Randall Krzak's Blog

Randall’s Ramblings, October 12, 2025

The Detroit Tigers 2025 campaign came to a close this week. They lost game five of the ALDS to the Seatle Mariners. It was a great game, but Seatle scored in the bottom of the 15th inning to break a 2-2 tie and move into the ALCS against Toronto. Detroit will have to wait for next year to see if they can recover.

The Detroit Lions are now 4-1 after winning last weekend. Hopefully, they can continue their winning ways today when they play the 2-3 Kansas City Chiefs.

After winning last weekend and moving up to 15th in the NCAA rankings, the Michigan Wolverines lost to the USC Trojans yesterday. It wasn’t even a close game, as the Trojans came out on top, 31-13.  Likewise, the Michigan State Spartans didn’t fare any better as they lost to the UCLA Bruns 38-13.

Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.” — Enid Bagnold. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on October 12th, the forty-first Sunday of 2025 and the second one in October. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

William Chillingworth, English scholar, theologian (The Religion of Protestants), and poet; Walter T Watts-Dunton, English lawyer, poet and writer (Aylwin); George W. Cable, American writer (Northampton Years); Amintore Galli, Italian composer, artistic director, musical journalist, and music publisher; August Sauer, Austrian literature historian (Euphorion); Louis Hémon, French novelist (Maria Chapdelaine); Paula von Preradović, Croatian-Austrian poet and writer; Eugenio Montale, Italian poet and translator (Xenia-Nobel 1975); Dick Binnendijk, Dutch poet and literary critic (Authoritarian Regimes in Transition); Ding Ling, Chinese writer (The Sun Shines over the Sanggan River); Lester Dent, American writer (Doc Savage); Ann Lane Petry, American journalist and author (Street); Paul Engle, American poet and writer (Worm Earth, American Song); Robert Fitzgerald, American poet and translator; Alice Childress, American playwright, actress and writer; Thomas Burnett Swann, American sci-fi author (Day of Minotaur); Jack Gottlieb, American composer, writer and editor; William Raspberry, American columnist (Pulitzer 1994); Gawn Grainger, British theatre actor and playwright (Four to One); Geoff Murphy, New Zealand screenwriter and director (Utu, Goodbye Pork Pie); Gerd Stern, American poet of the Beat era, multi-media artist (USCO), and cheese monger; and Brian Kennedy, Northern Irish musician, songwriter, and author.

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

Work slowly continued  on my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. Since my last post, there were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 315. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

In less than an hour, Evie’s alter ego strolled through the middle of Tankard Town. Priscilla rested atop her shoulder as Evie made her way toward a place to park. She was fascinated with the town. She’d been there for a social occasion with her parents once, but she wasn’t allowed to appreciate it like this. Walking through the area on her own was something special.

At that moment, she noticed a small, mechanical creature patrolling the town and ducked her head as it came near, immediately recognizing her father’s handiwork. The whole of Canebreak, including all of Tankard Town, was monitored by automatons, meaning not many folks got in or out without her father knowing.

But why all the security precautions? She wondered how advanced her father and his scientific mechanics had become with his creations.

Evie made sure to blend in as best she could. She’d carefully studied the men at the manor so that she could be discreet in how she walked and talked, although Evie might have preferred her voice was a scant deeper.

Evie smiled slightly as she hid the papers Alberto gave her deep inside her coat. Living two lives was dangerous but challenging. Nevertheless, Evie was thrilled by it. Not a soul would question a man for having a micro spider, a cocked hat, or for wandering the streets. If Evie was caught, people might call her some horrible version of a lady of the night or ask if she was lost or a simple-minded child, which she was certainly not. Her worries were unfounded, because by and large she was ignored.

As her watch chimed four in the afternoon, she made her way toward Club Marclay. She eyed the path and rushed toward the area, wondering about the club’s name. Marclay was a numerological word that meant ‘what the soul wants if it be good, the soul shall receive.’ She didn’t know why someone would name it after that. Assuming the club was underground, it could have something to do with the pages that Alberto gave her.

Now that she knew Alberto supported her secret errands and messages, she was thankful her alter ego allowed her passage to move about more freely. Alberto’s messages led her, in many directions, helping her father’s many crimes, and why he should be indicted and punished for his dirty deeds.

It took no time to find the club entrance and even less to decipher the preposterous password. Evie laughed. The scratchings above her were a dead giveaway. Club Marclay was full of people Alberto said, that hated Barnabas Latimer as much as she did.

Evie strode over to a table and sat alone.  She extended her arm as Prissy crawled onto the table where she scattered the pages.

“What can I get for you?” the barkeep, a man of color, asked.

“I will take a rum with a twist of lime and,” Evie spoke in her deepest voice, “got any cane sugar, sir?”

“Yessum, we do, sir.” The man nodded.

“Name’s Albert. No ‘sir’ about it.” Evie nodded and, extended her gloved hand.

“Tom.” The barkeep offered a proper manly handshake.

“Nice to meet you.”

Moments later, Evie was sipping a drink and sifting through the pages Alberto gave her. As she scanned the pages her eyes grew wide. The papers were actual documents and contracts, some signed in blood. The name Annabelle caught her eye, and Evie sucked in a breath. She always thought there were odd similarities between Anna and herself. Besides the color of their skin, they were similar in features and mannerisms, and Anna was only slightly older than Evie.

The documents revealed Barnabas Latimer killed Anna’s father for defiling his a mulatto slave. Within the papers, she discovered photos of a dead body made the Manor’s trusted photographer authenticated with a note saying he’d taken, processed, and developed the pictures onsite using the daguerreotype process. Surely this man must oppose Latimer, having to take photographs like that. Wouldn’t he?

Evie closed her eyes as her head began to swim. She took a breath and opened her eyes, scanning the room, when she noticed a newcomer sitting at a nearby table. As the stranger eyed Prissy, Evie chewed the inside of her lip with a frown.

Evie returned to the documents to discover something that blurred her vision. In a clear hand, the document stated that Vivien a mulatto slave was the half-sister of Evie’s mother Izabella. According to the paper before her, Barnabas Latimer killed Vivien to keep her relationship to her mother a secret. Evie stared up at the whirling ceiling fan, blinking, gritting her teeth and, trying not to tear up.

“Of course, I look like Anna,” Evie whispered. That would make Anna my cousin. Vivien would have been my aunt. Evie sighed at the thought but quickly retracted the notion when she noticed the next page.

And thusly signed in blood by no other than the one and only Dr. Browning, delivering doctor to the slave known as Vivien of her baby girl Evangeline Latimer, and sworn to utmost secrecy the child was born of a slave, and father, Barnabas Latimer. From this moment and henceforward, the child Evangeline will be documented as being the child of Izabella and Barnabas Latimer, pending the disposal of the slave known as Vivien and her husband.

Vivien’s younger child Annabelle will be spared and reared as Evangeline’s handmade, to serve her unknown sister for the rest of her days, or to the day that she should be rendered useless.

Signed: Barnabas Latimer, Doctor Oscar Browning.

Dated: February 22nd, 1853.

Browning’s signature was signed in blood.

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, September 28, 2025

The temperature was all over the place this week, ranging from a high of 92 degrees to a low of 78. There were also a couple of brief thunderstorms. After today, the forecast is for temperatures in the 70s. Meanwhile, the deer and wild turkeys continue to visit, although their appearance aren’t as frequent, at least during daylight hours.

We had a pleasant surprise this week when T-Mobile showed up to install two-gig fiber internet on our estate. Needless to say, we signed up and it was installed on Thursday. Since we were used to fiber in Scotland, it was a disappointment when we moved and had to rely on broadband service that was intermittent, requiring us to also purchase a hot spot to ensure connectivity.  Now we’ve cancelled the broadband and hotspot, which was twice what we’re paying for the fiber.

