Memorial Day Weekend

Some Gave All
Billy Ray and Cindy Cyrus

I knew a man called him Sandy Kane
Few folks even knew his name
But a hero was he
Left a boy, came back a man
Still many just don’t understand
About the reasons we are free

I can’t forget the look in his eyes
Or the tears he cries
As he said these words to me

All gave some and some gave all
And some stood through for the red, white and blue
And some had to fall
And if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall
Some gave all

Now Sandy Kane is no longer here
But his words are oh so clear
As they echo through out our land
For all his friends who gave us all
Who stood the ground and took the fall
To help their fellow man

Love your country and live with pride
And don’t forget those who died America can’t you see

All gave some and some gave all
And some stood through for the red, white and blue
And some had to fall
And if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall
Some gave all

And if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall, yes recall
Some gave all

Some gave all.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word | Leave a comment

Serving

It occurred to me this morning that every male in my side of the family – that is all who share the same surname, have served in the armed forces of the United States since the family immigrated from Europe in the 1850s.. Two of us retired from the army while our other forebears served tours as enlisted folk.

That changed with our son. He was the first to earn a commission. He was the first to attend the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He still serves We attended his promotion to Colonel last winter. He is well known.

He will not be the last of our family to serve. Our grandson, his oldest son, enters West Point this summer. Another grandson appears on his way to the Merchant Marine Academy.

TIME magazine ran an article last year about the composition of today’s army containing the observation that the services have become a rather closed community. Most of those on active duty today come from the South. Many of those entering the service academies are sons and daughters of grads of those institutions. Our family seems to follow the trend.

This is not a good thing. If only one segment of the population sees service to the country as a legitimate option, then the commentary on who we are as a people turns fairly negative. Out of 535 members of Congress, 121 have served in the military. Neither the sitting President nor the Republican nominee have served. Yet these are the folks who determine when the services will be committed to war. A mismatch between the decision makers and the tools they wield does not bode well.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word | Leave a comment

Horror

Dilemma: I enjoy participating in contests, writing contests. My entries are more often than not against the grain or constitute a quirky take on the theme and, most often, I do not do well in the voting. That doesn’t bother me; it’s the satisfaction of producing stories that I like that keeps me involved.
Lately, though, I’ve been at a loss for contributions. The themes that have been adopted do not speak to me. For example, the current short story contest over at sffworld has for its theme: fear. And the flash fiction contest has Mayday!

I’m not going near fear. I do not read horror stories due to some deep-seated unconscious psychosis that I am only vaguely aware of. I do not watch horror movies. It’s not so much the gore that gets to me; it’s not the ugly deaths. I’ve seen enough of that to understand that it exists. As I said, I’m only vaguely familiar with the reasons for my distaste. I can see stories that involve fear that do not involve horror but submitting an entry imposes an obligation on me to read all the other entries. I say again, I do not read horror stories, not by choice.

I ought to be able to handle Mayday! Sure, there’s a thread of horror in Mayday! On the other hand, in strictly sf terms, it can be done without the horror. I suspect, though, that, given the short story theme, many writers will be sent down the horror path in the flash fiction contest. Ugh!

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word, Writing | Leave a comment

War

Yesterday, I finished reading L.E. Modesitt, Jr.’s The Ecolitan Operation, a book I thoroughly enjoyed largely because of its thesis and presentation. A major aspect of the book is a distinction between morality and justification. I agree with Modesitt. Here are two quotes from the book that struck me as I read them. A man I know is writing a paper on policy and tactics and thiese two quotes mesh with what he intends to say:

Any power which merely opposes its own destruction or the loss of its territory almost never wins the ensuing conflict unless it defines its objectives beyond survival or the perpetuation of the status quo.

In warfare, status never remains quo. All things change, and success for the defender rests on the ability to shift the fight from defense to offense, to place its attacker or attackers on the defensive.

Without such a de facto switch in positions, the most that can be gained is a stalemate, and the result of such a stalemate is inevitably a change in the actual governments of both attacker and defender, even if the outward forms remain apparently unaltered.

