Michael Robert Dyet's Blog, page 44

Metaphors of Life Journal: New Year's Reflections at the Benediction of an Unrepentant 2017

"Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d"
William Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Hmmm, is the legacy of adversity the ability to find purpose both in blessings and affliction?

I am not a winter-friendly person. You will not find me zigzagging down snow-laden slopes or cross-country skiing along frozen trails. I hibernate like a bear. The walk from the car to the door is as much of winter as I care to experience.

But as I gaze out the window at my townhouse courtyard, keeping a glass barrier between me and the frigid temperatures, a contemplative mood takes hold. The grace of Old Man Winter presents itself to me in monochromatic hues.

Antiqued white of the crusted snow with silver-grey edgings where the wind has sculpted it or a shovel has piled in into miniature mountain ridges.

The wheat-brown trunks and barren limbs of the trees which stand stoically against the cold in a peaceful slumber that surrenders graciously to the elements.

A beckoning sky of powder blue, belying the bone-chilling temperatures below, does not seem that different from a summer sky if I suspend my disbelief.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this palette of muted colours is telling me that the year ahead will hold subtle blessings that I need to recalibrate my senses to perceive and make my own.

A whimsical snow flurry passes through as if on the wings of winter angels. Flirtatious snowflakes perform a choreographed dance – sideways cascades, counter clockwise spins and gravity-defying, upward slides.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this capricious dance is telling me that the nascent year will unfold more impulsively than I would prefer. But it will also have an underlying harmony if I can slow my mind enough to seek it out.

The snow flurry ends as unpredictably as it began. The sun emerges once more lending contrast to the landscape. Shafts of crisp sunlight seek out and paradoxically soften the sharp lines of gray brick walls, wrought iron fences and snow-dusted, peaked roofs.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this winter sun is telling me that the year about to be born will seem harsh and unforgiving at times. But so too will it have moments of clarity that show me the way ahead if I am wise enough to assemble the puzzle pieces.

2017 was mean-spirited and unrepentant in its treatment of me. Misfortune seemed to lurk around every corner and bite at my heels even as I picked myself up and carried on. I was at the mercy of the unsteer’d boat which seemed to hold me captive in a winter land of adversity.

But perhaps, just perhaps, I needed the affliction to see the wisdom in Shakespeare’s metaphor of fortune. At the benediction of the year, hard-won insight empowers me to see splendour in the grip of winter, both real and figurative, which will serve me well in the New Year that awaits.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you ae reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

New Year’s Reflections at the Benediction of an Unrepentant 2017

Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d – William Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Hmmm, is the legacy of adversity the ability to find purpose both in blessings and affliction?

I am not a winter-friendly person. You will not find me zigzagging down snow-laden slopes or cross-country skiing along frozen trails. I hibernate like a bear. The walk from the car to the door is as much of winter as I care to experience.

But as I gaze out the window at my townhouse courtyard, keeping a glass barrier between me and the frigid temperatures, a contemplative mood takes hold. The grace of Old Man Winter presents itself to me in monochromatic hues.

Antiqued white of the crusted snow with silver-grey edgings where the wind has sculpted it or a shovel has piled in into miniature mountain ridges.

The wheat-brown trunks and barren limbs of the trees which stand stoically against the cold in a peaceful slumber that surrenders graciously to the elements.

A beckoning sky of powder blue, belying the bone-chilling temperatures below, does not seem that different from a summer sky if I suspend my disbelief.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this palette of muted colours is telling me that the year ahead will hold subtle blessings that I need to recalibrate my senses to perceive and make my own.

A whimsical snow flurry passes through as if on the wings of winter angels. Flirtatious snowflakes perform a choreographed dance – sideways cascades, counter clockwise spins and gravity-defying, upward slides.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this capricious dance is telling me that the nascent year will unfold more impulsively than I would prefer. But it will also have an underlying harmony if I can slow my mind enough to seek it out.

