Rod Kackley's Blog: St. Isidore Collection , page 6
February 24, 2014
Waiting: Chapter Two
Waiting
Chapter Two
By Rod Kackley
Anne smiled to herself thinking about Adam downstairs, naked, nose pressed against the concrete wall, bare feet shoulder length apart chilly on the cement floor, his bare bottom twitching in anticipation.
She understood that waiting was a huge part of the thrill of submission. Anne had been on that end of the crop, the strap, the belt and the paddle. She knows how good it feels. That trembling inside that dries the mouth, and accentuates every sound, every aroma, every feeling, especially the feelings that have been kept hidden for so long.
It was Anne’s father who introduced her to spanking. The very first time he paddled her bare bottom she could tell that he was enjoying it more than he should.
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying giving a good spanking,”Anne told Adam. “But when it’s an eight-year old girl you are spanking, that is just wrong.”
And he knew it. Anne’s father knew what he was doing was wrong. He couldn’t stop. Not until she was crying and her bare butt was on fire.
“My father used his hand and then his belt,” Anne said. “We were outside, working on the farm. We had both been in the tractor. He stopped to take a break and it just happened.”
“That was the only time. Never again,” she said. “He was able to stop spanking me. He promised himself that would never happen again. He promised me it would not happen again, and it did not.”
But her father never stopped spoiling Anne and her mother never stopped looking at the two of them like she knew exactly what had happened.
Later, Anne showed her sister what it as like to spank, be spanked, and more.
In a way, those were the toughest years of her life. “I never admitted to myself how much I liked it, loved it and needed it,” Anne said. “You don’t understand yet. But you will.”
“I get it,” Adam said.
“No, you don’t. Not yet. But, you will.”
“He is just about there,”Anne said to her new best friend, Mary.
The time of learning for Adam had also been a time for Anne to grow. He was the first submissive she had felt good with, at peace with, at home with.
Anne felt a delicious sense of power coursing through her body as she walked from the bedroom.
“Power is the wrong word,” Anne said to Mary. “A better word is empowerment.”
“Say it, pronounce each syllable,” Mary said. “Enjoy each syllable of that word. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Oh, you know it does.”
“Yes, I do. And, I know you do, too.”
It wasn’t like Anne has never spanked a guy before. Anne had spanked a lot of them. Too many to count. Or, maybe it had just been too many.
“Ever try adding up all the spanks you’ve delivered?” Mary said.
“Are you kidding? I have trouble figuring out the change when I go shopping. I just have to trust the person at the register,” Anne said. “I tried once. My head starting hurt. So I started spanking again.”
“I understand that.”
So it’s not like Anne’s never done this before. But in a way, that is exactly what it is. Anne has never done this with anyone like Adam. She has led guys into the lifestyle, but she has never walked beside one.
“This is so different,” Anne said to Mary. “It is hard to explain, but it is like I finally met someone on the same path.”
“Every other time, I was helping a guy with a fantasy. A guy who would either go home to his wife and think about it when he closed his eyes, or a guy who would go home to his right hand and close his eyes,” Anne said.
Mary understood that, only too well.
“You become a memory or the smile he wouldn’t dare explain,” said Mary.
“I don’t even think they remember my face. I am just a hand at the end of the arm that was spanking them,” said Anne.
“For a while I wondered if they could remember my name, or if they even knew I had a name. Then I wondered, do they remember my face? Am I really a person to them?” Mary said.
“It’s so different with Adam. I know he remembers my name,” Anne said. “I know he remembers my face.”
“And the best part is, you remember his too.”
Adam didn’t have anyone like Mary to talk to about this new lifestyle into which he has fallen, so as he usually does, he keeps it to himself, and talks to himself.
Before Anne came along, or before he found the courage to ring her doorbell, Adam would go weeks without talking to anyone outside of work.
But there is always work. What else do you really need? Adam would ask himself.
Now Adam knew what else he really needed.
And I always knew it.
“When did you know?” Anne asked him once when they were laying naked together in bed, which by the way was one of Adam’s favorite times. They would lay naked. Cuddle. She would do the cuddling, he would be cuddled. It felt so damn good, so damn right after one of their sessions, as Anne called them.
“When did I know?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t be coy,” Anne said as she slapped his bare bottom that was still red from the paddle and belt.
Adam on his stomach, Anne on her side, her head on her left hand, her right hand caressing Adam’s back one minute, her fingertips following the scratch marks her fingernails had left on his back the next.
“Tell me,” she said with another slap. “When did you know that you needed to be spanked.”
This was tough for Adam. He had not really let go yet. Anne knew that. He knew that. Adam didn’t want to let go. Anne knew he had to.
“Now say it. Tell me when you knew.”
“First grade,” he said. “We had a teacher, a woman, who gave each kid a birthday spanking on his or her birthday.”
She would put the little girl or boy over her lap and give them a birthday spanking in front of the whole class."
“You’re kidding,” Anne said. This was a little hard to believe for even someone with her years in the dominatrix arena, but Adam turned his face to hers and she knew it was true.
“Wow. Incredible.”
“It was for me,” Adam agreed. “I couldn’t wait for my birthday.”
“Oh, my God. Was it everything you expected?”
“Funny thing is, I remember that it was over so fast I didn’t even know she had spanked me. Didn’t feel a single spank,” he said. “But I will never forget looking at the class, my friends, as I went over her lap.”
“Disappointed?”
“You’re kidding right?”
Adam knew that Anne was on the way, probably carrying a leather paddle when at least he heard her footsteps above him. He hoped she would be carry the paddle they bought together during their weekend up north. That was so incredibly exciting. Adam could barely breath.
Shopping in a XXX store with a woman.
A woman I didn’t know, a total stranger, was behind the counter. I was going to have to take whatever Anne chose for me, hand it to her, tell her this is what I had been told to purchase. And then purchase it.
Adam was sweating just thinking about it. He felt the beads of sweat on his neck. He knew his hands were shaking just a little bit. His mouth was drying out.
He was so excited.
And Adam couldn’t hide any of it.
Adam did as he knew he should after buying the paddle. He handed it to Anne by the handle. She felt the leather with her other hand and slapped it against her palm. Hard, fast, and loud.
“It was like a gunshot,” Adam said to her that afternoon after he calmed down from his first leather paddle spanking. “And the quiet after that was so loud. It was the loudest silence I have ever heard.”
“It was not like a gunshot,”Anne said. “It was like a leather paddle against bare skin. That is exactly what it was like, because that was exactly what it was. I knew it. You knew it, and you know that girl behind the counter knew it. She damn well knew it.”
“And she knew what it was doing to you in that store. She could see the damp spot on your jeans. You knew it too.”
“And she knew what that paddle was going to be used for, didn’t she?”
Adam held his breath for just a moment. He could hear a bird outside, the traffic on the expressway two blocks away. There was something about being spanked in the middle of the day, naked, or at least bare-bottomed, when everyone else was leading their vanilla lives, that was such a turn-on and was at the same time so reassuring to Adam.
And he went back to that time up north.
“She knew you were going to paddle my bare butt with it,” Adam finally said. Just admitting that, just remembering the smile on the young blonde’s face, a girl who was barely out of high school, maybe just a day over the minimum age to work in a place like that if there was a minimum age, the knowledge she must have working in a sex shop day after day, all of that piled together.
So this is the lifestyle, Adam thought to himself. Oh lifestyle, where have you been all of my life?
The answer to that question brought a smile to his face as he heard Anne walking through the kitchen above him. Only a few more steps and she, and the lifestyle, would be at the basement door.
Two steps down from the kitchen, door to the driveway on her right, basement door on her left. When Adam heard that door opening, he knew, the waiting was almost over.
Sometimes Things Break
Waiting is one of the stories from the St. Isidore Collection. Anne and Adam are two of the people who live in St. Isidore, a small city, with a large number of trouble souls.
Chapter Two
By Rod Kackley
Anne smiled to herself thinking about Adam downstairs, naked, nose pressed against the concrete wall, bare feet shoulder length apart chilly on the cement floor, his bare bottom twitching in anticipation.
She understood that waiting was a huge part of the thrill of submission. Anne had been on that end of the crop, the strap, the belt and the paddle. She knows how good it feels. That trembling inside that dries the mouth, and accentuates every sound, every aroma, every feeling, especially the feelings that have been kept hidden for so long.
It was Anne’s father who introduced her to spanking. The very first time he paddled her bare bottom she could tell that he was enjoying it more than he should.
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying giving a good spanking,”Anne told Adam. “But when it’s an eight-year old girl you are spanking, that is just wrong.”
And he knew it. Anne’s father knew what he was doing was wrong. He couldn’t stop. Not until she was crying and her bare butt was on fire.
“My father used his hand and then his belt,” Anne said. “We were outside, working on the farm. We had both been in the tractor. He stopped to take a break and it just happened.”
“That was the only time. Never again,” she said. “He was able to stop spanking me. He promised himself that would never happen again. He promised me it would not happen again, and it did not.”
But her father never stopped spoiling Anne and her mother never stopped looking at the two of them like she knew exactly what had happened.
Later, Anne showed her sister what it as like to spank, be spanked, and more.
In a way, those were the toughest years of her life. “I never admitted to myself how much I liked it, loved it and needed it,” Anne said. “You don’t understand yet. But you will.”
“I get it,” Adam said.
“No, you don’t. Not yet. But, you will.”
“He is just about there,”Anne said to her new best friend, Mary.
The time of learning for Adam had also been a time for Anne to grow. He was the first submissive she had felt good with, at peace with, at home with.
Anne felt a delicious sense of power coursing through her body as she walked from the bedroom.
“Power is the wrong word,” Anne said to Mary. “A better word is empowerment.”
“Say it, pronounce each syllable,” Mary said. “Enjoy each syllable of that word. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Oh, you know it does.”
“Yes, I do. And, I know you do, too.”
It wasn’t like Anne has never spanked a guy before. Anne had spanked a lot of them. Too many to count. Or, maybe it had just been too many.
“Ever try adding up all the spanks you’ve delivered?” Mary said.
“Are you kidding? I have trouble figuring out the change when I go shopping. I just have to trust the person at the register,” Anne said. “I tried once. My head starting hurt. So I started spanking again.”
“I understand that.”
So it’s not like Anne’s never done this before. But in a way, that is exactly what it is. Anne has never done this with anyone like Adam. She has led guys into the lifestyle, but she has never walked beside one.
“This is so different,” Anne said to Mary. “It is hard to explain, but it is like I finally met someone on the same path.”
“Every other time, I was helping a guy with a fantasy. A guy who would either go home to his wife and think about it when he closed his eyes, or a guy who would go home to his right hand and close his eyes,” Anne said.
Mary understood that, only too well.
“You become a memory or the smile he wouldn’t dare explain,” said Mary.
“I don’t even think they remember my face. I am just a hand at the end of the arm that was spanking them,” said Anne.
“For a while I wondered if they could remember my name, or if they even knew I had a name. Then I wondered, do they remember my face? Am I really a person to them?” Mary said.
“It’s so different with Adam. I know he remembers my name,” Anne said. “I know he remembers my face.”
“And the best part is, you remember his too.”
Adam didn’t have anyone like Mary to talk to about this new lifestyle into which he has fallen, so as he usually does, he keeps it to himself, and talks to himself.
Before Anne came along, or before he found the courage to ring her doorbell, Adam would go weeks without talking to anyone outside of work.
But there is always work. What else do you really need? Adam would ask himself.
Now Adam knew what else he really needed.
And I always knew it.
“When did you know?” Anne asked him once when they were laying naked together in bed, which by the way was one of Adam’s favorite times. They would lay naked. Cuddle. She would do the cuddling, he would be cuddled. It felt so damn good, so damn right after one of their sessions, as Anne called them.
“When did I know?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t be coy,” Anne said as she slapped his bare bottom that was still red from the paddle and belt.
Adam on his stomach, Anne on her side, her head on her left hand, her right hand caressing Adam’s back one minute, her fingertips following the scratch marks her fingernails had left on his back the next.
“Tell me,” she said with another slap. “When did you know that you needed to be spanked.”
This was tough for Adam. He had not really let go yet. Anne knew that. He knew that. Adam didn’t want to let go. Anne knew he had to.
“Now say it. Tell me when you knew.”
“First grade,” he said. “We had a teacher, a woman, who gave each kid a birthday spanking on his or her birthday.”
She would put the little girl or boy over her lap and give them a birthday spanking in front of the whole class."
“You’re kidding,” Anne said. This was a little hard to believe for even someone with her years in the dominatrix arena, but Adam turned his face to hers and she knew it was true.
“Wow. Incredible.”
“It was for me,” Adam agreed. “I couldn’t wait for my birthday.”
“Oh, my God. Was it everything you expected?”
“Funny thing is, I remember that it was over so fast I didn’t even know she had spanked me. Didn’t feel a single spank,” he said. “But I will never forget looking at the class, my friends, as I went over her lap.”
“Disappointed?”
“You’re kidding right?”
Adam knew that Anne was on the way, probably carrying a leather paddle when at least he heard her footsteps above him. He hoped she would be carry the paddle they bought together during their weekend up north. That was so incredibly exciting. Adam could barely breath.
Shopping in a XXX store with a woman.
A woman I didn’t know, a total stranger, was behind the counter. I was going to have to take whatever Anne chose for me, hand it to her, tell her this is what I had been told to purchase. And then purchase it.
Adam was sweating just thinking about it. He felt the beads of sweat on his neck. He knew his hands were shaking just a little bit. His mouth was drying out.
He was so excited.
And Adam couldn’t hide any of it.
Adam did as he knew he should after buying the paddle. He handed it to Anne by the handle. She felt the leather with her other hand and slapped it against her palm. Hard, fast, and loud.
“It was like a gunshot,” Adam said to her that afternoon after he calmed down from his first leather paddle spanking. “And the quiet after that was so loud. It was the loudest silence I have ever heard.”
“It was not like a gunshot,”Anne said. “It was like a leather paddle against bare skin. That is exactly what it was like, because that was exactly what it was. I knew it. You knew it, and you know that girl behind the counter knew it. She damn well knew it.”
“And she knew what it was doing to you in that store. She could see the damp spot on your jeans. You knew it too.”
“And she knew what that paddle was going to be used for, didn’t she?”
Adam held his breath for just a moment. He could hear a bird outside, the traffic on the expressway two blocks away. There was something about being spanked in the middle of the day, naked, or at least bare-bottomed, when everyone else was leading their vanilla lives, that was such a turn-on and was at the same time so reassuring to Adam.
And he went back to that time up north.
“She knew you were going to paddle my bare butt with it,” Adam finally said. Just admitting that, just remembering the smile on the young blonde’s face, a girl who was barely out of high school, maybe just a day over the minimum age to work in a place like that if there was a minimum age, the knowledge she must have working in a sex shop day after day, all of that piled together.
So this is the lifestyle, Adam thought to himself. Oh lifestyle, where have you been all of my life?
The answer to that question brought a smile to his face as he heard Anne walking through the kitchen above him. Only a few more steps and she, and the lifestyle, would be at the basement door.
Two steps down from the kitchen, door to the driveway on her right, basement door on her left. When Adam heard that door opening, he knew, the waiting was almost over.
Sometimes Things Break
Waiting is one of the stories from the St. Isidore Collection. Anne and Adam are two of the people who live in St. Isidore, a small city, with a large number of trouble souls.
Waiting Chapter One
Waiting:
Chapter One
By Rod Kackley
from the St. Isidore Collection
Sometimes Things Break
Anne should be walking through the basement door any minute now.
Anne would find Adam where she had told him to be, waiting in the corner of her basement. Hands against the cold wall. Feet spread shoulder width apart. Eyes closed. No blindfold. Nothing.
Totally submissive. Totally vulnerable.
Totally waiting for Anne.
Not knowing what would happen when Anne came downstairs, but knowing everything that would happen would be what she wanted.
Adam, too.
Such is the life of a submissive, even a part-time submissive. A submissive who never tops from the bottom, but who knows the one who dominates him would never really hurt him.
Much.
“Until you have given yourself up totally to me, you can never been totally free,” Anne told him once when their relationship was just beginning.Those were the days when he would resist.
Those were the days when all of his misconceptions about himself, about her, about what they were doing, all the fears, all of the angst, all of everything that held him back was still holding him back, blocking his plans, his hopes, his dreams and even his fears.
After the first time, Adam vowed never to do it again, to never, ever see Anne again. To hide in his house when she left hers.
Then there was the second time, and a third and a fourth and so on.
Then, Adam joined the St. Isidore Spanking Society.
Even though they were sharing beds in each others’ homes on a very regular basis, whenever he saw Anne his heart still raced. Its beat took him back to the place that he needed to be. The place that he had to be. The place that..well...the place where Adam knew he always should have been.
“When did you know?” Anne asked him once when they were laying naked together in bed, which by the way was one of Adam’s favorite times. They would lay naked. Cuddle. She would do the cuddling, he would be cuddled. It felt so damn good, so damn right after one of their “sessions,” as Anne called them.
“When did I know?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t be coy,” Anne said as she slapped his bare bottom that was still red from the paddle and belt.
Adam on his stomach, Anne on her side, her head on her left hand, her right hand caressing Adam’s back one minute, her fingertips following the scratch marks she had left on his back, the next.
“Tell me,” she said with a harder slap. “When did you know that you needed to be spanked?”
This was tough for Adam. He was not able to let go. Anne knew he had to.
Spank
“Now say it. Tell me when you knew.”
Slap
“First grade,” he said. “We had a teacher, a woman, who gave each kid a birthday spanking on his or her birthday.”
She would put the little girl or boy over her lap and give them a birthday spanking in front of the whole class”
“You’re kidding,” Anne said. It was a little hard to believe for even someone with her years in the dominatrix arena, but Adam turned his face to hers and she knew it was true.
“Wow. Incredible.”
It was for me,” Adam agreed. “I couldn’t wait for my birthday.”
“Oh my God. Was it everything you expected?”
“Funny thing is, It was over so fast I didn’t even know she had spanked me. Didn’t feel a single spank,” he said. “But I will never forget looking at the class, my friends, as I went over her lap.”
“Disappointed?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
And so Adam waited. He waited for Anne, the one to whom he had finally, totally submitted and promised to never submit to another, unless she approved or better put, ordered.
That happened. There were parties.
Adam was amazed to find there were so many people into this lifestyle — and a lifestyle it was, he discovered — so many people who “the others” would consider normal.
If they only knew.
“And we really are normal,” said Anne,”aren’t we? What is normal anyway? Why is it normal to take your hard cock and put it into a wet pussy rocking back and forth until you shoot this white bodily fluid into the other person?
Why is it normal for two human beings to put their mouths together tangling tongues and drinking each others’ saliva?
Who the fuck declared all of that to be normal?” she said.
“Who the fuck decided it was wrong to lick my toes but perfectly normal to suck my pussy from which I pee?”