After a fantastic start to the season and for most of the year, The Detroit Tigers were on a roll, with at least a ten-game lead over whoever was in second place in the American League Central Division. The regular ends today and Detroit is tried with Cleveland for top of the division. Both teams will be in the playoffs, but the final season games will determine who they play.

The Detroit Lions played the Baltimore Ravens on Monday night and came away with a 38-30 victory.  Detroit plays Cleveland today. Go Lions!

The Michigan Wolverines and the Michigan State Spartans both had a bye this week, so I’ll wait to wait for next weekend to watch them play.

“The writing of a novel is taking life as it already exists, not to report it but to make an object, toward the end that the finished work might contain this life inside it and offer it to the reader. The essence will not be, of course, the same thing as the raw material; it is not even of the same family of things. The novel is something that never was before and will not be again.” — Eudora Welty, WD. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on September 28th, the thirty-ninth Sunday of 2025 and the fourth and final one in September. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Agnolo Firenzuola, Italian poet and litterateur; Alessandro Tassoni, Italian political writer (La secchia rapita – The Kidnapped Bucket); David Walker, African-American abolitionist (Appeal to Colored Citizens); Prosper Mérimée, French author (Carmen); Francis Turner Palgrave, English poet (Golden Treasury); Rudolf Baumbach, German writer of student drinking songs; Henry Arthur Jones, English playwright (Judah); Thomas Frederick Tout, British historian (Manchester school of historiography); Kate Douglas Wiggin, American author (Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm); Barry Pain, English writer (Punch); Wacław Rawicz [Berent], Polish biologist and writer; Stanner E.V. Taylor, American director and screenwriter (Lucky Jim, Ramona); Eugenio d’Ors, Spanish Catalan essayist and philosopher; Herman [H. C.] McNeile [pen name Sapper), English soldier and writer (Bulldog Drummond); Elmer RIce, American playwright (Pulitzer-Street Scene) and novelist; Charles Petrie, British historian known for his study of royalism and Jacobitism (If: A Jacobite Fantasy); Muchtar Auezov, Kazakh writer; Ed Sullivan, American newspaper columnist, and television host (The Ed Sullivan Show); Stephen Spender, English poet (Oxford Poets); Edith Pargeter, English author (wrote as Ellis Peters); Antonio Jacinto, Angolan poet; Edgar Feuchtwanger, German-British historian and author (Hitler, My Neighbour); “Tuli” Naphtali Kupferberg, American poet and singer (Fugs); Thomas J.J. Altizer, US Radical theologian (God is Dead); Michael G. Coney, English-Canadian sci-fi author (Cat Karina); Nabil Maleh, Syrian film director and writer; Gillian Rose, English philosopher and writer; Brian Keenan, Irish author (An Evil Cradling); and Ben Greenman, American author and editor (The New Yorker).

Any names familiar to you? There was one for me this week: Ed Sullivan. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

Work slowly continued  on my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. Since my last post, there were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 307. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Evangeline owned many pets. They weren’t real in the sense of breathing and with a heartbeat, but they were her pets. Nor were they make-believe. They were as real to her as the breathing type, but she’d fashioned these from her imagination. Her automaton creations were that better than your usual, run-of-the-mill breathing creatures.

She loved the sense of the cool metal beneath her fingers, the smell of hot oil that the things emitted. She cared most that she could give each tiny beast a purpose, a service of sorts. There were some that could fetch things for you, act as eyes and ears, or do repetitious tasks that made life easier. But for her, it was far more than that. They gave her the sense she wasn’t alone anymore.

Continual solitude, paired with an abusive father—not just to her, but to everyone around her—was just about more than the young woman could bear.

The one thing that upset her most as a child was her father never allowed her to have a live pet.  Not a single one.

However, her father held vast resources, which meant what she couldn’t create herself, she could dream up and he would find someone smart enough to bring her designs to life. It came with a cost, though; she learned later that often the designs of her creations were weaponized and used for evil.

Through time, her requests for specific types of creatures became very intricate and refined in nature. The one her mother insisted was the least ladylike creature she ever could have asked for was an arachnid.

“Spiders are not for playing with, Evangeline,” her mother would say. “You are a lady of refinement and are to act as such.”

Evangeline, who also went by Evie, was never too concerned with her mother’s criticisms; those often came filtered down from her deranged father.

Evie paced in her room, reviewing the events of the day and their implication as the automaton crawled up her arm. The spider her mother so desperately wanted her to discard quickly become her best friend and one of her favorite creations.

The spider’s clockwork gears moved its eight legs toward her.

“My dearest Prissy,” Evie murmured.

Smiling, Evie adored Prissy despite what her parents thought of it. Both Barnabas and Izabella Latimer insisted their daughter be nothing but the picturesque, prim and proper, young lady society would expect.

She was a natural beauty, after all; that part was easy. It was her willing participation in the events and discussions of the hateful beliefs of her father and his friends that were problematic.

Her striking, deep blue eyes complemented her pale white skin, but the raven color of her hair was one thing her father always detested when it came to what he wished to hide most from the world. Indeed, Evangeline Elizabeth Latimer was the picture of beauty and propriety; and her mother worked hard to ensure that her unfortunate mistruth should never come to light.

On the other hand, while her father was deceitful and secretive, his daughter’s hair was a quick reminder of the shrouded truth their family held, hoping she would stay in the dark about her history.

Deep within the core of Evie’s soul, she knew something was amiss with her parents. The stern way her father regarded her mother always showed an iciness bordering on disdain. Evangeline held theories as to why, but her delicate education and time at The Three Graces Finishing School for Southern Young Ladies prevented her from verbalizing them. Evie frowned, loathing that place with every fiber of her soul. Despite her aversion, she learned to be a lady.

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, September 21, 2025

Tomorrow’s the first day of Autumn 2025. It’s hard to believe, given the daytime temperatures between 85-89, except for one day, when it dropped to 72. Nighttime temperatures have ranged between 55-60, which has been a welcome relief to the heat.

Multiple does and fawns continue to visit throughout the day and into the early evening. Of course, once darkness falls we can’t see them, but the corn we put out is almost always gone by the next day.

The Detroit Tigers are struggling to hold onto first place in the American League Central Division. Over the past week, they’ve lost five consecutive games, while second-place Cleveland has won ten. Detroit’s lead has dropped to one game, with seven games remaining in the regular season. Hang on, Tigers!

The Detroit Lions roared back last Sunday, beating the Chicago Bears 52-21. Let’s hope they continue their winning ways today when they play the Baltimore Ravens.

The Michigan Wolverines moved up to 21st in the NCAA rankings last week. On Saturday, they hung on to beat Nebraska Cornhuskers 30-27. Meanwhile, the Michigan State Spartans suffered their first loss of the season, falling to USC 45-31.

“Each writer is born with a repertory company in his head. Shakespeare has perhaps 20 players. … I have 10 or so, and that’s a lot. As you get older, you become more skillful at casting them.” — Gore Vidal. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-n....

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on September 21st, the thirty-eigth Sunday of 2025 and the third one in September. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Francis Hopkinson, American judge, signer of the Declaration of Independence, author, flag designer (first American flag), and composer (The Battle of the Kegs); Ivan Dmitriev, Russian statesman (Minister of Justice, 1810-14), and poet (“Liberation of Moscow”); Sophia Hawthorne, American writer, painter and illustrator; Edmund Gosse, English poet, author (Father & Son) and critic; Cyriel Buysse, Flemish baron and writer (Sursum Corda, Ace Knave); H. G. Wells, English sci-fi author (War of the Worlds, Kipps); Sergei Yesenin, Russian poet; ushar Kanti Ghosh, Indian journalist, world’s oldest and longest serving newspaper editor (Amrita Bazar Patrika); Helen Foster Snow, American journalist (reported from China in the 1930s); Leonard Cohen, Canadian writer and singer-songwriter (“Hallelujah”; “Death of Ladies Man”; “Suzanne”); Trevor James Hold, British composer, writer, and musicologist (John Clare Songbook); Stephen King, American sci-fi and horror author (Carrie; The Shining; Kujo; Misery); Jim Keith, American conspiracy theorist and author (Black Helicopters Over America, Mass Control); Suman Pokhrel, Nepali poet, playwright, and translator; Samantha Power, Irish American author and diplomat (US Ambassador to the UN); Vanessa Grigoriadis, American journalist and author, known for “Blurred Lines”; and Nicole Richie, American socialite, author and TV personality (The Simple Life).

