Nathaniel Sewell's Blog, page 30

Thank you, USA Today!

I thought I would draw a little attention to an innocent article from the USA Today. I think the article, and some additional information, and a brief excerpt from Fishing for Light are a perfect opportunity to focus on the satires themes. I know some of the reviewers have found the satire a bit ‘wacky’ for their tastes, which I think is fair enough. But if you take a journey with me down this blog post, I think you’ll find the information useful for your everyday life, and I think you’ll begin to notice how our governments continue to creep into our every nook and cranny.

‘Pentagon, scientists closing in on rapid DNA technology’

http://www.usatoday.com/story/nation/2014/01/27/rapid-dna-scanning-technology/4828285/

I provided a brief excerpt from Fishing for Light, the beginning of Chapter 3. The IRS agents are bit, cliché, on purpose, but I did create on point names for the agents, as in, Machiavelli and Prince. If you have not read the work, The Prince, by Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, you might not get the satirical undercurrent for these characters. I like the reference so much, here is  a link from Biography.com: http://www.biography.com/people/niccol%C3%B2-machiavelli-9392446

And just so you realize people really do buy and sell human DNA over the internet, I think the below link might surprise you.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7796991.stm

I hate to make the story elements obvious, which I think they are, but for my purposes to draw attention to an issue, I want to ‘tell’ and not ‘show’ the serious themes that swim beneath the story undercurrent. I’ll pose a question, and I wonder what responses I’ll get, if any, but here goes.

If you gave a nice policeman at a DUI roadblock a swab from inside your mouth, you had not been drinking, you were being a good, law abiding citizen, what would, and could they do with your DNA?

—————————————————

Chapter 3

Down the interstate highway system, as Eddie sipped bland coffee, inside an innocuous steel building within Nashville’s light industrial warehouse district, a secret IRS unit toiled. Reflected hellish lamp light splashed across Agent Prince’s freckled face. He swiftly picked up his office phone.

“Prince?” Agent Machiavelli asked.

“I think I’ve got the type perp you’ve been looking for,” Agent Prince said as he steamrolled his pudgy fingers through his buzz cut red hair.

“Why? Hold that thought,” Agent Machiavelli said. Agent Prince watched him strut from his supervisor’s desk from the center of the open floor planned cube world, acknowledging a few subordinate agents. He shifted in behind Agent Prince. “What’s up?”

“I noticed him, name is, ah, Calhoun, first name, Jim Bob.”

“Fake name, who names their kid Jim Bob?” Agent Machiavelli said. He snorted. “That’s just cruel.”

Agent Prince peeked up at his devilishly calculating boss.

“The guy’s been selling autographed items, and believe it or not, athletic supporters on WePay,” Agent Prince said.

“Now that’s bizarre,” Agent Machiavelli said. He grinned. “I guess it would make sense, organic material.”

“I cross-referenced him and investigated. He has used his credit card, just last week, he purchased a home theater system, and had a lot of on-line, ah, activity.”

“So?” Agent Machiavelli said. He chuckled. “You’re such a rookie, calm down, I’ve been at this for a longtime, don’t get your emotions involved, clouds your judgment.”

“It’s true, that’s what got my attention,” Agent Prince said. He shrugged. “But he’s not unique, Scarletto Johnsonvillia, that Italian beauty queen. She blew her nose on the Jay Leonardo TV show. They auctioned the tissue on WePay, I think they got several grand for it.”

“Yeah, we checked that out, before your time,” Agent Machiavelli said. “It’s creepy, it’s not illegal, yet. Higher ups are lobbying to control buying and selling of all human organic material, but nobody messes with the IRS, we’ll keep these or this bumpkin under control.”

NS

Father Figures

Life is complicated. We are born into an uncertain world, and then as the cliché goes, life happens. I hope before I can no longer communicate via the written word, I can share a few useful thoughts and observations. I wrote Fishing for Light as a satire because to write the story as pure literary fiction would be to painful for me. I learned a lot from Bobby’s Socks. I prefer to encourage the reader to laugh, rather than cry.

