fascinating

John Wallace Crawford, known as "Captain Jack Crawford, the Poet-Scout", was born in Ireland in 1847. He came to the United States at age 14. He was illiterate, so work choices were slim. He went into the coal mines of Pennsylvania, where he probably would have stayed his entire life had it not been for the Civil War.

Jack joined the Union Army at age 17. He fought bravely and was wounded twice. During his recovery, a Sisters of Charity nun taught him to read and write. This was what I think of as the tipping point in his life. Because reading dime novels about western adventures propelled him westward around the time of the Black Hills gold rush.

By 1876, he was writing for the Omaha Daily Bee. He was elected to the first city council of Custer City, Oklahoma. The city organized a militia, the Black Hills Rangers, of which he was the highest ranking scout. He later joined Buffalo Bill Cody as a civilian scout for the U.S. Army. He survived quite a few harrowing incidents, often riding hundreds of miles to deliver news dispatches to couriers from The New York Herald.

Captain Jack became famous for several poems he published. He arrived in Deadwood, South Dakota just two weeks after the death of Wild Bill Hickock. He composed a poem for Charlie Utter entitled "The Burial of Wild Bill." Here is one stanza of the seven-stanza poem:

"Under the sod in the prairie-land
   We have laid the good and the true—
An honest heart and a noble scout
   Has bade us a last adieu.
No more his silvery laugh will ring,
   His spirit has gone to God;
Around his faults let Charity cling
   While you cover him with the sod."

The whole time I was watching the HBO series Deadwood, I kept expecting him to make an appearance. He never did. But it was interesting to imagine him there among the characters, waxing prosaically about topics of the day.

Captain Jack traveled with Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show and continued to write. He performed monologues and mesmerized audiences with stories of his own experiences, as well as poems about the west. He eventually moved his wife and children west to live in New Mexico.

He had very progressive views, opposing the forced separation of Sioux children from their families. Watching a screaming child being torn from his mother's arms, he asked, "Don't you suppose that mother has the same feeling in her breast for her young as your mother had for you?" He believed that Native American families would all eventually be assimilated and believed the reservations were temporary.

Captain Jack died in 1917, having traveled all over the United States performing and entertaining. I sometimes feel sorry for his wife. He was gone more than he was home. She raised their children without much help from him. It must have been difficult.

You might wonder why I'm fascinated by this man. Captain Jack was married to the sister of my mother's father's mother. He was my great-great-uncle by marriage. I've heard about him my whole life. I adore the combination of writer and adventurer in him. Fascinating!

living on spec

The Writer's Circle 30 day writing challenge 5th day asks us to write about "a place you would live but have never visited." That's been my life for a while now. I've moved to many places without first visiting. I actually enjoy the process. I start by looking at maps, to get a sense of geography, sections of the city, neighborhood names, proximity to water or other topographical features and highways.

I look at cultural offerings and local attractions. I look at colleges and universities in the area. Then I look at real estate listings to get a feel for affordability. This can entertain me for hours, or it can slam the door shut on possibilities. For instance, I'm reasonably certain I'll never live in California. Too pricey for my East Coast retirement check.

Sometimes an article will prompt me to look closer at a potential home. I recently read an article about ten lesser known small towns in North Carolina. I quickly zeroed in on Washington, NC. Although I was born in NC and later returned to attend high school and college, I've never been to the Outer Banks area. "Little Washington", as it's called, to distinguish itself from D.C., is located at the northeast edge of the Pamlico River, which leads out to the Atlantic Ocean. As a result, it's a harbor town, within reach of beaches. Home prices were very doable. I like it!

But how can you just go to a place where you don't know a soul? I'm often asked that by people who have stayed in the same place for many long years. You volunteer. You go to church. You make regular visits to coffee shops, florists, bakeries, and restaurants owned by locals. In the South, you're a "newcomer" for YEARS. But people get used to seeing you. Pretty soon, you're part of the scenery.