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me this week: H.G. Wells and Stephen King. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

Work slowly continued  my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best, but plan to be back at it this week. Since my last post, there were another six new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 303. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Finn walked the streets before finally deciding it was time to head to the club. He wasn’t a fan of crowded places—particularly in Canebreak, New Mercia Territory—but there wasn’t much he could do if he needed to discover what Hawthorn wanted.

He gave the card one last scan to make sure it didn’t mention something about a password. Most of these types of places required one to enter.  Finn didn’t think he’d be getting in on his looks alone. There was nothing on the card besides the address and a few other words, so he hoped he was wrong.

When he neared the location, he rounded the building to find a set of steps leading toward the basement as instructed on the card. The only other thing on it was the physical address. Apart from that, Finn was on his own.

He glanced around to see if perhaps Mars was waiting outside, but he didn’t see him. It was getting dark, which wasn’t good in this part of town.  Finn studied the area before giving the door a once over to see what he could learn before entering.

Someone had scratched odd markings over the doorframe, ones that the average man wouldn’t know. They were more or less a secret code for black folks and the like–words Finn happened to know. He made sure to learn them at the start of the war.  Finn fought for the North and held a deep regard for the freedom of all people, regardless of color.

 Finn rapped on the door a few times before a man with a bushy beard slid open a panel.

“Who goes there?” the man bellowed from the other side.

“Fi-,” he began but thought better than to give his full or real name. “Finn Gideon.”

“What are the words to enter?”

 Finn closed his eyes. Surely, he was in trouble. He paused and thought, once again smelling that odd odor in the air. He looked around the corridor that he was moving down for any clue. His eyes landed on the markings again.

“Any time.” The man scowled.

“Don’t let the sun set on Barnabas Latimer’s life.” Finn’s smile broadened when he heard the mechanical locks clicking open one at a time.

“Either you’re very smart, know someone who knows something, or you’re the luckiest man alive.” The doorman stepped aside, allowing Finn to enter.

“Maybe all three.”  Finn nodded as he spotted Hawthorn at a table across the room.

“Sir.”  Mars raised to shake Finn’s hand. “The name’s Marcus May.” He covered his lie with a slight wink, obviously looking for Finn to tell him his alias as well.

“You can call me Gideon, Finn Gideon.” He took a seat.

 Finn scanned the room full of men and stopped when one caught his eye who stood out from the others.

On top of the man’s table was a small automaton creature that looked like a spider.

Finn cocked his head. Once his meeting with Mars concluded, maybe he could make his way over there to pick his brain about small mechanics.

“I almost didn’t make it this evening, what with specific words and all,” Finn added.

“You mean the password?”  Mars laughed. “You see, I knew you would figure it out. I hoped, at least. I knew if you didn’t, then you weren’t the right man for the job.”

“How’s that?”

“You have to be wondering why I called you here,” Marston said. “This is perhaps the safest place for us to talk freely on one particular topic.”

“Let me guess.”  Finn smiled. “Barnabas Latimer?”

“How did you ever guess?”  Hawthorn smirked. “You see, this here is the I hate Barnabas Club, and you just joined it.”

“Now, Mar..cus.” Finn paused. “You and I have been acquaintances for a while now, but I wouldn’t say we have ever been close enough for you to know my distaste for Latimer or the reasons behind it.”

“I’m a tad poked up.”  Mars folded his hands on the table. “You may only remember us being acquaintances, but I recollect more. Remember that night about six months back? At the end of the war? Lincoln lost, and the South won. You know, the night the mobs were gathering in the streets? And you were down in the mouth?”

“I wasn’t down due to the war being over, you know. I mean, I was, but I didn’t have any hope after that,” Finn admitted. “It was just the injustice and those mobs were getting rowdy, and burning any symbol of the Union in the street. They all felt the opposite of the way I did and look where they are today.”

“This is the reason you’re here. You told me that night that if you could get your hands on Latimer, or anyone like him, you’d put a stop to his beating of those black folks and find a way to get them into Old Canada or Mexico. Right?”

“Agreed.”  Finn scratched the back of his head.

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

I didn’t have an opportunity last Sunday to post my weekl...

I didn’t have an opportunity last Sunday to post my weekly blog. Sylvia and I, along with our three cats, made a trip to Maryland and Washington, D.C. for a much needed vacation and to spend time with our son. We’re back home now, which the cats greatly appreciate as they missed being on our deck where they spend a lot of time.

The Detroit Tigers are clinging onto first place in the American League Central Division, although they only have a 6.5 game lead over second place Cleveland. The Tigers are currently nineteen games above 500, with a 84-65 record, with about thirteen games left in the regular season. Go Tigers!

The Detroit Lions lost their first game of the 2025 NFL season, falling to the Green Bay Packers 27-13. Hopefully, the Lions can bounce back today against the Chicago Bears. 

The Michigan Wolverines began the 2025 NCAA football season ranked 14th. After losing last week to Oklahoma, they plummeted to 23rd. Hopefully, after yesterday’s resounding win against Central Michigan University 63-3, they’ll climb back up the rankings. 

The Michigan State Spartans aren’t ranked yet this year, but currently have a 3-0 record, beating Youngstown State University yesterday 41-24. Hopefully, they’ll make it into the rankings soon.

“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” — Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on September 14th, the thirty-seventh Sunday of 2025 and the second one in September. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Francisco Gómez de Quevedo, Spanish poet and writer; Gisbert Cuper, Dutch classicist and historian; Alexander von Humboldt, German naturalist and explorer (Kosmos); Theodor Storm, German judge and author (Immensee, Der Schimmelreiter); Hamlin Garland, American writer (Middle Border); Paul Fechter, German writer (Der Zauberer Gottes); Martin Dibelius, German theologist (Die Lade Jahwes); Anton Zischka, Austrian writer (Lebendiges Europa); Yi Sang, Korean author and poet (Dying Words, Wings, Child’s Bone); Pietro Germi, Italian actor, writer and director (Divorce Italian Style, The Facts of Murder); Robert McCloskey, American children’s book writer and illustrator (Make Way For Ducklings); Eric Bentley, British-American critic and writer (In Search of Theater); Mario Benedetti, Uruguayan journalist, novelist and poet; Davidson Nicol, Sierra Leonean diplomat and author; Michel Butor, French novelist and essayist; Martin Caidin, American aviation writer; Larry Collins, American writer; Allan Bloom, American philosopher and author (Closing of the American Mind); Hans Faverey, Dutch poet; Kate Millett, American feminist and author (Sexual Politics); Leo Ferrier, Surinamese writer (Atman); Bernard MacLaverty, Northern Irish writer (Grace Notes); Michael Lydon, American music journalist and a founding editor of Rolling Stone; Christian Petzold, German screenwriter and director (Afire, Transit); and Robert Ben Garant, American screenwriter and actor (Reno 991!).

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I found out last week that Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 is now on the long list for the 2025 Chanticleer International Book Awards in the Global Thrillers category. There’s plenty of competition to see who moves onto the short list. Stay tuned for an update when the short list is revealed.

