Eric Wilder's Blog, page 11

ERIC WILDER INTERVIEWS WITH BOOK2BUZZ + GIVEAWAY!

Book2Buzz: ERIC WILDER, AUTHOR OF PRIMAL CREATURES INTERVIEWS WITH BOOK2BUZZ + GIVEAWAY!

Fireflies and Tiki Torches

This spring has been absolutely crazy in Oklahoma. It snowed in April, and we’ve had two F5 tornados like the world has never seen before.

Marilyn and I live on an acre of land in the southeast corner of Edmond, Oklahoma. It’s almost rural. From my front porch, I’ve seen deer, coyotes, hawks—well you get the picture. Our house was built in 1975 and our large swimming pool is anything but modern. My hot tub is a fiberglass antique, covered by a gazebo my step-son Shane built. We get our water from a well. The water is wonderful, except it is loaded with calcium. My step-daughter Shannon spent two days this week cleaning the calcium deposits off my hot tub. Tonight, my three dogs and I tried it out.

As I mentioned, the weather has been crazy this spring. I usually take my first dip in the pool in April, sometimes March. Tonight, already late in June, I took my first plunge of the year. The dogs, my two pugs and English bulldog, loved it. They can’t swim but they loved licking pool water off my head, neck, and back. Following Shannon’s labors, the hot tub felt wonderful.

After a stint in the hot water, I plunged back into the pool. Sitting on the steps in shallow water, I soaked in the stars, flame from Tiki torches and fireflies lighting up the night. I couldn’t have been happier when I finally came inside and pulled off my wet swimming trunks decorated with surfboards, sailboats, and paeans to places like Florida and Waikiki Beach.

I’ve been to Florida and Waikiki. Tonight, I wouldn’t have traded either for my backyard pool, hot tub, and three faithful dogs. It made me think. It isn’t where you’ve been in life, it’s where you are right now that counts.

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Marilyn's Oklahoma French Fries

I'm an expert when it comes to fried potatoes. My dad loved them, and my mom cooked them at least once a day for the seventeen years I lived at home. Both my grandmothers cooked wonderful French fries. So did my mom. Still, I've never tasted better French fries than those cooked by my wife, Marilyn. She's stubborn and refuses to tell me how she does it. I'm going to watch her closely next time she makes them. I promise.

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Rotating Wall Cloud, Oklahoma

Rotating wall cloud just east of Guthrie, OK and I-35. Heading toward Langston and Cushing.

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Bertram's Spicy Tomato Sauce - a weekend recipe

Except for occasional help from his on again, off again girlfriend Shirley, Bertram Picou relies mostly on himself to manage his French Quarter bar. Every now and then, he grows tired of tourists and locals, and shuts the doors for some R and R, usually cooking something just for himself. Sometimes, his friend Wyatt Thomas becomes the lucky recipient of his cooking prowess.Bertram might lug his charcoal grill upstairs to Wyatt’s room, grilling on the balcony overlooking Chartres as they listen to the sounds of boats on the river, and cacophony on Bourbon Street. When Wyatt gets very lucky, Bertram, drinking shots of Cuervo as he cooks, will grill up his Andouille Fired Oysters, topping them with his spicy tomato sauce.Here’s the recipe for Bertram’s own spicy tomato sauce. It’s a great sweet and sour sauce that goes perfectly with broiled and baked fish, and, oh yes, Andouille Fired Oysters. Stay tuned for Bertram’s Andouille Fired Oyster recipe. Meantime, here’s the recipe for his spicy tomato sauce.Bertram’s Spicy Tomato SauceIngredients·         1 onion, thinly sliced·         2 Tbs. butter·         2 tomatoes, fresh, finely chopped·         2 lemons, juiced·         1 ½ Tbs. sugar·         ½ tsp. mustard, dry·         salt, to taste 
Directions 
Sauté onion in butter and then stir in tomatoes. Add lemon juice, salt, and mustard, and then simmer for a few minutes. Check out more of Bertram and Wyatt in the French Quarter mysteries Big Easy, City of Spirits, and Primal Creatures.
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Early Memorial Day in Oklahoma

My heart goes out to all the people that suffered loss of family, friends and homes during the recent outbreak of killer storms in Oklahoma (and other states-I'm not forgetting you!) While Marilyn and I suffered no damage except for a few broken tree limbs, we know plenty of folks that did. You are all in my prayers.