The snow flurry ends as unpredictably as it began. The sun emerges once more lending contrast to the landscape. Shafts of crisp sunlight seek out and paradoxically soften the sharp lines of gray brick walls, wrought iron fences and snow-dusted, peaked roofs.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this winter sun is telling me that the year about to be born will seem harsh and unforgiving at times. But so too will it have moments of clarity that show me the way ahead if I am wise enough to assemble the puzzle pieces.

2017 was mean-spirited and unrepentant in its treatment of me. Misfortune seemed to lurk around every corner and bite at my heels even as I picked myself up and carried on. I was at the mercy of the unsteer’d boat which seemed to hold me captive in a winter land of adversity.

But perhaps, just perhaps, I needed the affliction to see the wisdom in Shakespeare’s metaphor of fortune. At the benediction of the year, hard-won insight empowers me to see splendour in the grip of winter, both real and figurative, which will serve me well in the New Year that awaits.

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you ae reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

 

Metaphors of Life Journal: When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled - The Year of the Black Cloud

I grow old.. I grow old…
I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled
T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Hmmm, when I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, will 2017 be a year that mercifully fades into the mist of lost memories?

I would normally wait until New Year’s Day to write my year-in-review post. But I am jumping the gun in the hope of banishing the stubborn black cloud that has been hanging over me for the past twelve months. If you follow my blog, you will have heard my tales of woe. Bear with as I feel the need to assemble them in one place and be done with them.

The black cloud forms. There was an early sign that 2017 might be a tough year. My cat was diagnosed with kidney disease in late 2016. Special food and medication seemed initially to be working. But on New Year’s Eve, my big fat cat, as I liked to call him, stopped eating again. Weekly visits to the vet, for treatments that were less and less effective, followed for five weeks.

The black cloud takes hold. In early February, I made the heart-wrenching decision to end his suffering. It still pains me to recall that feared day. By chance, he was cremated on Valentine’s Day – a fitting farewell for a sweet, affectionate cat who brought me much joy.

Side note: I was working with a naturopath from the beginning of the year to address digestive system problems. This was a precursor, as it turned out, for what was to come later.

The black cloud spews lightening. In March, I received a telephone call at work telling me that a family member had suffered a heart attack. I still recall the clutch of fear in my heart at the news. An emergency angioplasty to insert two stints into heart valves was successful. But a nasty staph infection contracted at the hospital made for a miserable few weeks.

The black cloud spews thunder. In early August, a severe bout of stomach cramps occurred that lasted on and off for three days. Reluctantly, on the evening of the third day, I called 911 and went to the hospital by ambulance. The diagnosis: Volvulus aka, twisted colon, causing a bowel obstruction and requiring surgery to remove a weakened section of colon.

I spent two and a half weeks in the hospital, including a stint in ICU with aspiration pneumonia, preparing for the surgery, the surgery itself and the recovery period. I came home to recover for a few weeks believing that surely this was the final misfortune in my dismal year.

The black cloud spews more thunder. Scar tissue from the surgery caused repeated secondary bowel blockages which landed me in the hospital three more times over the next couple of months. Since then I have been on a restricted diet of pureed and blender-prepared food to reduce the risk of another blockage.

The black cloud spews rain. You would think this would be enough bad luck for one year. But one more low blow was awaiting me. A little over a week ago, I awoke to the sound of gushing water in my townhouse unit. A failed shut off valve allowed a geyser of water to flood my suite. I stayed with friends for several days while a cleaning service dried out my place.

Given this prevailing black cloud, the metaphor of choice for my 2017 is a tsunami of misfortune that put me down for the count several times and left me very eager for the year to end.

When I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, I will be grateful if 2017 fades into the mist of lost memories. But I earnestly hope that what lies ahead for me in the coming years, will enable me to see 2017 as the turning point after which my luck changed and great things happened. Stay tuned to find out.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

When I Grow Old and Wear My Trousers Rolled: The Year of the Black Cloud

I grow old… I grow old…

I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled

T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Hmmm, when I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, will 2017 be a year that mercifully fades into the mist of lost memories?