 

 

 

My Work In Progress

I didn’t have a chance to continue  my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best, but plan to be back at it this week. Since my last post, there were another nine new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 297. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

The cold metallic clang of Finley Harding’s boot hinges hitting the cobblestone echoed down the vacant street. He adjusted his thoracic harness and stepped away from the carriage with a look of concern. A smooth and well-crafted sign moved ever so slightly in the wind over the street. Tankard Town.  Finn shook his head. What a silly name for a part of the city that boasted more machinist shops than saloons. 

It was ridiculous, but it made Finn smile, not that anyone could see since the street was nearly vacant.

The autostoker extended its change plate, waiting for a fare. 

Finn dropped three coins into it as the engine’s hiss sent a warm fog into the cold, damp night and a chill down his spine.

 He watched the intricacy of the mechanism as the extended arm retracted into the stoker’s side. The gears engaged and the carriage began to rumble down the street. No driver, no passenger it rolled away as if magically transported. It was indeed a wonder.

 Finn patted his pocket and felt the letter that led him here. His friend, Marston Hayward, requested a meeting but was nowhere to be seen. What little patience Finn possessed, particularly in this situation, began to fray with his friend’s absence. After all, it was well past eleven. Finn frowned, his annoyance growing by the second.

This was nothing unusual.  Finn closed his eyes to get a hold of his emotions, pushing his annoyance down deep. He hated that part of him, but it was there, nonetheless.

The distant sound of hobnails on cobblestones redirected Finn’s attention to a small alley ahead on the right. A glint of shimmering metal hit him directly between the eyes, descending from the darkness so quickly it nearly blinded him. 

Finn tilted his head, shielding his face, and sniffed the air, wondering if some newly engineered automaton was now patrolling the streets.

There was no reek of oil that Finn associated with machines, not even the light hint fumes that evaporated off the creations and filled the air. There was a slight essence, though, almost like ladies’ perfume. It wasn’t easy to place, and there certainly were no ladies in sight.

Lurching slightly, Finn peered down the alley. “Hello? May I be of assistance?”

The light that stunned his vision vanished down the dimly lit alley. He disliked unexpected circumstances that distracted him from his purpose. They frustrated him when a mystery presented itself and he couldn’t give it all his attention. His bottom lip twitched. I’m curious about this meeting. What agenda would it present?

He knew there were several reasons why Marston might have wanted to see him. It was months since the two had communicated. They parted ways when the war ended. Now, here he was with a handwritten missive and a few odd occurrences that made him wonder.

 Finn knew the area enough to feel somewhat safe, but he didn’t want to stand and wait for Marston long. Instead, he hurried toward a bench made of cogs and parts of old machines and clocks. He ran a hand over it and smiled. It was a statement piece.

Once he sat, he reached into his long, brown duster. It wasn’t fancy in the least, but it was the best-looking coat he owned. He felt one of the many watch pieces that lined his pocket, and tinkered with an automaton, trying his hand at something micro, but he failed every time. When he felt the small notepad at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled it out, along with a pen.

He jotted notes on many occasions to help with his meetings and various reports. These were his observations and passions. Tonight, he pondered the true reason he was there. He read these notes one after another, recalling his horror and disgust.

May 18th, 1870

Thomas Ross, slave to Barnabas Latimer, was killed during a culling party where they lynched black men for doing little to nothing.

May 20th, 1870

Betsy Laurent, black woman, mother of three, was sold to a brothel owned by none other than Felipe Vanderbilt, Latimer’s best friend.

May 25th, 1870

A black man known only by the name of Cain disappeared three days ago. No one saw him leave or be taken. Possible runaway or potential lashing gone wrong. Also owned by Latimer.

Good for him. Finn hoped  the man escaped.

After the war was won by the South, many men, women, and children of color or mixed race went missing, were sold, or were killed every day. It was a nightmare.

Yes, I’m sure that’s what the meeting was bout. If I was discovered taking notes, I’d be punished, but I will find a way to take down Governor Latimer—one way of another.

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, August 31, 2025

It’s hard to believe but our son turned forty-seven yesterday!  A belated happy birthday to him!!

The wildlife continue to drop in, with many wild turkeys and even some of the deer venturing closer to the back of the house. They’re always a thrill to see, but we have to be quiet at they are quite sky and take off at the slightest unfamiliar sound.

As we head into the last weekend of August and Labor Day approaches, the searing heat seems to have left. Over the past week the temperature rarely made it to mid-80, although it’s been a welcome relief. No rain for the past week, the first time in a long time. Hope everyone has an enjoyable Labor Day weekend!

Over the past week, it’s been a tough run for the Detroit Tigers, winning just once and dropping five games. Even with the poor showing their record is still 79-58 and they remain in first place in the American League Central Division, 8.5 games ahead of second place Kansas City. I hope they get back to their winning ways this week!

This week saw the first games of the 2025 NCAA football season for the Michigan Wolverines and the Michigan State Spartans, with both teams winning. The Wolverines (ranked 14th) defeated New Mexico 34-17, while the Spartans (unranked) slipped past Western Michigan 23-6. Both teams play again next Saturday.

I do not over-intellectualise the production process. I try to keep it simple: Tell the damned story.” — Tom Clancy. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on August 31t, the thirty-fifth Sunday of 2025 and the fifth and final one in August. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Alexander Radishchev, Russian writer (Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow); Théophile Gautier, French writer, historian and poet (Albertus, La Chanson de Roland, Émaux et camées); DuBose Heyward, American novelist (Porgy; Star Spangled Virgin); Ramon de Basterra, Spanish writer and diplomat (La Obra de Trajano); Albert Facey, Australian writer (A Fortunate Life); Félix-Antoine Savard, French Canadian priest and novelist; Marianne Bruns, German writer; Dore Schary, American producer, writer and director (Act 1, Boys Town, Big City); Sal Tas, Dutch journalist (Het Parool); William Shawn, American magazine editor (New Yorker, 1952-87); William Saroyan, American novelist and playwright (Time of Your Life); Amrita Preetam, Indian poet and author; Raymond Williams, Welsh academic and novelist (Second Generation); Jeremy Maas, British art dealer and writer; Julio Ramon Ribeyro, Peruvian writer; Robert Adams, American sci-fi author (Castaways in Time); György Károly, Hungarian poet and author; Raymond P. Hammond, American poet and editor of “New York Quarterly”; G. Willow Wilson, American journalist and comic book writer known for “Ms. Marvel”; and Dolly Alderton, British columnist and author (Everything I Know About Love, Good Material).

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’ve continued  my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 288. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Davis leaned forward. “Governor, I’m not a king, but I hope I can influence the people regarding how they vote. In fact, the 1870 census began in June, so in the next few weeks we should have the results and be able to use them to influence thinking. If it were up to me, you’d be the next president.”

“Me?” Latimer drained his whisky in an attempt to hide his astonishment. “I’m certain there are men far more capable than me.”

“Perhaps. Be that as it may, if I were a betting man, I’m sure you’d win the prize. Think about it. The next time we meet, you can tell me if you’re interested. If you are, we’ll start working on a plan, but if you decide it’s not for you, I won’t mention it again.”

“Jefferson—I don’t know what to say. I’m humbled and honored by your offer. I’ll give it due consideration.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Davis picked up the decanter. “Another?”

“Perhaps one more. I’m meeting Felipe later at the St. Charles Hotel for a late dinner.”

“How is Felipe? I haven’t seen him in years.”

“He’s doing well, although in my opinion, he drinks too much, but not when he’s working in Canebreak. He asked me for Evangeline’s hand in marriage. I’ve given an initial consent but told him he needs to improve his standing in the community in order to be wed to the governor’s daughter.”

“Quite right.”

“You mentioned two reasons you wanted to meet with me. What’s the other one?”

“Just a minute.” Davis rose and strode to a desk in the corner. He returned with an envelope in his hand. He pulled out a letter and handed it to Latimer. “This came last week from Mary Lincoln. I’d be interested in your assessment.”

Latimer unfolded the letter and began to read.

