Pat Bertram's Blog, page 76

Waste Paper

I was ripping my name off a slew of catalogs I got in the mail when I remembered a talk some man gave my class when I was in the eighth grade. This was decades before the internet, decades even before computers were commonplace. In fact, back then, a computer occupied almost two thousand square feet and weighed fifty tons. Any cell phone today has 1,300 times more power than those computers did, but those computers fueled the imagination. And what that man talked about was simply his imaginative extrapolation of what the world would be like in the future.

He talked of personal phones we could carry with us, though I don’t think he mentioned the multiple functions those phones now have. He talked about computers running the world, about how menial jobs would be a thing of the past since computers would do all the work, and how we’d all have more free time, though the truth is, working folks today have less free time than people did back then.

What he did say, what many people have said over the years, and what stuck with me and inspired this blog, is that we would be a paperless society in the not-too-distant future. Well, that talk was in my distant past, and as far as I know, there has been no reduction in paper. Some statistics say we use more per capita, some say we use less, so I don’t know what the truth is. But considering the number of catalogs I receive and the amount of junk mail, my personal consumption of paper is way up.

I do get a couple of bills via email and pay online, but the elimination of those few pieces of paper is offset a hundred times by the avalanche of catalogs. If I request no catalogs, they sell my name to someone who will send me catalogs.

Yep, here we are, way beyond that not-too-distant future, and paper use is astronomical.

Don’t get me wrong — I love paper. Plain white paper. Colored paper. Wrapping paper. Note paper. Lined paper. Notebook paper. Origami paper. All kinds and thicknesses of paper. It’s an amazing and versatile product that brightens my day, especially when I get a greeting card or read a book or jot down possible topics for this blog. I am especially grateful that the tarot cards I’m trying to learn are just that — cards — and not some electronic device that will shuffle and deal the non-existent cards for me. (There are such programs, and I do check one out occasionally, but that’s different than my getting a feel for the cards.)

Although I’m now in the habit of writing using a keyboard, my first books were all written longhand because I have much better brain/hand coordination than I do brain/keyboard. And although I do read ebooks, I am still old-fashioned enough to like physical printed books.

As you can see, it’s not paper as a valuable commodity I would like to see less of, just a lot less waste paper.

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***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

A Perfect Small-Town Day

Today was one of those perfect small-town days you see in romantic movies, old television shows, or sentimental paintings. To start off, the weather was perfect — sunny, deep blue skies, the air cool enough to require a light jacket, and best of all, no wind.

Although I’ve been lazy lately, apparently I decided this was the day to package up a couple of gifts to mail. To that end, I took a walk to the post office to pick up a couple of flat-rate boxes, then came home and started wrapping and packing.

This took the better part of the day’s middle because I had to drag out all the paraphernalia — tape, scissors, wrapping paper, package fill, etc. Oddly, for a person who doesn’t really celebrate Christmas except for sending a couple of gifts when finances allow, I have a LOT of Christmas stuff.

To start off, I have two small trees and two tiny trees —- one small tree was a gift when I was laid up with my almost-destroyed arm, another was a gift to my father that I ended up keeping. One tiny tree was supposed to be a gift that somehow didn’t work out, and one was a recent gift from a local craftsy friend. (Craftsy because to use “crafty” connotes something other than I wanted to say.) Then I have wreaths — one that started off as a hat decoration, and another I made at an Art Guild meeting last year. (Yes, I do have a red wall! Not my choice since it was here when I came, but I’ve come to appreciate it.)

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I also somehow ended up with a small snowman collection, as well as boxes of ornaments and bowls of lights. So, lots of Christmas stuff strewn around!

I kind of digressed for a minute, but now back to my story. I did get the packages ready in plenty of time to get to the post office in case it was keeping shorter hours. (Because of The Bob, we’re on “red” alert, whatever that means.)