I would normally wait until New Year’s Day to write my year-in-review post. But I am jumping the gun in the hope of banishing the stubborn black cloud that has been hanging over me for the past twelve months. If you follow my blog, you will have heard my tales of woe. Bear with as I feel the need to assemble them in one place and be done with them.

The black cloud forms. There was an early sign that 2017 might be a tough year. My cat was diagnosed with kidney disease in late 2016. Special food and medication seemed initially to be working. But on New Year’s Eve, my big fat cat, as I liked to call him, stopped eating again. Weekly visits to the vet, for treatments that were less and less effective, followed for five weeks.

The black cloud takes hold. In early February, I made the heart-wrenching decision to end his suffering. It still pains me to recall that feared day. By chance, he was cremated on Valentines Day – a fitting farewell for a sweet, affectionate cat who brought me much joy.

Side note: I was working with a naturopath from the beginning of the year to address digestive system problems. This was a precursor, as it turned out, for what was to come later.

The black cloud spews lightening. In March, I received a telephone call at work telling me that a family member had suffered a heart attack. I still recall the clutch of fear in my heart at the news. An emergency angioplasty to insert two stints into heart valves was successful. But a nasty staph infection contracted at the hospital made for a miserable few weeks.

The black cloud spews thunder. In early August, a severe bout of stomach cramps occurred that lasted on and off for three days. Reluctantly, on the evening of the third day, I called 911 and went to the hospital by ambulance. The diagnosis: Volvulus aka, twisted colon, causing a bowel obstruction and requiring surgery to remove a weakened section of colon.

I spent two and a half weeks in the hospital, including a stint in ICU with aspiration pneumonia, preparing for the surgery, the surgery itself and the recovery period. I came home to recover for a few weeks believing that surely this was the final misfortune in my dismal year.

The black cloud spews more thunder. Scar tissue from the surgery caused repeated secondary bowel blockages which landed me in the hospital three more times over the next couple of months. Since then I have been on a restricted diet of pureed and blender-prepared food to reduce the risk of another blockage.

The black cloud spews rain. You would think this would be enough bad luck for one year. But one more low blow was awaiting me. A little over a week ago, I awoke to the sound of gushing water in my townhouse unit. A failed shut off valve allowed a geyser of water to flood my suite. I stayed with friends for several days while a cleaning service dried out my place.

Given this unrelenting black cloud, the metaphor of choice for my 2017 is a tsunami of misfortune that put me down for the count several times and left me very eager for the year to end.

When I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, I will be grateful if 2017 fades into the mist of lost memories. But I earnestly hope that what lies ahead for me in the coming years, will enable me to see 2017 as the turning point after which my luck changed and great things happened. Stay tuned to find out.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a wee

The Quest for Originality and the Perfect Metaphor

Hmmm, what is a writer to do when the world at large fails to inspire?

There are plenty of in-the-news topics that I could blog about at the moment. Should I set my sights on:

The Donald Trump Circus. On a daily basis, Trump does something controversial or says something inflammatory or tweets something provoking or makes a wildly unpopular, head-scratching decision. I could easily compose a post a week about him.

But no thanks. I do not want to wade into that fray again or give Trump more attention than he is already getting as it only encourages his behaviour.

The Sexual Harassment Downpour. Lately, a new story breaks every week about this despicable behaviour by a male celebrity or a man in position of power. The perpetrators are now tumbling like dominos. Many of their peers are trembling for fear that they may be next.

But no thanks. I do not want to pound that pulpit even though it would get me many readers. I cannot think of anything to say on the subject that would be more than bandwagon jumping.

Hollywood celebrity ties the hook with British royalty. The media is abuzz with the news of the dream-come-true engagement of Meagan Markle and Prince Harry. It is pitched as a feel good story for trying times.

But no thanks. I have never been a fan of the royal family. I do not want to be part of the spin doctoring, on either the yeah or nay side, on that front.