My Dear President Davis,

I hope this missive finds you, Varina, and the children in good health. Thank you for allowing us to send correspondence through the ambassador’s pouch. This keeps our letters safe from prying eyes who might want to do us harm.

The ambassador does an excellent job of keeping us safe, having assigned an armed guard to the charming cottage he found for us. While not the same as the house we had before moving into the White House, we’ve nevertheless made it our home.

Abraham and I both long to return to America. The weather—let’s just say it’s different, but the food still remains strange to this day. I have learned a smattering of French. With some difficulty, I can converse on a basic level when we meet people who do not speak English. However, I’m afraid Abraham struggles with the simplest of expressions. Even yes and please cause him such consternation.

I have one simple request, Jefferson. Before we die, please allow us to return to America. It’s not so much for me but for Abraham, whom I fear is withering away in this strange land.

  Mary

Latimer folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope before setting it on the table. He beat a rhythm on his lips with a forefinger.

“So, what do you think of Mary’s request?” Davis picked up the letter and put it back on the desk before returning to his seat. “I haven’t replied yet, but plan to do so over the next week.”

“If you want my honest opinion, I believe Lincoln should never be allowed to set foot back in America. I would be afraid of any of his remaining followers attempting a coup and putting him back in the presidency.”

Davis nodded. “I’m of the same viewpoint but wanted to hear your thoughts. I shall put her off returning—at least for now.”

The door to the library opened.

George entered. “Mister President, the First Lady, and your children are waiting for you in the upstairs dining room.”

“Thank you, George.” Davis turned to Latimer. “Are you sure you won’t join us?”

Latimer shook his head. “Thank you, Jefferson. Perhaps next time I visit.”

“Understood.” Davis glanced at George. “Will you please see that Governor Latimer heads in the right direction to the St. Charles Hotel? I wouldn’t want him to get lost.”

Everyone laughed.

“Of course, Mister President. I can escort him to the front door if you like.”

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, August 24, 2025

After seeing loads of wildlife over the past few weeks, it’s been fairly quiet this week. There have been  a few turkeys, but the number of deer has dwindled to just a handful. Of course, they could be coming at times other than when we happening to be looking. The number of crows, however, have increased. Not sure why.

The weather has stabilized and were not getting the heat we were having on a regular basis. In fact, right now it’s only 65 degrees! It’s strange to see some of the trees already shedding leaves as it’s still August. Not sure if that means there’ll be more cooler weather on the way.

As we head towards the end of August, the Detroit Tigers are picking up steam. Over the past week, they played six games, winning five and losing one. Their record is now 78-53 and they’ve increased their lead in the American League’s Central Division by three games to 11.5. Meanwhile, Cleveland dropped to third place, giving Kansas City the opportunity to be in second place.

We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” — Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on August 24th, the thirty-fourth Sunday of 2025 and the fourth one in August. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

John Taylor, English poet (An Arrant Thief); Robert Herrick, English poet (‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may’); Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy, Russian novelist, poet and playwright (Prince Serebrenni); Max Beerbohm, English caricaturist, writer and parodist (Saturday Review); Jean Rhys [Ella Gwendolyn Rees Williams], British writer (Voyage in the Dark); Malcolm Cowley, American author (Flowering of New England); Johan Fabricius, Dutch novelist (Island of Demons) and adventurer; Jorge Luis Borges, Argentine short-story writer of fiction (Ficciones, El Aleph, The Book of Sand), essayist and poet; Ruth Schaumann, German painter, writer and sculptor (Rose, Black King); Fernand Braudel, French historian (Civilization & Capitalism); Michel Pablo [Michalis N. Raptis], Chilean-Greek writer and Trotskyist revolutionary (Fourth International); ames Tiptree Jr. [Alice Sheldon], American sci-fi author (Byte Beautiful); Howard Zinn, American historian and activist (A People’s History of the United States); Paul Blackburn, American poet, and editor (Black Mountain Review); David Ireland, Australian author (The Unknown Industrial Prisoner); William V. Shannon, American journalist and ambassador to Ireland (1977-81); A. S. Byatt [Antonia Susan Byatt], English novelist (Possession); Howard Jacobson, British novelist (The Finkler Question) and newspaper columnist; Paulo Coelho, Brazilian author (The Alchemist); Orson Scott Card, American sci-fi author (Hugo; Nebula; Ender’s War); Oscar Hijuelos, American novelist (The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love); Chris Offutt, American writer (The Good Brother); Dana Gould, American comedian, actor, and writer (The Simpsons, 2001-07); and John Green, American author (The Fault in Our Stars) and vlogger.

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’ve continued  my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 284. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Latimer rode his chestnut stallion through the bustling streets of Richmond toward the Southern White House. He turned in his saddle to see how Felipe was doing. I know he prefers the Nissen wagon, but we’re getting lots of supplies, so the Conestoga was the better choice.

Felipe followed Latimer, bouncing on the hard bench seat of the Conestoga.

Latimer turned back and continued along the street, stopping near the official residence of President Davis. The two-story building was white, with six colonnades holding up the massive roof at the front of the building.

Several slaves, dressed in matching gray shirts and trousers, manhandled sections of wrought iron fencing into place, which would create a barrier around the facility when completed.

Armed guards kept close watch on the slaves, while four others blocked the entrance to the property.

Latimer stopped in front of them and tipped his hat. “Good day, gentlemen. I am Barnabas Latimer, and I come at the request of President Davis. He’s expecting me.”

One of the guards gestured along the street. “Ya’ll can’t bring your horse. There’s a stable down yonder, not far from the St. Charles Hotel.”

“Much obliged.” Latimer tipped his hat again before guiding his horse to the back of the wagon, where Felipe had stopped. Latimer slid from the saddle and tied his reins to a metal ring. He walked to the front of the wagon.

“I heard, boss. I’ll take your horse to the stable before I head to the general store to load our supplies.” Felipe gestured toward the White House. “Enjoy yourself, but don’t come back too uppity.”

Latimer laughed. “You sure do know how to keep me in my place, Felipe. I’ll join you later at the hotel.”

“Yes, suh.” Felipe shook the reins and headed past the armed guards.

Latimer stepped forward, pulling a folded piece of paper from an envelope. He offered it to one of the guards. “This is my invitation from President Latimer.”

The guard studied the paper. “I can’t read.” He turned to the others. “Can you read this paper?”

They shook their heads.

“Just trust me.” Latimer smiled. “Who in their right mind would try to break into the White House?”

The first guard shrugged. “Well, I guess it’s alright. Someone at the entrance will want to see your invite before they let you enter.”

Latimer smiled as he walked past the guards. Climbing several steps, he walked between two of the colonnades. He identified himself to two giant guards.

One of them spoke in a voice that seemed to originate in his shoes. “What is your purpose here?”

Latimer pulled out the invitation again and offered it to the guard. “I was invited to meet with President Davis. This is from the president.”

The guard glanced at the paper before gesturing toward the main door. “Go right in. The president will be in the library, I suspect. Go along the hallway to the far end and enter the library on the right. The president is expecting you.”

“Much obliged.” Latimer stored the invitation in his pocket and entered the building. As he strode along the corridor, a short, stout, bald, black man appeared.

Dressed in the black livery of an English butler, he approached Latimer. “I am the Southern White House usher, George Slade. My father was William Slade, the usher to President Lincoln. Follow me, please.” Slade turned and continued along the corridor, stopping at a closed door on the right.

He knocked once and opened the door. “Mister President, your guest, Barnabas Latimer, has arrived.” George’s voice boomed as he spoke.

Davis rose from a sofa. “Thank you, George. That is all for now.” Davis strode toward Latimer, hand outstretched. “Barnabas, it’s good to see you again.”

The men shook hands.

Davis gestured toward a sofa on the opposite side of a small table. After they sat, Davis reached for a cutglass decanter filled with whisky and two matching glasses. He poured a splash in each glass and offered one to Latimer. “‘May the citizens of our united country cherish the rights for which they fought, bled, and conquered.’”