I’ll explain an underlying theme to watch for from within the story, it repeats itself several times. If you read the below excerpt from Fishing for Light, the scene starts on a Monday morning. Eddie was about to leave for work, but the sound of the rain outside his apartment took him back to a happy childhood memory. The memory was of his father, and mother, a typical, every day morning before his father would leave for work. In many ways, if you read it closely, it is a harbinger.

Since I’ve had my own personal traumas, and had close friends and family leave us without warning, I’ve watched what happens to those I love.  And I know deep inside what if feels like to lose a close friend. I think once you lose that anchor in your life, that special mentor, and by the way, I think it can be a mother, father, whomever that helped to guide your life, but from that day forward you might feel a bit lost.

In my mind, even though Eddie had magic DNA thanks to Professor Quan and Captain Lovins, it did not really matter. He felt lost. I think motivation comes from hope and love. If you read past the intended absurdity, what Eddie lacked was a fatherly influence, and that gentle push to pick himself back up, and charge forward into life. I think that ability is the most valuable skill you can learn. If you look at it from a Biblical – New Testament view, the trick was that Jesus got up.

At the end of Fishing for Light, I had to figure out how to get Eddie what he needed – the skills to fight.

————————————————————

“Goofball,” Eddie said, “but he can sure peddle cars.” He sighed. He muted the one-way communication tube. He shut his eyes. He sat motionless for several minutes listening to the rain sizzle against his apartment building. It sounded like bacon frying in his mother’s cast iron skillet. When he was a little boy, the smoky, sugar cured fragrance was his alarm clock. He would spring out of bed, wide-awake, wearing his Superman Underoos; his red gossamer cape was his spinnaker sail as he scampered downstairs toward the kitchen.

“Why it’s a bird? No, no, now don’t tell me,” Adam said. He had black Elvis like hair, kind eyes and a velvety smooth southern accent.

“I’m not a bud,” Eddie said in child speak. His tiny fingers gripped into his father’s left thigh. He smiled up at his father’s still youthful face.

“Hey love, who can this, be?” Adam asked Sophia. Adam patted Eddie on the back, as he sipped his black coffee from a tall white mug.

“Dear me, I’m not sure,” Sophia said. She turned away from the double oven full of baking buttermilk biscuits. She wiped her hands off with a bright, sunflower printed apron.

“I’m super me,” Eddie said. He giggled and wiggled. He stood up on his red stocking tiptoes, arms stretched wide apart as if about to take flight to protect Nashville.

“Wonderful, but I think you mean, Superman,” Adam said. He chuckled. “Come sit a spell and eat your oatmeal, you need lots of energy to save the planet from the communists.”

“What’s a common-est?” Eddie asked as he crawled up onto his fathers lap.

“Never mind Superman, let me spoon you up some delicious oatmeal,” Adam said.

“I don’t white oat meal.” Eddie crinkled his face.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Adam said.

“Listen to your father,” Sophia said. She pointed her forefinger over at Adam. “Someone’s cholesterol was a bit high.”

“Yap, yap, yap-” Adam winked at Eddie, as he held him close.

Eddie giggled. He looked at his father. It was the one time of day that they would talk, and his father was not distracted with the afternoon newspaper. His father loved bacon, just a little crisp, eggs sunny side up with plain wheat toast. And it was Adam who had taught Eddie the secret to drinking coffee. His coffee not concealed with sugar, cream, or any of that frap-a-lap-a-whatever that might silently alter your body.

“Son, it’s like life, learn to drink it black, then you’ll never be disappointed,” Adam said. He hugged his son. “And always know, I love you-”

“Okay, pa,” Eddie said.

Nom de plume

I had an old friend ask me, “Dude, what’s up with the pen name?”

I have several reasons I write using the pen name, Nathaniel Sewell. First off, after I wrote Bobby’s Socks, my wife wondered if I’d want my young nephews and nieces to read the novel, and know it was my creation. Since the story is about the epi genetic link from child sexual abuse and suicide, the answer was – NO!