Political Battle Lines. They are already drawn for the next provincial election here in Ontario. The gloves have been off from the get-go. Special interest groups are dipping deep in their advertising budgets to tell us who we should not vote for under any circumstances.

But no thanks. I have blogged on that subject before and declared my point of view – namely, that all too often it is sadly a case of which candidate is the least objectionable. I have nothing new to say on that topic.

I have to wonder what it signifies when all the hot topics of the day have no appeal. Am I too much of a skeptic, or too much of an optimist, to take aim at easy targets?

The issue goes deeper into my artistic heart. I crave originality in an off-the-shelf world. I hear you asking: How can you say that when technology continues to explode with new whiz-bang innovations every other day? My answer: The technology Grinch rarely finds inspiration there.

At times like this, I ponder two questions. What am I? Who am I? The answer is always clear. A spinner of tales, a juggler of words, an inventor of characters, a seeker for the perfect metaphor. Some days I write just because I cannot allow the creative fire to go out. For today, that is reason enough.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

The Quest for Originality and the Perfect Metaphor

Hmmm, what is a writer to do when the world at large fails to inspire?

There are plenty of in-the-news topics that I could blog about at the moment. Should I set my sights on:

The Donald Trump Circus. On a daily basis, Trump does something controversial or says something inflammatory or tweets something provoking or makes a wildly unpopular, head-scratching decision. I could easily compose a post a week about him.

But no thanks. I do not want to wade into that fray again or give Trump more attention than he is already getting as it only encourages his behaviour.

The Sexual Harassment Downpour. Lately, a new story breaks every week about this despicable behaviour by a male celebrity or a man in position of power. The perpetrators are now tumbling like dominos. Many of their peers are trembling for fear that they may be next.

But no thanks. I do not want to pound that pulpit even though it would get me many readers. I cannot think of anything to say on the subject that would be more than bandwagon jumping.

Hollywood celebrity ties the hook with British royalty. The media is abuzz with the news of the dream-come-true engagement of Meagan Markle and Prince Harry. It is pitched as a feel good story for trying times.

But no thanks. I have never been a fan of the royal family. I do not want to be part of the spin doctoring, on either the yeah or nay side, on that front.

Political Battle Lines. They are already drawn for the next provincial election here in Ontario. The gloves have been off from the get-go. Special interest groups are dipping deep in their advertising budgets to tell us who we should not vote for under any circumstances.

But no thanks. I have blogged on that subject before and declared my point of view – namely, that all too often it is sadly a case of which candidate is the least objectionable. I have nothing new to say on that topic.

I have to wonder what it signifies when all the hot topics of the day have no appeal. Am I too much of a skeptic, or too much of an optimist, to take aim at easy targets?

The issue goes deeper into my artistic heart. I crave originality in an off-the-shelf world. I hear you asking: How can you say that when technology continues to explode with new whiz-bang innovations every other day? My answer: The technology Grinch rarely finds inspiration there.

At times like this, I ponder two questions. What am I? Who am I? The answer is always clear. A spinner of tales, a juggler of words, an inventor of characters, a seeker for the perfect metaphor. Some days I write just because I cannot allow the creative fire to go out. For today, that is reason enough.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Metaphors of Life Journal: Baby Boomers to Millennials - Passing the Torch

Caveat: This post is a Baby Boomer reflecting on the rise of the Millennials generation. Millennials may, or may not, feel that reading this article is an exercise in mirror gazing.

Hmmm, as the torch passes from Baby Boomers to Millennials, what changes will we see?

Those of us in the Baby Boom generation, people aged 46 to 65, have long owned the distinction of being the largest of the generational cohorts coexisting in the population. But it seems we are surrendering our title to Millennials, people aged 18 to 34, who are redefining society in their own image.

Millennials are the first generation in history to have grown up with digital technology and this has shaped their identity and outlook on life. They are digital natives who cannot imagine being without technology whereas we Baby Boomers are digital immigrants who adapted, sometimes grudgingly, to the digital world.

