There's Something To Be Said

It’s been said, “When you have nothing to say, it’s usually best to say nothing.” Most people, typically, do have something to say, but most people, also, will usually say nothing. Something is often better said than nothing being said because saying something can give someone else’s deafening silence some illuminating context. Are you following me? It can reveal the silence to be what it frequently is, insecurity, fear, or intimidation. The spoken also gives the silent an opportunity for its own expression, to move beyond its, otherwise, timid and invisible nature. It can give silence an opportunity to speak, or, if need be, to hunker down and embrace its own timidity. Some people can remain silent forever, and some people just need the expression of others to initiate their own. Saying nothing seemingly implies, albeit wrongly, that there is nothing to be said. That will sometimes be the case, but there is almost always something to be said.

Silence is often a blanket that we hide behind. Sometimes saying nothing is the wise and prudent thing to do, but more often than not it is actually just the more comfortable thing to do. Silence can also be a powerful means of control. If you express an opinion, or perspective, and I express nothing, then I can feel in control because I know what you think, but you have no idea what I think. I guess that works for people who need to feel in control, but it makes for dishonest, and disingenuous, relationships. Unfortunately, those are the kind of relationships that many people seek, and are satisfied with today.
The thing about not speaking up is that it tends to become a habit. Those who don’t speak up, by their silence, practice not speaking up, and that practice becomes their manner of being, their lifestyle, and ultimately, their personality. That’s fine, but it’s also kind of sad.

Over the past twenty years or so, and the past decade in particular, PC (Political Correctness, I call it Personal Cowardice) has taken such root, and spread so silently across our culture, like the Swine Flu was supposed to have done, that many people have lost, not only their ability, but also their inclination, to even express themselves anymore. And the thought police, the social and political fascists, who determine for us what we may, or may not, believe, do, or say, find it all to be quite satisfying. It leaves their voice as the only voice left to be heard.

You say that I’m exaggerating the dynamic? But if you think so, then ask yourself, when is the last time you spoke an unpopular opinion, or a point of view that you knew would not be embraced by the person, or group, that you happened to be with at the time? Or that would cause them to raise an eyebrow about who you are, or what you believe?
Fear. It governs us like gravity governs the earth.

What is that Thomas Jefferson quote that we all seem to have heard, and like to think we take to heart, but, honestly, never do?
Oh yeah, “All tyranny really needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.”

Does that remind anybody of what’s going on today?
In our Culture? In our Government?

Just asking.

Pride Of The Irish

They call it Saint Patricks day
but I can’t see where the man did me
no good.
Who made him a saint
anyway?

Is that something like
an uncle?

Just because he wore a big hat,
carried a long staff,
was white, had a beard
and drove some weird snakes
outa town
don’t mean nothin’
where I live.

Sounds to me like
he must have been insane,
or somethin’.
Besides,
he’d prob’ly get arrested
if they caught him doin’ that
today.

Chica, the Dog

Starting out, I have to say I recognize that listening to someone talk about their own dog is not much different from listening to a parent talking about their child, or even showing slides of the family vacation. If you’re not intimately acquainted with the object of affection, or if you weren’t there, you’re probably going to be bored with hearing about it. “My little Amber is the cutest, smartest, most unique child I’ve ever known. She’s only a year old, and she can already count to three.” Never mind that little Amber is actually the only child the parent has ever really known. But, it is almost impossible to separate those sentiments from the larger reality of who little Amber, or in this case, Chica, actually is. So, if you don’t want to hear about my dog this would be a good place to stop reading.

Chica is a one-year-old Doberman. She is more than our family pet, she is an enormous part of our family, and is treated as such, with love, with kindness, with appreciation, and with respect. My wife and I do everything we can to see that her needs are met. Her primary needs, like those of people, are for love, acceptance, trust, some exercise, and a consistency in meeting those needs. Oh yeah, and of course, some snacks and a good meal.

I get mad at her sometimes, and I am elated with her at other times. She is young, and still a puppy, she is finding her way, but Chica is also a mirror. Plain and simple, she mirrors life around her. I don’t think she knows that about herself, but we certainly see it clearly. And in this case, my wife and I are the life that is around her. She is a check and balance system for our own behavior, and for our attitude. At home, when we are excited about something, she is excited with us. When we are calm, she is calm as well. When we are concerned about something, she shares that concern, and even magnifies it. She goes on hyper alert, and pushes vigilance to the max. When we are content, she is generally satisfied; she is at her most docile, her most agreeable, and yes, her most obedient. When we are unhappy, she is a little unruly, undisciplined, and, yes, unsatisfied. We try not to be unhappy, because unhappiness is not good for us, but we try even harder because we know that our unhappiness is not good for her either.