Latimer repeated the toast and sipped on his whisky. “Mister President, thank you—”

“Please call me Jefferson when we’re alone, Barnabas. No need for formality.”

“Thank you, Mister.” Latimer smiled. “Jefferson. Thank you for the invitation. Work keeps me so busy, it’s been some time since I’ve been in Richmond.”

“I figured as much. I believe it’s been almost three years since you were here. During that time, I added George and his wife to the staff. She does some of the cooking and oversees the kitchen staff.”

“How did this come about?”

“After I exiled Lincoln, Mary asked if George’s father, William, who was a free man, could go with them to Paris. I concurred and understand he remained with them until his death two years ago.”

Latimer nodded. “Very kind of you.”

Davis waved a hand. “Better to have someone you know close to you. So, how are things in the New Mercia Territory?”

“Thank you for giving me this part of the Kentucky area.”

Davis nodded. “Since it was once part of Virginia, it was mine to give to the man who did so much to help the Confederacy. Of course, I had to convince the current governor to agree, which he did, once I dangled a cabinet position in front of him.”

Latimer smiled. “The territory is expanding at a rapid pace, with new arrivals every week. I named the capital Canebreak for plantation owners who broke many a cane on the backs of slaves. It’s prosperous and provides me with a suitable income, as anyone living in Canebreak must pay an annual fee for the privilege.” Latimer took another sip of his drink.

“Of course, they’re getting something in return. My automatons are making life a bit easier. For example, for the mere cost of two pennies per person, people can be transported from one end of Canebreak to the other via one of my autostokers.”

Davis drained his glass. He poured more whisky into both glasses. “What’s an autostoker?”

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Rambling, August 17, 2025

Well, the cooler temperatures were short-lived and we’ve ended back up with 90+ degree weather.  The humidity has been high as well, so it’s felt sticky most days. Even the occasional thunderstorm/rain didn’t do much to make things more bearable.

After Wednesday evening’s storm, we had our  biggest visit from the local deer population. There were thirteen of them, including four fawns. We’ve also seen a return of the turkeys, but mainly less than a dozen at a time. As always, it’s great to have our wildlife visitors.

The Detroit Tigers had a much better week. Of the seven games they played, they were victorious in six of them and raised their record in the American League’s Central Division to     73-52. They’re now 8.5 games ahead of second place Cleveland. Way to go, Tigers! Keep it up!

“Your intuition knows what to write, so get out of the way.” —Ray Bradbury. Compliments of https://www.nicolemgulotta.com/blog/25-inspirational-quotes.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reading articles and forum posts talking about using artificial intelligence for fiction writing. My thoughts? If you can’t come up with your own ideas and need a machine to help you, perhaps you’re in the wrong field. Of course, there will be plenty of people who will argue the benefits, although I think it’s far better to show your own creativity and expand yourself rather than relying on AI. I’ve also seen writers talk about using AI to review other writers’ work. What are they learning to help improve their own craft? At least for now, I don’t think it’s for me, but I guess I’m a dinosaur.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on August 17th, the thirty-third Sunday of 2025 and the third one in August. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Johann Valentin Andreae, German theologian and writer (claimed to have written Rosicrucian text); Josef Dobrovský, Czech linguist known for “History of the Bohemian Language and Literature”; Jan Hendrik Scholten, Dutch radical theologist (Free Will); Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, English writer (Irish Land League), traveller and Arabian stud founder; Luis Nicolau Fagunde Varela, Brazilian romantic poet (Cântico do Calvário); Henry Drummond, Scottish geologist and evangelist (The Greatest Thing in the World); Vernon Lee [Violet Paget], British author (Satan the master); Gene Stratton-Porter, American author “A Girl of the Limberlost,” and naturalist; Kurt Hiller, German writer; Mae West, American stage and screen actress, writer (She Done Him Wrong; I’m No Angel), and singer (Way Out West); Erik A Blomberg, Swedish art historian, poet and author (Jorden); John Hay Whitney, American financier, diplomat and publisher of the NY Herald Tribune (1961-67); Mary Cain, American newspaper editor and politician; Roger Peyrefitte, French writer (Special Friendships); Safa Khulusi, Iraqi writer and historian; Paul Wiens, German writer; Evan Connell, American author (The Patriot); John A. Emmens, Dutch art historian and poet (Kunst & Vliegwerk); John Hawkes, American writer (2nd Skin); Ted Hughes, English Poet and translator (British Poet Laureate 1984-98); V. S. Naipaul, Trinidadian-British writer (In a Free State, Middle Passage); Julian Fellowes, British screenwriter and television producer who created “Downton Abbey”; Kenneth Walker, American journalist best known for his reporting on apartheid; Judith Regan, American book publisher; Jonathan Franzen, American author (The Corrections); Anthony E. Zuiker, American author, television producer and creator of the “CSI” franchise; Nicola Kraus, American novelist; and Lisa McGee, Irish TV writer and producer of “Derry Girls”.

Any names familiar to you? Thereren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’ve started my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 280. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

After riding with General Grant to the Appomattox Court House, Finn shook hands and disappeared into the nearby woods. He found a suitable place to watch events unfold focusing his spyglass on Grant. Before long, Grant was approached by Robert E. Lee. The two generals shook hands before Grant pulled his sword from a scabbard and held it out to Lee.

Lee accepted Grant’s sword and handed it to an aide.

Afterward, several Confederate soldiers appeared. They secured Grant in leg and arm irons and led him away.

As they departed, Finn heard Lee speak to the soldiers. “Take the general to Andersonville Prison until we decide what to do with him.”

Jefferson Davis and Latimer rode into the area, dismounted, and approached General Lee. After a round of handshakes, they peered to the north as if waiting for someone else to arrive.

Ten minutes later, a chained Abraham Lincoln was led into the clearing.

Finn gasped. What will they do with him? He crept close so he could hear the conversation.

Davis stared at Lincoln before turning to the guards. “Take him away. Make sure he is comfortable for the trip. His wife does not know this yet, but she will join him in Paris.”

A stoic Lincoln gave no resistance as he was led away to his fate.

Tears trickled down Finn’s face. The North surrendered. Why exile him?

After the Confederate soldiers and Lincoln departed, Davis reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a package. He handed it to Latimer. Both men laughed as they shook hands before mounting and leaving the area.

Finn’s mind raced. What did Davis give Latimer? Davis referred to Latimer as governor of New Mercia Territory. Where’s that? Finn mounted his horse. Not sure where to go, he knew he needed to find someone who might know about New Mercia Territory. If anyone would be familiar with this, it would be Harriet Tubman. I’ve got to track her down.

***

Back in his office at the Confederate capital, Jefferson walked to a cabinet against the wall. Opening a cupboard door, he pulled out a bottle of his favorite Kentucky bourbon and a glass. It was a gift from a wealthy plantation owner before the war began. He filled the glass and drank half before sitting down and pulling out a sheet of paper. He continued to sip his drink until the glass was empty. He poured a smaller measure and began to write. 

My dearest Mary,

It is with mixed emotions I write to you.

On the ninth day of this month, I witnessed the surrender of General Grant to General Lee following the Battle of Appomattox Court House. This battle sealed the fate of the Union soldiers as the Confederacy was victorious.

Following Grant’s surrender, waves of Union soldiers followed suit. Grant was led away in chains, and I am unsure of his fate at this time.

On the fourteenth, I ordered Lincoln sent to Paris, where he will remain in exile. I cannot abide his presence in the country where he might be a beacon to those who would try to bring the Union back. In due course, I will arrange passage for you so you can be with him..

Both the North and South owe you an immense debt of gratitude for your service. One day, the impact of the war will diminish as we rebuild our country, and your exploits will become known. Lincoln shall not return to these shores. However, when you feel the time is right, you may return and be welcomed with open arms.