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Happy Mother's Day, Mom

There’s a biker’s bar in Oklahoma City that’s also a restaurant and off-track betting facility. Marilyn and I like going there on Friday’s to eat Oklahoma comfort food (chicken fries, steak fingers, fried okra and cream gravy, etc.) and bet on the ponies. That’s where we were yesterday along with friends J.R. and Carol.


I’m not a great handicapper and almost always lose more than I win. I like wagering on names and lost six bucks in last week’s Kentucky Derby betting on Itsmyluckyday. It wasn’t! I think he finished sixth. Yesterday was no different. I was losing more than winning when the horses for the next race at Woodbine (we were watching races at several tracks so I’m not sure which one) showed the horses for the next race. The name of one of the horses was Mavis Road.

Mavis Road is a street in Ontario, Canada. Mavis was also my mother’s first name. One of the track pundits picked Mavis Road as a possible strong contender. It didn’t matter to me. Even with the odds at 22-1 that Mavis Road would win, I would have bet on the horse because it had the same name as my mother. Mavis Road didn’t win the race. It did come in second place and I won almost thirty bucks on a six dollar bet.

Do I believe my mom had anything to do with my success in the race? You bet I do. My mother, like almost everyone else’s on the face of the earth, was the single most important person in my life. Even from the grave I feel she’s still close by; always lending a helping hand. Thanks Mom, for reminding me you’re still with me, and HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY.

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Free ebook, Morning Mist of Blood, at Smashwords

When cowboy gumshoe Buck McDivit is hired by a wealthy rancher to investigate murder, oil and cattle theft, he encounters more than he bargained for. His investigation leads him through places in Oklahoma City no tourist ever sees, and to a pagan commune populated only by women. Before he can solve the mystery, he must first survive a gang of cattle thieves, a killer tornado, and a shape-shifting black panther bent on his demise. A very untraditional Western. Hang on to your Stetson!

Free on Smashwords

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Good Night Sweet Prince

I just saw the news on the Internet today that the great Richie Havens has died. Havens was the opening act at Woodstock and performed the song Freedom. I didn’t make it to Woodstock in August of 1969. As a very young geologist, I was busy drilling a dry hole in east Texas, not far from where my great-grandfather had died. A month later, I married my first wife Gail. Six months later, I was training at Fort Polk’s Tiger land. Nine months later, I was a line company grunt, infantry machine gunner, with the 1st Cav in Vietnam.

My first marriage didn’t work out. Neither did the results of the Vietnam War. Richie Havens didn’t change the world, but his songs brought hope to all the twenty-somethings like me back then. Now, Richie’s dead, and I just keep pushing on, listening to Freedom in my head, wishing war would soon be gone, but knowing freedom’s just a word, an empty word in an unfinished song.
Richie HavensJanuary 21, 1941 to April 22, 2013Good night sweet prince

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Shoulder to Shoulder

Marilyn and I had dinner at Pepe’s, our favorite Mexican restaurant in Edmond, tonight. In business since the seventies, gray-haired Pepe is always at the front door, greeting his incoming guests. Pepe has an old—twenty years old, at least—big screen TV in the bar area where Marilyn and I usually eat. Pepe is a newshound, the TV usually on the local or national news. Tonight, as we ate fajitas and quesadillas, we watched the unfolding story of the second Boston Marathon bomber’s capture in Watertown, Massachusetts.

After an all-day lockdown, the citizens of Watertown had poured out to the streets, cheering, yelling, and clapping their hands in admiration as police cars—marked and unmarked—fire trucks and ambulances drove slowly out of the area. The smiles, cheering, and applause continued through the entire meal. They probably continue to cheer in Watertown, Boston, and the entire state of Massachusetts. I felt like cheering myself.

It dawned on me that today is April 19, 2013, the 18th anniversary of another horrible act of terrorism—the Oklahoma City Bombing. The citizens of Oklahoma City were not cheering eighteen years ago on this day, but like the good people of Boston they somehow got through all the carnage and suffering, shaken but not defeated by a cowardly act of terrorism. The faces in the crowd tonight on Pepe’s big screen TV reminded me what a melting pot Boston is. Republicans, Democrats, Independents, Christians, Jews, Muslims, pagans, blacks, whites, reds, yellows, maybe even greens. It did not matter. Everyone was standing shoulder-to-shoulder, everyone applauding, and everyone smiling.

It struck me that what is so powerful and compelling about this country is that we’re a family. A tribe formed by blood and sweat, working, fighting, and often dying for the common good. We hardly ever agree on anything, but when it comes to helping and protecting each other, we stand like those good folks in Watertown, Massachusetts tonight. Together, arm-in-arm, shoulder-to-shoulder.

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