So yes, I would uproot and move to Washington, NC tomorrow. Or Savannah, GA. Or Asheville, NC. Or Austin, TX. Or Seattle, WA. Or Portland,OR. (I have visited some of these.) Honestly, there are only three things that would keep me from moving to a place: snow, high housing prices or extreme conservatism. When the wanderlust strikes, I'm gone!

ten interesting facts about myself

Well, this writing prompt feels a little odd. I can't promise you'll find these interesting. But here they are:

1. There is someone living in the crawl space of my house. At least I think so. I hear odd noises when I'm home alone and the dogs don't bark. I think they know the person because they interact when I'm not here. I find things in places I don't remember leaving them. And I just feel the person there. I'm not afraid, just curious.

2. Mystery shopping is fun. Long term assignments are the best. I love the feeling of behaving just like any other person while collecting information. I imagine this is what it feels like to be a CIA operative, minus the fear of being shot. I've been collecting my observations and experiences for many years now. I think they'd make a great book.

3. My first thought every morning is coffee. I stumble to the kitchen and put water on to boil. I assemble a coffee cup, a Melita one cup coffee dripper, a #2 filter, and 3-4 heaping tablespoons of Columbian, medium-roast coffee. I pour the water over it and wait for it to drip through. I add sugar and whole milk. Then, after I take my first sip I say out loud, "Nectar of the gods." I only rarely drink coffee again throughout the day. But I need that first cup.

4. I've written an entire musical stage production about an annoying guy who bursts into song at the slightest provocation. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm the one who bursts into song at the slightest provocation. I can't help it. Everything reminds me of a song. Throughout my day, as people say something or I respond to a question, a corresponding song pops into my head. I feel compelled to sing it. People generally fall into two categories: Hahaha or Shutup.

5. Vanilla people bore me. I frighten vanilla people. My colors and lights are too bright. But I always wish I could explain to vanilla people, especially the ones I like or love, that I didn't choose my colors and lights. I was born this way.

6. I've wanted to be a taxi driver since the show Taxi was on television in the late 1970's. Of my fantasy post-retirement gigs, it was always #2 on the list, just after library volunteer. Well, I've been at the public library for just over two years. And now, as of last week, I'm driving for Lyft. I'm a taxi driver! I have a feeling I could write another musical about this! People are endlessly interesting.

7. When we were in Tahiti in 2008, my best friend and I investigated available jobs at a university there. There were jobs, but only French citizens are eligible to immigrate to Tahiti. We discussed at length how we could make that happen. Step one: Move to France. Step two: Marry a Frenchman. Step three: Become a French citizen. Step four: Move to Tahiti. The fact that we were in agreement that each of us could easily accomplish this is evidence of our self-confidence and also serves as an explanation for why we're best friends.

8. Babies love me. I think they can just tell that I love them. I always imagined that I would have six sons. When I'm holding a baby, or interacting with a baby, I'm so full of joy. My niece just had a baby and I want to go live next door so I can be first in line for babysitting. When my son marries and has children, he and his wife will have a built-in babysitter, assuming we're in the same city.

9. I keep checking books out of the library that I never get around to reading. I look at the stack of books several times throughout the day. But I get distracted by the Internet, or I'm working, or I'm tired and know reading would put me to sleep. This is really a shame because I have great taste when it comes to books. Sitting on the kitchen counter now: The Double Comfort Safari Club by Alexander McCall Smith; When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi; The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett; The Road to Little Dribbling by Bill Bryson; The Marriage of Opposites by Alice Hoffman; Honey from the Lion by Matthew Neill Null; and Time and Time Again by Ben Elton.