Your grateful servant,

Jefferson

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, August 10, 2025

After weeks of hot, sticky temperatures, sometimes reaching 100 degrees, and plenty of thunderstorms, the past week saw temperatures ranging from 68-82 degrees, mostly in the mid-70s. There was plenty of showers but no thunderstorms.  The forecast for the upcoming week appears to show temperatures creeping back up into the upper 80s and a return of thunderstorms.

All week, we’ve seen a flurry of activity from the deer, with as many as six adults and three fawns at the same time. The fawns also seem to be venturing out on their own, as on several occasions, they were unaccompanied. It’s great to see them enjoying themselves!

The Detroit Tigers continued their losing ways this week, winning only two of six games. With their record now at 67-51, their hold on first place in the  American League’s Central Division has dwindled to five games over second-place Cleveland. Hopefully, they’ll be able to snap out of whatever’s causing their doldrums and get back to their winning ways like when they led their division by fourteen games. Go Tigers!

“A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.” ― Dylan Thomas. Compliments of https://www.nicolemgulotta.com/blog/25-inspirational-quotes.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on August 10th, the thirty-second Sunday of 2025 and the second one in August. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Philipp Nicolai, German Lutheran pastor, poet, composer and hymnodist; Leopold Zunz, German Jewish scholar (Science of Judaism); Abai Qunanbaiuli, Kazakh poet, composer and philosopher; John Scott Lidgett, English theologist; Lawrence Binyon, English poet (For the Fallen); Alfred Döblin, German Modernist writer known for “Berlin Alexanderplatz”; Panait Istrati, Romanian writer (“Adrian Zografu” cycle); Voranc Prezikov [Lovro Kuhar], Slovenian author (Samorastniki); Mikhail Zoshchenko, Russian author and satirist; Piet Bakker, Dutch journalist and novelist (Ciske the Rat); Curt Siodmak, German-American novelist and screenwriter (Donovan’s Brain; I Walked With A Zombie); Era Bell Thompson, American magazine editor (Ebony); A. N. Sherwin-White, English ancient historian; Angus Campbell, American psychologist (Elections & Political Order); Jorge Amado de Faria, Brazilian writer (O Pais do Carnaval); Alastair Mackie, Scottish poet and teacher; Barry Unsworth, English novelist (Pascali’s Island); Mark Doty, American poet and prose writer known for “My Alexandria”; Suzanne Collins, American author (The Hunger Games Trilogy); Cate Shortland, Australian film director and screenwriter (Somersault; Lore; Black Widow); and Ted Geoghegan, American filmmaker of horror and author.

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’ve finished editing chapters in the manuscript of Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback. Now the real work begins as I adapt the readers comments into the original manuscript.  There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 276. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

General Grant relocated his headquarters to City Point, Virginia. He put out word he wanted an update from Finn. A week later, Finn received his written orders when he caught up with a Union patrol. He spotted Mosby and his men in time to warn the lieutenant in charge of the small encampment, saving them from capture.

Several days later, Finn rode into City Point and located General Grant’s headquarters at the home of Dr. Richard Eppes. He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a private. “Where can I find General Grant’s tent.”

The private pointed. “Over there, sir, on the east lawn.”

“Much obliged.” He limped in the direction the private showed him.

Two armed guards stopped Finn from entering the general’s tent.

Finn held out a sheet of paper. “I’m Captain Harding here to see General Grant at his request.”

The guards glanced at each other and stood aside.

Finn entered the tent. Spotting the general, he waited to be noticed.

“Ah, Harding. Glad you found my new headquarters. We needed to move as things aren’t going so well.” The general gestured toward a camp chair. Have a seat.”

“Yes, sir.” Finn limped to the chair and sat.

“Still having some trouble with that leg?”

“Yes, sir. It aches sometimes but it’s not stopping the performance of my duties.

The general nodded. “I see you’ve had some success in disrupting Mosby’s operations.”

“Yes, sir. However, he’s as slippery as an eel. Mosby never meets with his men at the farm. There is a tavern where he sometimes goes, although I have yet to see him there. The barkeep lets me know when Mosby and some of his men have been there, but they seem to melt into the countryside before I can locate them.”

“Understood.” Grant sighed. “Keep doing your best; that’s all I can ask. If the situation doesn’t improve, we might have to surrender to the Confederates and that’s something I cannot stomach the thought of.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Finn stood, saluted, and left the tent, and headed back toward his temporary home at the Colton property.

***

Latimer stretched out his legs as he accepted a glass of bourbon from Jefferson Davis. “Thank you. This is just what I needed after the ride from Middleburg.”

Davis nodded. “Barnabas, I’m sure you can find any excuse for a drink—as do I.”

Both men chuckled.

Davis drained his glass and pointed to the bottle. “Care for another?”

“Perhaps later. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“As always straight to the matter.” Davis set his glass on the table. “I want to pull you away from Mosby’s Raiders. From all reports, we have the Yankees on the run. General Lee could benefit from you and your machines even more than Mosby. Your work with him produced excellent results as he’s disrupted numerous Yankee operations.”

“Yes. I liked his plan to harass the Yankees from the rear, he destroyed a fair share of supply trains. Spotting dispatch riders led to the capture of several Union officers. We certainly have tied a can to their tales.

“Exactly.” Davis nodded. “Now, I want you to provide the same support for General Lee.”

Latimer frowned. “It will likely be more difficult, but I shall do your bidding. When I supported Mosby, we were always within a day’s ride of the Oakham Farm, so the logistics would be stretched. If I can keep Amos and Lester with me, we should be able to help General Lee.”

Davis waved a hand in the air. “Of course.”

“When do you want me to join the general?”

“Finish up anything you have planned to help Mosby and then join Lee. According to his last communique, he should be at the Beasley House in Petersburg.”

Latimer nodded as he held out his glass. “I’ll have that second drink now. All this talk has made me thirsty.”

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, August 3, 2025

We saw the temperature gradually decrease from last Sunday’s high of 100 to 95 on Friday. Yesterday, we had a welcome respite from weeks of heat with a drop of 21 degrees to 74!  That’s the forecast for today as well, although we’ll see a gradual increase of temperature up to 84 by next Friday. Some light rain also helped keep the heat at bay, although we had a two-hour thunderstorm on Wednesday that also kill the high temperatures.  At least this is bearable.

As is the norm, there’s plenty of wildlife stopping by. Friday night just before dark was the best when a buck, six doe, and two fawns put in an appearance. After they stayed for awhile, they all disappeared, melting back into the trees and brush.

The Detroit Tigers played eight games over the past week and have rebounded somewhat, winning five and losing three. Their record now stands at 65-47 and they’re still at the top of the American League Central Division with an eight game lead over second place Cleveland. Still loads of baseball to come this season, but I’ll be hoping to see the Tigers fight their way into the playoffs.

“There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.”― Beatrix Potter. Compliments of https://www.nicolemgulotta.com/blog/25-inspirational-quotes.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on August 3rd, the thirty-first Sunday of 2025 and the first one in August. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Étienne Dolet, French scholar and printer; Paulus Adrianus Daum, Dutch writer, founder and editor (Batavian Newspaper); Vernon Louis Parrington, American author (Romantic Revolution, Pulitzer 1928); Eugène Baie, Belgian author (Sub rosa et sub umbra); Rupert Brooke, British WW I poet (Lithuania, The Soldier); Ernie Pyle, American journalist and war correspondent during WW II (Pulitzer Prize, 1944); Clifford D. Simak, American sci-fi author (Hugo, Empire, Way Station); Leonhard Huizinga, Dutch journalist and writer (Adriaan & Olivier); Mel Tolkin, Ukrainian television comedy writer; Sal Santen, Dutch writer (You Are Jewish People); Shakeel Badayuni, Indian poet and lyricist; James MacGregor Burns, American political writer (The Lion & the Fox); Hayden Carruth, American poet (The Crow and the Heart); Robert Sumner, American evangelist and author; Roger Foulon, Belgian writer (Un été dans la Fagne); ames Komack, American writer, director, and actor (The Courtship of Eddie’s Father; Chico and the Man; Welcome Back, Kotter); Leon Uris, American novelist (Exodus; Topaz; QB VII); Cécile Aubry, French actress (The Black Rose), author (Belle et Sébastien), television screenwriter and director; Diane Wakoski, American poet (Motorcycle Betrayal); Reed Waller, American adult comic book author (“Omaha” the Cat Dancer); and Frank Schaeffer, American author (Crazy for God).