Because we live alone, when other people, or animals, are thrown into the mix, a whole different dynamic is created, one that Chica is not as used to, and that makes for a more awkward, and challenging, environment for her. She does mirror that environment as well, but we have less control over the big picture, and thus, less influence on her demeanor. As she gets older, however, we are finding that she is becoming better suited to dealing with change, and better able to remain more independent of its sway.

Where I am, where my wife is, where we are, that is where Chica wants to be, always. She will ride in the truck with us for hours, just to be with us. She will lay on her bed in the luggage compartment behind the seats, quietly, calmly, waiting for us to return from whatever it is we’re doing. Upon our return to the truck there is only gladness, there is a brightness in her eyes, there is only joy. This is not an anthropomorphic projection of mine, it is the reality of this creature, this companion, this giver of pleasure, and of life.
Chica never asks for much; she only wants to play sometimes, or go for a walk, or be petted or brushed. Sometimes she wants to snuggle her head in a warm lap. Who am I to deny her these pleasures, especially when it gets returned ten-fold.

This dog, I recognize, is a gift from the invisible hand of God. She was given to meet some of the needs in our own lives; some unspoken, and even unknown, needs. She did not just happen into our lives. And even if she appeared to have ‘just happened’ by, it would be very clear by now, that our connection is no coincidence. She is a creature, perhaps not unlike your own pet, who brings with her a certain necessity that we be at our best, that we be aware of her, that we be conscious of her feelings.

If we take Chica’s needs to heart, if we consider her, if we really, truly see her, we will also be seeing the best in, and of, ourselves.

“My dog is the cutest, smartest, most unique animal I’ve ever known. She’s only a year old, and she can already count to three.”
Now, if you have an extra minute, I’d like to show you some slides of my family vacation.

The Honesty Of Anger

Two neighbors. I’ll call them Neighbor #1, and Neighbor #2.
Neighbor #1 presented himself as a good, church-going, righteous man who was all about being neighborly. And so did his wife. Neighbor #2 presented himself as a regular guy who happened to be my neighbor. Neighbor #1, and his wife, talked about how good, and how righteous they were, and ‘their church this’, and ‘their church that’; and ‘the Lord this’, and ‘the Lord that’, while neighbor #2 helped me move a log.

Neighbor #2 showed his neighborliness by seeking to accommodate, as best he could, the expectations of the obstinate, narcissistic, and manipulative, neighbor #1. Neighbor #1 exploited, leveraged, and extorted the good nature of neighbor #2. As neighbor #2 began to see the true nature of neighbor #1, and hold his ground against it, neighbor #1, and his wife, began frequently mentioning ‘the advice of their attorney’. “Our church this, our church that, the Lord this, the Lord that, and yes, our attorney this, our attorney that”. Seems incongruous, but, maybe that’s just me!

Meanwhile, neighbor #2 was quietly improving, and trying to make right, a situation that, inadvertently, affected me. Neighbor #1 continued to manipulate, and attempt to control, everything about that same situation that he possibly could, to his own benefit, I might add. Neighbor #2 just shook his head at the nastiness of neighbor #1.

Neighbor #1, the ‘righteous’ man, came to me to get me on his side of the supposed ‘misunderstanding’. He lied to me with the very first words out of his mouth, and continued lying as he kept talking. I listened patiently, and as he continued to paint himself in a most favorable but, actually, quite deceitful, light, it reminded me of something I remembered reading somewhere in the Bible.
“Your righteousness is like filthy rags.”

When I finally chose to speak I told him exactly who he is, what he is, what I think of him, and why I will have nothing to do with him in the future.
Then I threw him off my land, and told him to never come back.

He is not an honest man, and I do not intend to entertain his disingenuousness throughout the future.
I take to heart many of those valuable historical parables so many of us were raised with, and this one in particular.
“Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”
No matter how many times they might mention God, or their church.