10. I desperately need a personal assistant, preferably one who works for free. I believe I could provide some valuable training on how to be a personal assistant. Maybe I could offer an internship. It would look great on a resume, for someone who had no experience but wanted to begin a career in that field. I've read that personal assistants can make a lot of money! Hey, maybe that person in my crawl space would be interested! I think I'll leave a Honey-Do list out and see if anything gets done while I'm out today. It's my day off from the library, so I'm driving for Lyft.

first love, first kiss

David Wang was my first love. We attended kindergarten at Canadian Academy in Kobe, Japan, which was the K-12 school for the children of foreigners. David was Chinese. I was American. He and I conversed in Japanese because we both spoke English poorly. There was no common language in our kindergarten class, but every child spoke either Japanese or English, so every lesson was taught twice - first in Japanese, then a second time in English.

We found each other on the playground. David was a short, roly-poly kid who did not fare well in the company of other children. They teased him, calling him Fatso, and making fun of how he ran. When I saw the movie Up, I smiled when the character Russell made his first appearance. "David Wang!" I thought. I decided that we would be friends. Thus began a life-long pattern of befriending oddballs and misfits. My stubborn nature has always led me to contrary behavior, typically without a care in the world for how others reacted to my choices. To me, choosing David was less about being kind to an outcast and more about defeating the ugliness of the other children. Befriending David was my way of flipping the bird at the other children. Even at age five, I was a rebel.

David and I invented whole villages, inhabited by the most interesting people. They were usually something mild-mannered, like shopkeepers or street cleaners. But each had a secret persona, capable of extraordinary things. This was 1964-65, when comic books were all the rage. I'm sure we were influenced by them, though I have no specifc memory of looking at any.

We decided at some point that we would marry when we grew up. I remember announcing this to my family at the dinner table. After a pause, my brother (ten years older) said, "You're not going to marry a Chinese boy." I became upset. "Why not?" I asked. Nobody answered. Finally, my mother said, "You can marry anyone you choose." I was satisfied, but still confused. After all, my brother knew everything, or at least I thought so at the time.

My first kiss was not with David, however, at least not that I recall. No, that dubious honor would go to a male cousin who laid one on me while we were hiding in a garage during a game of hide-n-seek. I was nine. He was a little older. I remember being shocked. It was unexpected. Boy/girl thoughts weren't even in my head at that point. So there was no anticipation, no giddy schoolgirl crush and no pining for him afterward. My thoughts were more along the lines of, "Gross. Why the heck did he do THAT?" He probably doesn't even remember it.

That's it. First love and first kiss. I would love to know what became of David Wang ...

my earliest memory

My parents were Methodist missionaries in Japan. As the youngest of five children, I wasn't alive during their first five years in Japan. Well, technically, I suppose you could say I was alive while they were in Japan as I was conceived just before they came home on furlough in 1958. I was born at Duke University Hospital. When I was ten months old, the family returned to Japan. I'm told I learned to walk on board the ship that sailed from California to Japan, but I have no memory of that.

The first thing I remember is being stung by a bee! I stepped on a bathroom scrub brush, and there was a bee on the scrub brush. Or at least I think that's what happened. I remember it hurt! And I remember running (screaming & crying) to my Daddy, who soothed and comforted me. And I remember him tenderly examining the bottom of my foot. But that's all I remember about that.

I couldn't have been more than three or four when this happened, so I wonder about being out of eyesight of an adult. And where was everyone else? I just don't remember.

five problems with social media

What? Only five? Okay, here goes ...

1. Anonymous - If words had real world consequences, social media wouldn't attract so much ugly. There is power in being able to spew nasty words at strangers with no regard for any potential feedback.

2. We need pre-post monitors - I wish warnings could pop up for the less astute among us. Examples: "Evidence-based science has disproved this information. Only stupid people believe it. Do you still want to post it, thereby exposing yourself to endless ridicule?"  OR  "This person died three years ago. Do you still want to post this announcement as if it just happened, thereby exposing yourself to endless ridicule?"  OR  "You have already posted ten pictures of (fill-in-the-blank) today. Do you still want to post another, thereby exposing yourself to endless ridicule?" OR  "There are hundreds of cities in California without the letter A in them. Don't answer this obvious scam and expose yourself to endless ridicule."