Thus, the eventual outcome of any war is a change to the government of at least one of the parties. For this reason, no war should be undertaken by any government interested in its survival without change, not unless the alternative is wide-scale death and destruction,
The Ecolitan Operation, L.E. Modesitt, Jr., pg 58 first published in 1989

History has shown that there are two kinds of warfare practiced. The first is the use of military forces and tactics to obtain territory, power, or position. The principal assumption underlying such “power-seeking” warfare is that the participants will refrain from actions threatening their survival.

The second, and rarer, general classification is that of total warfare, where the goal is the total extermination of at least one of the participants. At time, total warfare may be limited to the destruction of a form of government of one participant or to the total destruction of a specific culture or racial type, but the goal is still the total destruction of something.

Governments and generals who fail to understand what kind of war they are pursuing (or opposing) seldom choose the proper strategies or tactics.
The Ecolitan Operation, L.E. Modesitt, Jr., pg 234 first published in 1989

After reading, consider the 1991 Iraq War.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word | 2 Comments

Writing for Effect

My friend, tmso, wrote: For everyone else, take your time to think about what you want the reader to feel after they read your piece. Should they feel sad? Happy? Hopeful? Write something that makes us all feel something for the characters.

I don’t write that way. I write what I feel about the characters or the events or the setting. If I manage to portray how I feel accurately, then the reader can agree or disagree; it makes no difference. I know what tmso is after, she’s trying to create an effect with the writing. I can see that. But, I wonder if Edgar Allen Poe or Ray Bradbury or Carlos Ruiz Zafon wrote to create an effect or wrote because they wanted to talk about how they felt.

Writing for effect becomes a homily or diatribe. You’re attempting to change the reader. If your story and your point is clear; if you’re reaction makes sense, then you’ve accomplished what tmso wants.

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Purpose of Life

Some folk recently asked me what I think the purpose of life is. We discussed it for a while but I was not very lucid in my offering so I sat down at the keyboard to flesh it out. This is what I came up with:

Purpose: An anticipated outcome that is intended or that guides your planned actions. WordWeb Dictionary

To describe life as having a purpose implies that for every person born there is a desired outcome to that person’s life. The first question is, then, from whence does the purpose come?

If purpose is established by the individual person, then it cannot be determined until the person has the maturity to define it. A baby is not capable, a child has only marginally more potential than the babe. The young adult might well be able to define a purpose for itself, and, presumably, an adult is fully capable of doing so. Despite the many assumptions inherent in the foregoing statement, its accuracy ought to hold up under scrutiny. The one certainty is that the purpose will seem of some efficacy to the individual though others in its world may not agree. What others think is not the issue. The issue is what the individual defines as its purpose. Satisfaction with and performance towards the purpose is internal.

If purpose is defined by an outside agency, then the efficacy of that purpose for the individual is of no import. The individual is subordinate to the outside agency. The individual’s satisfaction with the outside agency’s purpose is a “don’t care” and successful performance is measured by the outside agency. If the individual rejects the outside agency’s purpose and opts instead for one of its own, it faces the full fury of the outside agency.

One can argue that those pursuing the purpose of life confuse this thought with the meaning of life. Folk begin to worry about the meaning of life when they begin to worry about death. Why am I here and what do I hope to gain are questions that only arise from contemplation of death. More often than not, contemplation of the meaning of life is a selfish exercise. I exist and I want to continue existence but I know that I am going to die. How can I make that fact palatable. After all, I’m a thinking being; I’m the culmination of evolution; there is no life form superior to me. Why would that be so?

The common answer is there is life after death. That way, I’m not really dying; I’m just moving on. Once you accept that postulate, you get all the other trappings that constitute a religion.

The alternative is ‘this is it.’ Many cannot accept this or believe it to be a justification for all sorts of evil. But, some can see this as exhilirating, offering the freedom to determine what is important, meaningful, and exciting to the individual. Consider this poem:

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less and no more than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. *
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with yourself. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.*
Strive to be happy.