As I was getting the packages out of the car, the husband of a friend I used to play dominoes with came down the post office stairs. I said hello and asked after his wife. A fellow of few words, he simply opened the passenger door of his vehicle. And there his wife was. It’s a shame this isn’t a hugging time (and it would have been awkward because of her being in the car), but it was truly good to see her.

After they left, I gathered up my packages and climbed the stairs into the post office. (Yes! I was actually able to climb the stairs!) There was only one woman waiting, the person I most wanted to see. One of my first and dearest new friends. Her being there helped keep me from gagging when the clerk added up the postage. (It seems only last year the flat rate price for priority mail was $2.50, but apparently, that “last year” was a few decades ago.)

We chatted until both of us completed our business. (She’s been waiting for a package for a couple of weeks now that seems to be stalled in Denver, and I told her the last package I got from the eastern part of the country was stalled in Denver for three weeks, so not to worry. Then the postmaster came out with her tracking information, and told her the same thing. Denver seems to hate us out here.)

While continuing to talk outside, we happened to notice a mutual friend — another of those dearest friends. So we chatted with her, met her new great-grandbaby (at a suitable distance of course) and then we all went our separate ways.

My way took me to the grocery store where I encountered a neighbor, and even better, I got one of the friendly checkout clerks.

Truly a perfect small-town day.

Even coming home to a mess (the first time I actually left a mess behind when I headed out to run errands) didn’t present a problem. In fact, it helped solidify the perfection as I puttered around putting things away. I still have a mess because all those Christmas decorations are piled up in the living room, but that will be sorted out in the next couple of days.

***

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If you haven’t yet read A Spark of Heavenly Fire, my novel of a quarantine that predated this pandemic by more than ten years, you can read the first chapter online here: http://patbertram.com/A_Spark_of_Heavenly_Fire.html

Buy it on Amazon here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0024FB5H6/

Download the first 30% free on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1842

Fifty Shades of Black and White

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I’m reading Fifty Shades of Black & White: The Anatomy of the Lawsuit behind a Publishing Phenomenon, written by Mike Farris and Jennifer Pedroza, and published by Stairway Press. It took me a few pages to figure out what was going on, because although I knew there was a lawsuit concerning the Shades of Grey trilogy, I was under the impression it was Stephanie Meyers who sued the author of the trilogy for using her characters. But not so.

Fifty Shades of Grey started as fanfiction, taking a couple of Twilight characters and continuing their story. I’d never heard of fanfiction before that, but apparently, it’s a popular thing. I truly don’t understand how it’s legal to steal the characters someone else has created. Isn’t that plagiarism? I suppose it’s one thing to do it online in a group just for fun, but eventually, this particular author changed the names of the characters, published it, and went on to publishing fame. (I was going to say literary fame, but I once read a short excerpt and was appalled at the writing, to say nothing of the porn-ish subject matter.)

The myth surrounding the trilogy is that it was a self-published book that took off all by itself and ending up gleaning a multi-million contract with a big-name publisher. This was frequently talked about in groups where self-published authors hung out, because it gave them hope. After all, if one self-published author could make it big, why not them?

But that wasn’t at all true. She had a publisher. A small independent publisher, to be sure, but still a publisher. And that publisher spent a huge amount of money and time promoting the book.

And that was what the lawsuit was about — one of the publishing partners vs. the others, not between the author who created the characters and the author who also got rich off them. (Apparently, Stephanie Meyers was okay with that particular theft.)

Because these publishers had the book rights, when the book was sold to Random House, the women partners received multiple millions. Well, one of them did, anyway. She managed to keep all those millions for herself by lying and telling the others she was having problems getting the money from Random House. Eventually, a couple of the defrauded women found a lawyer who would take the case.

