Jamie Greening's Blog, page 22

No Pies Were Harmed In The Making Of This Story

Kathy got us started on our free Thanksgiving stories with a fun space aliens/amish/Christian story on Monday while Rob Cely took us to the dark place and then back again yesterday with a tale of trauma, doubt, belief, and a potty mouthed preacher.

It is my turn today, and I have a fun bit to share. Nothing earth shattering of life changing, but I hope you can find yourself in here as I’m taking the Fondue Writers Club back to its roots with a COVID-19 story wrapped around Thanksgiving. Or is it a Thanksgiving story wrapped around COVID-19?

Mostly it is a character study — six people making the best of a bad situation. I just had a good time writing it and I let myself be carefree, unlike my Halloween tale about Felix and Fortunatus, which I forced myself to be disciplined with every word choice.

I hope you like my story. Come back tomorrow for another FREE STORY.

Six People, Six Pies

Jamie D. Greening

Fondue Writer’s Club 

            Marci pulled her Lexus into the garage. The cobalt blue SUV was filled with all the ingredients needed for Thanksgiving. She sent a quick text to Frank from the car telling him to help her unload the twenty-pound turkey, spiral sliced ham, fifteen pounds of potatoes, pecans, fruit, cheeses, and bottles of wine. After she sent it, she noticed two other texts she’d ignored while driving. The first was from her son, the oldest of two children, telling her they couldn’t come for Thanksgiving because his wife had been exposed to COVID-19 at work and she’d now be under a quarantine that would last well beyond the holiday weekend. Right behind that depressing text was another one from her daughter with much the same story, except this time it was her son-in-law. His boss was in the hospital on a ventilator with COVID-19 which was sad, but it also meant he would have to work through the holiday weekend. Their daughter’s family wouldn’t come either. 

            “Shoot!” she banged on the steering wheel. Then she said, “shoot” over and over in rapid succession until Frank, who finally arrived in the garage, asked, “What happened, did you forget to buy a ham?” 

            “No,” she said. “No one can come. The kids are all quarantined for the holiday. Our son and daughter will not be here, but more importantly my grandchildren will not be here. It looks like it will just be you and me.” She moaned, then said, “How miserable. Just you and me, like every other day of my life.” 

            Frank feigned insult. “Sorry to be so miserable.”

            “Oh, shut up,” Marci said. “You know what I mean. I’ve been thinking about is this Thanksgiving all year long. First, we missed Easter, then we missed the Fourth of Frickin’ July and now Turkey Day. This is the worst year of my life.”

            “I know,” Frank said, “stupid COVID.” That was all he said. They unloaded the groceries without speaking. When they finished, Marci told her husband, “I’m going to the mailbox to see if any more bad news can possibly come today. Maybe we’ll get an eviction notice, or worse, a summons for jury duty.” 

            The Monday mail was only fliers for virtual Black Friday events and a catalogue for useless gadgets.

            The sun had set orange behind the trees, and Marci saw someone walking toward her on the road, but she couldn’t tell who it was until she saw the dog. “Hello there, Chewbacca!” The golden retriever wagged his tail. “How are you and your owner tonight?” 

            “Ruff ruff barky bark” said a young female voice in reply.

            Marci laughed, “And how are you doing tonight, Sandy?”

            Sandy said, “Work was good, everyone is on slow-mode as we enter the holidays, but it doesn’t feel very holidayish at all. Dakota and I aren’t going anywhere?”

            “What do you mean?” Marci asked.

            “We always go to the metro area to be with his folks at Thanksgiving, but that has all been scrapped. His parents are spooked about the virus and all his brothers and sisters have decided to hunker down at their homes. Looks like we’re stuck here with nothing, and I don’t even know how to cook a turkey or bake a pie.” 

            A smile crept across Marci’s angular face. “Our kids told us they couldn’t come this year, too. But, you’re about the same age as they are; why not come have Thanksgiving with us? It’d be great. Let’s say we eat around one in the afternoon?”

            “That sounds fun. Let me talk to Dakota about it. Are you sure it is okay with Frank?” 

            Marci laughed out loud. “Frank does what I tell him. Besides, he’d love to have you guys over. We’ve been talking about it since you moved here back in February.”

            The next morning Frank invited Herb to Thanksgiving while they talked across the fence about winterizing the grass. In the afternoon, Marci walked three houses down to Ellen Baker’s house. Ellen was in her eighties and had been the first person to welcome them to the neighborhood thirty years ago. Though never close, their relationship was cordial and somewhat formal. When Ellen’s husband died five years ago, she’d asked Frank to be a pallbearer.

            Thanksgiving was back on the calendar for Marci and Frank, Sandy and Dakota, Ellen, and Herb. 

***

            Marci reassured everyone she had plenty of food, but that didn’t keep Ellen from making two pecan pies, two pumpkin, a chocolate, and a mincemeat. “Six people, six pies. One pie per person,” Ellen said. “It’s a rule we’ve lived by in my family since we got off the Mayflower.”

            She also brought homemade rolls. “Her bread smells just like my grandmother used to bake,” Frank said. “Hey Marci, why do your rolls never smell this good?”

            “I am sure they smell this good when the baker makes them at the grocery store,” she said.

            Sandy and Dakota brought ice cream of various flavors, a cheeseboard, and a can of cranberry jelly which came in handy as a base underneath the cornucopia to hold the centerpiece upright on the table. 

            Herb brought an eighteen-year-old bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. 

            The six of them talked in generalities about the weather which turned into a conversation about the neighborhood and how it had changed over the years. Ellen told them about the grocery store where the empty lot was. Herb complained about his property taxes going up, Sandy complained about cars driving too fast down the road, and Marci asked if it was true that the house on the end of the street was owned by a tech billionaire. No one knew the answer, but Sandy was certain that same house was occupied by people who lived in some sort of polygamous family because different women and children were always coming and going. 

            When everyone had filled his or her plate, Frank said, “We all know each other, but we don’t really know each other well. So, let me ask one of those open-ended questions designed to get conversation going and help people get to know each other. What book is on your nightstand? Ellen, do you mind going first?”

            “Ah, well, I have several. My Bible is always on my nightstand, but so too is a copy of the recent ‘National Geographic’. I love to look at the pictures.  But right now, I am rereading the Anne of Green Gables series.”

            “Ah, good one,” Sandy said. “I loved Montgomery’s books when I was a kid.”

            “What is grownup Sandy reading?” Marci asked.

            Sandy said. “I’m reading Phil Collin’s autobiography.”

            “Phil Collins?” Frank said. “The singer?” 

            “Yeah,” Sandy said. “My mom recommended it to me. We both love his music.”

            “I would have never called that one.” Frank scratched his head. “How about you, Herb, what are you reading?”

            “The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Not the science fiction one by H. G. Wells. It is easy to get them mixed up.” 

            Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Ellison. Impressive. One of the classics.”

            Herb smiled at Ellen. “It is on my list of one hundred books to read. I hope to finish the list before I die.”

            “How far into your list are you?” Marci asked. 

            “This one is number forty-two.” Herb looked at Dakota. “What are you reading?” 

            “Tech manuals for work. I just got promoted this year and I’ve learned there is a lot I need to learn, so every night I read and study some. It is boring, but it is making me better at work.”

            Herb nodded. “There is nothing boring about wanting to be better at what we do. Well done.” He raised his fork, which had a thick piece of gravy slathered turkey breast, as a salute.  

            Marci blurted out, “Well, I’m reading pure smut – one smutty romance after another.”

            “You’re not supposed to tell people that,” Frank lowered his voice to a fake whisper. “Honey. Remember, we talked.” 

            “Ah, these are our friends. They might as well know the truth. I don’t live a wild and crazy life filled with flings, frolics, and fornication but I enjoy reading about it.”

            “What are you reading?” Sandy asked Frank, clearly not wanting to get bogged down in smutty romances. 

            “Ah,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of chicken and dressing. “I’m reading this clever little collection of short stories called The COVID Quarantine Cantina. They all have a COVID-19 theme to them. It’s like a lot of people locked in a bar and they are sharing stories with each other. Lots of talented authors who no doubt have promising futures in literature.”

            Marci decided they would have dessert and coffee in the den where the fire roared. Light jazz played on a digital speaker. A picture window revealed the raindrops dripping off the autumnal leaves. The wind blew. As they talked, the temperature dropped. The rain fell softer and floated down as snowflakes. A neighborhood tabby cat sat in the crook of the largest tree limb. 

            Inside it was warm. The conversation moved from books to films. Sandy insisted the greatest Christmas movie ever was Love Actually while Frank insisted it was Die Hard. Poor Ellen had not seen either of those, but she believed Meet Me in St. Louis was the greatest. She sang two lines from Judy Garland’s famous song from the film:

            Here we are as in olden days

            Happy golden days of yore

            Faithful friends who are dear to us

            Gather near to us, once more.

Herb kept quiet until Marci made him answer. He said his favorite Christmas movie was The Lord of the Rings. No one challenged him that as great as The Lord of the Rings is, it is not, in fact, a Christmas movie. 

***

            “Whose up for a game?” Marci said.

            “Sure,” Herb said, “As long as it doesn’t involve running, throwing, jumping, or thinking.” 

            “I second that,” Dakota rubbed his stomach. “I can’t move.” 

            Marci brought out various board games, but nothing seemed to fit the mood. Before they knew it, they were sitting around a table playing Go Fish. They played three games, and Ellen won all three. 

            “How do you do it?” Sandy asked.

            “I was a court reporter for thirty years. My brain is wired to remember things. And then play it back.” Ellen winked at her, “My dear, you asked for nines four times in a row.” 

            Marci opened another bottle of wine. Frank, Dakota, and Herb each took a tumbler of the Irish whiskey. Marci handed Ellen a glass of merlot, but Ellen declined. “I prefer grain to grapes, dear,” she giggled. “It is the secret to my long life, so hand me some of that Irish goodness, if you would, Frank.”

            “Alright,” Frank said. When he brought her glass back, he said, “Now everyone needs to tell us what was your best Thanksgiving ever? This will be our last open-ended question. I promise.”

            Dakota started laughing. He whispered into Sandy’s ear and she blushed. 

            “Do tell! Do tell!” Marci shouted as she pointed at them. “What is it?”

            Dakota said, “Our second Thanksgiving we got snowed in and weren’t able to go home. It was a terrible blizzard, the kind that shuts down everything. We weren’t able to leave the house for four days.”

            “That was your best?” Frank said.

            “Yeah. Absolutely. Best ever. Hands down.” Dakota said and Sandy punched him. 

            “Oh dear,” Ellen said. “I think I understand. Pour me a little more that whiskey, there, Herb.” 

            Sandy said, “That was Dakota’s favorite, for obvious reasons, and it was nice, but my best Thanksgiving memory is when I was a little girl. We went to my grandmother’s house and in the afternoon when everyone was watching the football game, I helped her do the dishes. Afterward, we sat in her bedroom and talked. She showed me all the family photo albums and many of her heirloom jewelry pieces. She told me what they all meant and where she’d gotten each one. When we finished, she gave me an emerald ring. Grams told me it was given to her by her grandmother. She said it wasn’t valuable, but it was meaningful.”

            Sandy grabbed the gold necklace around her neck and lifted it up. At the end was an emerald ring. “I don’t trust myself to wear it because it is fragile, so it goes around my neck.” Her eyes watered. “My grandmother died before Christmas that same year. It was a heart attack. I guess because of that, the memory and the ring have always been a treasure to me.”

            Dakota reached out and took his wife’s hand.

            Sandy wiped her cheek, then she asked Marci, “What was your favorite?” 

            “My favorite memory isn’t as great as that one, but it was five years ago. I was still working then, but during the holiday I ditched Frank and all the normal stuff and flew my mother and daughter to Chicago for a girl’s shopping trip. It was awesome. We had so much fun and we spent money with reckless abandon.” 

            “Yeah, I had to a get a part time job delivering pizzas to pay for it.” Frank said.

            “What’s your favorite Thanskgiving, Frank?” Sandy nibbled at a cookie. “You’re always asking us, but what about you.”

            Frank rubbed his chin. “I thought long and hard about that one yesterday, actually. I decided it was the first Thanksgiving after I became a Christian. For the first time in my life, I understood that I was thankful to someone specific for what I’d been blessed with. Up until then, there had always been this nebulous idea of thankfulness within me that was vague and strange. But once I found the Lord, I knew who I was thankful to. I remember when the pastor read out at the worship service the night before Thanksgiving the words from the Psalm, ‘Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name. For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.’ It shook me. I almost had an out-of-body experience when I put the two together, trusting and loving the Lord and thankfulness. I didn’t realize you couldn’t really be thankful without Jesus. It changed everything for me.”

            Dakota sat up. The air in the room changed. “Are you saying,” Dakota pointed at Frank, “That because I am an atheist then I can’t even be thankful? That holidays are just for church people?” 

            It was not the response Frank had expected. He stuttered and shook his head. “No, that is not what I was trying to say. I didn’t mean to offend you,” He looked at his wife. “Marci, you know better what I mean than I do, can you help me out here and tell Dakota what I mean?”

            She patted her husband’s thigh. “Of course. I am happy to bail you out anytime.” She looked into the young man’s eyes. “Dakota, he didn’t mean that as an accusation or an insult to you. What he was talking about was his own perspective. You have yours and he has his. As you might have guessed Frank and I share a lot of the same views. Our faith is very important to us. It wasn’t always. Once, we didn’t think much of it. But then, one day, we did. And since that change has come, it helps us focus. Thanksgiving is a spiritual holiday for us. It is as much about our connection to the Lord as it is anything else. Frank isn’t saying you can’t be thankful if you don’t believe in the Lord, but instead what he means is that for those of us who do believe it adds a layer of meaning that is bonus. It doesn’t take away any of your feelings or thoughts and it certainly doesn’t minimize them. It just makes us think about it from a religious perspective a little differently.”
            “Amen!” Ellen said, as she took a sip of whiskey. 

            Marci took that cue to deflect. “Ellen, you’ve had more Thanksgivings than the rest of us. What was your favorite?”

            Ellen stared into the fire for an awkward moment. “Well, they all run together, to be honest. Turkeys, pies, kids, grandkids.” She cleared her throat. “But I can tell you the worst one ever. It was the year they killed the President. They shot him on a Friday. We buried him on Monday. Thanksgiving was Thursday. It was awful. The whole nation was stunned in mourning. It felt like we’d never be happy or thankful again. Camelot was gone. I’ll never forget the dread.”

            “1983,” Marci mumbled. She looked at Frank and he frowned. “That was our worst Thanksgiving ever.” She took a sip and swallowed hard, harder than the tiny bit of wine required. She said nothing else. 

            Silence remained until Ellen looked at Herb and said, “And you, reader of classic books, what was your favorite Thanksgiving?”

            Herb sighed. “I have spent every Thanksgiving alone for twenty-seven years. I was happy once, but it evaporated. My friends are always busy with their own families during the holidays. I usually eat a frozen pizza, watch a movie and drink too much and pass out.” He looked around the room at each one of them in turn. “Without a doubt, this is the best Thanksgiving I have ever had. I feel privileged that you have shared it with me.”

            “Amen!” Ellen said. “Pour me another drink, Frank.” 

            The six of them soon were eating again, then they watched Die Hard. Frank read three short stories from the book on his nightstand. Herb explained the social and racial dynamics of The Invisible Man. Sandy told how her family ancestry went all the way back to Scotland. Dakota and Frank went for a walk around the block and talked about how similar their jobs were. 

            It was after midnight before Frank drove Ellen home and the house cleared out.          

Active Thanksgiving Drill

Okay, that title might be a bit misleading, but after you read Rob Cely’s wonderful story — “Number 57” you’ll understand. Rob’s story feels familiar in one way, but then it takes you down another familiar path that is markedly different and before you know it, these two familiar paths have collided inside your heart.

This is day two of free Thanksgiving stories from the Fondue Writers Club. Be looking for them through to next Thursday. Click on the biggest spoke plume to read “Number 57”. There is some language, and some of the themes could be upsetting for some readers.

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Captains Log — Stardate THANKSGIVING!

I have wonderful news for you!

Today begins the ‘Thanksgiving Stories” I promised you from the Fondue Writers Club. Each one of us are taking a day to provide a FREE story that has a general theme of Thanksgiving. You’ll recall in the past we’ve brought you COVID Chronicles, Halloween tales, unthemed shorts, and now THANKSGIVING STORIES!

You’re welcome.

Today we start with Kathy Kexel who goes science fiction on us. I am so proud of her. When you read her story, look for my last name in the text. It is in there, I promise. I think she is virtue signaling.

Click on your present location to read Kathy’s logbook narrative, “Other” and come back tomorrow for another FREE Thanksgiving themed story.

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Greenbean’s 2020 Election Analysis

I’ve got some top-notch analysis for you, but first, I want to brag. I was far closer to being right than I was wrong. If you check the blog I posted (click here) the day before the election, you will note the following:

I said Biden would win the ‘blue wall’ which he did. he carried Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. Wisconsin will end up being the closest, although Pennsylvania took more time. I said one of three states will go blue — Texas, Ohio, or Georgia. In my map I colored in Texas (more on that below) but it didn’t and neither did Ohio. Georgia did. They have not called it yet, but Biden’s lead there seems insurmountable unless a recount finds a trove of Trump votes hidden somewhere, which is very, very unlikely.I called Arizona for Biden. There seems to be some doubt about it (and I am not 100% certain Biden’s lead will hold) but it is in Biden’s favor and at the writing of this blog if I were a betting person I would say Biden’s lead will hold because most of the vote that is outstanding is in Maricopa and Pima counties — both places Biden is winning. I said the President would take Florida, and he did. I want to thank my people on the ground in Florida who gave me insight. Florida really wasn’t even close, especially by Florida standards.I had some wildcards out there — like President Trump taking Oregon and President-Elect Biden taking Alaska, but it seems none of those are going to pan out and that is okay, those were reaches and I knew it.The one surprise I had where I was really wrong was North Carolina. I thought President-Elect Biden would take the Tar Heel State but President Trump will win it resoundingly.



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Now, how about some analysis. Let us begin with polling. Again, we learn, the pollsters are really no practical use. They get the margins in states overwhelming wrong. Part of this reason is Republicans always underperform. This was true of Trump in 2016, Romney in 2012, McCain in 2008, and Bush in 2004. What they got right, though, is the national average. They stink at state polling, but nationally they were correct in 2016 and this year. When all the vote is totaled, Biden will likely win the popular vote in American by 7-10 million, which would be in that 5-6% range.

Let’s talk about Texas for a moment because that is where I live. I can’t underscore enough the. thrashing democrats took in this state. Their hopes were so high, but reality came crashing around them at the ballot box. They not only failed to turn the state blue, they didn’t even achieve a purple hue. Republicans took the state house and did very well. Which leads me to more analysis.

Republicans took a lot of state legislatures in this election. That, combined with the gains the GOP made in the House and how they are still defending their senate majority, tells me the nation repudiated Donald Trump but not conservativism. The United States is still, as it always has been, a center-right nation. Joe Biden was a centrist candidate and the nation rewarded him.

I could never, never, in a million years have predicted the angry breakup between Trump’s supporters and Fox News. Fox called Arizona very early and then the AP followed suit in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. As of this writing (10 November 1:25PM CST), CNN, NBC, The Washington Post, and all other reputable organizations have not called Arizona labeling it “Too Close to Call”. Trump supporters viewed Fox as stabbing them in the back. Time will tell if this is simply a lover’s spat that will mend in time or whether it is a divorce. If it is a divorce, I wonder who gets Tucker Carlson in the custody battle?

It seems to me Florida should no longer be thought of as a swing state. It is decidedly ruby red with a blue dot at the bottom. The with margins of victory for republican candidates are similar to Texas. However, Pennsylvania is the new Florida, and Georgia is the new Colorado.

Let’s talk about coalitions. President Trump did very well in this election and received a lot of votes, and surprisingly a lot of votes from the Cuban-American and Venezuelan-American communities in Florida and the Mexican-American communities in Texas. Donald Trump performed very well in The Valley. I have always affirmed that ethnic communities have a strong conservative traditionalists line in them, and if the GOP can put aside its tendency toward racism, then it could have powerful inroads with people of color. By contrast, Black voters turned out in droves for Joe Biden, and that is probably the difference in Michigan, Pennsylvania, and definitely Georgia. As American turns less and less white, it is these demographics that will determine political fates. Both parties better pay attention, and if the DNC is smart, they will appoint Stacey Abrams as their leader.

I have a question that I do not have the answer to; but the question itself is, in some ways, the answer. Will Republicans turn out in these kinds of numbers when President Trump is not on the ballot? They didn’t in 2018, and that led to the Blue Wave. I am assuming he will not run again in 2024. He could, but I assuming he will not. So much of the republican brand is tied up in the personality of the President that I wonder if there will not be a severe drop in enthusiasm.

Something needs to be said about the situation with the transition. Let me be clear: President Trump has every legal right to challenge and question results in court and through democratic processes. That is how we do things in this country. There is no way any of these challenges will hold up, however, as the situation is insurmountable. In 2000 Bush V. Gore we were talking about 537 votes in one state, Florida. What we have here are several states, all of which will (Arizona is the sticky wicket) go to Biden — Nevada, Georgia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin all by thousands of votes. Biden will win Georgia by around 12,000, he is ahead now in Pennsylvania by 45,000 and will likely get close to 60 or 70k, Michigan is around 150k and Wisconsin is sitting at 20k. For comparison, President Trump won Wisconsin by 20k in 2016, Pennsylvania by 40k, and Michigan by 10k. And in 2016 President Trump won fair and square. That is what I said then, and that is true now. Recounts only change a handful of votes where bad math was used or a ballot was mislabeled. It does not affect thousands upon thousands and it will never undo Biden’s electoral college total of over 270. If Pennsylvania is miraculous taken, Arizona, Georgia, and Nevada more than make it up. If Arizona is lost, that is no big, and the same is true of Georgia. The cake is baked. Biden will likely win with 306 Electoral votes –the same number Trump won in 2016. But all Biden needs is 270, and that is already attained.

I have heard people complain about ‘The media doesn’t get to pick the president’ when they complain about what states have been ‘called’. They are correct, the media doesn’t. The states do with their elections. All the media is doing is applying math to the equations so that we can tell who will win. That is all they ever do. Sometimes they make mistakes (Again, Florida, I’m looking at you) but not often. Nothing is official until the election is certified and the electoral college votes. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know who will be certified and who will be elected based on the beauty of math.

Lots of discussion about the Biden heavy late vote in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Georgia. That is not hard to figure out, and no, it is not fraud. President Trump told his supporters not to use the mail-in ballots. Over and over and over again he said that. Democrat’s told their people to use them because it was safer. The result was predictable; The President won the in-person voting, which is tabulated instantly on machines and The President-Elect won the mail-in voting which takes time because it is a paper ballot in an envelope which must be opened and looked at.

To that end, all calls of fraud, rigged elections, and illegal votes needs to stop. That just didn’t happen. I understand being upset if your team lost, but the system works. There are observers, lawyers, and patriots throughout the electoral process and they are wonderful people. There is just no evidence that fraud occurred. Are there clerical errors? Yes. Are there problems with some votes? Yes. Could there have been shenanigans with some people cheating? Yes. But nothing in wholesale amounts, and nothing that is one side or the other. Just as many cheaters, errors, and problems benefit GOP as it does the dems. A good example is in Arizona. The Trump Administration has sued over disputed ballots, but it is only 180 ballots and nobody really knows how those ballots will turn. Conservative Media and social networks keep throwing out ‘Trumps challenges” as if we’re talking about large numbers of votes that could change the totals. We are not. In fact, Republicans, apart from the President, did very well in this election. So, in summary on this point, President Trump lost, but he is legally entitled to challenge because the states don’t certify the elections until much later, with final results due by December 8. We have plenty of time. His challenge will not change anything, so he would be much wiser, and it would be much better for the nation, if he would concede and let us move on.

2020 Election Prediction

It is a Greenbean tradition — to blog predictions about the election. How long have I been doing this? Well, somewhere out there in the interwebscapesingularity is a MySpace page where I have blogged about how I predicted John McCain would lose a close one to Barack Obama and win the Presidency.

For context, click here to see 2012 where I predicted Mitt Romney would be the next President of the United States and 2016 I couldn’t have been more wrong. I didn’t see President Trump winning by 80,000 votes spread out over three significant states. Take everything that comes from this with a gigantic grain of salt. I mean, a boulder of salt. I am just having fun here.

Before I launch into predictions, some housekeeping.

If you haven’t already voted, and you are legally registered to do so, please go vote. Who you vote for is irrelevant to me. Participating in our government will help you grow as a person.Pray. There is a lot of emotion and turmoil — more than I have ever seen — regarding this election. Pray that violence does not erupt and nothing will occur to jeopardize our union. Remember, I am a-political when it comes to analysis. Regardless of who wins the presidency, Jesus is King, and he is my Lord, so my loyalties are to a much higher power than crass politicians who beg for votes so they can wield temporary power in vulgar displays. I have far more important work to do than any politician. My interest is, generally, more about societal trends and trying to read where the country is.

So, that said, let’s do some analysis and prediction.

The President has a solid base — as solid a base as anyone could ever get. His followers, fans really, will crawl through glass and swim in a sea of rubbing alcohol to vote for him. The issue in analyzing things is, that base is only about 43% nationwide. With no third party candidate there it pull votes, will he be able to get to fifty percent? A good baseline example of this is my home state of Texas in 2016. The President received 52% of the vote while Clinton received 43%. Texas is a red state, and on the face of it President Trump won by a comfortable nine points. But he only got 2% above majority. Other candidates and write-ins siphoned off the difference.

How will those break this year? It is hard to tell and to be honest it could all break incredibly close like 2016 or like 2000 in Bush v. Gore. It could break in a singular direction, like 1980 when Reagan and Carter were very close going in, but all the undecideds and I mean all, broke for Reagan which lead to a landslide.

This feels like the latter to me. The national polls still have, as of the day before, Biden at 6.5% ahead and he is leading in all the key battleground states besides North Carolina, and that is a statistical tie.

Of course, none of the polls count. The only poll which matters now is the real poll of who gets the votes.

Florida — Cuban and Venezuelan Americans are breaking for the President, which is a big deal. But senior adults are breaking for Biden in large numbers. Which way will it go? I think Florida stays red, which is an Election Day must for President Trump. He can’t win without it.

North Carolina and Pennsylvania — These are close races, but I perceive these are going blue. Biden picks these up I think by five percentage points. He gets Pennsylvania because of his close ties to the region and he gets North Carolina as a protest vote.

Texas, Georgia, and Ohio — These three are statistically even for both candidates. President Trump carried all of them easily in 2016. I think one of them, I don’t really know which one, but one of them, will turn from red to blue. If I had to lay out good money on it, I would wager Texas goes blue based predominantly upon the amount of early voting, and the turnout in Harris County. Geographically Texas is red — where I live President Trump enjoys great support and he carried my county at 73% four years ago. However, Houston, San Antonio, El Paso, and much of the suburbs in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area are blue to purple, and that is where most of the people live. It’s gonna be close. Keep in mind, if they all three stayed red I would not be surprised, but at least one will flip.

Arizona — Based on the polling for the senate race in Arizona, which has Democratic candidate Mark Kelly ahead by an average of nearly 6%, I think President Trump will loose Arizona.

Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota — President Trump was able to demolish the blue wall by picking off Michigan and Wisconsin in 2016. I don’t think he will do that again. The blue wall returns, which all the polling data indicates, even if adjusted for the kind of errors the polling data showed leading into the 2016 election.

Iowa — This one is the shocker. President Trump has a slim (less than one percent edge) in the Iowa polls right now — at about 46% of the vote. If that other wobbly four percent decides its time for a change, then Iowa goes blue. I predict it does.

Oregon — Is there a state that could flip from blue to red? Is President Trump cooking up a surprise? If I had to guess one, It would be Oregon. Though traditionally blue, there is a very conservative streak to much of Oregon, and the continual rioting and civil unrest in Portland might create a backlash in the electorate. Oregon is a vote by mail state, so they should have the results early in the evening (west coast time).

Alaska — Alaska is notoriously difficult to poll, but something in my gut says their senator, Lisa Murkowski, who is Republican but tends to always be on the other side of President Trump, might know about her state more than others. So, I think there is a possibility it goes from red to blue. We will not know though, until sometime around Thanksgiving.

So, here is my 2020 Electoral Map Prediction:

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So, as you see, I have Vice President Biden defeating President Trump.

Of course, I have been wrong before and will be wrong again, no doubt. However, these are simply predictions. No one knows what will happen until after Tuesday when the polls start closing. The American People get their say, and we will see.

For President Trump to win, he needs to hold everything he had last year, which means he needs to win Arizona, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, all states he is currently trailing by an average of five to six points. It is not impossible, but increasingly unlikely.

The Story Is Free, The Cat Will Cost You

Joe Shaw finishes up our Halloween free stories. As always he reminds us why he is the one his family never turns their back on.

Ever.

Something about this story reminds me of his first COVID Chronicle . . .

This wraps it up for us on this cycle, but we will be back in about three weeks with Thanksgiving stories for you to enjoy, and the COVID Quarantine Cantina is available for purchase on Kindle, paperback, and audio book, so go buy lots of those. That should keep you busy.

Click on the rock skipping across the water to read, “Mindy’s Coming Home Again”.

[image error] Just click the rock. If you click anything else, you’d better go check on your pet

The Story is Free But the Monster Must Be Paid

It is my turn for the Fondue Writers Club free Halloween Story festival. All of the previous stories have been fantastic — mostly ghost stories (although Courtemanche went more sci-fi, and I am proud of him for it). Who doesn’t love a good ghost story!

I did mine a little different, opting for a narrative poem. It is free verse with no discernible meter and intentionally without rhyme. The first draft was in complete rhyme, but it hindered the flow so I I tossed that and opted for this instead. It is not specifically Halloween, as I wrote one of those several years ago (Jolly Rogers — click here to see the Amazon page) so I challenged myself to do something different.

I hope you like it. If you do, please share. If you don’t, don’t tell me or anyone else. You can keep that to yourself.

The Tragedy of Fortunatus and Felix
Jamie D. Greening

I
The world as we know it is filled with fright, tis always been so
None more blood chilling than what lives in the space outside the light
Darkness fills droopy eyes; the sun declines so the moon may rise and that is when the
ear hears the sudden sound, the eye pops open

There is nothing there, no ghost, no spirit, no phantasm sublime
Go back to bed it is nothing, only too many campfire fairy fables
Listen, the wind blows not, no one else is here
The blanket is a shield of woven fabric, a talisman to protect from the midnight dread

Tonight the rustling of leaves in the autumn chill is unfamiliar
The squeak, the grunt, the moan, the wail are not in the library
of the mind
Explanations shoot through the head – a neighbor, a friend, a child, a lover
Call out? Announce? Go and see? Paralysis and silence
Cold sweat

An account unchanged a million times or more
Fright is a lifelong nocturnal companion
happy to discover it is only a neighbor seeking help, a lost horse eating apples, a hungry racoon digging in the garbage or long-lost lover coming to see if there is any love left

Except when it is not

More than the children of humanity admit,
tis a wraith in the night that bangs the door
or slides between the parallax
to suck souls from fleshly flasks, draining blood as a drunk chugs wine on a winter’s eve
The echo sounds like crawling; perhaps it is an owl on the roof, or it could be a fanged phantom or a sharp clawed ghoul with cold blood searching for a way through the planks in the wall

II
Fortunatus and his brother in the juniper thicket
Halfway up the mountain they ate
Roast rabbit and zested roots, tubers dug wild in the woods covered in spices from a leather-bound trinket worn ‘round the neck
With certain sling Fortunatus struck the kit, Felix crushed the head with muddy boots

‘The journey is an adventure’ Felix sang to an ancient ode, ‘Yet favor shines from the lucky star
Tomorrow we climb the mountain and see fair earth as do the birds and the heavenly host swirling in the sky
On the round peak we will drink and recline in the lofts above
Forsaking the river and denying the ferryman his fare
the sons of Tarquinius will conquer mysterious Mount Trepidatio’

Fire warmed four hands and cheeks; brotherly love warmed their two hearts
The younger played his seven-holed flute; they sang of heroes, women, and youth while drinking wine from a flagon Felix filched from father’s storehouse
Just sober enough to make prayers and practice diviners’ arts
‘Protect us, Oh Spirit, from the marauder, the cheat, the jackal, and the dragon’

Sunrise greeted Felix first, he with auburn hair
Herculean Fortunatus shook the campground after dawn
Up they went on their father’s business, up Mt. Trepidatio
Neglected switchbacks and washed out passes slowed their ascent up the long-abandoned path

III
Supper on the summit was meatless, hard bread and salty sauce
No wood for fire, the trees far behind
They shivered in the cold waiting for slumber
Dreamworld came at last, but it did not abide
something loud approached in the dark

‘Who is there?’ Brave Fortunatus cried, ‘Show yourself. We are friends traveling to fair Harbor Town’
No voice replied, no greeting exchanged only the huff of a ravenous roar
The moon was full but hidden by clouds, just then it poked out her shine
There before him a beast, a banshee, behemoth, growled and pounced like a cat

Fortunatus was gone
his body dragged away
into the eternal slumbering dark.

Felix saw little, mostly heard it go down, his brother was supper tonight.
Oh, my brother, the oldest by ten heartbeats, how I loved you and worshipped you, and now you are no more

No place to hide on Trepidatio’s summit, nowhere to run
Exposed and weak, his heart beat beat beat
his breath evaporated; fear stuck to him as a spider’s web clings to a fly
‘Now I shall die, the sons of Tarquinius will be no more forever’

The attacker did not come
Death stayed his hand
Out of the void Felix heard crunch and slurp, the joyful sound of sucking

The sun arose and Felix could see
the world fresh and new and alive
Rock on the mountain leaves no tracks, but blood stains stone
Felix followed not the trail, for he knew it led to the dead
He gathered the camp and descended toward Harbor Town, only a half day away

These are the times when despair turns to hope
Felix believed he had made it through death’s nightmare snare
The sun was out, and his vista was clear; he could see the town below
Danger was past and not present

The hope is false, and the threat is real
The killer will hunger again
Having tasted the blood of one brother, it now craves what flows inside the other

IV
Clenched muscles stood guard through the night then hurried down the mount
Fatigue plagues even the young, but not as dangerous as the skeptics doubt
Felix wiped his tears as the grief took his thoughts
Had he seen a monster? Was it only a leopard or bear? Surely it was not what he thought he saw in the pitch of dark

The trees had returned on his downward journey, and he found one and sat beside it
Under the tamarisk, tears washed his heart, the shade soothed his muscle and bone
In their youth how they played, sticks were swords and valiant spears
In swift river they swam
In fields they ran
Everywhere they went they laughed
Fortuantus the swifter and stronger, Felix the clever and nimble. The sons of Tarqinius were famous throughout the village
playful boys filled with the daemon of mischief

Was it a game, a prank, some joke Fortunatus had planned
Was he gone now? Was it real?
Was he already at Harbor Town laughing in the tavern?
Under the canopy he cursed, for strong Fortunatus was dead
He knew it true for he felt the absence in the part of him where no words existed, where nothing e’er needed be said

V
Deep sorrow squeezes from a person a horrible sound; the force of wind and the mind pressing up and down through the body, pushing life itself out and away from the human composition and into the evaporating ether
Shouts, moans, sobs and screams
Begging, pleading, cursing, praying
Betwixt these hideous noises a supernatural silence lingers, like a gazelle lingering too long at the water’s edge when the crocodile is just waiting to bite
A quiet such as in the temple of worship or the nursery of a sleeping baby; a special silence reserved only for holy, hope, and hurt.

In one of these supernal silences Felix heard he was not alone

The road to Harbor Town to his left
To his right, his brother’s killer
Closer to Felix than ten horse lengths
The predator had quarried his prey

The stench, whether from festering blood black on the matted brown, or from the back of the throat of the four-fanged beast, was like unto the tanner’s shop
Fetid meat, maggots, and bile
Curved horns looped round and round and came to lethal points
It stood like man, screamed like woman
Lunging toward Felix

To this side, then to that
Nimble and quick on his feet
Fortunatus’ brother escaped the sharp claw, but
not before it tore through his tunic and skin; hot
blood ran down his leg

VI
No sword or shield he carried
The sling was lost with his twin
The only hope he had to live
Was to outrun the fiend

In direction, he erred, as he fled from the shrub
Uphill he ran where doom awaited, rather than down
to where people could help
The village below was his one salvation
but he went up as if to die

The predator announced with boisterous breath and abominable bellows
Time slipped from the young man, the joy of life and hope of a future were crushed with every step
Alas, man is not brute, woman is not savage
Humanity is gifted with nobility
The knowledge of art and the desire of dignity abides in every person’s beating heart
Whether inspiration or desperation, teller nor hearer shall e’er know
But Felix stopped in his shoes and turned on his heels and looked at the creature that chased hard.

‘I can’t outrun you
I can’t out fight you
Your strength is greater than mine
So, before you devour me, please allow me, a song with which to end my life’

VII
The unlearned creature did not understand, fangs covered in froth and breath out-of-control
Confused, it rested on haunches while Felix
produced from his pouch the seven-holed flute
From memory he played the one his father loved, the favorite
tune of Tarquinius
An epic about love and home and hearth, the ballad of ancestors and lore

Two bars in, the animal became placid, resting in blessed repose
Six bars in and Felix’s notes faltered; from the forest emerged two juveniles of same fur and fangs but without the looped horns
Three more arrived, and then one more
By the third stanza there were twelve
All in rest, calmed and docile
Tamed by Felix’s flute

Over and over he played the same melody, tip toeing
downhill toward town.
He kept playing and playing, the things kept
arriving, now almost twenty in the crowd

He played on and on until out-of-sight
Then he ran with all speed
until at last upon a farmhouse he
fell at the outskirts of Harbor Town

VIII
‘That’s not true!’ the child said with a squeal, ‘Grandpa
you made that up’
The old man replied, ‘Thus true I do swear,’ as he showed six deep scars on his side.
‘Off of Mt. Trepidatio stay, take the river always, pay the ferry toll, come what may’ He picked up his flute and played his grandchildren a lullaby
A tear fell from his eye for his long gone twin
Remember strong Fortunatus forever

Free Hot Chocolate And Goose Bumps

This story is like a car trip. You’re in the passenger seat, and just about the time you think you’ve figured out where the driver is taking you, she or he turns left unexpectedly. Then, you readjust yourself and you think you know where the car is headed now, but the driver turns right and you don’t have a clue where this is headed.

That is exactly what Rob Cely does to us with today’s free Halloween story, “The House on 159 Cedar Hill”. I think you’ll enjoy it. Do keep in mind that because it is Cely, there is an occasional swear word (I think Rob is a Presbyterian), which is not normal for the Greenbean blog, but you’ve been warned.

Before I give you the link two bits of news from the Fondue Writers Club. First, we have committed to writing you short stories for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays as well, so be on the lookout for those. Second, our collection of COVID themes stories is available for preorder. It is called “The COVID Quarantine Cantina”. Go preorder fifteen copies at Amazon right now. Do it!

Click on the cup of hot chocolate to read “The House on 159 Cedar Hill”, if you dare!

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The Candy is Free – So is The Grace But The Battle Royale Will Cost You

If you like angels, demons, fights, and punchy social commentary mixed with grace then have I got a deal for you! Paul Bennett has given us a great story that takes place on Halloween night, which is perfect for our Free Halloween Stories here at the Fondue Writers Club. And because it is Paul Bennett, it starts with a beautiful description of trees.

Tomorrow, Rob Cely is up and then I am on the schedule for Thursday.

Click on the bowl of Halloween Candy to read Paul’s wonderful “The Visitation – A Halloween Tale”.

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Guest Blog Post — Voting

Last week my co-worker, Kelly Trapane, posted on Facebook about her voting experience with her daughter and connected that with her parents. I asked her to consider turning that it into a blog post for me. She agreed, and here it is.

I share her story because voting is important. It is a right which has been preserved with the blood and sacrifice of generations of Americans. It is your civic duty to vote, to vote informed, and to vote your passions. We all have different ideas about how things should go, but voting is a shared value we all celebrate. I hope you enjoy Kelly’s story.

[image error] Kelly and her daughter Faith Voting

I had the most amazing day today! My daughter turned 18 over the weekend and I accompanied her to vote for the very first time. It was an honor to go with her! 

This being the year that the 19 amendment celebrates 100 years, it is not lost on us either! Did you notice my tee-shirt? I’m so thankful to the many brave women who paved the road 100 years ago. Today, my daughter and I cast our votes side by side in Marble Falls.

[image error] Madam Mayor herself in 1917
Click the pic to learn some history

Fun fact- Marble Falls elected a female mayor three years before the 19 the Amendment. Ophelia “Birdie” Harwood. 

When I was a child growing up in Houston, Texas, my elementary school was a polling location. I remember watching my parents come in to vote. They arrived dressed in their Sunday best. It was happenstance that I was even in the cafetorium when they arrived.

[image error] Kelly and her parents in 1970

We were on “silent lunch” to accommodate the voters and I waited in the lunch line hoping that the lunch plate wasn’t Salisbury steak. Being a gentleman, my Dad directed my Mom to go first.  One at a time I watched as my parents entered the booth. The curtains swished closed. I wondered what it looked like in there and who they were voting for. Then, the curtains swished open and they were finished.  I watched from a distance as they interacted with the other voters and volunteers.  They seemed happy. They joked with a neighbor, laughed (Dad had a big laugh!), and smiled. They waved to me and left. I remember asking them who they voted for. They never told me. It was private. 

[image error] An Old fashioned Voting Booth

Do you remember the first election you voted in?