For me, the purpose of life is to live. It’s a gift that I didn’t earn and must work at to keep it going. The joy is in the doing.

* I edited this line from the original to mesh with my point.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word | 2 Comments

Most Read Authors

After yesterday’s post, I got curious about my reading habits. I’ve always known that I tend to acquire favorite authors and tend to read everything they produce. Well, not always; I sometimes get tired of a given series. I only read three of Robert Jordan’s mammoth series. I haven’t read all L.E. Modesitt, Jr.’s output. As much as I read of John D. MacDonald, I didn’t finish his output by a bunch. Still, consider these two lists:

C.J. Cherryh 44
Robert A. Heinlein 41
Jack Chalker 39
Larry Niven 37
Mike Resnick 35
Piers Anthony 35
W.E.B. Griffin 34
Isaac Asimov 32
Anne Mccaffrey 31
Ursula K. LeGuin 27
John D. MacDonald 26
Sherri S. Tepper 23
Dave Duncan 20
L.E. Modesitt, Jr. 19
Orson Scott Card 19
David Eddings 17
Tony Hillerman 17
Ian Fleming 16
Steven Brust 14
Jennifer Roberson 13
Joel Rosenberg 13
SpiderRobinson 13
Daniel Silva 11
Fred Saberhagen 10

Science Fiction 489
Fantasy 367
General 193
Mysteries 111
Adventure 103
1263

The bottom line is the 586 of the 1263 novels I’ve read came from 24 authors. This list was curtailed with an at-least-10-books-read cutoff. There are least as many authors I’ve read, e.g., R.A. MacAvoy, whose output never reached ten books. Must be of some interest to the publishing industry.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word, Writing | Leave a comment

Borrowing From the Masters

Classics That I Would Love to Imitate

The Mouse That Roared, Leonard Wibberly, 1955.
At 14 years of age, this story of the world’s smallest nation declaring war and defeating the U.S.A. was not only funny, everything that happened resonated with me, every misstep by the U.S.A. and the Duchy of Grand Fenwick seeming to me perfectly in character for the governments of the time. Imagine writing a story now where the Vatican City declares war on the U.S.A. and wins. That seems so obvious that I wonder no one has yet written the damned thing.

The Alexandria Quartet, Lawrence Durrell, 1957 – 1960
Imagine telling an sf story 4 times from 4 different viewpoints. As close as I’ve seen is Stephen R. Donaldson’s The Real Story.

The Illustrated Man, Ray Bradbury, 1951
Tying a series of vaguely related short stories together with a stand alone tale seemed genius to my 11 year old mind. It still does. I have tons of short stories that I’d like to do the same for.

Birthright: The Book of Man, Mike Resnick, 1982.
I learned of Robert A. Heinlein’s basement wall and the future history displayed thereon in the early 1960s. I believed that to be an awesome achievement. Then, I read Birthright and I saw that Resinck trumped Heinlein. Birthright is not just a timeline; it’s a magnificent future history… because, with everything I think understand about people, Resnick’s history makes sense.

The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell, 1996
Back in 1954, I read Louis de Wohl’s The Second Conquest, a story of first contact with folk on Mars and what that meant for Roman Catholic theology. Since I was checking it out of a Catholic school library, the theme and plot played to those virtues. But, it was a heck of a read. More so, to me, because I had eavesdropped on a conversation among my dad, my uncle, and two Franciscan priests who were debating what it would mean if intelligent life were to be discovered out there. Then, in the 2000s I read The Sparrow and finally discovered someone ready to treat the topic in real terms, with real understanding of church politics. Add to that, she added a marvelous conundrum to be addressed by the church. Imagine a story with a similar conundrum to be addressed by imams all the monotheistic religions.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word, Writing | Leave a comment

Mockingbirds and jays

TLWSHLWM and I watched the 50th anniversary showing of To Kill a Mockingbird last night. We were both struck by the line “It’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” and the explanation: “all they do is sing”. We were both struck by the parallel to the mockingjays in The Hunger Games. I rarely read author interviews so I have no idea whether Collins was thinking of Harper Lee’s book when she created her mockingjays but it would not surprise me that she was. At the very least, I hope so.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word, Writing | Leave a comment