If he were in trouble, or in need, yes, I would offer him assistance.
He is a fellow traveler on this planet, and our commission as humans is to love one another.
But sometimes love requires that a situation be dealt with directly, that one not protect another’s fraudulent position. Sometimes love requires taking the more difficult stand.
And yes, sometimes love requires the honesty of anger.

My Fathers Desk

I have my fathers desk. He gave it to me when it became apparent that he would never be using it again. My dad has gotten very old. It’s an old desk too, an old school teachers desk; ironic, because my dad was never really a teacher. Didn’t have the patience for it. There is a lot of wear and tear on this desk. That’s one of the things I like about it. I also like that it was his desk. I don’t like new things very much. They lack depth and character. Old things always contain a lot of interesting assimilation. Assimilation is the process of becoming part of, or more like, something greater. This desk is greater than it was when it was made. It has a lot of living engrained in its finish, and in its wood.

Yes, this was my fathers desk. There are scratches on the face of the center drawer. My fathers belt buckle left its mark there over the years, carving his initials, as it were, into this once formidable tree. My father gave me the belt buckle also. It’s the head of an eagle, with eyes to pierce the deepest fear one might still secretly embrace. I have yet to find a belt to do it justice, but I will. There’s a ring on the desk-top where my father set his coffee cup every morning, and another one where he set his beer, a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, every afternoon; another one, still, where he kept his Gin and Tonic in the evening. I am conscious of putting my coffee cup on the same ring that he did. There’s some kind of psychic connection to him when I do. I’m also conscious of leaving the Gin ring just as it is, fully worn well into the grain of my fathers own history.

The finish on the desktop is rubbed thin where he, habitually, rested his forearms and elbows, the sheen having long ago gone from gloss to matt without intention. It makes me wonder what the sleeves of his shirts and sweaters ended up looking like after all those years. There are many scratches from untold, and unknown, accidents, some other marks and grooves as well, maybe from the carelessness of inebriation, or compulsive digging and tapping, lost in creative thought, or lost, even deeper, in an endless sea of paperwork. The scars of battle with the outer world, and from wrestling, persistently, with his solitary inner self.

When this desk was made they made a thousand others like it, but through the years it has become the only one of its kind.
Maybe some day one of my sons will be able to say, “This was my fathers desk. This desk is greater than it was when it was made. It has a lot of living engrained in its finish, and in its wood.”

Life Is A Three Act Play

Life has a beginning, a middle, and an end. We tend to think of life as a one-act play, but actually, we’re born, we live, and we die. Those, I believe, are three separate acts. If we include the Beyond, there are four. We tend not to see the ‘born’ part as a segment of our life, nor do we see the ‘die’ part that way. We only see the ‘life’ part as significant to living. I see all three of these acts as separate and independent of each other, but fundamentally intertwined with one another, and equally significant as well.

It’s important that we are able to see, and consider, each. If we are not in touch with being born, we are, most likely, not in touch with having purpose for our life. Everything that is created, made, built, fashioned, or constructed in any way, is done so with a purpose in mind. Humans, as creators, never make something without purpose. Even the most abstract idea, fashioned physically with paint, clay, sticks, plastic, or whatever, is created with a certain purpose for its existence. You might say, “No, I made that thing just to see if I could make it”, or something like that. Well, that is purposeful, and its existence is what gives meaning to you for having made it. Furthermore, its very existence gives it its own purpose. It has purpose simply by the fact that it was created with a purpose. The fact that it has dimension, shape, color, scent, or some other means of interacting with you is what gives you satisfaction. So, one might say that your satisfaction is its intended purpose. It is important that one discover one’s purpose for living. But, it can only be realized by understanding ones purpose for being born.

Living is the second act. It is where the first act finds its significance. It is where the author of the script feeds and clothes his creation. It is where the creation finds its legs, where the intent of the author plays itself out. It is where the purpose of the first act is revealed. It is the place where the creation develops itself, in keeping with the creator’s intent; or, unfortunately, it could also be the part of the play where the whole thing wanders hopelessly off course, resulting in the author no longer even being able to recognize his own work, a life whose own purpose has been, tragically, left undiscovered.

Without the beginning, the middle would have no context, or cogent sensibility. The second act of life is the transition between being born, and dying, but, in addition, it is also the continuation of being born.