It’s sort of funny reading this book right now. I’ve been watching Judge Judy with the woman I help care for, and this book seem like an extension of one of those shows where friends ended up being enemies because one cheated the other out of money, but this case went miles beyond a small claims court. All I can do when watching one of Judge Judy’s cases is shake my head, and that’s all I can do reading Fifty Shades of Black & White. It simply stuns me that people can be so utterly without morals, without honesty, without dignity, without any sense of justice. If I were in that situation, I’d be so delighted with the immense riches from my share and glad that my friends also shared in the good fortune, that it would never occur to me to try to take it all.

But that’s what one woman did. And it never even bothered her.

She knew it was wrong because she tried to hide the money, forming a whole pyramid of businesses with her husband to deal with her ill-gotten gains. It shows to me the difference among people: some can do such things, justify it to themselves (or not — maybe they feel no need to justify their actions) and sleep well at night, others of us can’t.

I still remember when I stopped pointing out when a checkout clerk undercharged me. I felt like a thief, but I’d learned that it is even more complicated to right undercharges than it is overcharges, perhaps because they can’t believe anyone would be so honest (or stupid) to bring it to their attention. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had committed major larceny. Even if I had gotten away with it, I wouldn’t have gotten away with it, if you know what I mean.

Truthfully, I especially can’t imagine those numbers — the millions that were awarded to the small company for selling the rights to someone else’s work. Although I’d like to make it big and have to try to deal with such magnificent and munificent numbers, I’m really hoping I sell enough of my newest book to keep from embarrassing my publisher, the same Stairway Press that published Fifty Shades of Black & White.

***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

“Star” Gazing

Last night when I was walking home from work, I stopped in an area where houses blocked the strongest of the street lights and looked up at the sky. I saw very few stars, but realizing how long it takes my eyes to adjust now, I kept looking, and gradually, more stars showed themselves.

As I was staring up at the sky, I happened to notice a bright star-like light on the southwestern horizon. It was going too fast to be natural and too slow to be an airplane. Following that first light, another appeared, and then another until there were at least fifty “stars” strung across the sky, disappearing into the northeast sky.

It was such an odd and eerie sight, that I couldn’t take my eyes off that almost evenly-spaced line.

When I got home, I checked to see what it was I had seen. Apparently, Elon Musk, CEO of Tesla, co-founder of PayPal, and founder of SpaceX, owns these satellites. He launched the first set of sixty in May of 2019, the second set of sixty in April of 2020, and he eventually hopes to launch a total of 12,000. All in an effort to bring the internet to remote areas.

This seems a rather egregious use of power. I don’t even understand why he was allowed to do this. Nor do I believe his stated aim of bringing the internet to remote areas. I mean, how would that be cost effective? Remoteness connotes isolation, which basically means very few people. So, spending billions to make perhaps millions? I don’t think so.

Still, I’m trying not to have an opinion of things I cannot control, so I will try to forget who owns those satellites, try not to worry about what they are doing over my head, and just remember the eeriness of watching that string of twinklers slowly marching across the sky.

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***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

Good Cheer

I unpacked my light bowls today to set around the house. I’ve always enjoyed the extra light — especially the colored lights — during this time of creeping darkness because they help dispel the gloom.

Oddly, I don’t mind the creeping darkness so much this year, probably because I’ve been walking home from work in the dark. The shock came the first night of darkness. The week before, it was light when I left the woman’s house, and suddenly, there I was, walking in the dark. More like a curtain than a creeping.

I was a little nervous at the idea of walking in the dark even though it’s only two short blocks, but surprisingly, I’ve enjoyed it. Well, except the part where the dogs with owners who are too lazy to take them for a walk let them run loose after the code enforcer goes off duty. The first few days were fine, then one night I felt a tug on my pants, and there was a horrid little dog trying to grab hold of the back of my knee. The next night, a different dog tried to engage me in combat, but I shined my flashlight in its direction, and it ran away.

I know who owns the second dog — a neighbor who won’t leash the dog or fence it. In fact, she once told me, back when she owned a different dog, that if she were a dog, she’d rather run free and take a chance on getting run over by a car. Well, the inevitable happened, and now there is a different dog with a guaranteed ending.