Nerd List of sf II

Continuting examination of taste: this website [http://nerdsguidetoreading.com/Nerds_Guide_to_Reading/Science_Fiction.html] offers the 25 most spectacular sf novels. These are the entries I have read:
No. 1 Ender’s Game, Orson Scott Card
No. 2 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
No. 3 1984, George Orwell
No. 4 Dune, Frank Herbert
No. 5 The Time Machine, H.G. Wells
No. 7 The Hunger Games Trilogy, Suzanne Collins
No. 8 Farenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
No. 11 A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess
No. 13 Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
No. 16 Ilium, Dan Simmons
No. 18 American Gods, Neil Gaiman
No. 19 Kiln People, David Brin
No. 23 Anthem, Ayn Rand
No, 25 The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, Robert A. Heinlein

I read Ender’s Game in 1985 when it first hit the shelves judgng it to be a classic with that first read. Upon completion, what struck me the most was the conclusion: taking the egg to allow rebuilding of the Formic race. That seemed right to me. 28 years later, I still have fond memories of that read. I enjoyed Speaker for the Dead but not as much and my pleasure decreases with each new volume in the series. The only thing Card has done since then that comes close to meeting the standards of Ender’s Game is Pastwatch.

What else can I add to the chorus of praise for Hitchhiker. It deserves inclusion.

As for 1984, the camera behind the armoire is just plain classic though the overall writing lacks the merit of some others on the list.

Reading Dune in 1965 I was awed. Living in the desert myself, the notion of the water preserving skinsuits fascinated me. A half century later, I remember the read with fondness. The sequels never matched the power of the original and I stopped reading them after the third.

Read The Time Machine in the late 50s. What always stuck out to me was the conclusion: out of all the books in the library, which three would you take forward to build a new society. My answers to that question have evolved over the years and never included the same three books.

The Hunger Games I’ve read in the last six months. Whether they are classic is an open question but they are superior in every way. This may be due to their resonance with our own times. Once again, the climax seemed powerful to me. Logical, necessary, unexpected. What else can you ask?

Farenheit 451 I read in 1953. Bradbury is a master of language; I’ve read none better. The burning of books resonated in 1953 with the recent end of Nazism and the building Red scare. Picturing the camp of the walking books thrilled me though I could not imagine myself memorizing an entire novel.

I didn’t finish A Clockwork Orange. Lost interest after a couple of chapters. Graphic violence is not my cup of tea.

I read Brave New World in the late 50s and became fascinated with the notion of soma constantly examining but not trying the world around me for traces of same: alcohol, pot, LSD. Eventually, I acquired a taste for alcohol, damned near achieving AA status, but the others never tempted me. Watching commercials today where all my problems can be solved with pills, I wonder how close we are to soma.

I wonder at the selection of Ilium. For me, Hyperion is the better tale, better written and more thought provoking. I didn’t complete Ilium losing interest about 2/3 of the way through.

American Gods‘ inclusion is a mystery to me. Certainly, the notion of the old gods reappearing in the U.S.A. Was clever but what else about the story makes it a classic?

When I read Kiln People, I was gobbling up everything Brin wrote. His writing and his ideas captured my imagination. Then, something happened and he lost me. I haven’t been back.

In the 1950s, Anthem struck me as a great read. Then I lived through the me generation and I became much less fascinated. From a literary architectural POV, it deserves inclusion. As a great book? I’m not convinced.

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress is an excellent read; I have no qualms about that. But, for me, Stranger In a Strange Land is better and I got more out of Starship Troopers than I did from Moon.

Of the entire list, the one I’d rank No. 1 is Hitchhiker for quality of writing and ideas presented. At No. 2 I’d place Bradbury. At No. 3 I’d place Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Leguin, and the Nerds didn’t bother to mention her.

Posted in Since I Never Get the Last Word, Writing | Leave a comment