Death is usually thought of as the End of life. However, the process of dying is actually the end of life. It is the third act in the play. Death is the beginning of the afterlife. Dying is the process of closing out life, as we know it. Even those who die suddenly, and unexpectedly, go through the process of dying, they are just, most likely, relatively unaware of the gradual transition. A person who dies in an auto accident, for instance, didn’t know he was going to die at that moment, but the process had been in play for quite some time. It involved a complex series of decisions, and events, that conspired together to lead up to the accident. That series of events constitutes the third act, the last act. It could have been playing out for weeks, months, or even years. The point where a person reaches the peak of his existence is the point where that person begins the process of dying. No one knows where, or when, that peak is actually reached. There is no feeling of being at the zenith of one’s life, there is no reasoning that enables us to know that ‘it’s all down hill from here’. No, it happens to all of us, at a different age, and it happens unaware.

The question I have about this three-act play is, “Will its ultimate completion illicit, within one’s self, disappointment, indifference, or a quiet satisfaction?” And, “Will it illicit, from the Author, silence, moderate approval, or perhaps, even, the much coveted acknowledgment of a life well lived, a job well done?”

And what of the beyond? Well, I don’t really know about that. But, to quote myself,
“Life is where they keep you while they’re making up your room”.

I Have A Good Wife

There’s a difference between being a good woman, and being a good wife. I have known many good women over the years who would not necessarily be very good wives. But, to be a good wife one has to first be a good woman, the two are very inter-related.

I’m not an expert on wives, or women, for that matter. But I am an expert on what applies to, and relates to, me. My wife certainly fits well within those parameters. And she is a good wife. Some women consider being described as ‘a good wife’ to be an insult. I suppose that’s because they, myopically, choose to relate to the description as the totality of what they are seen to be. But I don’t think anyone ever meant to describe their own wife as ‘only’ a good wife, and nothing else, at least not anybody you’d really care to know. I think being a good wife is one of the highest callings a woman can aspire to, not necessarily the highest calling, but surely one of the highest. I would say the same about a good husband, but I don’t have one of those. I try to be one of those, but I’ve never had one of those, so I can’t really speak to that.

I’m not really sure I can even define ‘a good wife’, let alone describe, what makes a good wife. I think a man just knows it when he has one. My wife and I don’t agree on everything all of the time, we don’t see eye to eye on everything, and we don’t even necessarily like all of the same things. We are frequently in good moods at different times, in bad moods at different times, in unpredictable moods even, and, consequently, we don’t always find ourselves to be in sync with one another. But I guess not being in sync is the byproduct of two individuals with different physical, emotional, and psychic chemistries. Sometimes we are in sync. Being in sync with one’s husband, however, is not really the primary criteria for being a good wife. That much I do know. I think being a good wife has more to do with wanting to be a good wife, than in knowing how to be one. I think it has to do with the intent of the heart.

I am fortunate enough to be married to a woman whose intentions are born in, and of, a very good heart.

Avatar, The Movie

This is not a movie review. It is an impression of a creative endeavor.

I can see why ‘Avatar’ was nominated for nine Academy Awards. It’s a visually stunning masterpiece. Yes, it’s a masterpiece visually, but the movie itself is really nothing more than an expensive propaganda poster intended to insult and demean America, and the American military. And had it not been visually stunning it probably would have still been nominated for its politics. Hollywood loves this self-loathing, America-hating political pablum, but claims that the awards are given on merit alone, that there are no social politics involved whatsoever.
And the sun doesn’t set in the West.

I saw ‘Avatar’ yesterday. If I’m not mistaken, it took eight years to make, and cost about 250 million dollars, and sometime before I even get this blog posted, it will break the all-time record for dollars earned, breaking the record set by ‘Titanic’, which was also made by James Cameron. It’s been reported that many people leave the movie feeling dizzy, disoriented, and depressed. Although I understand why so many leave depressed, I just left angry. The movie’s feelings-based politics, and social ideology, were insulting to anybody with the courage to subjugate their feelings to the reality, and truth, of historical context.

Let’s see, according to the film, the American military has invaded, plundered, and permanently occupied almost every other under-developed country and territory on the face of the earth; and now they have begun to plunder the wealth of indigenous populations on other planets as well. Of course, every other civilization on earth, and in the universe, is comprised of sensitive, loving, kind and compassionate people; enlightened people who just want to live in peace. It is only America that is ignorant. It is only America who oppresses, enslaves, and slaughters the innocent. It is only America who intends to dominate every living creature, and to subjugate them to its own will. It is only America that is too stupid to learn anything of value about itself.

