B.M. Simpson's Blog, page 3

The Science Of Roosters

According to a LIVE SCIENCE article, “Rooster's morning cock-a-doodle-doo is driven by an internal clock, finds new research, suggesting male chickens really know the time of day.”All I have to say to that, is “Bull@#$%!” I’ve done an in depth study of my own, which has lasted an entire year. The study is called, “Damn Roosters Crow All Night, Every Night Study.” Either the Current Biology study is flawed science, or Caribbean chickens defy science. With the help from a graduate student of the Dr. Doolittle School, we translated a rooster conversation to find out what is being said when they crow at ALL hours of the night. There was nothing in their conversation that indicated they had any damn idea what time it was. Like a teenage boy hitting puberty, they crow whenever the urge hits them, and that urge hits often and loudly.The following (translated) conversation took place on the night of 14 May, 2019 somewhere around 2:15 a.m. It was one of many conversations that took place between three roosters on that night in my back yard in South Sound, Grand Cayman… while I was trying to sleep. Keep in mind ALL dialect was originally spoken in COCK-A-DOODLE-Dos.Huggy: Yo! Felix! Felix: What’s happening, Huggy? Huggy: No ting, Mun. You seen Marley? Marley: Over here, Mun. Huggy: What? Speak up! Who dat? Marley: I said, I’m over here, Mun!! Who you tink it is? Felix: Anybody else hangin round? Huggy: What!? Marley: Clean you ears out, Mon! You goin deaf? Huggy: Felix wants to know if anyone else is about!! Trying to Sleep Dude (Me): Shut up you @#$% chickens!!! I’m trying to sleep!!Marley: Hey, Marley. We woke da white dude again. Felix: Dude sounds mad. Needs to go get some sleep. Trying to Sleep Dude (Me): I thought roosters just crowed at sunrise!? SHUT UP!!Marley: He needs to stop yelling. Gonna wake the neighbors. Huggy: Who dat? Dat Belinda (the hen) over dere? Marley: Hey, hey, Belinda! Lookin good tonight.Felix: Hey, baby! Where you been!? Come see dis ole rooster. Huggy: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!! (Meaning nothing more than cock-a-doodle-doo).Marly: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!Felix: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!Trying to Sleep Dude (Me): Good gawd, I hate chickens!All of them: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!, COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!, COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!Belinda: cluck, cluck, cluck, while wagging her tail feathers.All of them again: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!, COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!Trying to Sleep Dude (Me): Door slam.CONCLUSION: I have no idea what the Current Biology folks are talking about or where these mythical “sunrise only” roosters exist. As I finish this article at 10:45 PM, the roosters are crowing loud and clear out back. Perhaps they should reset their internal clocks.

Steps To Writing A Story

1. Sit down and turn on your laptop or open your writing pad.2. Start writing.3. Keep writing.4. Do it again tomorrow.5. And then again the next day, week, month, year, decade… I’m probably not going to make the century, so I’ll stop at decade.6. To write a good story, repeat steps 1 through 5 for as long as it takes to write something good.Perhaps the most absurd writing advice that I ever read was, “Never write anything bad.” I can’t remember who wrote it, but they should have followed their own rule. The truth is to be a good writer, step 1 should be to check to see if you love to write. If the answer is no, good news! You’re done. You have been spared the agony (and honor) of becoming a writer. If the answer is yes, well I’m afraid that’s the easy part. I read a post today that said, “Teaching peace is hard.” I responded and said, “Teaching peace is easy. Living in peace is hard.” In a strange way, writing is sort of the same. To love writing is easy. To live writing is hard. It is a passion that has very little external reward. To thwart popular belief, 99% of writers do not make money at writing. We do not become famous. If we’ve written long enough, we don’t even live with the illusion that we’re going to make money or become famous. We just write. (And we usually read a lot, too).We spend an absurd amount of time creating and living in make believe worlds with make believe friends who are dealing with imagined enemies. But it’s what we do. Writers write. And those two words right there, my friends, just about says everything you need to know about how to write a story. Writers write.So, you think you want to be a writer? Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about what to write. Start writing. What’s that? You don’t know what to write about. Well, let me get you started. I’ll give you the first line.“She poked her head inside the door just far enough to peak into a room where a small dog sat like a statue staring at the door without making so much as a peep or small bark.”There you go. Happy writing.PS: There is no “right time of the day” to be writing. Just write.

Our Military: What's Important To Them?