3. It demands nothing of us. What if you had to exercise to gain access? Or donate your time to a charity? Or offer positive comments to someone? Or any of a thousand other service-related tasks? Would we spend less of our time farting around on social media?

4. When I see people sitting at a table, ignoring each other in favor of their devices, I wonder at the social development they're missing. I think about sitting on a front porch when I was a young girl, listening to people of multiple generations sharing stories and experiences. What becomes of people who rarely hear other people's stories?

5. A lot of what we see on social media follows an obvious us/them paradigm. Now, more than ever, we need to be teaching, learning and practicing the skill of finding common ground. As time progresses, we are headed for an explosion of epic proportions if we can't see each other as valuable human beings, especially when we disagree.

There are obviously so many more problems with social media. But there are good things as well. I adore watching my former students living their lives. It's an amazing gift. I wouldn't trade it for the world!

deadly sins

You are mistaken.
I am not wrong about this.
I am never wrong.

What's that you have there?
It looks just like my Precious.
I want it. Need it.

Inside me, a fire,
Tempered napalm waiting for,
Your wrong move. Kaboom!

Two dozen donuts
For the price of one. Gimme.
Don't ask me to share.

Faster. Harder. More.
I can't get enough of you.
You're life's sweet dessert.

The remote control
Is just out of reach. Blast it.
Brady Bunch reruns.

I don't just want mine.
I want yours too. Yes.
And his. And hers. Mine.

rules for barking

by Jackson

1. When my human opens the back door and I burst into the back yard, I must joyfully bark three times in rapid succession as I bound across the patio towards the grass.
2. If any neighborhood dogs bark an alarm bark within my earshot, I must bark.
3. If any neighborhood dogs bark a joyful bark within my earshot, I may choose whether or not to bark.
4. If my human asks, "Are you hungry?", I must bark wildly and joyfully while running in chaotic circles.
5. If Priscilla sounds a low "ruff" upon hearing an unidentifiable sound while my human is trying to go to sleep, I must immediately respond with my own "ruff" while joining her in staring down the dark hall at possible intruders.
6. If I am inside and my human turns off the alarm system, thereby signalling her return to the territory, I must bark with abandon until she opens the front door.
7. If my human asks, "Are you going to go get it?" while holding any of my toys in the air, I must bark wildly and joyfully while running in the direction I believe she will be throwing it.
8. When the doorbell rings, I must join Priscilla in barking a warning at any human who wishes to enter. Barking must continue until introductions or greetings have been completed and only if trust is established. We mean business.
9. I must bark any time I am startled.
10. If the garbage or recycle truck engines are heard, I must bark furiously.
11. I reserve my most vicious barks for the mailman. I plan to bite him some day.
12. When my human's male friend visits, I bark my most joyful barks. He is clearly the Alpha male in our pack. If I ingratiate myself to him, he might let me stay.

stages

Each stage of life punches me between the eyes. And despite the fact that I've previously watched while others dealt with the challenges that I now face, I'm as shocked by each new event as if I've walked in on a room full of people yelling, "Surprise!"

My mother is in a nursing home. She is miserable and wants to die. But she can't quite manage it, so she's mad as hell. And I am helpless.

Meanwhile, I have 32 months until I can collect my retirement benefits. I need them now. Too bad, Toots.

Did NOT see any of this coming.

pecans

I was eight when we moved to Georgia. To better assimilate, I quickly picked up the local accent, including the pronunciation of "pee-can." Mother, born and raised in Virginia, tolerated my "you reckon" and "bray-yud", but on this she drew a firm line in the Georgia red clay. "No ma'am," she said, "it's puh-kahn. A pee-can is something folks without indoor plumbing keep under their beds on cold winter nights."