A few other key characteristics of Millennials:

They are the most educated generation in Western history – convinced that education is a key to success in life and willing to acquire significant debt to earn their academic credentials.

Mobile technology is important to them and not just for fun and games. Yes, they are the most likely to have created a profile on a social networking site and to visit their page several times a day. But Millennials also use their devices extensively for research and education.

Millennials are entrepreneurial. They accept that the job for life is an outdated concept and aspire more to creating their own company than to climbing the corporate ladder.

So what does the rise of the Millennials cohort mean for society? The experts point to several key trends that are already beginning to take hold.

The death of suburbia. Success for Baby Boomers is a nice house in the suburbs. Not so for Millennials. They are drawn to cities and are willing to trade the dream of owning a home for the excitement of city life – even in notoriously expensive places to live like New York City where the median cost for an apartment is a whopping $3,900 per month.

The demise of shopping malls. Everything you need in one self-contained, mega building is losing its appeal. Millennials can and do shop for just about anything they need online. Hence, no need to flock to the mall on evenings or weekends.

Tough times for marketers. Conscious of unemployment, frozen wages and the scarcity of stable jobs, Millennials are frugal. Experiences – e.g. eating out and attending concerts – trump possessions. Living a minimalistic life is a conscious choice.

So as we Baby Boomers ride off into the suburbia sunset clinging to our cherished homes, Millennials are greeting the sunrise in the city and creating new metaphors for success and happiness. I say more power to them. The torch is firmly in their grasp.

My Latest Work: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Baby Bommers to Millennials: Passing the Torch

Caveat: This post is a Baby Boomer reflecting on the rise of the Millennials generation. Millennials may, or may not, feel that reading this article is an exercise in mirror gazing.

Hmmm, as the torch passes from Baby Boomers to Millennials, what changes will we see?

Those of us in the Baby Boom generation, people aged 46 to 65, have long owned the distinction of being the largest of the generational cohorts coexisting in the population. But it seems we are surrendering our title to Millennials, people aged 18 to 34, who are redefining society in their own image.

Millennials are the first generation in history to have grown up with digital technology and this has shaped their identity and outlook on life. They are digital natives who cannot imagine being without technology whereas we Baby Boomers are digital immigrants who adapted, sometimes grudgingly, to the digital world.

A few other key characteristics of Millennials:

They are the most educated generation in Western history – convinced that education is a key to success in life and willing to acquire significant debt to earn their academic credentials.

Mobile technology is important to them and not just for fun and games. Yes, they are the most likely to have created a profile on a social networking site and to visit their page several times a day. But Millennials also use their devices extensively for research and education.

Millennials are entrepreneurial. They accept that the job for life is an outdated concept and aspire more to creating their own company than to climbing the corporate ladder.

So what does the rise of the Millennials cohort mean for society? The experts point to several key trends that are already beginning to take hold.

The death of suburbia. Success for Baby Boomers is a nice house in the suburbs. Not so for Millennials. They are drawn to cities and are willing to trade the dream of owning a home for the excitement of city life – even in notoriously expensive places to live like New York City where the median cost for an apartment is a whopping $3,900 per month.

The demise of shopping malls. Everything you need in one self-contained, mega building is losing its appeal. Millennials can and do shop for just about anything they need online. Hence, no need to flock to the mall on evenings or weekends.

Tough times for marketers. Conscious of unemployment, frozen wages and the scarcity of stable jobs, Millennials are frugal. Experiences – e.g. eating out and attending concerts – trump possessions. Living a minimalistic life is a conscious choice.

So as we Baby Boomers ride off into the suburbia sunset clinging to our cherished homes, Millennials are greeting the sunrise in the city and creating new metaphors for success and happiness. I say more power to them. The torch is firmly in their grasp.