I follow a Facebook page called “USAF Retired”. It kinda goes without saying, I’m retired from the United States Air Force. The page usually has a lot of posts like, “How many of you were ever stationed at a base that was shut down while you were there?” Or, “What was your best/worst assignment?” Then there are the more focused questions like “Who worked on a flight crew for XXX aircraft?” Or… the list goes on and on with a lot of post about particular bases or certain jets that are no longer around. I hardly ever respond, but I enjoy skimming over the posts and comments every now and then. It takes me back in time just a bit.Tonight there was a post that I thought I’d comment on. No big deal, or at least it didn’t seem like it at the time. The post asked, “What do you miss the most about the Air Force?”Of course there were people who said they miss the flying, but let’s be honest. Once you leave the USAF, you don’t get to fly fighter jets anymore. Quite a few said they miss the traveling. A few less said they miss the chow hall. While military chow halls are not famous for great cuisine, I have a Navy buddy who swears that the Air Force chow halls are like 5 star restaurants compared to Navy dining. He needs to get over it. We’re the Air Force! One guy said he misses his youth. Yeah… we all miss that, but what can you do? A couple folks said they miss being in parades and open ranks inspections. I’m just going to presume that they’re being funny or they are in need help and I’ll leave it at that. Quite a few made comments about being proud and working hard, or team work, or about attitude and mission accomplishment. All good things that are common place in the USAF.But far and away, by an overwhelming margin, people said the thing that they miss the most (described several different ways) is the camaraderie, and the military family and the Air Force community spirit. They miss knowing they could count on the people around them. They referred to military members as their brothers and sisters, or closest thing I ever had to brothers and sisters. They repeatedly said the words “Air Force family” and meant it in every good sense of the word. One guy perhaps put it the best when he wrote, “The friends is what I miss the most.”And all this got me thinking just a bit. First I thought how many civilians might be surprised that none of them talked or even hinted about fighting wars. Not many war mongers in the US military. Fighting wars is what they do because it’s their duty, not their passion. The second thing I thought about was that even though the vast majority of civilians appreciate the military, they can’t really know what the USAF or US Military camaraderie is truly like any more than someone could know what it feels like to fly because they’ve read about it or watched it on TV. It’s a thing of beauty and words and pictures cannot do it justice.Most of us left the military left without regrets and with little intention of looking back all that much. To be honest I don’t reflect on my Air Force days all that often. Life has been all right to me in the civilian world, but there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty. Nothing I have ever found in the civilian world has remotely compared to the sense of community my family and I found in the United States Air Force. If you had great neighbors then they became your great friends. If you had lousy neighbors, well, they were still part of the family and we looked out for each other. To be honest, there were not that many lousy neighbors. Great communities bring out the best in people. The funny thing is that most of us didn’t fully appreciate what an exceptional world we were part of until we left it. Knowing what I know now, I believe the US Military is the best of the best. They represent what we should aspire to be. They are a huge family who takes care of each other, not because they’re required to, but because it’s the right thing to do.And every once in a while I look back without regret and perhaps with a little envy. Most of those young Airmen today, just like I was once upon a time, are laughing hard and working harder and playing hard and bonding with some of the best people they will ever know. They are living in a world filled with respect and honor, and they are making friendships that will last a lifetime. They are living in a world where almost everyone is contributing something good and looking out for their brothers and sisters. And one day years down the line they’ll stop and think about the camaraderie and military community and all their old friends, and they’ll feel a little tug on their heart. And they will know, you can’t really understand the spirit of the United States Military unless you were part of itGod bless all of them.

The Tiny Oak

People often ask me, "How long have you been writing?" Well... I wrote this one back in 1998, so I guess it's been two or three decades. A long time, for sure.The Tiny Oakby BM SimpsonI closed my eyes and dreamed a field with trees and hills and skies so blue.In the field, amongst the grass,beneath the clouds, above the earth was a beautiful, fragile,baby oak.In my dreams as seasons passed,the tiny oak stood amongst the grass,with a childish, soaring soul.So young and brave,and full of life,but not yet mighty.Not yet bold.The mighty trees were not far off.They towered near the clouds.The tiny oak, he stood in aweof what,he could not know.To be…to be…to be like them.That is what I want to be.To tower high towards the clouds,to touch eternity.To hold the winds within my leaves,for birds who call me home.To toss my acorns on the ground.To crack and creek and moan.To be…to be…to be like them,that is what I want to be.Whiskers rough and axe in hand,with sweat upon his brow,boldly entered a worldly manto make the oak trees bow.And bow they didand fall they didsolemnly upon the ground.A mighty whoosh.A mighty crash.They no longer made a sound.The tiny oakstood amongst the grassstill and silent,and so aware,while the mighty manwho swung the axeand cloaked himself in hair,took only bold and mighty oaks.He spared the youthful trees,with trunks so tender,and branches bent,and leaves so vibrant green.To be young and meek and full of lifewith visions not yet seen.To be…to be…to be like thatis what I want to be.I close my eyes and dream of timeswhen I’m writing at my desk.Words of peace and war and love,on paper they do rest.I write of landsreaching far and wide,and kingdoms with riches vast.I write of times which have not come, and long forgotten past.It is my haven,It is my harbor,my sacred, solemn retreat.It is where I go to ask, to answer,to dream my dreams so sweet.My mighty desk,my oak wood desk,with hand carved edgings, and drawers with treasures,and surface as hard as glass.It’s golden grain boldly sustains the nearly forgotten past.Who would have thought this magnificent deskwas a seedling in a field.So fragile and tiny and beautiful.oh how the time does yield.The tiny tree beneath the sky, slowly reached toward the clouds.It held the winds and birds and raintill it fell upon the ground.Oh tiny oak,oh mighty oak,Oak that comforts me.I thank the Heavens,I thank the Earth,for the Oak which came to be.