Well, I remember thinking the same thing . . . . . . . . . when I was about fourteen or fifteen years old. I’d lapped up all the anti-America/anti-military propaganda that was floating around the fringes of my world at that time. I was anxious to believe it. After all, I had an oppressive father also, so it suited me well to extrapolate that oppression, that re-pression, and place it squarely on the shoulders of my country (Big Daddy), and embed it in the brutal fist that he, supposedly, so indiscriminately wielded (The Military).

But you know what? I grew up over the years, something James Cameron , obviously has, as of yet, failed to do; and his adolescent ideology is perpetually reinforced by the Hollywood community. In fact, they probably consider him to be heroic for having had the ‘courage’ to make such a ‘bold’, political statement. Courage? Bold? Please! It’s bold, and it’s courageous, in today’s world, to actually tell the truth. See how long he’d be a Hollywood darling if he were ever to do that.
Hollywood is dishonest, but no less dishonest than anybody else who clings to, and propagates, ideology over logic, reason, experience, and historical accountability.

Yes, I grew up, I read history, I listened (and listen) to the wisdom and perspective of my elders, and I research what I don’t know until I’m satisfied that I’m no longer as stupid as Mr. Cameron still seems to be today.

America is, quite simply, the greatest defender of the oppressed, and the greatest contributor to the welfare of mankind, in the history of recorded civilization. If you don’t believe me, take your own walk back through history. And should anybody tell you different, it is your moral imperative to insist that they do their own honest research, rather than simply continuing to parrot the shallow bias of the ignorant, and the misinformed.

Mr. Cameron thinks nothing of indoctrinating a whole new generation of impressionable young people to his own myopic, and dishonest perspective. This, from a man who has become filthy rich plundering the wallets, but now the minds, of Americans with his movies. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you? Talk about self-loathing? Talk about a guilt complex driving an ideology? I feel sorry for the man.

Yes, Mr. Cameron probably should win an Academy Award for Avatar’s visual brilliance, and for other creative aspects of the movie, but the script should be acknowledged for what it is. It could have been written by a thirteen-year-old girl who was mad at her daddy for hurting her precious feelings.
Creative thinking? Or shameless Propaganda?

You say, "C’mon, it’s just a movie."
And I say, “Oh really?"

I Wish Him All The Best

I just finished watching the Tiger apology on TV.
I’m sure many of you saw it as well.

I have been critical of Tiger Woods. He has been a man that I have never respected because of his Diva, arrogant, egocentric behavior on the golf course. I have respected his dedication, and the hard work he devoted to his craft, but I never respected him as a person, or as a man.

Until Now.

I have always felt that people of privilege should hold themselves to a higher standard of behavior, even, than the rest of us, if for no other reason than as an acknowledgment of gratitude for the elevated, and comfortable, position they have been fortunate enough to inhabit. Humility, rather than arrogance, ought to be the coat they choose to wear every day of their lives. It seems that Tiger Woods has finally begun the process of dressing himself in such a coat.

I listened carefully to the things he said this morning, and I watched his body language.
He rang true for me. Not that that matters to anybody, but it matters to me. I would rather see one man find redemption, than see a thousand men find riches and fame. There is no wealth that compares to living honestly with one’s self. I believe that Tiger Woods finally understands that.

I was wrong about him not needing to apologize. We didn't need it, but he did.
I understand that now.

I wish him all the best.

Mental Chronicles 4

* If you haven’t heard the new version of “We Are The World”, or seen the video, I would encourage you to check it out. I’m not real big on these ‘gathering of superstars’ benefits because I think many of the artists would just like to advance their own careers, and be seen as heroes. And there is also the issue of where the money actually goes. But there is a soft spot in my heart for all the contributors who were in it for the actual benefit of the Haitian people, rather than for their own self-aggrandizement. Since it’s impossible for anyone to know exactly who is in it for what reason, I’m choosing to give them all the benefit of the doubt, and honor their participation with a great big acknowledgement of thanks, and appreciation.