My Latest Work : Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage - A Glimpse into the Story "Incorrigible"

For an author, every person he or she encounters is a possible character for a story. Every once and a while, a real-life eccentric comes along that proves to be irresistible. The story begins to unfold in the author’s mind and demands to be written.

The story Incorrigible, from Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage, is the result of once such encounter. What follows is a short excerpt from the story to whet your appetite.

“Huckleberry, I’ve told you a thousand times. You shouldn’t feed the mice.”

Vera’s voice startled him, but resonated in his ears like a finely tuned bow string.

“I swear you make less noise than a feather in a wind storm. After 60 years you’d think I’d hear you coming.”

“Don’t go changing the subject on me. I’m wise to your wily ways.”

“Ever seen one in the house? No, because they know this is where the food is. There’s a method in my madness. And for the love of Lucifer, for 60 years you’ve called me Huck. Now out of the blessed blue I’m Huckleberry?”

“Time was you’d be tickled pink if I called you that.”

“Well, no more. I’m Huck and leave it at that.”

“You’ll always be Huckleberry to me.”

“Have it your way. I’m not of a mind to argue,” he relented, resisting the fond smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you of a mind to clean up this shed? Every newspaper that came into this place in the last ten years is still here. What will people think?”

Huck scanned the confines of the shed. Small motors of every size, shape and make rested on stacks of yellowing newspapers. A path barely wide enough to navigate wound from the shed door to a desk littered with spare parts.

“You think I don’t know what people say? Crazy, old motor man. Couple bricks short of a load. I don’t give a good goddamn. Nobody but you ever understood me, Vera. I expect that’s not likely to change.”

“Huckleberry, what am I going to do with you? I won’t be around forever, you know.”

Huck’s brow furrowed. His bad left eye, on the side where the cow kicked him many years back, drooped half shut.

“You’re always talking that way. But you’re too stubborn by half to go before me…..

Intrigued? Get your copy of Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage and find out where that fateful day takes Huck. One word hint: fire.

~ My Latest Work: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit my website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to my Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage – A Glimpse into “Incorrigible”

For an author, every person he or she encounters is a possible character for a story. Every once and a while, a real-life eccentric comes along that proves to be irresistible. The story begins to unfold in the author’s mind and demands to be written.

The story Incorrigible, from Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage, is the result of once such encounter. What follows is a short excerpt from the story to whet your appetite.

….. Huckleberry, I’ve told you a thousand times. You shouldn’t feed the mice.”

Vera’s voice startled him, but resonated in his ears like a finely tuned bow string.

“I swear you make less noise than a feather in a wind storm. After 60 years you’d think I’d hear you coming.”

“Don’t go changing the subject on me. I’m wise to your wily ways.”

“Ever seen one in the house? No, because they know this is where the food is. There’s a method in my madness. And for the love of Lucifer, for 60 years you’ve called me Huck. Now out of the blessed blue I’m Huckleberry?”

“Time was you’d be tickled pink if I called you that.”

“Well, no more. I’m Huck and leave it at that.”

“You’ll always be Huckleberry to me.”

“Have it your way. I’m not of a mind to argue,” he relented, resisting the fond smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you of a mind to clean up this shed? Every newspaper that came into this place in the last ten years is still here. What will people think?”

Huck scanned the confines of the shed. Small motors of every size, shape and make rested on stacks of yellowing newspapers. A path barely wide enough to navigate wound from the shed door to a desk littered with spare parts.

“You think I don’t know what people say? Crazy, old motor man. Couple bricks short of a load. I don’t give a good goddamn. Nobody but you ever understood me, Vera. I expect that’s not likely to change.”

“Huckleberry, what am I going to do with you? I won’t be around forever, you know.”

Huck’s brow furrowed. His bad left eye, on the side where the cow kicked him many years back, drooped half shut.

“You’re always talking that way. But you’re too stubborn by half to go before me……

Intrigued? Get your copy of Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage and find out where that fateful day takes Huck – and why the photograph at the top of this post is appropriate.

~ My Latest Work: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills -An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit my website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

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