Still, despite the wild life (tame life?), the walk has been pleasant, even on the coldest days.

Except for the nights I camped during my various trips, I seldom go out at night, so I tend to become intimidated by the dark. Since I don’t drive at night, there’s really no reason for me to go out, so that intimidation can become almost a phobia.

But that’s not my problem this year. I get out in the dark quite often now. Despite that, I’m still looking forward to plugging in my bowls of light. A person can always use an extra bit of good cheer.

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***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

Aging is an Absurd Experience

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I’ve reached the absurd — and confusing — age where I sometimes peer over my eyeglasses, sometimes wear reading glasses, sometimes wear bifocals, sometimes don’t wear any glasses, and sometimes wear two pairs.

What the heck is that about?

I’ve been wearing eyeglasses since the fourth grade, and for most of my life, I put my glasses on as soon as I got out of bed in the morning, took them off when I got into bed at night, and that was it. Then came bifocal time, which upset me because . . . bifocals. I’d read that people who wore glasses from a young age usually did not have bifocal issues until much later than people who never wore glasses, but I guess I was one of the lucky ones because my eyes changed early.

To make the transition even more traumatic, the optometrist’s assistant commiserated, and said, “I know what you’re going through. I just had to get reading glasses.” Like that made me feel good. Here’s a woman who had never worn glasses, never had to deal with gouges in the side of her head from decades of wearing glasses, who was much older than me, and who just then had to start wearing reading glasses occasionally. I know each of us has our own age issues, but her comment was not at all helpful.

So then, I had two pairs of glasses to contend with — the bifocals for normal wear, and a separate pair of reading glasses. For someone who reads for hours at a time, bifocals just don’t cut it. But wait! There’s more! The reading glasses helped somewhat, but I couldn’t see small print. Then I discovered I could see better than perfect to read without my glasses, as long as the book was about nine inches from my face. I ended up using the reading glasses for computer work and such.

The last time I got glasses, he wouldn’t prescribe reading glasses even though I requested a separate prescription. He said I didn’t need them, that I needed to get used to the bifocals. I could have fought, but since I didn’t wear glasses to read anyway, I let it go.

When I got those new eyeglasses, I discovered I couldn’t read the computer screen. So out came the old reading glasses, which were perfect for computer glasses.

And now, I wish I had fought for the reading glasses because my old reading glasses no longer work for the computer, but the reading part of the bifocals is perfect. But I can’t wear bifocals at the computer because it makes my neck hurt.

For some reason that has faded into distant memory, I kept my father’s reading glasses. And so now I have to wear two pairs of glasses at a time for computer use — my old reading glasses and his reading glasses on top of them. I wear just my reading glasses for around the house. The bifocals for when I’m outside. And no glasses to read. Of course, my eyes have changed enough that I can’t use the reading part of the bifocals to read, so that’s when I peer over the top if I have to read something when I’m wearing them.

See? Absurd.

***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

A SPARK OF HEAVENLY FIRE Embodies the Essence of Christmas

Washington Irving wrote: “There is in every true woman’s heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.” As I read these words several years ago, I could see her, a drab woman, defeated by life, dragging herself through her days in the normal world, but in an abnormal world of strife and danger, she would come alive and inspire others. And so Kate Cummings, the hero of my novel A Spark of Heavenly Fire was born. But born into what world?

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I didn’t want to write a book about war, which is a common setting for such a character-driven story, so I created the red death, an unstoppable, bio-engineered disease that ravages Colorado. Martial law is declared, rationing is put into effect, and the entire state is quarantined. During this time when so many are dying, Kate comes alive and gradually pulls others into her sphere of kindness and generosity. First enters Dee Allenby, another woman defeated by normal life, then enter the homeless — the group hardest hit by the militated restrictions. Finally, enters Greg Pullman, a movie-star-handsome reporter who is determined to find out who created the red death and why they did it.