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me this week: Ernie Pyle and Leon Uris.  Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’m almost finished editing chapters in the manuscript of Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback, with just a couple more to go.Then the real work will begin!  All chapters are now posted to the two online subscription sites I use. There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 272. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Day after day, Finn returned to his lookout and didn’t find Mosby and his men. Are they attacking Union encampments? He stretched, rubbed his right knee, and pushed back through the grass before reaching his horse. He mounted and headed into Middleburg to the Chinn Ordinary.

Inside the tavern, he was greeted by Earl. “Welcome back, Finn. I’m bettin’ you found the Colton place all right.”

“Yes. You were right, there was some damage to part of the roof where a tree fell on it. Just the same there are still two rooms in suitable condition. I’ve set up in them.”

Earl nodded. “I wondered if you’d be back. You missed Colonel Mosby and some of his men. They came a day or so after you was here.” He leaned close to Finn. “Mosby sent a raiding party after some Yankees near Warrenton. I heard him mention he would be leading another raid, but this time, he’ll have support.”

“What kind of support?”

“Jefferson Davis assigned an engineer to work with Mosby. I hear tell he can control birds and squirrels, and they’ll eat out of his hand.”

Must be the guy I saw with the bird at the farm Finn thought. “Do you know his name? Sounds like a fella I heard about.”

Earl shook his head. “Never did hear it mentioned. They jest referred to him as the engineer.”

***

Latimer entered the tent being used by Colonel Mosby. He stepped to the campaign table and unrolled a sheaf of images.

Mosby appeared a few minutes later. After acknowledging Latimer’s presence, he studied the photographs. “Excellent work again, Latimer. We should be able to sneak up on the Yankee camp.”

Thank you, Colonel.”

“We will raid them tonight when they are least expecting us. I’ll inform you tomorrow of our success.”

The following day, Mosby met with Latimer. “Your images were perfect in showing how the Yankees were deployed. There was a mix-up, however, and we engaged the enemy sooner than expected. After a fierce firefight, we took six prisoners and sixty horses. It was unfortunate, but we lost six men. Overall, it was a successful raid.”

“Glad to hear it, Colonel. What do you want me to do next?”

Head back to Oakham Farm. We will rest a spell before planning our next raid. The Yankees seemed to be waiting for us, so I want to wait a bit before going after them again.”

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

Randall’s Ramblings, July 27, 2025

It’s been another week of blistering heat, marked by yesterday topping out at 100 degrees, according to http://www.accuweather.com. There were a couple of rainstorms–no thunder at all– which did little to break into the heat cycle. Today and tomorrow it’s supposed to be 98 degrees before dropping into the lower 90s and eventually into the upper 80s by the end of the week.

We had the same wild critter visitors all week, including a near-daily appearance by a young buck and doe. It’s been great to see them. One of the squirrels decided to check out our cats, coming onto the deck. Since we screened in the open end of the deck when we moved in so the cats could get outside, all they could do was watch the squirrel from their side. The squirrel seemed emboldened until I stepped onto the deck, and then it scurried away to the safety to the trees.

The Detroit Tigers are going through a bad patch right now and I hope they can break out of it soon. Their record is now 60-44, losing eleven of their last twelve games.. While they’re still in first place in the American League’s Central Division, their commanding lead of thirteen games has dwindled to seven over second place Cleveland. Hopefully, they’ll be able to bounce back soon!

“If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things.” — Anne Lamott. Compliments of https://www.nicolemgulotta.com/blog/25-inspirational-quotes.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on July 27th, the thirtieth Sunday of 2025 and the four and final one in July. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Jakob Aall, Norwegian journalist and statesman; Thomas Campbell, Scottish poet (Hohenlinden, Battle of the Baltic); Denis Davydov, Russian general and poet; Giosuè Carducci, Italian writer and Nobel Prize Laureate 1906 regarded as the official national poet of modern Italy; Vladimir Korolenko, Russian writer (The Blind Musician); Hilaire Belloc, Anglo-French author (Path to Rome); Francesco Gaeta, Italian poet (Il Libro Della Giovinezza); Michail Stasinopoulos, Greek lawyer, educator, writer, and politician (President of Greece, 1974-75); Robert L. May, American advertising copy writer and creator of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer; Jerzy Giedroyc, Polish writer and political activist; Julien Gracq [Louis Poirier], French writer (Andre Breton); Rayner Heppenstall, English novelist (The Blaze of Noon); Hilde Domin [Hilde Palm], German writer and poet; Eva Jones, German poet and novelist (Taboo); Vittorio Sereni, Italian poet (Diario d’Algeria); Vincent Canby, American movie critic (NY Times); Gisele Halimi, Tunisian-French lawyer, feminist and author; Jack Higgins [Harry Patterson], British novelist (The Eagle Has Landed); John Pleshette, American actor and screenwriter (Knots Landing – “Richard”; 7th Avenue; The Trial of Lee Harvey Oswald); and Cat Bauer, American novelist (Harley, Like a Person).

Any names familiar to you? There was one for me this week Jack Higgins.  Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

I’m rolling along with editing chapters in the manuscript of Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback. All chapters are now posted to the two online subscription sites I use. There were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 268. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

Captain Finlay “Finn” Harding leaned on his ebony cane as he stood under an oak tree outside the barracks where he resided while recovering from a leg injury he suffered at the Battle of Gettysburg. Unlike most of the officers in his wing of the barracks who had one or more limbs amputated, Harding still had both of his legs. There was minor damage caused by a Minié ball, which killed his horse and struck his right leg, but the Union surgeon was able to treat him by removing the ball, foreign substances, and bone splinters. He was fortunate when his horse was shot to be able to jump clear. Even so, he still required a brace on his leg.

Finn hobbled to the camp table set up for him to receive his visitors.

An aide brought him a cup of coffee, a welcome respite to ward off the autumn chill.

Finn eased his right leg into an L-shape so he could massage the side of his knee where the brace chafed. He stood when he spotted a black woman and a white man approaching.

As they neared, he doffed his hat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Harriet Tubman nodded. “It is with great honor I meet with one of the Union’s bravest soldiers, risking life and limb to preserve the Union. I once said, ‘Slavery in the next thing to hell.” That is why I risk my life to help others less fortunate than me. What is your reason?”

Finn shrugged. “I am doing what is necessary to keep our country together. I am proud to be an American, and we all deserve the same chances at success—including the enslaved people you help to rescue.”

“I prayed to God to make me strong and able to fight, and that’s what I’ve always prayed for ever since.” Harriet smiled. “Whenever you need to send messages, my ‘railroad’ will always be at your disposal.”

“Ahem.” Charles Magnus cleared his throat. “Don’t forget about me. I understand I might be of some service?”

“Yes, sir.” Finn gestured toward the German printer. “I have enjoyed examining your pro-Union envelopes and song sheets. I was wondering if I could tempt you to write some coded messages into your songs so I can distributed instructions to others in my employ.”

Charles nodded. “Of course. It would be my honor to do so.”

“Excellent. In due time I shall provide you with the requisite information.” Finn glanced from Charles to Harriet. “I thank you both for your time. May our efforts continue to flourish.”

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved