Fritz Franke's Blog, page 6
April 23, 2013
Part 13 – Polizia – Brought to you by Miller Lite Ice.
4/23/13
In Part 12, my brother and I were clear across Naples Italy with me yelling and banging on the entrance door to an apartment building. I was really hoping someone would answer the door. Instead we see an Italian Police car screech to a halt at an adjoining street. I was hoping they would be turning down the opposite way from us. Hoping was the key word. What was happening though was the Polizia di Stato (State Police) car accelerated backwards, then spun it’s tires as it turned down the street towards us. We quickly hopped over a railing and headed down a very narrow alley right next to the building, running for dear life. Neither of us looked back. We came out onto some brightly lit boulevard and immediately saw a bus stop with a bus sitting there. After scrambling onto it, I dumped a bunch of money into the till to avoid any confrontation with the driver. We sat down in the middle of the half packed bus. It’s was close to 1:30 AM but Italy seems to never sleep. At least at night. I asked my brother if we could get off at the next stop and go back to try one more time and he immediately spewed the English version of cuss words that the previous bus driver had used in Italian. But he did it very quietly … right into my ear. Needless to say, we were heading back to the hotel.
The next morning, none of the pleading, begging, or moping would convince my parents to drive by Rita’s for just 5 minutes. Nope. Had a schedule to keep. And it didn’t involve helping me out at all. We had to get to Pompeii, then get ourselves back up north and through Switzerland to spend New Year’s Eve in Monaco. Joy for me. What the heck was I going to do? I knew this was going to be the only trip to Italy. I had to come up with a plan. I’ll tell you what that was next week.
NEXT WEEK – Now what?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by Miller Lite Ice, the best beer ever made and packing a punch of 7% alcohol content. It was last brewed in the mid 90s. That’s why they are a sponsor.
Be sure to check out the series website for THE CHOSEN ONE. All links for everything related to The Savior Project are right there at www.saviorproject.com.
Thanks for joining me. And here’s another pic of that favorite person of mine that I shared last time. CYA next week. (Have to go to the actual blog on Tumblr to see any of the pictures - www.fritz-franke.tumblr.com)
Well, tell me how you liked the blog … or not?
In Part 12, my brother and I were clear across Naples Italy with me yelling and banging on the entrance door to an apartment building. I was really hoping someone would answer the door. Instead we see an Italian Police car screech to a halt at an adjoining street. I was hoping they would be turning down the opposite way from us. Hoping was the key word. What was happening though was the Polizia di Stato (State Police) car accelerated backwards, then spun it’s tires as it turned down the street towards us. We quickly hopped over a railing and headed down a very narrow alley right next to the building, running for dear life. Neither of us looked back. We came out onto some brightly lit boulevard and immediately saw a bus stop with a bus sitting there. After scrambling onto it, I dumped a bunch of money into the till to avoid any confrontation with the driver. We sat down in the middle of the half packed bus. It’s was close to 1:30 AM but Italy seems to never sleep. At least at night. I asked my brother if we could get off at the next stop and go back to try one more time and he immediately spewed the English version of cuss words that the previous bus driver had used in Italian. But he did it very quietly … right into my ear. Needless to say, we were heading back to the hotel.
The next morning, none of the pleading, begging, or moping would convince my parents to drive by Rita’s for just 5 minutes. Nope. Had a schedule to keep. And it didn’t involve helping me out at all. We had to get to Pompeii, then get ourselves back up north and through Switzerland to spend New Year’s Eve in Monaco. Joy for me. What the heck was I going to do? I knew this was going to be the only trip to Italy. I had to come up with a plan. I’ll tell you what that was next week.
NEXT WEEK – Now what?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by Miller Lite Ice, the best beer ever made and packing a punch of 7% alcohol content. It was last brewed in the mid 90s. That’s why they are a sponsor.
Be sure to check out the series website for THE CHOSEN ONE. All links for everything related to The Savior Project are right there at www.saviorproject.com.
Thanks for joining me. And here’s another pic of that favorite person of mine that I shared last time. CYA next week. (Have to go to the actual blog on Tumblr to see any of the pictures - www.fritz-franke.tumblr.com)
Well, tell me how you liked the blog … or not?
April 16, 2013
Part 12 – Out of Luck and Time – Brought to you by Northrop University.
4/16/13
In Part 11, I moved the story along past the summer fling to Christmas time where my family was in Italy for the holidays. We finally arrived in Naples and I knew I was going to get to see Rita. One of my brothers and I made plans to sneak out the first night so I could go see Rita. However, we ran into a bit of a snag. Our parents decided to speed up our time in Naples so we could squeeze in a trip further south to Pompeii. That meant we were only going to be in Naples for one night. And to make matters worse, we ended up staying out late taking in all the attractions that would have been spread over two days and two nights. By the time we got back to the hotel and had dinner, it was close to 11:00 pm. Rita’s family didn’t have a phone of their own. The apartment building they lived in had a shared hallway phone. And it’s not like I could whip out my cell and make a quick call like you can now. Finally after my parents went to be in their room, my brother and I made our escape.
I’d like to point out that two American kids, a 14 and a 15 year old, really aren’t adept at putting together a good plan to get from one side of Naples to the other side … at midnight … in a foreign country … and neither of us spoke the language. We just thought that we’d hop on a bus and be merrily transported to the address that I would give the bus driver. Needless to say, when I tried to talk to the driver about where we were going, I heard probably the fastest stream of Italian cuss words ever spoken. I’m not sure if that had to do with the fact that we were Americans or that we couldn’t figure out the bus fare. After giving the driver a boatload of change (probably way too much though). We finally arrived (1/2 hour later) at Rita’s apartment building … close to midnight … everything was dark … and the front door to the building was locked. I told my brother I didn’t come all this way to fail and not see Rita, so I knocked on the door. No one came. I knocked louder. I waited and no one came. I banged on the door and waited. Still no one. So I banged on the door and yelled Rita’s name. Finally someone came. But it wasn’t who we wanted. Down the street … Uh oh … this is supposed to be a new paragraph. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
NEXT WEEK – How will I ever see you again?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Northrop University, founded in 1942 by Jack Northrop of Northrop Aviation. Originally named the Northrop Aeronautical Institute, the school opened for classes in June 1946 to 412 students. In August 1993, Northrop University, located in Inglewood California, closed its doors. That’s why they were easy to get as a sponsor.
And check out the book trailer for The Chosen One from The Savior Project series. Here’s the link - www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDTsM3qkAOA
Remember, the ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99 and can found at these fine retailers:
Ebook & paperback on AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Ebook & paperback on BARNES & NOBLE
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/fritz...
Ebooks only-
SONY
https://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/fri...
APPLE
http://www.apple.com/itunes/
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
KOBO
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Ch...
OF NOTEWORTHINESS – I was surprised at the number of followers, friends, enemies, and random people that chastised me for not telling the whole story about Rita. I’ve even been getting calls on my cell asking for the details. Really? Have you no imagination? Funny thing is … all of the requests came from people over 35. I had some readers under 25 tell me I did the right thing and they could figure it out. What does that say about youth?
Thanks for joining me. A pic of one of my favorite people is below. CYA next week.
Well, what did you think of this week’s blog?
Fritz Franke
In Part 11, I moved the story along past the summer fling to Christmas time where my family was in Italy for the holidays. We finally arrived in Naples and I knew I was going to get to see Rita. One of my brothers and I made plans to sneak out the first night so I could go see Rita. However, we ran into a bit of a snag. Our parents decided to speed up our time in Naples so we could squeeze in a trip further south to Pompeii. That meant we were only going to be in Naples for one night. And to make matters worse, we ended up staying out late taking in all the attractions that would have been spread over two days and two nights. By the time we got back to the hotel and had dinner, it was close to 11:00 pm. Rita’s family didn’t have a phone of their own. The apartment building they lived in had a shared hallway phone. And it’s not like I could whip out my cell and make a quick call like you can now. Finally after my parents went to be in their room, my brother and I made our escape.
I’d like to point out that two American kids, a 14 and a 15 year old, really aren’t adept at putting together a good plan to get from one side of Naples to the other side … at midnight … in a foreign country … and neither of us spoke the language. We just thought that we’d hop on a bus and be merrily transported to the address that I would give the bus driver. Needless to say, when I tried to talk to the driver about where we were going, I heard probably the fastest stream of Italian cuss words ever spoken. I’m not sure if that had to do with the fact that we were Americans or that we couldn’t figure out the bus fare. After giving the driver a boatload of change (probably way too much though). We finally arrived (1/2 hour later) at Rita’s apartment building … close to midnight … everything was dark … and the front door to the building was locked. I told my brother I didn’t come all this way to fail and not see Rita, so I knocked on the door. No one came. I knocked louder. I waited and no one came. I banged on the door and waited. Still no one. So I banged on the door and yelled Rita’s name. Finally someone came. But it wasn’t who we wanted. Down the street … Uh oh … this is supposed to be a new paragraph. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
NEXT WEEK – How will I ever see you again?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Northrop University, founded in 1942 by Jack Northrop of Northrop Aviation. Originally named the Northrop Aeronautical Institute, the school opened for classes in June 1946 to 412 students. In August 1993, Northrop University, located in Inglewood California, closed its doors. That’s why they were easy to get as a sponsor.
And check out the book trailer for The Chosen One from The Savior Project series. Here’s the link - www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDTsM3qkAOA
Remember, the ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99 and can found at these fine retailers:
Ebook & paperback on AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Ebook & paperback on BARNES & NOBLE
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/fritz...
Ebooks only-
SONY
https://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/fri...
APPLE
http://www.apple.com/itunes/
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
KOBO
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Ch...
OF NOTEWORTHINESS – I was surprised at the number of followers, friends, enemies, and random people that chastised me for not telling the whole story about Rita. I’ve even been getting calls on my cell asking for the details. Really? Have you no imagination? Funny thing is … all of the requests came from people over 35. I had some readers under 25 tell me I did the right thing and they could figure it out. What does that say about youth?
Thanks for joining me. A pic of one of my favorite people is below. CYA next week.
Well, what did you think of this week’s blog?
Fritz Franke
April 9, 2013
Part 11 – A Realization on the Tuesday Edition – Brought to you by the Stinson Aircraft Corporation.
4/9/13
In Part 10, you found out about my great liquid lunch, my face-plant right in front of the Italian goddess, and how she snuck me back into school. But alas, I believe I have strayed from the original intent of the story. I became involved with the details of the catalyst that led to my wonderful travels which eventually led to me becoming a writer. But Rita was the incentive for me to try some unusual things to keep in touch with her. But now, I’m starting to get ahead of myself. So let’s just move the story along and say that by the time the school session ended and we all were about to leave, I was a different guy. Plus I was totally smitten with Rita. Duh. I believe the last day of school was rougher for me then for her. A few years after all of this drama, I began to realize that to Rita, this was just a summer fling. But to me … well … it was everything. But on that last day, we did make plans to write to each other at least once a week, and we knew we would see each other over Christmas. During the upcoming Christmas holiday, my family had already made plans to travel from our home in Germany to all the big tourist attractions in Italy. And that included the city that Rita lived in, Naples.
Back at home in Freiburg, it was actually good for both of us to carry on the correspondence because we were both writing in German. She didn’t write well in English, and I had learned a little Italian from her (my Gibberish was better than my Italian) but I couldn’t write a lick. So we did write weekly in German. That helped in school since I was in a German school. But that‘s a whole different story. Christmas time finally came and I was so excited I could hardly wait to hit the road. The wonderful thing about the Autobahn and Autostrada running from Germany thru Switzerland and into Italy was there were no speed limits. And my parents were intent on making good time. So 90 mph in the new Volvo was no problem. Of course we were being passed by Mercedes, BMWs, and even a few Ferraris doing about 120 – 150 but that was to be expected. It was a blast. We started in the northern Italian cities and eventually made our way down the western coast to Rome where we spent a few days including Christmas day. Our next destination was Naples. When we finally arrived … dang it. New paragraph time. You know the rules.
NEXT WEEK – Where are you?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Stinson Aircraft Corporation, founded in Dayton, Ohio, in 1920 by aviator Edward “Eddie” Stinson. It’s out of business now … that’s why I was able to get them as a sponsor. And make sure you get the book, The Chosen One from The Savior Project series. Hop on over to www.saviorproject.com and find out what all the buzz is about.
The ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99.
Thanks for joining me. A random pic is below for no reason what-so-ever.
DISCLAIMER – I had many followers, friends, enemies, and random people plead with me to not cut the Rita story short – to tell all the details. I’m a gentleman. I can’t do that. CYA next week.
Well, what do you think of the blog so far?
Fritz Franke
In Part 10, you found out about my great liquid lunch, my face-plant right in front of the Italian goddess, and how she snuck me back into school. But alas, I believe I have strayed from the original intent of the story. I became involved with the details of the catalyst that led to my wonderful travels which eventually led to me becoming a writer. But Rita was the incentive for me to try some unusual things to keep in touch with her. But now, I’m starting to get ahead of myself. So let’s just move the story along and say that by the time the school session ended and we all were about to leave, I was a different guy. Plus I was totally smitten with Rita. Duh. I believe the last day of school was rougher for me then for her. A few years after all of this drama, I began to realize that to Rita, this was just a summer fling. But to me … well … it was everything. But on that last day, we did make plans to write to each other at least once a week, and we knew we would see each other over Christmas. During the upcoming Christmas holiday, my family had already made plans to travel from our home in Germany to all the big tourist attractions in Italy. And that included the city that Rita lived in, Naples.
Back at home in Freiburg, it was actually good for both of us to carry on the correspondence because we were both writing in German. She didn’t write well in English, and I had learned a little Italian from her (my Gibberish was better than my Italian) but I couldn’t write a lick. So we did write weekly in German. That helped in school since I was in a German school. But that‘s a whole different story. Christmas time finally came and I was so excited I could hardly wait to hit the road. The wonderful thing about the Autobahn and Autostrada running from Germany thru Switzerland and into Italy was there were no speed limits. And my parents were intent on making good time. So 90 mph in the new Volvo was no problem. Of course we were being passed by Mercedes, BMWs, and even a few Ferraris doing about 120 – 150 but that was to be expected. It was a blast. We started in the northern Italian cities and eventually made our way down the western coast to Rome where we spent a few days including Christmas day. Our next destination was Naples. When we finally arrived … dang it. New paragraph time. You know the rules.
NEXT WEEK – Where are you?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Stinson Aircraft Corporation, founded in Dayton, Ohio, in 1920 by aviator Edward “Eddie” Stinson. It’s out of business now … that’s why I was able to get them as a sponsor. And make sure you get the book, The Chosen One from The Savior Project series. Hop on over to www.saviorproject.com and find out what all the buzz is about.
The ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99.
Thanks for joining me. A random pic is below for no reason what-so-ever.
DISCLAIMER – I had many followers, friends, enemies, and random people plead with me to not cut the Rita story short – to tell all the details. I’m a gentleman. I can’t do that. CYA next week.
Well, what do you think of the blog so far?
Fritz Franke
April 2, 2013
Part 10 – Another next cliffhanger Tuesday Edition – Brought to you by The UVa Drinking Team.
As promised: my blog-the Tuesday edition, Part 10 - The Odyssey of this Writer. Here's the link: http://fritz-franke.tumblr.com/. Posted once a week and kept short. Follow if you dare & click if you like for a heckava ride.
4/2/13
In Part 9, I told how Rita had come over to my desk and asked for a pencil on the second day of classes. And even though we were in a German language school and I also had thought I had mastered English already, after she asked for the pencil I became fluent in gibberish. I believe I answered her question with, “Blubbett erfiya durst.” Needless to say, after class my brother took me into town for lunch and beer to try and help me talk to older women. Remember, Rita was 18 and I was 14. This trek into town was in between classes. Had I mentioned that I was only 14 and my brother was 15? Perfectly legal in Germany. This had ‘GOOD IDEA’ written all over it. NOT. So it was about 2 or 3 or 4 hours after we had actually finished lunch that we staggered out of wherever we were and headed back up the hill to school. And on the way coming down the path, guess who is bounding merrily along with her girlfriends? Well, it wasn’t the Tooth Fairy. Rita came right up to me and with a big smile, asked me how were things in town and why did I miss the afternoon sessions. Well, this provided a great opportunity for me to hone up on my Gibberish, which I proceeded to do perfectly with an added drunken stupor mixed in. My brother had abandoned me in favor of making time with 2 Czechoslovakian beauties so I was left to my own stupidity.
I think I somehow got out of that mess because I fully believe those girls thought I was this worldly American speaking yet another language; one that had a lot of slurred words in it. And it also caused me to stagger and stumble when speaking it. Ah yes, a very difficult language indeed. Anyway, Rita actually sensed that I was a bit, how shall I say this without being crude … DRUNK. My brother had somehow disappeared with his new found Czech girlfriends and I was alone with the red haired goddess. Being in total control of the situation, I proceeded to fall flat on my face. Literally. What a great impression I was making. Rita got me up, and dabbed at the bleeding cut on my forehead with a tissue while trying not to laugh too hard. She then told me that she was going to take me back up to school, sneak me in so the teachers and administrators wouldn’t see that I was drunk, (Was it that obvious?) and put me to bed. (Really?) She managed to sneak me upstairs without anyone seeing us. It was dinner time and everyone else was in the cafeteria while I was just getting back from lunch. Anyway, we were walking down the upper hallway, well, she was walking and I was kind of stumbling along while she was supporting me. I noticed that we passed by my dorm room and went down to the end of the hall. Oh darn … this is where a new paragraph needs to start and that means I’ve already hit 2 paragraphs. I can’t break my own rules. Sorry.
NEXT WEEK – Now where am I?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the UVa Drinking Team: founded in 1985 and disbanded in 1985. We still practice but have not participated in any actual events since being disbanded. This week’s blog is also brought to you by the fine folks behind The Savior Project. Hop on over to www.saviorproject.com and find out what all the buzz is about. The new book, The Chosen One, can explain a lot of it. And that book can be found at these fine retailers:
Ebook & paperback on AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Ebook & paperback on BARNES & NOBLE
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/fritz...
Ebooks only-
SONY
https://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/fri...
APPLE
http://www.apple.com/itunes/
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
KOBO
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Ch...
The ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99.
Thanks for joining me. So what do you think of the blog so far? CYA next week.
4/2/13
In Part 9, I told how Rita had come over to my desk and asked for a pencil on the second day of classes. And even though we were in a German language school and I also had thought I had mastered English already, after she asked for the pencil I became fluent in gibberish. I believe I answered her question with, “Blubbett erfiya durst.” Needless to say, after class my brother took me into town for lunch and beer to try and help me talk to older women. Remember, Rita was 18 and I was 14. This trek into town was in between classes. Had I mentioned that I was only 14 and my brother was 15? Perfectly legal in Germany. This had ‘GOOD IDEA’ written all over it. NOT. So it was about 2 or 3 or 4 hours after we had actually finished lunch that we staggered out of wherever we were and headed back up the hill to school. And on the way coming down the path, guess who is bounding merrily along with her girlfriends? Well, it wasn’t the Tooth Fairy. Rita came right up to me and with a big smile, asked me how were things in town and why did I miss the afternoon sessions. Well, this provided a great opportunity for me to hone up on my Gibberish, which I proceeded to do perfectly with an added drunken stupor mixed in. My brother had abandoned me in favor of making time with 2 Czechoslovakian beauties so I was left to my own stupidity.
I think I somehow got out of that mess because I fully believe those girls thought I was this worldly American speaking yet another language; one that had a lot of slurred words in it. And it also caused me to stagger and stumble when speaking it. Ah yes, a very difficult language indeed. Anyway, Rita actually sensed that I was a bit, how shall I say this without being crude … DRUNK. My brother had somehow disappeared with his new found Czech girlfriends and I was alone with the red haired goddess. Being in total control of the situation, I proceeded to fall flat on my face. Literally. What a great impression I was making. Rita got me up, and dabbed at the bleeding cut on my forehead with a tissue while trying not to laugh too hard. She then told me that she was going to take me back up to school, sneak me in so the teachers and administrators wouldn’t see that I was drunk, (Was it that obvious?) and put me to bed. (Really?) She managed to sneak me upstairs without anyone seeing us. It was dinner time and everyone else was in the cafeteria while I was just getting back from lunch. Anyway, we were walking down the upper hallway, well, she was walking and I was kind of stumbling along while she was supporting me. I noticed that we passed by my dorm room and went down to the end of the hall. Oh darn … this is where a new paragraph needs to start and that means I’ve already hit 2 paragraphs. I can’t break my own rules. Sorry.
NEXT WEEK – Now where am I?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the UVa Drinking Team: founded in 1985 and disbanded in 1985. We still practice but have not participated in any actual events since being disbanded. This week’s blog is also brought to you by the fine folks behind The Savior Project. Hop on over to www.saviorproject.com and find out what all the buzz is about. The new book, The Chosen One, can explain a lot of it. And that book can be found at these fine retailers:
Ebook & paperback on AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos...
Ebook & paperback on BARNES & NOBLE
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/fritz...
Ebooks only-
SONY
https://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/fri...
APPLE
http://www.apple.com/itunes/
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
KOBO
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Ch...
The ebook is only $2.99 and the paperback is only $7.99.
Thanks for joining me. So what do you think of the blog so far? CYA next week.
My apologies to all, I skipped part 7.
Many apologies. I accidentally skipped part 7. That's what happens when you have to cut and paste out of the real blog. Oh well ... (Part 10 is coming next.)
Part 7 - Another Great Tuesday Edition – With sponsors again! Yea!!!
03/12/13
Last week I talked about sitting down with one of my classmates and telling that my living in Germany as a young teenager was the catalyst for my being able to write the way I do. The summer of my 14th birthday, I moved to Germany and enrolled in a German language school over in Bad Reichenhall. One of the first things my brothers and I did was to go out and get smashed. We had been informed by classmates that the drinking age was 6. Unheard of. Needless to say, this really began an experience of growing up fast. At least when it came to partying like a college student when I was 13 soon to be 14.
But the real beauty of it was that we started hanging out with the ‘older’ crowd at school. By older, I mean they were 16 and 17. My brothers were 15 and 16 so this proved to be a real eye opener for me. Plus there seemed to be some kind of international alliances going on. We were Americans (duh) and the alliances seemed to be forming off the fact that some countries were composed of pacifists and others were not. At the time Vietnam was going on and not everyone liked Americans. At least not citizens of Italy (pacifists) and France (extreme pacifists or surrender specialists). Those that liked us were the Greeks, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans, Thais, and Filipinos. Those were the countries with more than just a token student at the school. It was a pretty big school and sat on top of a mountain that overlooked the town. But when it came to partying or going to bars in town, a certain large group of students usually went together. I became part of that group. But even within that group, the alliance lines were sometime touted and flaunted. And that created problems for myself and this certain 17 year old Italian goddess with fire-red hair. Yes, it’s true … oh wait … I’ve already hit my 2 paragraphs.
NEXT WEEK – Rita …
Fritz Franke
Part 7 - Another Great Tuesday Edition – With sponsors again! Yea!!!
03/12/13
Last week I talked about sitting down with one of my classmates and telling that my living in Germany as a young teenager was the catalyst for my being able to write the way I do. The summer of my 14th birthday, I moved to Germany and enrolled in a German language school over in Bad Reichenhall. One of the first things my brothers and I did was to go out and get smashed. We had been informed by classmates that the drinking age was 6. Unheard of. Needless to say, this really began an experience of growing up fast. At least when it came to partying like a college student when I was 13 soon to be 14.
But the real beauty of it was that we started hanging out with the ‘older’ crowd at school. By older, I mean they were 16 and 17. My brothers were 15 and 16 so this proved to be a real eye opener for me. Plus there seemed to be some kind of international alliances going on. We were Americans (duh) and the alliances seemed to be forming off the fact that some countries were composed of pacifists and others were not. At the time Vietnam was going on and not everyone liked Americans. At least not citizens of Italy (pacifists) and France (extreme pacifists or surrender specialists). Those that liked us were the Greeks, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans, Thais, and Filipinos. Those were the countries with more than just a token student at the school. It was a pretty big school and sat on top of a mountain that overlooked the town. But when it came to partying or going to bars in town, a certain large group of students usually went together. I became part of that group. But even within that group, the alliance lines were sometime touted and flaunted. And that created problems for myself and this certain 17 year old Italian goddess with fire-red hair. Yes, it’s true … oh wait … I’ve already hit my 2 paragraphs.
NEXT WEEK – Rita …
Fritz Franke
March 26, 2013
Part 9 – The next cliffhanger Tuesday Edition – Brought to you by Gravitys Edge Productions.
03/26/13
Last week we covered international relationships and small wars that were happening in the German language school I was attending. Italians and French versus Americans, Greeks, and English and on and on. And we also wondered how this 18 year old Italian goddess with wild red hair somehow got interested in an American 14 year old boy … er … guy, who had a total crush on her. Where it all really began was on the second day of classes after a week of orientation. Rita and I were in the same morning class and before the instructor came in, she came over to my desk and stood looking at me, but I hadn’t noticed yet. My head was buried in a book. Everyone knows you can get a feeling that someone is watching you when you are involved doing something else. I suddenly got that feeling and when I looked up into Rita’s beautiful face, it felt like all the wiring in my brain got crossed. I must have had the dumbest look on my face because she giggled a bit, smiled and looked down, and then asked me, “Do you have an extra pencil?” She spoke a smattering of English so I know exactly what she said – and it was said with that magical Italian accent. Neither of us had learned that much German yet, although I had taken classes in the states before coming over. I also didn’t know Italian except for one word, ‘putana’, and I knew not to use that word. Problem was, at that very moment, I totally forgot how to speak English, or any other language for that matter. I just stared at her and handed her my only pencil and said, “Blubbett erfiya durst,” which meant absolutely nothing. She said, “Thank you,” and walked back across the room to her desk, sat down, looked up and smiled at me.
I must have had the dumbest look on my face because my brother, who was sitting in the desk next to mine, leaned over and said, “Close your mouth. You look like a moron.” I quickly looked down at my shirt to see if I had accidentally drooled on myself. Thank goodness I hadn’t. I looked up at Rita again and she was involved in conversation with the girl sitting next to her. She quickly shot me a smiling glance and I think I returned some form of a crooked smile just as the instructor walked into the room. I was totally worthless during class. It took all 2 hours to recover my senses. When class was over, I was standing at my desk gathering my books when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned and there she was again. She handed me my pencil and said, “Thank you,” and walked back to her pack of Italian girlfriends who all looked at me and giggled. My brother grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the class into the hallway and said, “You need some quick lessons on how to not look stupid when a girl is talking to you.” We went up to our room upstairs which was this huge military barracks style room with 10 beds lining one wall with lockers on the other. We had a 3 hour break before the next class so my brother suggested we go into town for lunch and a beer. A beer? How do you drink just one beer when you’ve never had that freedom before? Next week … how my brother and I accidentally missed afternoon classes.
NEXT WEEK – Where did my brother and I end up after lunch?
This week’s blog has been brought to you Gravitys Edge Productions, the extremely cool company that developed the book cover for The Chosen One. www.saviorproject.com Really cool and talented guys.
Thanks for joining me. CYA next week!!!
Last week we covered international relationships and small wars that were happening in the German language school I was attending. Italians and French versus Americans, Greeks, and English and on and on. And we also wondered how this 18 year old Italian goddess with wild red hair somehow got interested in an American 14 year old boy … er … guy, who had a total crush on her. Where it all really began was on the second day of classes after a week of orientation. Rita and I were in the same morning class and before the instructor came in, she came over to my desk and stood looking at me, but I hadn’t noticed yet. My head was buried in a book. Everyone knows you can get a feeling that someone is watching you when you are involved doing something else. I suddenly got that feeling and when I looked up into Rita’s beautiful face, it felt like all the wiring in my brain got crossed. I must have had the dumbest look on my face because she giggled a bit, smiled and looked down, and then asked me, “Do you have an extra pencil?” She spoke a smattering of English so I know exactly what she said – and it was said with that magical Italian accent. Neither of us had learned that much German yet, although I had taken classes in the states before coming over. I also didn’t know Italian except for one word, ‘putana’, and I knew not to use that word. Problem was, at that very moment, I totally forgot how to speak English, or any other language for that matter. I just stared at her and handed her my only pencil and said, “Blubbett erfiya durst,” which meant absolutely nothing. She said, “Thank you,” and walked back across the room to her desk, sat down, looked up and smiled at me.
I must have had the dumbest look on my face because my brother, who was sitting in the desk next to mine, leaned over and said, “Close your mouth. You look like a moron.” I quickly looked down at my shirt to see if I had accidentally drooled on myself. Thank goodness I hadn’t. I looked up at Rita again and she was involved in conversation with the girl sitting next to her. She quickly shot me a smiling glance and I think I returned some form of a crooked smile just as the instructor walked into the room. I was totally worthless during class. It took all 2 hours to recover my senses. When class was over, I was standing at my desk gathering my books when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned and there she was again. She handed me my pencil and said, “Thank you,” and walked back to her pack of Italian girlfriends who all looked at me and giggled. My brother grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the class into the hallway and said, “You need some quick lessons on how to not look stupid when a girl is talking to you.” We went up to our room upstairs which was this huge military barracks style room with 10 beds lining one wall with lockers on the other. We had a 3 hour break before the next class so my brother suggested we go into town for lunch and a beer. A beer? How do you drink just one beer when you’ve never had that freedom before? Next week … how my brother and I accidentally missed afternoon classes.
NEXT WEEK – Where did my brother and I end up after lunch?
This week’s blog has been brought to you Gravitys Edge Productions, the extremely cool company that developed the book cover for The Chosen One. www.saviorproject.com Really cool and talented guys.
Thanks for joining me. CYA next week!!!
March 23, 2013
Part 8 - Another Great Tuesday Edition – Brought to you by Zenta and MLB.
03/19/13
Last week I talked about being in a language school in Bad Reichenhall, Germany and hanging out with the older teenagers. I had just turned 14 two weeks after arriving and learned quickly what is was like to party like a college student. So my brothers and I hung with the ‘cool’ kids who were older, in the 17 – 18 range. The Italians and French didn’t get along too well with the Americans, Canadians, Greeks, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans, Thais, and Filipinos. Our group got along great. But when it came time to sneak into town from our school, located up a long trail to a small mountaintop, all the ‘cool’ kids hung together regardless of nationality. Don’t get me wrong – there was always tension with the Italians and French, but nothing like on the soccer field where the teams were always split between the international alliances and players would go out of their way to kick an opponent right in the crotch whether the ball was close by or not. The refs, being German, loved it so they turned a blind eye. Volleyball was just as bad with leg swipes under the net or fingers being poked through the net hoping to catch an eye. That’s why it was so unusual for an Italian girl and an American boy to hook up. It was frowned upon by both alliances. What made it more unusual was the girl being 18 and the boy being 14.
You guessed it. I was that 14 year old American boy and Rita, (last name will not be reveled due to the internet being available for snoopers to try and track her down) yes, the Rita I mentioned last week, was that 18 year old Italian girl. I do remember her last name. It rolled off your tongue like a song. I was star struck. Her red hair looked like it was on fire and was so long and full. Think Gina Lollobrigida with long red hair. Rita had a ton of guys chasing her, even local Germans. There was this one guy who thought he was all everything, pencil thin mustache, fancy clothes, and had a car. I thought he was a wimp. Well, he did have a lot more than I had in the way of clothes and that car. But he wasn’t tall and handsome like me. (Gee, what did you expect me to say?) And he wasn’t an AMERICAN from that magical land across the ocean that most all European teenagers could only dream about. So how did we hook up? Well, we had a class together and on the second day, she came over to my desk and … oh wow … this should be a new paragraph and that means I’ve already hit my 2 paragraphs. Sorry.
NEXT WEEK – What did Rita ask me?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by Zenta. Who? ZENTA!!! The most beautiful Terlokyan on any planet. Read the book, The Chosen One and you’ll find out. And by Major League Baseball. They just don’t know it. Yet.
Thanks for joining me. Enjoy the pic of Zenta below. (Sorry, no eye this week.)
You have to go to the real blog to see the pictures -
www.fritz-franke.tumblr.com
Last week I talked about being in a language school in Bad Reichenhall, Germany and hanging out with the older teenagers. I had just turned 14 two weeks after arriving and learned quickly what is was like to party like a college student. So my brothers and I hung with the ‘cool’ kids who were older, in the 17 – 18 range. The Italians and French didn’t get along too well with the Americans, Canadians, Greeks, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans, Thais, and Filipinos. Our group got along great. But when it came time to sneak into town from our school, located up a long trail to a small mountaintop, all the ‘cool’ kids hung together regardless of nationality. Don’t get me wrong – there was always tension with the Italians and French, but nothing like on the soccer field where the teams were always split between the international alliances and players would go out of their way to kick an opponent right in the crotch whether the ball was close by or not. The refs, being German, loved it so they turned a blind eye. Volleyball was just as bad with leg swipes under the net or fingers being poked through the net hoping to catch an eye. That’s why it was so unusual for an Italian girl and an American boy to hook up. It was frowned upon by both alliances. What made it more unusual was the girl being 18 and the boy being 14.
You guessed it. I was that 14 year old American boy and Rita, (last name will not be reveled due to the internet being available for snoopers to try and track her down) yes, the Rita I mentioned last week, was that 18 year old Italian girl. I do remember her last name. It rolled off your tongue like a song. I was star struck. Her red hair looked like it was on fire and was so long and full. Think Gina Lollobrigida with long red hair. Rita had a ton of guys chasing her, even local Germans. There was this one guy who thought he was all everything, pencil thin mustache, fancy clothes, and had a car. I thought he was a wimp. Well, he did have a lot more than I had in the way of clothes and that car. But he wasn’t tall and handsome like me. (Gee, what did you expect me to say?) And he wasn’t an AMERICAN from that magical land across the ocean that most all European teenagers could only dream about. So how did we hook up? Well, we had a class together and on the second day, she came over to my desk and … oh wow … this should be a new paragraph and that means I’ve already hit my 2 paragraphs. Sorry.
NEXT WEEK – What did Rita ask me?
This week’s blog has been brought to you by Zenta. Who? ZENTA!!! The most beautiful Terlokyan on any planet. Read the book, The Chosen One and you’ll find out. And by Major League Baseball. They just don’t know it. Yet.
Thanks for joining me. Enjoy the pic of Zenta below. (Sorry, no eye this week.)
You have to go to the real blog to see the pictures -
www.fritz-franke.tumblr.com
March 5, 2013
As promised: my blog - the Tuesday Edition, part 6 - The Odyssey of this Writer at http://fritz-franke.tumblr.com/. Posted once a week and kept short. Follow if you dare & click if you like. It’ll be a heckava ride.
(Last week’s edition featured a contest with a prize: a free ebook. It was very simple: tell me where the ‘blue’ eye appears on the outside of the book. First one to do so wins. No one said anything so we’ll try it again. Details on the blog at the bottom.)
03/05/13
During the discussion of my assignment, Ethan, – my professor, then mentioned that I wrote like I had been at or had seen what I was writing about. He said it was fresh and seemed like a firsthand account and asked me how I pulled that off considering some of it took place on the Moon. “Well … ,“ I began. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy. It’s a long story.” He said to try him so I did. I said, “I was there.” He gave me that funny look again, and said, “You’re right. This sounds like a long story but I have to go. We’ll talk more about it next week.” With that, he left the classroom.
I didn’t know what he thought but wondered if he’d have anything to do with my work anymore or was he serious that we’d talk next week. One of my classmates was still in the classroom and had overheard our conversation. She asked what was so bad about being somewhere that you were writing about. Since she hadn’t been privy to last week’s conversation nor had she read my assignment, I figured I might as well add a second person to the list of those that think I’m nuts. (And now I’m adding anyone who is reading this blog) I told her that the chapters I had turned in for the assignment involved stories from the past and from events on the Moon. Her face scrunched up a bit as she eyed me. “Okay, I’ll bite. How’d you do that?” I told her it all began back in the late 60s when I lived in Germany. She immediately said I was a former hippy and that it was the drugs. I then told her that I was 13 years old at that time and lived with my family. That’s when she said, “I gotta hear this,” and sat down in chair next to mine. So I began. And you’ll get to read about it next week.
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Wayside Takeout. They didn’t give me anything – I just like their chicken. And by Heather Hummel Photography – why? I guess cause I like looking at her photography. She’s good at it. And by the 4th version of 'The Eye', (symbol of The Savior Project) Last week’s eye, the blue one, is used somewhere on the book cover. Whoever tells me where it is on the cover wins a free ebook. Post your response on Facebook as a comment under this post announcing this week’s blog or in the comment field on my blog. No one won last week so the prize is still there.
To see the various version of the eye, you'll have to go to the actual blog - the link is in the title.
Fritz FrankeThe Savior Project - The Chosen One
03/05/13
During the discussion of my assignment, Ethan, – my professor, then mentioned that I wrote like I had been at or had seen what I was writing about. He said it was fresh and seemed like a firsthand account and asked me how I pulled that off considering some of it took place on the Moon. “Well … ,“ I began. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy. It’s a long story.” He said to try him so I did. I said, “I was there.” He gave me that funny look again, and said, “You’re right. This sounds like a long story but I have to go. We’ll talk more about it next week.” With that, he left the classroom.
I didn’t know what he thought but wondered if he’d have anything to do with my work anymore or was he serious that we’d talk next week. One of my classmates was still in the classroom and had overheard our conversation. She asked what was so bad about being somewhere that you were writing about. Since she hadn’t been privy to last week’s conversation nor had she read my assignment, I figured I might as well add a second person to the list of those that think I’m nuts. (And now I’m adding anyone who is reading this blog) I told her that the chapters I had turned in for the assignment involved stories from the past and from events on the Moon. Her face scrunched up a bit as she eyed me. “Okay, I’ll bite. How’d you do that?” I told her it all began back in the late 60s when I lived in Germany. She immediately said I was a former hippy and that it was the drugs. I then told her that I was 13 years old at that time and lived with my family. That’s when she said, “I gotta hear this,” and sat down in chair next to mine. So I began. And you’ll get to read about it next week.
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Wayside Takeout. They didn’t give me anything – I just like their chicken. And by Heather Hummel Photography – why? I guess cause I like looking at her photography. She’s good at it. And by the 4th version of 'The Eye', (symbol of The Savior Project) Last week’s eye, the blue one, is used somewhere on the book cover. Whoever tells me where it is on the cover wins a free ebook. Post your response on Facebook as a comment under this post announcing this week’s blog or in the comment field on my blog. No one won last week so the prize is still there.
To see the various version of the eye, you'll have to go to the actual blog - the link is in the title.
Fritz FrankeThe Savior Project - The Chosen One
February 26, 2013
As promised: my blog - the Tuesday Edition, part 5 - The Odyssey of this Writer. Here's the link: http://fritz-franke.tumblr.com/. Posted once a week and kept short. Follow if you dare & click if you like. It’ll be a heckava ride.
02/26/13
There I am, in my second class, waiting like everyone else to have our previous week’s assignment handed out – with our professor’s critique of course. So our professor, Ethan, (yes – I remember his name but will only use his first name here.) handed back our papers and announced that we would be discussing each one. I quickly glanced at mine and saw lots of red marks, but upon reading them, they looked favorable. I noticed one comment said, “Really long.” Anyway, he talked about each paper and when class ended, he asked me if I had a couple of minutes to go over a few things. I nervously agreed.
As we sat down, he started by asking me how long I had been writing. I said not long. He could tell. He mentioned that I really need to focus on POV. “What the heck is POV?” I asked. His reply was, “You really haven’t been writing long.” He explained Point of View and yes, I had really screwed that up. I was all over the place – which would have confused the reader, but made perfect sense to me. He then commended me on the religious metaphor that I had running through these three chapters I had given him. I said, “What?” He gave me a quizzical look, then commented on each of the references that appeared religious in nature also mentioning that they were well written and expertly woven into the story. I told him I didn’t do it on purpose – that I was writing the story the way it happened. A look of surprise washed over his face. His response was … well … that’s for next week.
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Rowdy Nads softball team – winners of perhaps 7 games over the past 5 season. And by Ram Trucks – why? I don’t know. I guess cause I like Sam Elliot’s voice. And by the 3rd version of 'The Eye', (symbol of The Savior Project) with this eye used somewhere on the book cover. (You'll have to go to the real blog - link above in the title - to see the eye. Whoever tells me where it is on the cover wins a free ebook. Post your response on Facebook as a comment under this Facebook post announcing this week’s blog or in the comment field on my blog.
There I am, in my second class, waiting like everyone else to have our previous week’s assignment handed out – with our professor’s critique of course. So our professor, Ethan, (yes – I remember his name but will only use his first name here.) handed back our papers and announced that we would be discussing each one. I quickly glanced at mine and saw lots of red marks, but upon reading them, they looked favorable. I noticed one comment said, “Really long.” Anyway, he talked about each paper and when class ended, he asked me if I had a couple of minutes to go over a few things. I nervously agreed.
As we sat down, he started by asking me how long I had been writing. I said not long. He could tell. He mentioned that I really need to focus on POV. “What the heck is POV?” I asked. His reply was, “You really haven’t been writing long.” He explained Point of View and yes, I had really screwed that up. I was all over the place – which would have confused the reader, but made perfect sense to me. He then commended me on the religious metaphor that I had running through these three chapters I had given him. I said, “What?” He gave me a quizzical look, then commented on each of the references that appeared religious in nature also mentioning that they were well written and expertly woven into the story. I told him I didn’t do it on purpose – that I was writing the story the way it happened. A look of surprise washed over his face. His response was … well … that’s for next week.
This week’s blog has been brought to you by the Rowdy Nads softball team – winners of perhaps 7 games over the past 5 season. And by Ram Trucks – why? I don’t know. I guess cause I like Sam Elliot’s voice. And by the 3rd version of 'The Eye', (symbol of The Savior Project) with this eye used somewhere on the book cover. (You'll have to go to the real blog - link above in the title - to see the eye. Whoever tells me where it is on the cover wins a free ebook. Post your response on Facebook as a comment under this Facebook post announcing this week’s blog or in the comment field on my blog.
February 19, 2013
As promised: my blog-the Tuesday edition, part 4 - The Odyssey of this Writer. Here's the link: http://fritz-franke.tumblr.com/. Posted once a week and kept short. Follow if you dare & click if you like for a heckava ride.
02/19/13
Wow! Being fifty- … uhhh … my age … and going back to school – even if it’s just taking a bunch of creative writing classes, was a huge deal to me. Sure, I’ve taken courses/classes/instruction on IT subjects to advance what I do for a living, or should I say … to support my writing till I make the big-time. So what type/age/whatever of ‘other’ students would be in my classes? What’ll it be like having a real professor again? My first class in the fall of 2007 was ‘The Art of Creative Writing’ and my professor was a LOT younger than me. All of the students were younger than me. Self-doubt entered the picture and I questioned myself about this quest. But being in the first class and actually enjoying the learning environment, I stayed. I received a homework assignment and decided to see where this path led me.
Remembering the actual assignment would be impossible but trust me – it had to do with writing. I had decided to use each assignment as a way to write a particular chapter for the first book. I do remember that one assignment was to have your main character show emotion from either an extreme high or an extreme low, but you couldn’t say what was causing it – you had to show it. It’s one of the many rules writers abide by – Show, don’t Tell. I completed the first assignment and turned it in at the next class. Not knowing how it would be received/critiqued/graded, I would have to go another whole week to get any feedback. No one had laid eyes on any of my writing of this book so I was really antsy about this assignment. Next week – my anticipation of the next week.
Wow! Being fifty- … uhhh … my age … and going back to school – even if it’s just taking a bunch of creative writing classes, was a huge deal to me. Sure, I’ve taken courses/classes/instruction on IT subjects to advance what I do for a living, or should I say … to support my writing till I make the big-time. So what type/age/whatever of ‘other’ students would be in my classes? What’ll it be like having a real professor again? My first class in the fall of 2007 was ‘The Art of Creative Writing’ and my professor was a LOT younger than me. All of the students were younger than me. Self-doubt entered the picture and I questioned myself about this quest. But being in the first class and actually enjoying the learning environment, I stayed. I received a homework assignment and decided to see where this path led me.
Remembering the actual assignment would be impossible but trust me – it had to do with writing. I had decided to use each assignment as a way to write a particular chapter for the first book. I do remember that one assignment was to have your main character show emotion from either an extreme high or an extreme low, but you couldn’t say what was causing it – you had to show it. It’s one of the many rules writers abide by – Show, don’t Tell. I completed the first assignment and turned it in at the next class. Not knowing how it would be received/critiqued/graded, I would have to go another whole week to get any feedback. No one had laid eyes on any of my writing of this book so I was really antsy about this assignment. Next week – my anticipation of the next week.