For the most part, Nathaniel was chosen because we like the name. We are not parents by choice, not from any form of genetic defect, or me ‘shooting blanks’, although I do like to go ’shooting’. But if we had had a boy, we’d have named him, Nathaniel. If you want to travel all ‘Downton Abbey’ with me, an conjure an upper-crust English accent, “Yes, yes old boy, Nathaniel, quite nice, yes, quite – proper, wouldn’t you say?” And all the men in the wood paneled, Cuban cigar smoke filled study would respond with either a hearty, “harrumph, harrumph,” or ,”yes, yes … yes.”

The last name, Sewell, comes from my grandfather’s first name.  He was a preacher, and lived an amazing life. He met my grandmother, Hazel, in 1926 near downtown Los Angeles, California, not far from the shadow of the LA County Library and where route 66 terminated. If you want to understand what being in ‘love’ is all about, think about meeting someone, getting married to them, and driving across the country in a Model A Ford into the heart of Appalachia? If you read from the below link, you’ll get a basic idea why I chose the last name.

http://www.breathittcounty.com/00-03103.html

Growing up, I rarely told my friends about them. I didn’t think they would understand, you see, the city of Lexington, Kentucky would make for a perfect setting for a daytime soap opera. “Genoa City, it ain’t got nothin’ on us!” I mean you have all the major vices, tobacco, bourbon, horses, gambling, lots of wealth, a litany of ‘wanna be’, within the back loop of the Bible belt. And sprinkle in the fact I grew up a Southern Baptist, and my grandfather had a thriving Brethren Missionary ministry. And I have several familial sugar plums I could add to this complicated history, but I think you’ll get the point I am making. (I guess it might make for an interesting novel, hmm, hmm?)

I used to travel with my grandmother, Hazel, through the corkscrewed, narrow roads of Eastern Kentucky. She was a nurse, and would go out and pay visits to the folks for a variety of health care reasons. I’ll write about her another time, but it is needless to say, I have been to, and seen poverty, depravity that would cause most people to scream and pull out their hair. And as Jim Bob Calhoun might say, “Eddie, it be smack inside this here, United States, no kiddin’.”

Now, Nathaniel Sewell is my literary brand. If you take a close look, I decided to go all in with the author photo. It was professionally taken by Dr. Sharon Langendorfer.  I mean come on, I have thick, bouffant hair, I’ve never had a pimple on that pasty white, apple pie face, add in the color coordinated bow tie, blazer with puffed silk pocket square, and snap your fingers and yell with Christopher Clayton, MANIFEEK!

“Ladies, and gentlemen, boys, girls, and those happy creatures roaming about the fairyland forest, I give you, the one, the only, Nathaniel Sewell!”

NS

(PS ~ And if you are curious, yes, I’m wearing colorful, woven socks, Bobby’s socks.)

 

 

 

The IRS

“But when a secret IRS unit was nearby monitoring Eddie and his bumbling childhood friend’s conversation about peddling unique autographed material on WePay, they arrested Eddie’s friend for tax evasion. In reality, the IRS was on a gestapo like mission to track down anyone trading living organic material that might lead them to Professor Quan and his laboratory where he hid the real Hope Diamond.” ~Fishing for Light

Fishing for Light is a satire, and the format allows the author, that’s me, to take the reader on a wild, conspiracy filled ride. In fact, I had not considered the current political season when I originally created the story, but now, GEEZ!

I thought I would make a few observations, I did not use the word, ‘Gestapo’ at random or to use it as a cliché. The Gestapo was the ‘secret police for Nazi Germany’. So, let me go all ‘crazy conspiratorial’ and ask a question, what if the IRS could arrest or investigate an American citizen based on their genetic profile? I know, rather a crazy thought, but what if every American had to provide a DNA sample to the government? As in give unto Caesar and the family heads to Bethlehem once a year to check in with the local authorities. If you think that’s absurd, I recommend you read the below link.

https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/national-dna-database-annual-report-2012-to-2013

Now, if you go roaming about the internet, there are cyber rafts filled with conspiracy theorists about the Nazi plan to alter the drinking water, food, and the like to control the population. But the no so funny aspect within the story for Fishing for Light, given the advances with computing power, genetic science and the like, it is not that far afield to wonder if a character like a Ms. Prosperina or an organization might figure out a method to ‘manage’ humanity without ever firing a shot. And so, the reader might take Fishing for Light as funny, and absurd, but with a satire, perhaps the reader might wonder.

NS

Plastic Faces – What’s behind the mask?

The next time you are at the grocery store, and just before you get to the cashier, take a look around, and think about what you see?

In part, the idea behind Fishing for Light was spawned from all those ‘plastic, dead-eyed faces’ – pasted to the colorful wall of glossy gossip magazines. I wonder at what point did ‘those people’  give up their souls and become human avatars? By the way, the noun, AVATAR, comes from Hinduism. There are several definitions, I’ll use this one: “a manifestation of a deity or released soul in bodily form on earth …” Within the story, Ms. Prosperina can shape shift into several rather nasty appearing beasts, in fact, the three that I use come from evil religious symbols, one of which comes from Hinduism. But, we’ll chat about that another time, I want to focus my view of ‘plastic, dead-eyed faces’.

First off, I don’t think there is anything wrong with plastic surgery, if it gives someone a boost of confidence, I say go for it! But what I’m focusing on is the fact gossip magazines are a one-way communication source. And the ‘fan’ does not really know what those plastic faces are really thinking, in reality, the ‘reality star’ has created a ‘brand’, and if you watch a television show, movie, sporting event, or read the magazine, you are simply buying a product. I have to give them credit, they are being really smart entrepreneurs!

I mean, take a look at my website, I’ve created my brand, right? But since I’m writing this blog post, you do know what’s going on behind my hazel colored eyeballs. And that’s the  point behind Fishing for Light, I created a bunch of fictionalized famous people, put my characters into the scene, then I jumbled the names.  Why? Professor Quan created a genetic wish list, and he discovered each target had magic DNA within the genetic code! I know, that is absurd, but that’s also why Fishing for Light is a satire.

I think as an American, we are all a bunch of jumbled DNA, we are not ‘purebreds’. From my hometown of Lexington, Kentucky, the thoroughbred is king! In fact, a friend of mine, Finn, explained to me years ago that each thoroughbred’s blood line can be traced back to the original stallions that were crossbred with English mares. And they are quite serious about those names you read on the racing form, it is a very structured, high risk business, and not for the ‘faint of heart’.

But more to the point, I think we are all ‘mutts’, Italian, Scot, Irish, Chinese, Japanese, African, you name it, we express our ancestry in many ways, but the one unified theory, if you will excuse the quantum physics pun, we are all Americans. And I think it sad that instead of taking what talents we have and seeking our destiny, we tend to live our lives vicariously through those famous faces, and like the Roman mob giving a thumbs up, or thumbs down.

We don’t need someone else’s DNA to be special, we just need to focus our mind and energy into listening to our instincts, and a light will appear and guide us to the place we should be, which is why the last sentence for the novel is, “He was home.”

 

The Millennial’s!

The Millennials! No wait, it’s – The Gen-Xers! No wait, it’s - The Generation Y’s! Or maybe, The Baby Boomers! Hmm, and who are those, The Silent Generation? And if they are SILENT, then how do we know they exist? I can go on, and on … and yes, Eddie Wilcox, the main character from Fishing for Light, represents, The Millennials.

To me, these Advertising/Political labels are used to divide and conquer us.  They read like a new major motion picture action adventure ‘cartoon series’ with the voices of several famous ‘DNA Olympic’ champions getting paid some serious coin. OR, it could be the most recent version of an interactive video game that allows the user (The Millennial!) to disappear into an indoor, digital vortex. Don’t you just love those video game commercials? For a tidy $39.99 credit card charge, you boys and girls are so, so brave to save the planet from the evil forces the Higgs-Boson’s! (I bet Earl Scheib would be proud.)

At least a Civil War reenactor has to ‘think’ about the history, pick the correct uniform and actually travel to the battle site to ‘relive history’. Yeah, they know they aren’t going to die, but they do know they are walking in the boots for a real human being who DID die on that battlefield. I didn’t just randomly create, Clevenger Rollins (Eddie’s boss), for some wacky character to amuse the reader.

What’s the difference between submerging your mind into a video game, their current reality, versus diving into a theoretical wormhole? If you don’t have any ‘HOPE’ for a real future, a career, a family, something to be passionate about – LOVE. Then why even care what’s going on around you in this version of the universe? (Shh! I’ll whisper this hint from Fishing for Light, if you promise not to tell anyone, I think that’s part of Ms. Prosperina’s plan to control the population while she transforms the planet.)

“Lost in a cosmic sea, Edward sensed the Iris Nebula watched him from afar, attracting him with powerful magnetic currents to seek unknown destinations. To swim within a tidal wave crashing against an endless sandy shore, as if his foamy bare essence was naked to a blue moon.” ~ an excerpt from Fishing for Light.

I guess George Washington would be part of the pre-Revolutionary Generation? I wonder what Benjamin Franklin would say about modern America?

http://www.nps.gov/museum/exhibits/revwar/image_gal/indeimg/armchair.html

NS

 

Erectile Dysfunction – Solved!

It occurred to me last night, I should share part of Chapter 13, the reason, you might not realize that from the novel, Fishing for Light, I wrote about the moment Professor Quan solved, erectile dysfunction. I know, I know, sex sells! And there are a zillion ‘boner-pill’ television commercials. Sorry, the fact they are on the flat screen every 3 minutes, and the voice over actors calming voice with actors that appear to longingly grin at each other with plastic faces, simply stated, they give me the ‘creeps’. But they could give Professor Quan some credit, I mean he solved the medical condition all the way back in the 1960′s!

Warning: TMI alert! In my other professional career, I do know about an “erection that might last more than 4 hours.” I had a malpractice claim, I’ll not share the ugly details, but the medical term is ‘priapism’. And to my twisted mind, and entertainment, the word comes from mythology, the Greek god – Priapus.

Thus the below excerpt from Fishing for Light~ If you want to find out what he does with his discovery, you’ll need to read Chapter 15, and then, as they say, history happens at an Uncle Waldo’s Boathouse and Rib joint in Memphis, Tennessee.

“Well, thank ya,thank you very much, now take care, Tex,” Elvis said.

“Chapter 13

 

Forged to their life long mission, after completing an exhaustive search, Professor Quan and Captain Lovins determined the ideal location for their lair was within the southeastern corridor of the United States, known as Appalachia. After they secretly acquired a vast track of land from a mining company that bought some of their unique diamond tipped drill bits, land that they had removed most of the mountaintop, Captain Lovins skillfully built the laboratory complex within a dead coalmine. The region’s forgotten inhabitants were made up of mob informants under witness protection, clannish hillbillies and their unlucky spawn. They ignored the mysterious alchemy going on up in the deep, dark, woods full of imagined magic fairies, giant Cyclops, and sinister leprechauns bouncing in and out of our dimension. And the new kids in the hills, a tough, bald headed soldier, and a ticked-off mad scientist. They happened to make drill bits for mining and excavation companies.

One fateful afternoon Professor Quan, with total commitment to his science, he extracted several pints of his own blood.

“Hate, stinking, needles,” Professor Quan said. He squirmed and held his breath. Using a rubber tourniquet, he penetrated his left arm near the elbow with a number three gauge needle attached to an evacuated collection tube. With a tiny sample, through his use of the Golden Ratio, he calculated the exact cross-linked polymer gel composition. He blasted the mesh network of polyacrylamide with a lightning bolt-like electrical current he had focused through the Hope Diamond. The intense beam of pure energy made the substance appear as if a massive earthquake shook the gel residue with hydrodynamic friction as if the earth’s surface had turned to grains of sand. He then stained a brilliant blue dye along the particle strip, which caused his individual molecules magically to appear. He then flooded the specimen with intense UV light and snapped a photo. Under a powerful optical microscope, he had customized to view below 200 nanometers; Professor Quan peered into the view lens. His vision blurred as he inspected his own genome. All of his genetic information stripped bare.

“I knew it!” Professor Quan said.

Nearby repairing Professor Quan’s autoclave, Captain Lovins rushed into the lab.

“What’s up?” Captain Lovins asked.

“I can map my DNA. I know where the genes hide,” Professor Quan said. His hands shook. “They can’t hide from me, I know how to find them. I don’t know exactly what they do, yet, but-”

“Amazing,” Captain Lovins said. He smacked Professor Quan on the left shoulder. Professor Quan webbled, but he did not wobble off his feet. Captain Lovins snapped his fingers.

“What do those hippies say?” Captain Lovins asked.

“Far-out man,” Professor Quan said. He and Captain Lovins cackled. “I did it, man.”

Captain Lovins glanced around the laboratory at the collection of scientific equipment.

“When do we attack?” Captain asked.

“First, we need an efficient delivery method?” Professor Quan said. He puckered his lips. “That’s my next trick, might take me some time, I can isolate genes, deliver them in an easy, simple way that will minimize detection. I know for certain I can alter IQ’s, I can use my profile to boost their IQ’s.”

“Good point,” Captain Lovins said. “Not just going to walk up, hey take this pill, it’ll help you get smart, sense evil.”

“Exactly,” Professor Quan said.

“Teach a child to fish,” Captain Lovins said.

“To fish for the light inside them,” Professor Quan said. “Boost their ability to absorb information, think critically.”

Sparked by his discovery, Professor Quan realized the main obstacle was to devise an efficient method of implanting maturing adolescents with his amazing DNA structure. Once inside a maturing human body, Professor Quan’s DNA would act like Epi genes. The new genes would simply swim through the blood stream and submerge into the human tissue, and find defective gene instructions, and simply overlay the targets helical structure like rungs along a twisted ladder.

For several weeks, he contemplated and searched his psyche for a simple answer to his dilemma. Late one night, unable to sleep, as he sprayed for bugs, an idea exploded within his supernatural brain as he carefully examined the spray canister.

“That’s it,” Professor Quan said. Sequence my genetic code using the Golden Ratio, blast it with the Hope Diamond. Infiltrate the specimen with unique blue light, like the uniqueness of a Blue Moon, he thought. It is all so simple now; create a biochemical reaction causing a unique peptide chain.

“Non-sexual, re-reproduction,” Professor Quan whispered.

“What’s wrong with you?” Captain Lovins said as he walked into the lab.

“Nothing, nothing to worry about-”

Professor Quan paced and circled his subterranean lair. He thought about all the infinite possibilities. However, he needed to set up an experiment to test his hypothesis. He watched Captain Lovins disappear into the elevator.

“A fireman, I know,” Professor Quan said. He snapped his fingers. “Every male’s dream, solve erectile dysfunction, forever.” He cryptically chuckled. He scampered over to his microscope. He scanned along his DNA helical strands. He located the exact gene he perceived affected his libido. He knew Captain Lovins had more testosterone than a sixteen-year-old Spanish bullfighter did.

After he made the exact calculations with the Golden Radio, he picked apart the genetic material like a Swiss Watch maker. He removed his gene and replaced a synthetic specimen gene from Captain Lovins’ DNA sample. He injected the liquid, mixed with a mild narcotic inside the spray cartridge, similar to an asthma inhaler with hydrofluoroalkanes to propel the liquefied material into a gaseous particle concoction.

Aware his brand of science would either alter his life or kill him, he reviewed each step from his experiments notes. He closed his eyes. He triggered the inhaler device into his mouth and allowed the spray to coat his pinkish tissue. He collapsed on his strata lounger. He waited.

Within a few moments, the potion caused Professor Quan to hibernate for several hours. When he awoke, he stalled. He played with his kaleidoscope. He whistled the Battle Hymn of the Republic. He knew he felt invigorated and a bit, weird. He stared up at the ceiling painted powder blue, dotted with wispy white clouds. He thought about a hot babe he knew from Briar Hill. He could clearly see her beautiful face. Then he took in a deep exaggerated breath, and peeked under his pants.

