I publish them, and truly believe people would like them. Julie Anne likes them, and she’s, people.

Maybe the bigger question on readers’ minds at this point is, why did I write this post?

Well, dagnab it, I knew a minute ago when I was in those moments…

BR Chitwood – June 20, 2019

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Brotherly Love

 

Brotherly Love

“So, what’s up, big guy?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Okay, I know what’s next. My ‘You’re right, I don’t want to know,’ is not going to mean a twit to you, and you’re going to spend the next unquantifiable seconds telling me anyhow. So, again, what’s up, big guy?”

“Oh, you think you know me so well, but you don’t. Unquantifiable? Really! What does that mean? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I have a pretty good idea what it means. Look, this will take only a minute…I need to borrow $500 so I can get this remarkable deal on a laptop that has all the ‘goodies’ and the mega high numbers on everything – it’s got mega-bytes up the grommet.”

“So, why the hell are you asking me to give you $500. It would be, giving you, $500, because you would never pay it back. We’ve been there, done that before.”

“Aw, come on, you’re my big brother. You’re a handsome dude with a wife ‘to die for’ and you love me. You want to see me succeed, and, with this web puppy, I will succeed. I’ll pay you back when I get my income tax ‘money-back’ check…stop laughing, I mean it, I will pay you back.”

“Listen to you. You are insulting me, little brother…Elaine has gone grocery shopping so it’s a good time to have my chat with you. Sit and let’s allow me to give you some facts…

“Mom and Dad have been gone for a while, and I admit I’ve been over-accommodating you and your spurious needs. Elaine was the vote that got you living here with us, but there is a time-limit for you, Axel. I know you had tough emotional times, but so have I, and you need to put your life back together quickly. Elaine and I are not your mom and pop. God bless them, they’re gone. I love you and want you to succeed in your writing. However, your job at the tire factory pays you enough to be on your own, but you prefer living with us and partying way too much. Elaine must clean your messy room, pick up food droppings, do your maid duties for you, and that stops NOW! No more eating in your room for the remainder of your stay with us. No more messy room. No more mooching money.

“So, Axel, you get no more money from me or Elaine, and you have thirty days to find your own place and be out of here. As for your request for $500, that is a non-negotiable, NO! You’re my brother and I do love you, but your stay here is over in thirty days. If you are not out of here in thirty days, you will find all your meager belongings gone, given to Goodwill.

“Do you understand the ‘program’ I’ve described, Axel?”

“You really would do all that, Matthew?”

“Yes, and I might and will add, at twenty-four, a college drop-out, and a real presumptuous ass, I’ve put up, we’ve, Elaine and I, have put up with you too damned long. The thirty days can and will be moved up based on your attitude. We have simply had it, Axel. You are a brother I don’t recognize anymore. Mom and Dad would be so ashamed of you during these months you’ve been with us. I doubt if you would have left on your own terms, so I’m making that decision for you. You have taken advantage of us and our home for too long. Family love is important, but not so much under these circumstances. Please understand, I mean every word.”

“Wow! Why don’t you tell me what you really think, Matt! Damn, I never knew you felt like this. I just assumed, you know, family and stuff… Suddenly, I feel sort of dirty, you know, like a homeless bum. But, yeah, I understand. I thought you were grumpy at times, but I never thought the grumpiness was about me… Well, my being sorry won’t hack it, but I’ll say, I’m sorry, very sorry, for the way I’ve acted. I’ll be out of here before using up those thirty days. A buddy has been wanting me to move in with him. That suddenly sounds like a winning offer. Don’t misunderstand, Matt, I’ve heard you loud and clear. I will change – for the better, I promise. I needed this ‘Big Brother’ session. Believe me, it all makes perfect sense to me. I really have been an intolerable ass. Thanks, Matt, good ‘Bro’, I’ll surprise you. Wait and see. I love you, big guy. Is it okay if I hug you, Matt?”

“Sure, it’s okay. You’re still my brother. I just played Dad for a few moments, but I still meant everything I said.”

“I know, Matt…guess this is not the right time to mention my affair with Elaine, huh?”

Billy Ray Chitwood – June 17, 2019

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