But, let’s hope the money raised through this song, and video, will be managed responsibly so that it affects the lives of those most in need, rather than just lining the pockets of Haitian government hacks and phony relief agencies.

And, by the way, the song is, again, a remarkable blending of old and new artists, with a myriad of styles represented, enhancing the power of the song, without getting in the way of its message.

Having said that, I must say I do miss Springsteen, and Dylan, from the original version.

* As some of you know, I like to watch the auditions of American Idol. I stop watching when the competition gets to Hollywood and everybody starts pretending that they totally support their competition.
But I remember one young American Idol wannabe’s audition, who, before her song, stated that she thinks she ‘deserves to be’ the next American Idol because if she were chosen she thinks she’d make ‘a good role model’. She went on to say, “You know, I’d recycle, and I’d care about the people in Africa, and stuff like that.”
Huh! I was under the impression that I was watching American Idol,
not the Miss America pageant.

* Tiger in the Woods. Yeah, Tiger’s still in the woods, but maybe not quite as lost in them now as he has been. It’s all over the news that he’s going to read a ‘statement of apology’ at a press conference on Friday. A ‘statement of apology’? Tiger never did anything to me. What does he have to apologize to me for? Has he ever done anything to you? Who the hell is he actually intending to apologize to, anyway? Far as I can tell, he owes an apology to his wife, which he’s probably already done, and will continue to do for about the next thirty-five years. I’d sure like to see him just keep his mouth shut about his personal life, but I’m also sure there are a lot of people who’d love to see him cry in a public apology. I think there’s something wrong with those people.
If Tiger wants to apologize to anybody other than his wife, maybe he should apologize to all those other golfers he’s been competing against while all puffed up on HGH, and other illegal performance enhancing drugs.
Yeah, that would be an apology that means something.

* And speaking of sports, I am not one who supports the idea of women competing against men in, what have traditionally been, ‘male’ sports. Not because I am opposed to women in sports, but because I think women have an unfair advantage competing against men. Take NASCAR, and Danica Patrick, for example. It is quite common for drivers to bump each other out of position in a race, to aggressively jockey for position, and to exploit the weaknesses of the other drivers. All fine and good, that’s the nature of the sport. But it is embedded in a man’s DNA to treat women differently in competition than they would treat each other. The NASCAR drivers must be more ‘gentlemanly’ in their approach to Ms. Patrick. To use the same tactics on her that they use on each other would cause them to be seen as bullies. They know it. She knows it. Everybody knows it. The men are competing with one hand tied behind their back when she’s in the race.
Do you think Danica Patrick is going to be ‘gentlemanly’ in her approach to the other male drivers? I don’t think so.
Unfair competition.
Oh, and by the way, I noticed that at the NASCAR race last week at Daytona, she was handing out semi-naked posters of herself in suggestive poses to the other drivers just before the start of the race.
Brilliant strategy, don’tcha think?

* Just wondering who you think is the better person?
The person who sets a fairly high degree of moral and ethical standards for themselves, tries their best to live up to them, but because of their own weakness and fallibility, sometimes falls short, resulting in being labeled as a hypocrite?
Or:
The person who sets minimally low standards to live by, never failing to measure up to them, assuring that they will not be labeled as a hypocrite?

* My eyes can reflect what another’s eyes seek to project, or they can reflect what’s actually in there. These days I always choose the latter. It does no one any good to just reinforce an illusion.

* The Climate Mafia?
Criminals, all of them. Global Warming, the biggest secular-religious/economic fraud ever perpetrated on the American people, the world, really!
I warned you that it was really just about your money, and, of course,
your allegiance to the ‘cause’.
Again, I say, “Vote them all out of office. Every one of them.”
I’m still waiting for Al Gore to return that Academy award.
Oh yeah, and that Nobel ‘Peace’ prize.

When do you think that’s gonna happen?

* Common sense is not very common.
It used to be, but not so much any more.

*The Olympics.
How bout broadcasting them live so that a viewer can actually care about the outcome of a particular event? In lieu of that, they ought to make them the naked Olympics. At least people would stay up for that.

* AVATAR, The Movie.
The avaTar and Feathering of America, and the American military.
(More on this shameful, and exploitive, fiasco later).


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New Segment of "Wilderness", the Novel posted 2/17/10.
Access it by clicking on "Wilderness"
on the Home page of The Old Coyote website.