“Oh gracious, it works,” Professor Quan said. He pushed his horizontal flagpole to half-mast and scurried down a narrow dimly lit corridor. He scrambled into his genome therapy rooms.

The square shaped room had a lanky library ladder with rubber wheels attached to a golden slide. Four flat walls, taking account for the doorway, covered floor-to-ceiling with conical flasks. Each vessel sealed with a thin rubber membrane and identified in blue, red or black ink, with corresponding names, dates and numbers. Professor Quan glanced around the room. He tapped his lips with his forefinger.

“A cowboy with a slow Texas drawl,” Professor Quan whispered. “I always wanted to have a reason to wear my white Stetson Hat and lizard skin boots, let me think.” —

NS

(I love satire.)

Satire – what in the world is Fishing for Light?

Well, I think as an artist, you need to be willing to accept the good with the bad, and not be afraid to go down the ‘black diamond’ slope. I specifically added – ‘a satire’ after the novel’s title to give a potential reader a hint as to the stories true nature.

As you will note, I pasted the definition of satire at the bottom of the this post because the one aspect I’d point out, I do not believe in ‘ridicule’ or ‘derision’. I prefer to try and provide absurd humor, or exaggeration to common situations. In this case, the essence of the story is about Eddie, a current twenty something’s journey to find purpose and meaning. As Professor Quan and Captain Lovins open his eyes to an evil and corrupt world (Ms. Prosperina), that has stolen all hope for a happy future.

The reason I used a ‘baby’ on the book cover is from the first chapter, Captain Lovins breaks into the Wilcox home to find the infant, Eddie. I mean think about it, a NAVY SEAL does a home invasion to sprinkle Professor Quan’s epigenetic dust across Eddie’s lips? And Professor Quan picked Eddie randomly out of the Nashville newspaper because he was born at the exact moment of the 1990 Winter solstice – remember my previous post, and the mythological story of Alcyone? Now that is a wacky premise and setup.

sat·ire

ˈsaˌtīr/

noun
noun: satire




1.


the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people’s stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.




synonyms:
mockery, ridicule, derision, scorn, caricature; More


irony, sarcasm
“he has become the subject of satire”

Life Trauma – Genetic Marks

http://discovermagazine.com/2013/may/13-grandmas-experiences-leave-epigenetic-mark-on-your-genes

I pasted above an article from Discover Magazine, I think it might be interesting because it explains, in part, why I wrote, Fishing for Light and Bobby’s Socks. I had wondered how I might use this article. Well, today is the day, and I’ll explain at the end of this post what motivates me to keep writing, even though my audience is ‘tiny’ and at present I have ’1′ fan on Goodreads.com, and yes, it’s my wife. Perhaps I should have patented a duck call? Maybe not, I have a really pathetic beard and it’s molting gray-ish.

First, being a dork, I want to share what I like  to read about. I started reading about ‘epigenetics’ several years ago, after I noticed an article about the link between child abuse and suicide. I know, this is a ‘heavy’ subject. But if I were a parent, or I have a loved one in my life that has a traumatic background, I would want to read this article.  This is knowledge that can save a life. But first, below, I quoted from the article, a good definition of the term, ‘epigenetics’.

“One such extra element is the methyl group, a common structural component of organic molecules. The methyl group works like a placeholder in a cookbook, attaching to the DNA within each cell to select only those recipes — er, genes — necessary for that particular cell’s proteins. Because methyl groups are attached to the genes, residing beside but separate from the double-helix DNA code, the field was dubbed epigenetics, from the prefix epi (Greek for over, outer, above).”

But then the article gets even more interesting. Add two really, really, really, brilliant scientists, Moshe Szyf and Michael Meaney from McGill University together at a bar in Madrid in 1992.

“Now, at the bar in Madrid, Szyf and Meaney considered a hypothesis as improbable as it was profound: If diet and chemicals can cause epigenetic changes, could certain experiences — child neglect, drug abuse or other severe stresses — also set off epigenetic changes to the DNA inside the neurons of a person’s brain? That question turned out to be the basis of a new field, behavioral epigenetics, now so vibrant it has spawned dozens of studies and suggested profound new treatments to heal the brain.”

If you take a few minutes and read the article, I think it will ‘shed light’ into the ‘why’, as in ‘why’ from Fishing for Light, Eddie Wilcox is lost in life. And why, from Bobby’s Socks, Bobby thought about ‘taking his life’. Both characters experienced a significant life trauma that altered their genetic structure.

As to my motivations for writing, they are rather simple. I cannot get my childhood back. I cannot change the past. Almost every week I read about, or watch the local news about a beautiful young person that took their life. Typically, the family and friends do not understand the ‘why’. Today, I read from the NY POST, a story about such a person, I cried and I said a little prayer. But I do not allow myself to remain sad, I put on my colorful woven socks, and I decide to take action. That is why I dream of building a not-for-profit sock company, The Bobby’s Socks Company. The colorful threads, in a sense, are like the strands of our DNA, and each pair of socks would be slightly different, just like our own DNA differs from person to person. But the common link, putting on the warm socks allows us to seek happiness, and to smile.

I wonder, what if we had sporting events where the participants all had on, colorful, woven socks. I would imagine at the event, what if a child asked, “Dude, what’s up with the socks?” I think it is a perfect entry point for a teacher, coach, parent, friend or mental health professional to answer their question. To paraphrase, Occam’s razor – to me, the simple questions are the best questions.

I am motivated to prevent the 100% preventable, and to allow that unseen human flower to bloom, to smile at the sun and wonder. And to allow their spirit to flourish beyond the heavens. If I can be bold enough to add my voice, to the many voices, going forward, I can write entertaining novels that open windows for readers to gaze through at other souls that might reflect back their own life experiences to find peace and understanding.

“Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love. ~ Walt Whitman, from When Lilacs Last in the Doorway Bloom’d.”

NS

 

 

Nashville

Part of the story from Fishing for Light is set in Nashville, Tennessee. For one thing, I have visited Nashville several times, but I don’t live there, nor have I lived there, but why would I pick Nashville?

I can answer that question easily, the Parthenon. And there is also another reference, Parthenogenesis, but I’ll write about that another time. But it does have a cross reference to Ms. Prosperina.

In Nashville, they built a full scale replica of the Parthenon, the fragile original is in Athens, Greece. It is a mathematical wonder of the world. But, my purpose, is within the structure, there is the amazing replica, Athena Parthenos, by Alan Lequire. I highly recommend checking out this work of art, as in the building and the statue. Below, I pasted from Wikipedia (because it is easy, and  well, I liked the use of the ancient historian, Pausanias’ description).

“…The statue itself is made of marble, silver and gold. On the middle of her helmet is placed a likeness of the Sphinx … and on either side of the helmet are griffins in relief. … The statue of Athena is upright, with a tunic reaching to the feet, and on her breast the head of Medusa is worked in ivory. She holds a statue of Victory about four cubits high, and in the other hand a spear; at her feet lies a shield and near the spear is a serpent. This serpent would be Erichthonius. On the pedestal is the birth of Pandora in relief.[5]“

If you have read Fishing for Light, you will appreciate the serpent reference, and the Medusa reference as Ms. Prosperina stares up at the statue. But, as I wrote yesterday, the story is about the idea of Hope. And, so we get back to the story of Pandora, or ‘Anesidora’, remember Pandora’s Box? From The Free Dictionary.com ~

“Pandora (pænˈdɔːrə) or Pandore n

1. (Classical Myth & Legend) Greek myth the first woman, made out of earth as the gods’ revenge on man for obtaining fire from Prometheus. Given a box (Pandora’s box) that she was forbidden to open, she disobeyed out of curiosity and released from it all the ills that beset man, leaving only hope within

[from Greek, literally: all-gifted]“

Pandora “released all the ills that beset man, leaving only hope within”, so we have come back to – Hope. And then it leads us to the character, Charlene (formerly Charles) who won the $300 Million Tennessee lottery, and just happens to live with his family on an estate along, Anesidora Boulevard, within the city of Memphis.

NS