Kate and her friends build a new world, a new normal, to help one another survive, but other characters, such as Jeremy King, a world-class actor who gets caught in the quarantine, and Pippi O’Brien, a local weather girl, think of only of their own survival, and they are determined to leave the state even if it kills them.

The world of the red death brings out the worst in some characters while bringing out the best in others. Most of all, the prism of death and survival reflects what each values most. Kate values love. Dee values purpose. Greg values truth. Jeremy values freedom. Pippi, who values nothing, learns to value herself.

Though this book has been classified by some readers as a thriller — and there are plenty of thrills and lots of danger — A Spark of Heavenly Fire is fundamentally a Christmas book. The story starts at the beginning of December, builds to a climax on Christmas, and ends with renewal in the Spring. There are no Santas, no elves, no shopping malls or presents, nothing that resembles a Christmas card holiday, but the story — especially Kate’s story — embodies the essence of Christmas: generosity of spirit.

When you are making out your Christmas lists, I hope you will include A Spark of Heavenly Fire. That should make both of us happy!

You can read the first chapter of A Spark of Heavenly Fire here: https://ptbertram.wordpress.com/free-samples/a-spark-of-heavenly-fire/

You can purchase the print book on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Spark-Heavenly-Fire-Pat-Bertram/dp/1630663662/

Did the Macaw Survive?

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Someone wrote to me yesterday and said that Bob, The Right Hand of God was a cool book, but he felt bad about Rosemary and the scarlet macaw. Especially the macaw.

There really is no other interpretation of Rosemary’s fate than the one presented in the book, but I thought the macaw had a different end. Looking back, nowhere in the book does it say unequivocally what actually happened to the poor bird, though I had thought it’s fate could be assumed.

Apparently not.

I suppose it depends on if one believes what Bob says, and if one thought there were a stable environment where the bird could be sent, and if Bob were honorable enough to help the poor thing survive. All things that are debatable.

Now I’m curious. Do you think the macaw survived?

None of this, so far, spoils the story since these events took place toward the beginning of the book, so if you respond, I’d appreciate your not mentioning anything that might give away the story.

The book calls out for a sequel, the story of the next generation if nothing else, and your response would help me figure out if (a big if!) I were to write a sequel, whether I should include a mention of the bird or leave the poor thing to its ambiguous fate.

***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

Thirty Days Hath . . .

Thirty days hath September, April, June and . . . you guessed it. November!

Since this is the thirtieth, tomorrow starts a new month, and that means a new tarot deck for me. I had a hard time deciding which to use of the dozens I own.

Some of the traditional decks passed down from medieval times are too odd and the images too angular and misshapen for my tastes (deriving as they do from traditional woodcuts), and so are many of the decks based on those old cards.

Some of the newer versions, though intending to seem old, using as they do, images from the Renaissance, are often too . . . natural . . . for my tastes. I don’t need to see anatomically correct pictures (or at least anatomically correct enough to know which cards depict males). It seems jarring, though I’m sure there is symbolism in the nudity, perhaps showing the necessity to put off the falsehood of clothes, and be who we are, but I can get that symbolism with clothed images, too, since the raiment people don is also symbolic. (Even in today’s culture, clothes are symbolic, though I doubt people stop to think what it is they are trying to broadcast with their apparel.)

Some of the decks are simply too symbolic, with more icons and Jewish letters and astrologic signs and qabalistic codes than I wish to study right now. I’m still trying to get comfortable with the cards themselves, as well as trying to find the deck that speaks most clearly to me.

So far, the deck I like the most is The Cosmic Tarot, created by Norbert Losche and printed in Germany in 1988. The cards have a hint of the 1920’s about them, and most seem evocative of something, even if not what was intended. The following is the Queen of Wands from that deck:

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The deck I decided to use this month is the Egorov Tarot, a Russian-inspired deck that is so very elegant with shiny gold borders and highlights. (Unfortunately, the gold photographed as brown, but you can still see the vast difference between this deck and The Cosmic Tarot.)

