Monday, December 15, 2014

The "Citizen" Journals

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A few years ago I came to something of a  self righteous conclusion that I don't owe anyone anything any more, not my time or any explanations about anything and why I have chosen to live a life that is mostly away from the noise and chaos of competing with others for attention or to feel any need to make anyone else feel special even if I don't think they are, and most people that I know and have known through the years are coming to understand that any attempt to comprehend this attitude is better left unsolved. Some would suggest that I have sequestered myself away from the mainstream that continues to bubble outside and away from the inner peace I call my home, or that I live something of a hermetic lifestyle and if they did, they wouldn't be entirely wrong.

This is the third time I have dropped out and walked away from a large society; the first was way back in 1970 when I was a senior at Columbus South High School. I was one of those students that didn't want the clubs or associations I referred to as cliques and I didn't join any because I believed I would have to change in order to fit in with people I knew I had very little in common with. I wasn't willing to become them, or to pretend I was impressed by anyone who didn't look at life as I did. I saw things differently than those people and all that was on my mind most of those days was to keep being myself and charter a path for my own life that I thought was best, not what someone I really didn't like might have expected for me. I didn't want to be special or strive to be some day, I went about my days wondering more than I did planning and I always felt that if I would become someone special or different it would all happen in time, probably after my scholastic years were behind me and because I stayed on course. I went to school only because someone made me do it, not because I liked it, in fact, I hated everything about school. I hated being on schedules, stuck in classrooms and under the dictatorial powers of teachers and administrators who held the stronger upper hand over me and anything I was permitted to do from around 8:15 AM until 3:30 PM, Monday through most Friday's. At the end of that school year I said goodbye to almost everyone I knew since kindergarten and only looked back twice since; first at my ten year class reunion and then when I went to our 20th reunion. For me, when those years of mandatory school schedules ended I was really done with ever wanting to be surrounded by large groups of people I felt I had little in common with but I knew more groups would replace them in my adult work life; first as a radio announcer and then as a law enforcement officer; two professions that would bring me in contact with more people and more noise than all of my school years put combined. And then I walked away from everything and most of the people I ever knew when I retired and decided that becoming a writer of reflections of all of that noise would be a more tranquil way of spending my days; just wiling away the minutes and hours of every day doing only the things I choose to and at my own pace.

I have compiled something around a million words that are contained in 20 books that I have written since then and every few months or so I receive a check in the mail for writing endeavors as a reward for my efforts; the royalties I receive from the books I have written don't permit me to live a lavish life but I do live a very good one. Not because I have padded some large bank account with that money but because I stopped being needed by other people to do things I would rather not. The benefactors now of what I am able to do best are two bulldogs, Dee Jaye and Jessie because I would rather share my time with them than that world outside and most of the people I walked away from. What these dogs and me have in common is a striking comparison to what I believe we all hope to find in someone else; that is, we understand each other and all we expect from one another is unbiased friendship that allows us to be who we are. I never met a person I trusted more than these two four-legged creatures and I never met any who trusted me as they seem to. Nothing I do or say seems to annoy either of them and I couldn't get mad at either of them even if I might have ten or more years ago. Our time together at home is priceless and becomes more so with each passing day. I never felt that way about a person and if that sounds a little crazy let me explain; back when the very best people I ever knew were still alive I guess I took for granted that they would always be around so I didn't stop long enough to fully understand how short and precious that time was. Like many others I got busy doing the other things and it wasn't until most of them left and the world around me changed when I began to really know how special they all were. I'll not make that mistake with these dogs, they get my time and attention now, as much as I can give them. People come and go, sometimes by chance or by some other reason but they all eventually do go. Those who I care about leave me feeling lonely when they die but there have been many I have been glad to see gone and away from me. I never felt that way about any pet I ever had.

Will Rogers said that if there are no dogs in Heaven he wants to go where they went; I have always admired Will Rogers and believe that he was just about as smart as anyone else who was ever famous for something. There aren't many people around anymore who make as much sense as Rogers did when he had something to say and I think it is because there aren't many who had his courage to just say what needed to be said. I want to believe that I do and I think there are many others who think they do as well. But what I believe separates me from many of them is that I make it my work now, not merely something I do on the side anytime I am angry about something or get excited over something I or someone else does. My focus in life isn't about sports, entertainment or knowing what others are up to or how my peers are spending their own senior years; it has become more about accepting where I am in life now and feeling good about where I have been and all of the experiences that brought me to this place. I watch others and I study them, it has become something of a hobby with rewards for me because I learn more and more about people by just watching how they navigate through their days and because so many are willing to expose who they really are I know more about them than they will ever know about me; thus, I believe that by comparison to what I see around me I have an advantage over most, one that can't be had by having more money in the bank or my name in the press as much as it used to be, but by what I call Citizen Journals.

In earlier years little girls kept personal diaries; small books they would write in where they would share with only themselves their inner most personal thoughts; the things that may have happened that day and all of their feelings about themselves and everyone around them that they could lock away from the prying eyes of others and hide the key to ensure the privacy of what they wrote. They would fold the book, lock it and probably hide it somewhere they regarded as a secret place. Many of those kids would be furious if someone else found a way to peek into their stories and they would feel a sense of invasion of their privacy if someone did but we have come to a time when the diaries of everyone are left out in plain sight and none of them have a lock and key. In fact, these new diaries are advertised and the writers encourage everyone, including people they don't know and probably never will meet to have a look. When they are sick they want others to know and will even go as far as to describe the symptoms and what it is doing to them emotionally or even financially. When their hearts get broken they describe the circumstances and when someone wrongs them they share all of the details of what happened and even sometimes how they plan to get even. Feelings about bosses, neighbors and anyone who has anything at all to do with their lives or of someone they care about is shared in open forums we know as social networking sights on the internet.

The owners and publishers of newspapers have seen their business dwindle in recent years because more and more people have created their own methods of sharing news and finding out what the rest of the world is doing and sometimes we can know how someone's day begins, what transpires through it and how it all ends before they announce their day is over and wish us all a goodnight. It is because of this that I think I finally understand why so many of us long for the old days and why when we say to one another that the past was better than the present. It is also why I am not anxious  to see what else the future will bring and why I am as content as I am to remain in a quiet place as far away from what is happening now as I can place myself. What I have learned through the Citizen Journals is that I am a much better person than I ever knew I was and that many of the people I either admired or thought had more on the ball weren't at all who I thought they were. I began by saying that this is the third time I have dropped out  and walked away from the noise and chaos that once surrounded me and these are just a few of the reasons why. Because of the Citizen Journals I have discovered that I was wrong about some people as often as I thought I was right. There is a saying that some things cannot be be unseen and now that I have seen into the lives of people from all walks of life I wish it weren't so. That long list of people I used to admire isn't that long anymore and the facades that some built through the years came tumbling down when they became so willing and eager to show us all what was behind them. I have discovered that there is a little Rush Limbaugh in all of us; that is, Limbaugh is a national radio celebrity that millions of people love to hate for his views on what he believes America should be. He is arrogant and to some even despicable when he airs his opinions about what he sees happening everyday. But Limbaugh has the advantage of being a lone voice that cannot be challenged for a few hours every day because he has a radio program that is financed by a multi-billion dollar corporation. He gets to say what is on his mind and the world can hear it but cannot hold him accountable by disputing anything he says. It can merely mumble with approval or disgust out of his ear shot its opinion of him which leaves him free to continue every day to spit his diatribe into a microphone what he believes will make us all better off. But the authors of the Citizen Journals don't have the luxury that comes with the financial backing Limbaugh has and it doesn't care; they are going to share with the world every thought in their own heads by any means available and they needn't worry about a profit margin; it won't matter if not enough readers are willing to pay for what they have to share to keep their paper going and they don't need a studio like Rush has to get out their messages. At the close of their day all they got was the opportunity to be heard and what I find so disappointing is their zeal to want to be. Especially when all they shared only exposed who they really are. They aren't trying to change the world and I think most of them know they never will but still they write those Citizen Journals with fervency as if they believe they might, or that they will somehow change someone else's view of something they are passionate about.

When I first became old enough to vote there was something called a voting booth, it was a real booth with curtains that closed allowing complete privacy for a voter who went in to cast ballots for the candidates and issues they favored. It was a time when we held our feelings and emotions tighter to our vests because we believed our political leanings and innermost thoughts were no one else's business. We still have voting stations that we refer to as booths and they do offer some privacy but I am not sure why there is any kind of blind on those machines or why those who manufacture these things feel privacy is necessary anymore. With the new Citizen Journals, all forms of keeping ones thoughts and opinions stopped being private. I can go to facebook and know how anyone there is going to vote because they want me and everyone else to know.  I can go there to learn anything I may be curious about; I can learn what my neighbor's sexual preference is and their attitudes toward other people's sexual orientations and sometimes even if they had a sexual experience the night before. Sometimes I can calculate their income by what they reveal about their lifestyle and how they spend their time away from work; it is all right there in their Citizen Journal. 

All of this is the foundation for my first publication of 2015. The book is about people and why I am more reluctant to want to meet many more than I already know or remain as close to as many as I have through the years. What the new  Citizen Journals  provide us is something news publications chose not to offer back in those days when we all seemed more alike than we now seem to be. That is, to show us all who we really are. In the old days we could only catch a glimpse of society by turning to the editorial pages to read a sampling of letters written by common people; we needed the entertainment page to see what celebrities are doing and because we did even they behaved better than most do now. They had to because they knew that they were under scrutiny by masses of people they knew nothing about and there was very little feedback that would let them know what people thought of them; in other words they had to be more careful with their behavior. Now they can read Citizen Journals and know instantly what works best for them even if it allows bad behavior from them because they can see their own reflection in those they play to. They see the bully in themselves in other people and they are encouraged to become who they really are as well, and when they do they are mocked and some even try to be more outrageous when they act out their personal lives in public forums. It has spawned a generation of  wanna-be comedians, amatuer news reporters and power thinkers in the ranks of everyday people.

Breaking News used to require television and radio stations or special editions of newspapers to break it but now more people find it on one another's Citizen Journal and when they do they can immediately weigh in and that is when we can get a sense of who they are. I recently learned through these journals the attitudes and opinions of people I thought I knew... who they really were and where they stood when it comes to racial issues; I saw who the bigots were and who thought along the same lines as I do and whose opinions left me sure I never really ever knew them at all. I was shocked at how many people I have been wrong about all along, yet somewhat pleased with the few who had the guts to just be honest. However I was very disappointed in the number of people who are using their Citizen Journals to further divide us and cause the progress in race relations that were made in America over the past fifty years to come crumbling down. Just when it seemed we were finally at a point when skin color wasn't the measure of a society we learn that it is today more than it ever was. America has found a way to reignite the Civil War, only this round is more about entitlements and preferences than it is about state's rights or people held in bondage. It stretches across political boundaries just as it did in the 1860s, just as much as it does skin color. Those who have the most are caring less and less about those who don't have enough and there seems to be no middle ground. People of color and those who use their Citizen Journals to vent against others they call racists are demonstrating their own racism when their rails are only about the injustices that they believed are committed against one race only. Few if any of these people will demonstrate any anger whatsoever if the same news is about a white person; even worse, when an elderly person or the entire elderly society is wronged. They may vent a few words but they aren't likely to take to the streets to burn and pillage in the name of anger or social injustice. 

Is all of this a little too heavy for you to digest? Because if it is then I think I know who you are and if  it seems a little biased you should know that it is intended to be very biased because that is who we are, not just me but everyone who has ever written and kept a Citizen Journal. We establish them and keep them updated not to promote other people's thoughts and opinions, but our own. Those who are more polite are careful to keep their journals free of controversy for fear of what others may think of them but a good and honest one will let it all hang out and expose the owners for who they really are and most of them are free of any cost to read them. I like to think that my own journal is one that will reveal who I am but mine isn't free and that is where I have the advantage over many others; mine is bound together in various book titles and is for sale through Amazon. I don't leave myself open for minute-by-minute ridicule as others do by writing and posting all the things I feel or think every day or even every few days. I even stopped commenting on other other posts in other journals because I don't want people I don't know to know where I stand on social issues, including my own political preferences. I keep things like that private and I am no one's public relations spokesman anymore. In other words, it isn't my responsibility to throw around free endorsements of any kind. I turn my life inside-out from time-to-time another way and to see where these latest installments are headed you will have to get my latest book because it opens even more doors that shroud who I am away from public Citizen Journals!

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I'll Be Home For Christmas

                                          Click image to enlarge

During the pre and post world-war years and until the late 1960s the old south end of Columbus, Ohio was a very blue-collar community that was heavily populated by single income families of mostly hard working dads, strong and determined stay-at-home moms and  lots and lots of children; neighbors who knew each other's names and whose kids went to school together, played outside with one another almost every single day and who grew up with a sense of values not commonly seen now but were mandated by tradition. Life in the south end back then was exactly that; carrying on long traditions with a sense of pride even though most of us were of average means while many struggled. Those who did struggle to keep food on the table and a roof over their family's head were just neighbors of people who had more, no one was outcast or forgotten because they may have had less and all anyone expected was to live in harmony and share a proud community. A few were people of great wealth but I didn't know any, only some that had much more than our family and they were usually the oldest people still around who could tell stories of the turn of the century and how the neighborhood began and their families' role in founding it.

There were butchers and bakers and probably even candlestick makers by the dozens and very few doctors or scientists and even fewer lawyers or for that matter very few men who went to work wearing a suit or driving a car that might cost a year's salary for most working people. It was not a community of professional people or fancy homes and most of the noise that was made came from the mouths of kids between the ages of 3 and 13. But then around 1965 things began to change and by the early 1980s everything did. It was that first sign of what was to come back in the mid 60's when a man named Frank Fetch visioned a community that would be named German Village and become not only one of historic preservation but one that would attract a flow of money into the area that would eventually price blue-collar families out of the market and scatter them to other far-a-way neighborhoods and other towns. Homes when my family settled here in the late 1950s could easily be purchased for about what a man could earn on his job in a year or two. Most, including the fanciest of them could be had for somewhere between 8 to 15,000.00 and only very few would have sold for more than that. Homes on my street that would sell for a quarter of a million dollars now were probably lived in and owned by factory workers earning less than $3.00 an hour in 1960.  Wrap the math around your head and realize that bare minimum wages today are only a little more than twice that amount and the dollar itself is worth less than a tenth of what it was then. A house that may have cost around $10,000.00 in the late 50s might be offered for sale for 30 times that price now. If those who lived in it more than 50 years ago who were able to pay the mortgage, a bank loan for a car, the utilities, medical expenses and what it costs to raise anywhere from 2 to 7 children as was common then tried to make it here today, that one paycheck they received on Fridays would not even come close to being enough today. That check was probably just over $100.00 a week and it was enough to maintain a prideful lifestyle and the traditions they wanted to keep; today it might not even pay for the gasoline they might need. 

To keep up today with the lifestyle they led then one might need a salary way north of five figures and in a community where blue-collar jobs were once plentiful and could be had sometimes by just asking for one and filling out an application all that is left is memories for some of us who were here then. The jobs that are close by are mostly minimum wage and those that offer more require higher education than just enough schooling to figure things out. My own dad had only a 7th grade education but he supported a large family on the salary of a meat packer at a local slaughterhouse. He also paid cash for a new 1956 Ford and paid off his mortgage in about ten years on a salary that didn't climb above $10,000 until the 1980s. This old neighborhood of bricks that he and other dads brought their families to back then has certainly been changed by its economic structure and the character of its residents, but not enough that I don't recognize every brick in it and not nearly enough to make me want to leave it until the choice is no longer mine.

My latest publication;  "Christmas Cards From Home"  is a compilation of musings and short stories about how it was for those of us who were here before the vault-loads of new money began to flow on these century old and older streets and back-alleys; my stories and the recollections of many others who were here including some that haven't been back home in decades is a history book; written the best way we know how, accompanied with snapshots of a very good time and place to carry on some of the traditions that were so important to us and to remember just how good life was when we were surrounded by more people we wish we could see again. That era before the technology revolution that sent us all to desk-top, lap-top or hand-held devices to know what others are up to or what we should expect from one another now.

By comparison to how things are now, what we had then was more like the 1800s than the 21st century because we still had many around us who were born in that century who tried their best to teach us the ways of old. So in this age of new and newer, and in this time when not nearly enough about our heritage is discussed, this book aims to be one that mocks the trends of a hurry-up and shop and eager anticipation of a generation that seems to want to be known for having more, even at the expense of letting bygone eras stay back there in the past as we plunder our way onto the next big things; it is a collection of descriptions and feelings that those of us who want to hold tightly onto have, especially during this time of the year. For about the price of a monthly magazine that might be bought, read and soon forgotten it brings back something that won't be completely forgotten, something that will endure for years to come. Documentation that things were better than they ever will be again for many of us. The photo shown here was taken on the evening of December 7, 2014 and when that horse and wagon came down Mohawk Street I imagined an area that aside from the number of people and modern vehicles probably looked this way more than 100 years ago; the clip-clop sound of that horse's hooves on the bricks would have been one that no one would have turned to even notice back then. That horse is an ancestor too! Those people in the wagon are dressed differently than any who would have taken that ride before most of us were even alive, and they could have chosen a more comfortable way to go where they were headed but they didn't because they wanted to feel something else. This book does the same thing.

Read more here-

http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Cards-Home-South-Columbus-ebook/dp/B00Q7L3R38/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1418235687&sr=8-1&keywords=rick+minerd+christmas+cards+from+home

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Christmas Cards From Home can do this

 Click images to enlarge

The goal of my latest publication was achieved when I received the first reviews from readers who purchased it and sent me their thoughts about feeling what I hoped they would. Christmas Cards From Home was intended to make them not only feel a sense of nostalgia for the old days, but also one of coming home to a time more friendly and for awhile finding everything as it was then. Those personal recollections that were shared by the many contributors brought me into the book with them and that is a feeling I hoped would be felt by everyone. Some of these pages went back as far as the 1930s and gave us a glimpse of the spirit of Christmas that existed around the old south end of Columbus before many of us were even born. What I found most striking was the similarities in the stories that were shared, regardless of the time frames that were written about. It seems we all did things just about the same way. This truly is a book for anyone who is or was a fan of publications such as Reader's Digest or the nostalgic themed magazine, "Reminisce". Is it too bold to compare a home-spun publication like this one with such giants in the world of print? I don't think it is at all, because like those well known magazines Christmas Cards From Home was built through recollections of regular people sharing regular memories and putting their hearts into their words. They didn't seek fancy, seldom used words to tell their stories and none of them tried to be poets, all of them wrote the way most of us would speak in a normal conversation. It is how I write every story I have ever shared and I believe it is a style that many others appreciate. I write in a style for the casual reader as much as I do in hopes that bookworms and scholars will like it. I believe that writers who look for clever words and clever ways to impart them sometimes lose the feeling of the messages they hope to convey. Personally, I have never been too impressed with sophisticated vocabularies that rely more on proving a writer knows a lot of words or more than the average reader. When I read essays and themes that are more about showing off a style than about good honest content I am prone to put it down without finishing. Good books can be like lessons learned in English class, but sometimes a better book is one that was written by someone who was only content in making readers feel comfortable. To me a wider vocabulary sometime reads like the author looking down on his or her readers and saying, "look at my amazing use of written text!"  None of the stories in Christmas Cards From Home can be accused of any such attempt and if they were I probably wouldn't have used them. This is a book that can be read for personal enjoyment and one that can be read aloud to anyone of any age and everyone gets it. 

A review I received from Alice Holland who lives in Edina, Minnesota states "I am not from Ohio and I have no idea of where the south side of your town is or much about its history, but I am beginning to know and understand its people through this classic collection of personal memories shared in Christmas Cards From Home. I read it cover-to-cover in about two and half hours while resting after a long day and I enjoyed every page. I am 67 years old and even though I know nothing at all about your special park I grew up in an area that was just like it. We also had a special hill and a special lake that made winters very special. My friends and I did the same things your people did and as I read a few of the stories I was nearly overcome with emotions. I hope your book does well and will be read by anyone who misses someone at Christmas."

I only know Alice as someone who follows my blog and my facebook page, and I hope she reads this post and knows how special her note is. Christmas Cards From Home is meant to be just that; seasons greetings to all who miss something special about this time of year, from total strangers-to total strangers and former neighbors who may have lost track of one another. Come back to not just a familiar place but a familiar time as well. There are flurries in the air tonight and the temperature is plummeting but the heart can be warmed for about the price of a magazine. I believe this one can do that. Now that is a bold statement! Thanks to all who helped make it merry!




http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Cards-Home-South-Columbus-ebook/dp/B00Q7L3R38/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417297588&sr=8-1&keywords=christmas+cards+from+home

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Pretty sad, but he is right.

America – He’s Your President for Goodness Sake!

By William Thomas
There was a time not so long ago when Americans, regardless of their political stripes, rallied round their president. Once elected, the man who won the White House was no longer viewed as a republican or democrat, but the President of the United States. The oath of office was taken, the wagons were circled around the country’s borders and it was America versus the rest of the world with the president of all the people at the helm.
Suddenly President Barack Obama, with the potential to become an exceptional president has become the glaring exception to that unwritten, patriotic rule.
Four days before President Obama’s inauguration, before he officially took charge of the American government, Rush Limbaugh boasted publicly that he hoped the president would fail. Of course, when the president fails the country flounders. Wishing harm upon your country in order to further your own narrow political views is selfish, sinister and a tad treasonous as well.
Subsequently, during his State of the Union address, which is pretty much a pep rally for America, an unknown congressional representative from South Carolina, later identified as Joe Wilson, stopped the show when he called the President of the United States a liar. The president showed great restraint in ignoring this unprecedented insult and carried on with his speech. Speaker Nancy Pelosi was so stunned by the slur, she forgot to jump to her feet while clapping wildly, 30 or 40 times after that.
Last spring, President Obama took his wife Michelle to see a play in New York City and republicans attacked him over the cost of security for the excursion. The president can’t take his wife out to dinner and a show without being scrutinized by the political opposition? As history has proven, a president in a theatre without adequate security is a tragically bad idea.
Remember: “Apart from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?”
At some point, the treatment of President Obama went from offensive to ugly and then to downright dangerous.
The health-care debate, which looked more like extreme fighting in a mud pit than a national dialogue, revealed a very vulgar side of America. President Obama’s face appeared on protest signs white-faced and blood-mouthed in a satanic clown image. In other tasteless portrayals, people who disagreed with his position distorted his face to look like Hitler complete with mustache and swastika.
Odd, that burning the flag makes Americans crazy, but depicting the president as a clown and a maniacal fascist is accepted as part of the new rude America.
Maligning the image of the leader of the free world is one thing, putting the president’s life in peril is quite another. More than once, men with guns were videotaped at the health-care rallies where the president spoke. Again, history shows that letting men with guns get within range of a president has not served America well in the past.
And still the “birthers” are out there claiming Barack Obama was not born in the United States, although public documentation proves otherwise. Hawaii is definitely part of the United States, but the Panama Canal Zone where his electoral opponent Senator John McCain was born? Nobody’s sure.
Last month, a 44-year-old woman in Buffalo was quite taken by President Obama when she met him in a chicken wing restaurant called Duff’s. Did she say something about a pleasure and an honour to meet the man or utter encouraging words for the difficult job he is doing? No. Quote: “You’re a hottie with a smokin’ little body.”
Lady, that was the President of the United States you were addressing, not one of the Jonas Brothers! He’s your president for goodness sakes, not the guy driving the Zamboni at “Monster Trucks On Ice.” Maybe next it’ll be, “Take Your President To A Topless Bar Day.”
In President Barack Obama, Americans have a charismatic leader with a good and honest heart. Unlike his predecessor, he’s a very intelligent leader. And unlike that president’s predecessor, he’s a highly moral man.
In President Obama, Americans have the real deal, the whole package and a leader that citizens of almost every country around the world look to with great envy. Given the opportunity, Canadians would trade our leader, hell, most of our leaders for Obama in a heartbeat.
What America has in Obama is a head of state with vitality and insight and youth. Think about it, Barack Obama is a young Nelson Mandela. Mandela was the face of change and charity for all of Africa but he was too old to make it happen. The great things Obama might do for America and the world could go on for decades after he’s out of office.
America, you know not what you have.
The man is being challenged unfairly, characterized with vulgarity and treated with the kind of deep disrespect to which no previous president was subjected. It’s like the day after electing the first black man to be president, thereby electrifying the world with hope and joy, Americans sobered up and decided the bad old days were better.
President Obama may fail but it will not be a Richard Nixon default fraught with larceny and lies. President Obama, given a fair chance, will surely succeed but his triumph will never come with a Bill Clinton caveat – “if only he’d got control of that zipper.”
Please. Give the man a fair, fighting chance. This incivility toward the leader who won over Americans and gave hope to billions of people around the world that their lives could be enhanced by his example, just naturally has to stop.
Believe me, when Americans drive by the White House and see a sign on the lawn that reads: “No shirt. No shoes. No service,” they’ll realize this new national rudeness has gone way, way too far.

The War On Christmas

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I should set the stage for this battleground by making it clear that I belong to no church, I never have and in all likelihood never will. This is not a knock on churches of any faith and I am not a man without faith, I believe in God but beyond accepting that he exist the details of what he expects becomes very fuzzy, very quickly to me. I want to believe that he expects from me what he does for everyone but I don't see everyone behaving in the manner I think he expects. With that stated I will move on to the holy wars that I want no part of. You see, I am anti-war of any kind unless I feel that I or my family might become a casualty of it. I have been on this rock for a little more than 62 years and none of the wars that have been waged in my lifetime have brought much good to the world as far as I can tell; wars kill people and besides making a statement to warn others of consequences I really don't see any evidence that we are any better off for them because it seems we are always at war with someone, and often the underlying theme is one side who thinks they are holier than the other; furthermore, the need to be at war never seems to end, especially in the region where it all began. 

Remember, I said wars fought in my lifetime. (1952 until now). I study history and current events every day and this is personal with me and before anyone mutters to themselves that old tired and well worn phrase about opinions and assholes, let me address that and snuff it out; only half of that statement is true. Not everyone has an opinion, we know this to be true because we are surrounded by people who constantly keep their opinions to themselves for fear of hurting another's feelings or fear that someone won't either like or accept them. I never concerned myself with any of that because I generally file someone else's opinion about me in a drawer labeled nonsense.

Moving on to the war on Christmas; Happy Holidays everyone. 

Yes, I see the clinched fists and the white knuckles of those who are offended by that greeting and I hear the gnashing of  their teeth and I have heard all of the diatribe about not forgetting whose birthday we celebrate on December 25th.  I would like to share here a response from me on this very subject to my very good friend Eddie Powell who is an ordained minister, author and motivational speaker among other hats he wears. Eddie and I have known one another and have held high regard for the other since the late 1970s when we shared a microphone at radio station WMNI in Columbus, Ohio. We were young DJ's back then and with different objectives in life, he is younger than me and we were in that business because we liked it, in fact because we had a passion for it, mine no stronger than his. Today Eddie is as passionate about his work as I am with my own and I believe that his faith in God is not too unlike mine, he's just way more vocal about it than I ever felt I needed to be and I believe he thinks God expects more from us than any of us are capable of doing or being. Here is a familiar sight you will undoubtedly see all through the holiday season...oops...there I go again calling it a holiday. But I won't apologize for that so dig in and let's move on;

Eddie invited comments by saying Jesus is the reason for the season and then asking what others prefer saying this time of year, and me, never being shy about accepting an opportunity to weigh-in on matters that I find silly...well...I jumped all over this one by telling him that I say both, and sometimes I say Happy Hanuka when in the company of my Jewish friends and family. However, I do say Merry Christmas to everyone I greet on Christmas Day because it is Jesus' birthday. But leading up to that day, and for about a week after it I also celebrate Thanksgiving and the end of the old year with hopes of a better new year; when the time commences from late November until the season ends on January 1. In other words, I celebrate a season. I really don't have a choice with all of the lights and other decorations calling me, some that have absolutely nothing to do with Jesus. I find myself being sucked in to something that those who know more about Jesus than I do, or those who claim to might not understand because I thoroughly enjoy it all; yet many of those who believe they understand things better than I do will follow me into it blindly just the same. And then of course there is all of that music on the radio and on TV and piped into stores that I visit. Face it Eddie, we live in a society where millions of people cannot resist becoming a part of all of this every December. Now you know me very well and have probably figured out that I am being a little facetious here but in all honesty I cannot understand this battleground. My question back to you is, why? Certainly you believe that Jesus understands all of us and makes allowances that could allow us to enjoy that month leading up to his birthday without all of this bickering in his name? I have to believe that he understands why I and millions of others like to hear Andy Williams sing Happy Holidays. I look forward every year to not only hearing that song but playing it for others to hear and I never duck, fearing I will be struck down or needing a reason to confess a sin. But now I have another question for you? Have we been going about this all wrong, all of these years? This issue seems new to me, I don't recall people being offended about being wished happy holidays until recent years, or if they were I didn't hear about it from any until recently. I have found that those who say they are offended by that greeting also put up Christmas trees and watch television programs with Christmas themes that have nothing or very little to do with Jesus. Sometimes those programs are more about romance or children too young to care much more than what they will receive as gifts. I watched an episode of a detective show from 1962 last night that was about a store-keep who was shot and killed on Christmas Eve and at no time in the hour did Jesus' name get brought up. In fact, I see Christmas programming year after year when actors and other performers don't do that. One of my favorite programs is the original version of Miracle on 34th Street and I feel sorry for anyone who won't watch it simply because it is more about a little girl more concerned with the existence of Santa Clause than she is about Jesus. Those who are offended by that are missing a very touching story. Like I said, it is tough trying to steer away from being caught up in all of this celebration for as long as it last, from November through the end of the year. Each year someone buys me a gift for Christmas even though December 25th is not my birthday, and then I feel obligated to buy them one too, even though it isn't their birthday. I know, that sounds a little crazy but I swear it is true. As I write this I am wondering if I should hang decorative lights on my porch or if when the Christmas tree goes up I should make sure it can't be seen through the window by someone who might be offended. But I am only wondering, I will still do it anyway for all to see and I will pity anyone who tells me I should be more sensitive to their faith and not do it because it is against what they believe. You know how I can be when someone tells me how I should live or conduct myself, I still cuss up a blue streak when anyone who has no say in it tries to have one. So here it is, the truth is I feel a little strange saying Merry Christmas to someone on December 1st because it is three weeks away from Christmas Day and I never bother to ask anyone about their faith before I greet them. In truth I see no need to ask anyone because I have never judged anyone based on their religious leanings. What if I say Merry Christmas to someone and they are of another faith that doesn't believe exactly as I do? Should I disown them or just avoid them until after December 25th?  If I did that I would feel like a hypocrite every time I hear a song with the lyric Happy Holidays in it and find myself liking it. I would feel like one every time I ask someone what they want for Jesus' birthday and when I see someone else's holiday display depicting a manger scene.

Wait, that last one may have confused some so let me clear that one up. The truth is, if I do see one I won't turn my head in disgust or ask whoever put it up to take it down. I actually enjoy manger scenes and consider them traditional, and I believe we should all be allowed to decorate and sing as we please. By the way, I am also not offended by songs like Jingle Bells or Frosty the Snowman. I don't necessarily like either of them but I accept them as traditional holiday soundtracks that are appropriate for this time of year. I feel the same way about the song Let it Snow, I am as nostalgic for those as I am songs like Oh Come All Ye Faithful and Joy to the World. I enjoy hearing Burl Ives sing Santa Mouse as much as I do Away in a Manger so let's get back to the fuss over manger scenes; now here comes a word that I know you find distasteful, and that is putting it mildly, but you know me Eddie, I am still the guy today that I was in 1979 and you can blame God if you want to for making me and then allowing me to make the choices I did to become that guy, but here goes; to anyone who thinks it is okay to tell anyone else that they cannot put up a manger scene anywhere they choose...screw 'em! How dare anyone be so pompous as to tell anyone else they are offended by their belief and then ask them to not display anything of a religious nature they find offensive. If they don't like what they see no one expects them to stand there and stare, they can walk away and just get over it. Those people are the worst of the worst in my book. Telling me that I am not allowed to say Happy Holidays where and when I choose to say it is like that and that whole Jesus is the reason for the season is something I find almost as offensive as telling another they cannot display a manger scene. When someone says that to me I wonder if they think I am an uneducated man who never learned why Christmas is celebrated. Jesus is the reason for the season, said in an admonishing way, as if to feel a need to remind everyone, or is it said because it rhymes and sounds clever?  Why do some feel it is so important to say it at all? Could it be for another reason that people like to say it? Perhaps to start something maybe, or because they actually believe it stands them in a better place with God? I don't know even one person who doesn't know why the tradition of celebrating Christmas has endured for the thousands of years it has and I wouldn't want to know anyone that ignorant and I hope you don't think of me as an ignorant man, simply because I greet you sometimes without the exact words you are so passionate about and prefer hearing. My relationship with God is a good one, maybe even as good as any one's, I mean who can really know for certain? This could be true even though I don't seek a house of worship, I have to believe that he understands me and that if any changes in my life are made it will be him doing it or at least him that gives me the way to do it. I found this post on your facebook page and I have seen it hundreds of times posted by many others this time of the year, every year. I get it. It won't change me in anyway but I do get it and I do believe it. But I did before this whole issue became such an issue with so many.  Now when I see it I see the first volley being fired in yet another holy war of words that wages each year, especially in America, one that pits Americans against Americans, and probably even God fearing ones, but sadly it is another form of war waged in the name of our savior. I say Happy Holidays as often as I say Season's Greetings before the actual date of birth of Jesus Christ. I don't do that from wanting to be politically correct because as you know I have never given a damn about being what anyone else regards as correct.  To some that makes me a very bad man, perhaps an evil one but I assure you that even though we don't always agree on what is the best grammar, my wishes for every one's happiness at Christmas is as sincere as anyone else's. I won't share that sign you posted anywhere but here and it isn't because I don't agree with it; I won't share it because I have faith in everyone I know that they already get it and because I don't feel deeply compelled to assure anyone that I get it. I have way more confidence in people than that. On Christmas Day I will wish everyone a Merry Christmas but between now and then I hope you can excuse me when I get caught up in the rest of the traditions that come with the "reason". For now I will take my chances by saying Seasons Greetings and hope everyone understands what I mean by it. By the way, I have already seen this sign a half dozen times on facebook and it is only the second week of November; on two different posts the person who displayed it left the following remark; "America is the largest Christian nation in the world but we're not allowed to say Merry Christmas!"  I suspect that is just someone trying to start something but maybe I have missed something here. Could you help me research this? I know our country is getting more and more screwed up but have we reached that point, is this true, have laws been passed that could send you or me to jail for using verbiage in a casual greeting that someone may find offensive? Maybe we should just allow everyone to express how they feel in their own way. It might work. 

Monday, November 3, 2014

Christmas Book

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In a few weeks my final publication for 2014 will be released by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing; can you guess what it is about? In it will be found a collection of short stories, some I wrote and some I didn't but all of them reflections on special memories from Christmases long ago, a few date back to the 1930s and 1940s, all of them written by people who have connections to the old south end of Columbus, Ohio. A few months ago I invited anyone who wanted to become a part of this special project to tell me something about themselves and their family and how they celebrated the holiday season when they were growing up and to include as many old photos as they wished to share. This book is nearing completion and will be released on Thanksgiving day but there is still time (until November 20th) to become a part of it by telling your stories or simply telling Santa what you hope to receive for this Christmas.
The final chapter will be just that, a letter co-written and signed by my facebook pals, my blog readers and anyone who has a special wish they would like to share. Who knows, maybe the person or group of people who can  will see it and make a dream come true!

This has been a fun book to assemble and I want to extend a special appreciation to all of those who have already contributed something to it and to anyone who still might; I believe the release date will make it a fun read during the coming season and for years to come. So if you are not yet able to share photos or cobble together a full story you can still be included by sending a few simple lines about someone you want remembered or a special greeting to someone. Remember, the deadline is November 20th so give it some thought and let's get you or someone you care about in it. It can be as simple as "Dear Mom, missing you at Christmas" or as detailed as you want your message to read. That letter is now being crafted and looks a little like this;

Dear Santa; I am ending this year and closing this book with season's greetings, a few remembrances and some special wishes from a few friends...

I have had a good and prosperous year with Amazon and this is a way to bring together those who have encouraged me and made it possible, and to say thanks!

Write to me at imjustrick@aol.com or send me a message on facebook and join us in this worldwide publication to celebrate special people and times we cherish and hope will be remembered for a long time to come. 




Thursday, October 16, 2014

A Bridge To The Past

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On Thanksgiving Day, 2014 I will be releasing my 20th publication, the sub-title is "Christmas cards from the old neighborhood"... I have invited others to be a part of it by telling their stories and sharing photos of their best memories of growing up in the old south end of Columbus, Ohio and what Christmas was like for them. I am especially interested in hearing from other so-called baby boomers who can help us remember what it was like at Christmas-time from the 1940s through the 1970s in their homes, at their schools or on their favorite frozen pond or sledding hill; perhaps the best gift they ever asked for and received; family holiday traditions or anything else that allows us to reflect and compare notes to see just how similar we were when it came to the weeks and days leading up to Christmas.

A book like this, although localized in content will still be one that is fun to read for anyone who remembers holiday seasons before TV traditions such as "A Charlie Brown Christmas"  which was first aired in 1965. Were you here before that, and if you were did your family make home-made decorations or did you go Christmas shopping with less than ten dollars to spend...get the idea? I have already completed the author portion of this eBook and in doing so I have shared a ton of my own memories and you can too. I have received a few old black & white photos and short stories from my peers who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s and they make a heart-warming inclusion to the project but the more the merrier; as many as others are willing to share are welcome. There is no compensation for becoming a part of this other than seeing you or your family gathered within pages filled with others you may have known or only had something in common with, but keep in mind, what we are willing to share with one another will be seen and read by persons around the world and this could become a cherished community diary for you and your family to share and reflect on for years to come.

If you think about it, the holidays, especially the Christmas season is a time when many of us boomers really feel nostalgic and long for the past; a time when we can remember and discuss all of those people we have loved and lost and how they made our Christmases special; that era in our lives when everything seemed simpler and when we could block out the stresses we no longer can because we still had all the time and energy we needed to just be happy or excited. It is why we look forward to again scanning the TV logs to see when "A Charlie Brown Christmas"  or "Miracle on 34th Street" will be on. So if you are not shy and if you are willing to become a part of another Christmas story than please, let me hear from you. You can send whatever you are willing to contribute to me at... imjustrick@aol.com  and I will do all I can to make you a part of something special.

After all, this being my 20th book is a milestone for me so what better better way can I celebrate it than to make others a part of it, and what better time of the year could there be to reach it? The deadline to be assured a spot within these stories was originally set for November 1st for editing but I can extend it a few more weeks if needed; but please, the earlier I hear from you the more likely it is that your stories can help us cross that bridge to the past together.



Friday, October 10, 2014

Author With No Boundaries

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In order to be an author with no boundaries I had to make a decision when I began writing and publishing my stories; either not be one and concern myself with how readers will perceive my work and write only in a polite manner hoping they will like it, or, not strive so much to be well received as much as understood. I chose the second pathway to be reckoned with as a competent story teller. You see, it really isn't about volume or quantity with me, that isn't who I am. Instead it is about really being the same person I have always been and being satisfied that I never had to change a word or a thought or an emotion to tell what I hope are good stories. Whether they are or not is up to the reader. Those who do follow my work expect that, or they should. Before I was a writer I was a cop and before that a radio broadcaster and before that just someone wondering what my future would hold. That was a lot of years ago and through each one I met a lot of people from all walks of life who left me with volumes of stories to tell.



Some of them are about those people and what I took from them or they from me and some are only about places or things, but all of them are topics that meant something to me somewhere on my journey to becoming a writer. My work may have angered as many as any who felt nothing at all after reading it but those readers are in my rear view mirror and may never be disappointed again by anything else I have written or will write; they didn't find what they may have hoped for and they probably found something they didn't expect or couldn't understand, but that's okay because it doesn't change anything for either of us, at least not in anyway that matters much to me. Does that sound arrogant of me? It may to some but arrogance is necessary for a writer who hopes to write with no boundaries. What some might see as arrogant I see as brutal honesty and I would rather deal with truth wherever it goes than to leave anyone guessing or thinking I write and publish books only wanting to be liked.


"finding...True Hollow Road"  is a short story that I wrote and published and somewhere down the road I hope to write the sequel to it; anyone who has read this one could probably imagine what would be in the follow-up to this book because finding the road was only the story of why I wanted to, the saga cannot continue just yet, but I believe it will because I believe it has to. I wrote and published 18 books before this one and of  them all, this one is my favorite because this one is the closest to my heart. "finding...True Hollow Road"  is the shortest book in my catalogue of personal compositions but it needn't be any longer than it is. Only a few more than thirty pages in length but if I had chosen to write 300 pages it could not have possibly told anymore than I felt was necessary. Many writers go for the length of a story believing that more words and more pages can better tell it and that is true sometimes but not all of the time. I would not have released this one if I didn't honestly think I captured all I wanted to in it.


As a reader I would rather invest in ten pages that leave me feeling what the writer shared than 500 pages if it told the same story without offering more to it. In this regard I feel as if "finding...True Hollow Road"  accomplished something very special for me; that as a writer I can set up a tale that cuts to the chase in a hurry without a lot of clutter and tell it in a way that delivers it to the end and stays good from start to finish. A good book doesn't have to contain a lot of pages to tell a good story if the writer believes the story is good, and when one can do that then the author has pulled off something that required a measure of skill as well as confidence in his work. This one has elements that might anger a few subjects in it but keep in mind, I have chosen to write stories with no boundaries. There is clear evidence in this one that I did not search for ways to be nice to anyone for the sake of not offending anyone. If I did, then the book may have required a few more hundred pages and if I did that then my reasons for going in search of the road would have left the reader wondering why I wanted to, because none of us go in search of anything hoping to be disappointed.

I found True Hollow Road and this book will explain why I went in search of it. Just an old country road out in the middle of nowhere.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Being Eccentric Has Its Privileges


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What do you see in this photo? Perhaps an old abandoned car left to rot in a field with tall grass and weeds growing up around it and through it? Maybe upon first glance you immediately recognized it as a 1958 Chevrolet Impala and remembered someone you knew who had one in much better condition; and then just moved on to read what I might say about it and what it has to do with this story. 

I am betting that it was one or the other and maybe both. But there is a third possibility and it is what I saw and do see whenever I look at this photo. Oh sure, I did notice the unattended growth that engulfs the car but I quickly moved past the green areas because my mind wanted to move it all aside and see what condition the car was in overall. Some might look at it and wonder what I meant by that because all they see is a car that is in very bad shape period, and regardless of what the rest of it looks like it is just an old piece of junk.

We look at people the same way, whether it is some dirty bum walking on a sidewalk in a pretty neighborhood or someone sitting on a curb holding a cup with a few coins in it; we probably all draw the same first conclusions. When we see an elderly person, regardless of how they are dressed standing at a counter while a cashier rings up what they are intending to purchase and notice a tremor in their hands as they reach for whatever means to pay for them we immediately see just some old man or woman. We wouldn't look at them for as long as we would someone who was young and attractive and our thoughts would be nowhere near what we might imagine to ourselves if they were 25 instead of 75.

A lot of us become like that old Impala, in fact I think we all will if we live long enough. If any of my kids were to ask me for just one more piece of advice, I mean if any of them ever wonder if there is anything left of me to pass on to them that they don't already know it would be this; enjoy the moment. Whatever is happening now, find every way possible to enjoy it because nothing goes on forever. When that old Chevy was in its prime it was an extremely admired automobile. That photo doesn't begin to tell how special it was and still is. As my eyes peruse the entire picture I am remembering that of all of the cars the Chevrolet Motor Division ever built, this one was the most exciting to me. This story is not about that Impala or the condition it is in but if you look at a photo of a new one or one that has been restored to like-new you might understand.

It would be like looking at two pictures of someone who was beautiful in youth and then one when they were old and struggling in life just to still be around. But again, this story isn't about the car or even about our perspectives when we look at it; it isn't about how normal we are when we all see the same things around us that are obvious; instead it is about human nature and why I might understand someone who only noticed the missing parts, the rust and the weeds. We all saw that and I think most people who were in the market for a second car would rather have a much newer one with all of its parts and pieces intact than that old Chevy. But since I am not normal I think I would rather get this one out of the field and pull it home.That car and me could have some wonderful conversations about the years we both were in our prime. 

Well, it is about time you admitted that you are not normal Mister Minerd. But alas, I have always known that and just because few have ever heard me say it the evidence that I agree with it has been written and published in hundreds of thousands of words I have shared as a writer.

People around the world have read something I have written and some have probably agreed with everyone who thinks that about me. But it's okay; I am with you on this one because I came to terms with it a very long time ago. I really do see a very beautiful automobile in that picture because in addition to not being very normal I am also eccentric. I don't behave that way on purpose, I really cannot help it so let me try to clear all of this up before I am judged a madman.

The dictionary defines an eccentric person as someone who is an odd fellow, anomalous, uncommon, irregular, peculiar, strange, extraordinary, of free spirit, without boundaries to act or behave in a nonconventional manner. That is the better parts of what the dictionary says about eccentricity; it also says I can be described as one who is outlandish, queer, freakish, aberrant, bizarre, weird and...not normal. 

Eccentric. 

Well alrighty then! Because I just gave you what is also the description of most artists and good writers. The best painters, sculptors, song writers, musicians, singers, script-writers and story- tellers through time have been regarded as eccentric people. 

Eccentricity when practicing ones craft is almost a mandate to be able to do any of those things well and when it comes to writing, be it fiction or nonfiction the writer has to be somewhere in the story they write. Anything less and they would be writing dictation or plagiarism.

Whenever someone who isn't a writer or has never tried to write a book says "I should write a book" I am pretty sure they will never get around to doing it. Someone who isn't a little or a lot eccentric probably couldn't do it so I am okay when someone says I am. I wear it proudly. An eccentric like me would probably never say "I should write a book" before actually writing one, he would just do it. Saying something like that looks to me like someone who needs encouragement or approval from someone else to try. They say it more out of wishing they could and less about thinking they ever will because they need to be sure when they do most things that they won't fail or come off as looking foolish.

But I don't give a damn about things like that and I have never masqueraded as someone who does when it comes to doing whatever I decide to do. It isn't as important to me what others think about me as it is what they know about me. I want everyone around me to know who I am and what I am capable of because it allows me to be who I am and believe it or not it works in my favor when someone wonders if they should either interfere in my life, get in my way or attempt to change my mind about something or prevent me from doing or saying what I want to.

A person who wants to write well and impart interesting stories couldn't do it if they weren't willing to stick with a thought and write it, even if it meant not worrying how others might perceive it or foregoing sleep when they were dead-tired or skipping a meal if it were being served at a specific time when that writer is searching for the right words to make a point. I sometimes need to ignore the phone when it rings if it does it in the middle of a paragraph I am passionate about writing and sometimes when I am reminded that I am wearing the same shirt I wore yesterday I wonder if that is all someone noticed when I am seen writing for hours on end. I wonder what is on their mind when they remark that I need a haircut or haven't shaved for a few days or ask, "how long are you going to live in front of that computer?"

I wonder about it but answering their concerns isn't as important to me than plowing through a story is. When I don't look their way or respond in anyway whatsoever I wonder what they might be thinking of me but I don't care. I will show them a more normal side of me later and if they can't wait until then they will have to find a way to deal with it. However I am not so obsessed with writing a good story that I cannot be interrupted in the course of trying to; I do hear those around me and I know when they are saying something important and when I need to stop what I am doing and listen, but remarks about my hair or what I am wearing or wondering why I do it or how I do it are quickly ignored and forgotten.

That car in the picture was doing all it was able to do when that photograph was taken. To some it is an eyesore and those people might only wonder why someone doesn't haul it away and mow the field.  But if someone did, and then another picture was taken of that spot who would ever notice it and think anything at all about it? The car could be thought of as something eccentric; it doesn't care what anyone thinks about it and anyone who can look past the overgrown weeds and beyond the missing strips of chrome and hubcaps or the brown and gray areas that were once blue can see what I do.

It; just there being all it ever was, a car born in the 1950s that found its destiny. A talented artist could look at that photo and paint an image of it that art lovers would call a beautiful piece of work. I would hang it on my wall. But if that artist could capture with a brush an image that displays exactly what is seen here than he or she would probably be someone who is passionate about their work, so passionate in fact that another may think of them as being a little eccentric for wanting to do it. So lets look at it again.
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Please help me want to continue being eccentric.
You can find examples of my eccentricities here;


















Thursday, September 25, 2014

Like Writing In A Crockpot; This one needs to cook a while longer.



When I retired from law enforcement ten years ago at a relatively young age (52) I walked away knowing only that I wanted something else out of life. Don't get me wrong, being a cop was a good way to make a decent living and during those years I spent out on the street as a policeman I enjoyed the work and even looked forward to it most nights as I laid out my uniform and gear in anticipation of what the evening would bring, what I would see out there and the kinds of people I would encounter. I really did like my job and compared to any number of other professions I always thought I was doing something noble.

But 52 isn't young, is it? It was for me, especially when I looked around at how many other cops I knew and worked with over my own twenty-year run through law enforcement; working around ten years for the Franklin County Sheriff's office and then another 10 with the Obetz, Ohio Police Department. When I became the chief in Obetz one of my sergeants was more than ten years older than me and when I started working there the chief who hired me was 66 years old. I knew  then and still know cops still working who are older than I am now. I have sat in meetings with other police chiefs who were in their seventies and I have known some who never retired; they died while still employed because they simply could not take off that uniform and just walk away.

I didn't want that to be me. I wasn't sure what I could expect next except that if I went looking for another line of work I probably wouldn't be able to find much of anything that I would enjoy doing or even something that was worth leaving my dogs home alone for.

But I did test the waters; I went looking for something and it didn't take long for me to find out that 52 really isn't as young as I thought it was; not to the rest of the world out there. By that time I was qualified to do two things better than anything else I ever did professionally; enforcing the laws of the state of Ohio and using my voice and entertainment skills I relied on to earn a living before I first wore a deputy sheriff's star on my shirt. But since I had enough of playing cops and robbers that was off the table and because the broadcasting industry was never in a hurry to hire anyone over 40 except for sales or management positions I soon learned that I would need to refocus, either find something to do totally different than anything I had done previously or just settle for something, anything, regardless of the financial rewards or personal gratification.

The only other route available at that time was to do nothing besides downsizing my life and hope that my retirement income would be enough to see me through to the end. It really was my only option and as the months and first few years into retirement passed it was clear that I would just have to find a way to do it because everyone I knew and could count on through the years were beginning to scatter, probably in fear that I might try to call in a few markers and network through them to find meaningful work.

They needn't have worried about that because although I knew I would have to get used to having less and doing less I wasn't destitute or ready to join the welfare rolls, all it meant was that I would have give up some things, like my car hobby. I have a passion for vintage automobiles and few indulgences in life gave me more pleasure and satisfaction than finding an old Ford that needed a little TLC to bring it back to life. It wasn't an inexpensive hobby by a long shot; I bought and restored a number of them and I lost money on every car I ever tinkered with. But when you have the means to do that and still keep your bills paid the money isn't as much of a consideration as is being able to do something you enjoy besides working for someone else to be able to afford your other obligations.

Some people blow money on things like vacations because they need to get away from the everyday routines but I never felt any sense of wanderlust or need to see things far from home; I never felt like I needed to go somewhere else to be able to relax and my barometer for fun didn't have markings that might include things like fancy bars and nightclubs where I could sip concoctions of fruit and alcohol from a glass with olives floating around topped with paper umbrellas. I never thought that telling someone that I was headed for some exotic land or that I had just come from one would give me much satisfaction. And whenever someone would ask, "don't you ever feel the need to just get away" the answer was always, no.

I guess to some I am an anomaly when it comes to liking my home enough to wanting to be in it as much as I can. I bought into the adage that there really is no place like home so I have made mine as comfortable as I possibly could and I have it set up to be a place I will never be bored in. I couldn't travel ten thousand miles anywhere on this planet and find someone whose company I would prefer over my dogs. Man hasn't yet invented anything that would give more pleasure than what I have right here to feed, play with or cuddle up to. And besides, I never liked waking up in a hotel or in someone else's bed. I like my bed; I like my own coffee and I have been no more than a social drinker at best and I never needed to be a social butterfly to find my own place in life.

Amusement parks were a thrill when I was a kid but not anymore.

To sum up this part of the story I am fine with being a boring man and because I tasted enough of what is out there through 62 years of living I am content with being on no one's schedule or making any further commitments to anyone. My life is good and I don't need to plan one more thing to feel complete. Now, that is not to say that I won't do more, but there really isn't anything else left on the horizon that beckons me. I do see the mirages of things I may want to explore at sometime but I am in no hurry to go in those directions just yet. I will meander my way there at my own stride if and when I decide to and if any of of those journeys fall short of reaching them it is okay. I would gamble to say that I am more comfortable in my own skin than anyone I know; more comfortable than anyone who either still needs to be scheduled by someone else or wants to be because they just cannot stop or wouldn't know what to do next if they did.

So when I retired at what I believed was a relatively young age I did learn that I would have to substitute that lifestyle with another one. I knew that financial survival wasn't going to be my main concern, my police and fire retirement income ensures that I will be okay there, but rebuilding old Fords would have to stop, but so would things like worrying about the price of gas. If I can live with not having a need to go anywhere then the oil companies can raise the price of a gallon as much as they can get away with. I haven't spent $200.00 for gasoline in a ten year stretch! I haven't made a car payment in more than four years because when the lease ended on my last one I gave it back and bought an old clunker.

It is a car now 14 years old and the air conditioner doesn't work; I will have to buy a tail-light bulb for it some day and it rattles a bit but it is my life-boat if I ever need to leave my island. The tires are fair, it starts and I still remember what to do when I get in it. It just looks like Hell compared to all of the others on the street but I am okay with that too; I no longer have to worry about making a good impression on my neighbors, they have come to expect that I will never try to. My deepest concern these days is that my bank account doesn't get hacked and no one is able to get the rest of what I still have. I more than gave just a little at the office when I had to.

* Note to would-be hackers; it wouldn't be worth your time or the risk to even try; there isn't much there anymore, I keep my currency in a sock hidden in my well guarded home. I have two strong frisky American Bulldogs and I still shoot a firearm proficiently. Keep in mind that I was a cop for a number of years and the attitude I needed then to keep me safe is still with me.

After coming to terms with knowing I no longer had anything any employer would want or be willing to meet me halfway with I decided to tinker with my computer keyboard and see if it could do more than just give me the news of the day or a place I could go to stay connected to the outside world. What I discovered was a new way of life. I was never a gamer of any kind so the games this one would allow me to play are no more than things that would clutter my thoughts if I ever decided to log onto one so I never have and never will. In the early years of retirement I became more of a reader than I ever was before and I have filled my brain almost to capacity with information that has made me a smarter man and with history because I have always placed both high on my list of what should be in it. I wouldn't qualify as a buff but I have always wanted to know as much as I possibly could about what happens now and has in the past and what brought us all to where we are now.

Some of the best history I was reading was written by common people telling common stories. And as I continued to read one biography after another I began to see similarities in the lives of others with my own. I didn't change the world when I was doing all I did when I was busier than I am now and I never thought I was among the people who could or eventually would. What I had been doing all of my life had been done by many others and all I ever wanted or strived for was to just do it better if I could. But it was in those similarities where I saw a purpose to also try my hand at documenting and sharing some of my own world and the people I knew. I didn't set out with any grand plan to become a successful writer but I became one.

Now before anyone prematurely jumps to a conclusion I am not trying to make here I only meant that what I have written and shared went exactly where I wanted it to go, in the eyes of readers who would eventually see that writing is more than a passion for me, it is my way of marking territories and leaving a trail to follow.

When I wrote and published my first book all I could hope to gain from it was evidence that I could do it and as I was writing it I remembered something I read in a book written by Bob Greene; he is an accomplished author, network television contributor and former newspaper writer who worked for the Chicago Tribune and many years ago locally in Columbus, Ohio at the now defunct Columbus Citizen Journal. It was a book about his career and in it he wrote that being a newspaper columnist affords a writer the greatest audience any writer might ever know. He pointed out that hundreds of thousands of people would read something he wrote every day whereas very few authors when compared to how many there are can hope that hundreds of thousands of people will read a book they have written. Not just in a day, but ever!

Becoming a writer wasn't about making a lot of money from it or even supplementing my income, although either or both would be awesome! I don't do this expecting those results but I hope that one day I might. Until then I will keep hammering away at the keyboard and hope to leave as few typos behind as possible and be satisfied that I have become an accomplished author; the accomplishment is that after publishing a number of books I have built up a following. It isn't a large following but if you were to define the term fans, I have some. They are people who have enjoyed my work enough to want a little more and with each release of a new book I hear from people I have never met who tell me they have read other books I have written and they have enjoyed them. That to me is accomplishing something.

If I only sold one or just a few I couldn't make this claim. Moreover; the fact that my books aren't backed by large publishers who would be willing to invest huge sums of money to promote them I think I have done very well for just being some guy who likes to do it and goes forward with  not much more than the desire to. I could not do this if a third or more of my time still belonged to someone else or if I worried much about what others expect or want from me. My  loyal readers know what they will get when they commence reading something I have written. They expect non-fiction stories written by someone who wasn't trained by someone else to write, just a dose of realism in the grand scheme of a world that doesn't slow down enough to look at life through the eyes of a regular person.

A regular person is what I became when I made the decision to retire from a working world where I was constantly under the public microscope. I was under that one for a good deal of my life, especially when I became a deputy sheriff whose job for seven years was to be the spokesman for the largest sheriff's office in the state.  My work days back then were filled with reporters and television cameras and every day that I was a cop I knew that I would catch the eye of every stranger who looked in my direction; I would know that I had to be at my very best at all times because police officers are held to a higher standard than some other professions allow.

That for me was tougher than it might sound if you don't consider the years I spent as a radio announcer; I also did that for around 20 years before I was a cop. Radio announcers weren't held to any standard beyond what the Federal Communications Commission allowed or by any a radio station station owner expected. So the standard I held myself to back then was a very loose one at best! I have documented some of that lifetime in various books I have written and I am likely to share even more in the future. Being a disc jockey in the era I was one was pretty simple; just sound good on the radio! What I did away from the confines of studios or on my own time mattered only to me. My listeners didn't care one way or the other what I was up to when I wasn't trying to entertain them.

And just as I walked away from law enforcement when I did I left broadcasting for the same reason; it was time to move on. So now I write and publish books; 18 of of them when this one is finished. I have never been a religious man and I am not comfortable in the company of anyone who regards themselves as one. Those who have read my work or know me personally know that about me and I am very close to weeding out and away from me all of those who cannot accept it. That is all I ever asked of anyone; if you don't like me or something about me then just go. With that said, I do believe in God and even though my feelings about him may differ from what someone else believes he expects from us I hope we can all allow for the possibility that when he allows one door in our lives to close he opens another one and dares us to go through it.

The DJ who became a cop who became a writer! My name is Rick Minerd, nice to meet you if we haven't already. There is another Rick Minerd out there making a name for himself now and whenever I am asked why I never refer to myself as Rick Minerd Senior I tell them because my name didn't change when my son was born. His given name is the same as mine but with a suffix after it. Junior has been a legal part of his name since I signed his birth certificate. I never legally changed mine to include a suffix even though sometimes someone will add it when talking about both of us or to clear up any confusion when mentioning one or the other.

I do believe that God has a plan for us even though I rarely speak publicly of what I think his is for me. I want to believe that what has become my latest phase in life as a writer was somewhere in it all along. I have to believe that because what I am willing to do and able to do isn't easy! For anyone who has never written a book or wondered if they could, go ahead and try it! If my work never makes anyone's best seller list it doesn't mean that it isn't good or that no one cares, it only means it hasn't found enough readers yet. That is not to say that I tout it as being good enough to, only that I believe it is good enough to catch the attention someday of someone who can come into my life and take it to another level. That won't happen if I don't keep at it.

When this one is finished it will be a collection of short stories, including this one and those I have shared and will share in a public blog. What I am doing with this one is something that may never have been done, allowing others to follow along and see a book unfold page-by-page as it is being written. For anyone who might ask, "why would anyone who has already read it that way ever want to buy it"  I can only respond with saying, I don't know.

I never begin a new writing endeavor expecting only those who know in advance that I'm doing it to find it. I hope complete strangers who have never before even seen my name will. I want a bigger following than what is already shown up! That means people who don't even know about my blogs. Those who do won't need to buy the book, they can read it here and making it available this way is a small way of thanking anyone who bothered to read it or who has spent money on my other work.

Those who do follow along here are giving me what I want even if they aren't willing to spend a nickel on my work; an audience to play to. I played to many of them as a DJ and many more when I was a cop. I am doing that again in another forum, one that leaves my DNA all over the place to be identified long after I am gone. 

Some people retire and build bird-houses or play golf or travel, others retire from doing much of anything ever again  at all; some die shortly after they stop working and some spend all of their time scrambling around seeking ways to amuse themselves. For me this is as good of way as any any to spend mine. And someday I may be rewarded far beyond what I could have hoped for my efforts to do it. But what will never come from it is any feeling that I wasted my time because I never climbed up on a shelf like some figurine to wait out my time or became the stereotypical image that some may have of retired persons. I'm still working, albeit at my own pace and making up the rules as I go along.

You can read more by visiting Amazon where all of my work is on display.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=rickery+dickery+books