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Someday, if I get bored or ambitious, it would be interesting to photograph all the queen of wands from all the decks and see how they compare. Meantime, I’m just glad I made the decision which deck to use during the coming month.

***

Please check out my new book!

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God. 

Conundrums

I’m reading a thriller where several people are hunting for some sort of Jewish treasure that Columbus apparently took with him on his final voyage in an effort to protect the articles from the inquisition. The premise of the story is based on the theory that Columbus was a Jew who converted to Christianity as a way of avoiding being tortured and killed, and that his name was not Columbus. Columbus was his adopted Christian name, not his real name. Supposedly, he did not set out on his journey to prove that the earth was round or even to hunt for an easier route to the Spice Islands. He was actually looking for a place where Jews could live in peace, so his backers were predominately Jewish.

I was already aware of these theories, so that is nothing new. What the book did was make me think of what is going on in the world today with all the fights over statues and renaming of holidays.

Columbus Day was originally a New York holiday to honor Italian-American heritage. Franklin Delano Roosevelt made the day into a national holiday, and therein lies the problem, including that of a nearby city. A statue of Columbus resides in the middle of that city, a century-old memorial to its large Italian-American population, but a vocal element wants to tear down the statue, as if Columbus were personally responsible for all the ills of this country, which is silly. Columbus never even set foot in North America, and in fact, was only one of the many seafaring people who managed to cross the ocean, some even thousands of years previously.

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The truth is, there are no Native Americans. All of us, even the American Aborigines, are immigrants from elsewhere. There are signs that people from all over the world, for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, were enveloped into and contributed to the development of “native culture.”

The problem is not with Columbus but with an overpopulated world — at the time, the arable land in Europe was divided up and owned by the nobility. People with no other options needed a place to go to start a new life, and here was a whole continent (two continents, actually) where few people lived and harsh laws (except for the harsh laws of nature) had yet to take hold.

The wave of Europeans came decades after Columbus’s voyages, so none of that is to his credit or discredit. The times and a dying way of life were the real culprit.

Still, even if you believe the myth that Columbus discovered America, destroying statues of him (which aren’t really of him since no one knows what he looks like) is utterly hypocritical. If people think we are wrong for being here, they can always go back where they came from. Tearing down a statue, renaming a holiday, apologizing for things someone’s ancestors did (not mine — mine were still living in feudal countries and didn’t even come here until the twentieth century) in no way changes the past. No one is seriously considering making reparations and giving the country back to the Indians, and why should they? If the various tribes had been less obsessed with their traditional enemies and had banded together against the new one, they could have halted the population growth at the Mississippi River. At least for a while. But a time that has come, has come. There is no stopping it.

Which brings me to the whole idea of reparations. If the BLM has their way and they are granted reparations, who is to pay them? Those of us whose ancestors were not even here? That’s absurd. So who? England? After all, the slaves were first brought here when the area was still under control of England. And later, the slave area was under the control of the Confederacy. They could be paid with Confederate dollars; I’m sure there are plenty of such dollars in collections. And yet — signs of the Confederacy, such as statues, are being destroyed. If we’re writing history to erase the whole slave era, then who’s to pay? There’s no one left.

Sheesh. Here I’ve been doing so well staying away from the news and local issues and all the conundrums of our times, and an awful book brings me back. (Awful because there are too many separate stories and too much redundancy since each of the stories is basically a repetition — hunting treasure and killing people. Worst of all, huge portions of the book are in Italics, and Italics always tell me that particular portion is not part of the book and so I skip it.)

For my own peace of mind, I might have to give up reading, too.

***

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If you haven’t yet read A Spark of Heavenly Fire, my novel of a quarantine that predated this pandemic by more than ten years, you can read the first chapter online here: http://patbertram.com/A_Spark_of_Heavenly_Fire.html

Buy it on Amazon here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0024FB5H6/

Download the first 30% free on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1842