So what is normal, Adam wondered as he stood naked, his feet shoulder length apart, palms of his hands against the cold cement basement wall, eyes closed, pecker coming to attention. Just what the fuck is normal?
Mary smiled. She was upstairs with, her new best friend, Anne. She was going to be Adam’s surprise. Mary was going to stretch his boundaries and expand his limits.
Mary knew what Adam was thinking. She had been there. She could hear his thoughts clear as a bell, and she know exactly how he felt.
“People say we are all the same,” Mary told Anne. “But we are not. We are all different. We are all unique, dead or alive, angel or demon, all are unique.”
So she didn’t know exactly what Adam was feeling at this bare assed, naked moment of anticipatory excitement. But she knew. You know?
Anticipation can be so delicious, she thought.
“That’s really the foreplay of what we do,” Anne told Adam when he expressed his amazement at how good it could feel to just wait.
Adam was there, in kind of a dream-like limbo land, where he was totally into the moment. Smelling concrete, feeling so naked, submissive and vulnerable.
Adam had been waiting years for this.
If only he had known.
Of course, this is just the beginning. For Chapter Two, please click here.
(c) 2014 Lyons Circle Publishing Inc.
Chapter One
By Rod Kackley
from the St. Isidore Collection
Sometimes Things Break
Anne should be walking through the basement door any minute now.
Anne would find Adam where she had told him to be, waiting in the corner of her basement. Hands against the cold wall. Feet spread shoulder width apart. Eyes closed. No blindfold. Nothing.
Totally submissive. Totally vulnerable.
Totally waiting for Anne.
Not knowing what would happen when Anne came downstairs, but knowing everything that would happen would be what she wanted.
Adam, too.
Such is the life of a submissive, even a part-time submissive. A submissive who never tops from the bottom, but who knows the one who dominates him would never really hurt him.
Much.
“Until you have given yourself up totally to me, you can never been totally free,” Anne told him once when their relationship was just beginning.Those were the days when he would resist.
Those were the days when all of his misconceptions about himself, about her, about what they were doing, all the fears, all of the angst, all of everything that held him back was still holding him back, blocking his plans, his hopes, his dreams and even his fears.
After the first time, Adam vowed never to do it again, to never, ever see Anne again. To hide in his house when she left hers.
Then there was the second time, and a third and a fourth and so on.
Then, Adam joined the St. Isidore Spanking Society.
Even though they were sharing beds in each others’ homes on a very regular basis, whenever he saw Anne his heart still raced. Its beat took him back to the place that he needed to be. The place that he had to be. The place that..well...the place where Adam knew he always should have been.
“When did you know?” Anne asked him once when they were laying naked together in bed, which by the way was one of Adam’s favorite times. They would lay naked. Cuddle. She would do the cuddling, he would be cuddled. It felt so damn good, so damn right after one of their “sessions,” as Anne called them.
“When did I know?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t be coy,” Anne said as she slapped his bare bottom that was still red from the paddle and belt.
Adam on his stomach, Anne on her side, her head on her left hand, her right hand caressing Adam’s back one minute, her fingertips following the scratch marks she had left on his back, the next.
“Tell me,” she said with a harder slap. “When did you know that you needed to be spanked?”
This was tough for Adam. He was not able to let go. Anne knew he had to.
Spank
“Now say it. Tell me when you knew.”
Slap
“First grade,” he said. “We had a teacher, a woman, who gave each kid a birthday spanking on his or her birthday.”
She would put the little girl or boy over her lap and give them a birthday spanking in front of the whole class”
“You’re kidding,” Anne said. It was a little hard to believe for even someone with her years in the dominatrix arena, but Adam turned his face to hers and she knew it was true.
“Wow. Incredible.”
It was for me,” Adam agreed. “I couldn’t wait for my birthday.”
“Oh my God. Was it everything you expected?”
“Funny thing is, It was over so fast I didn’t even know she had spanked me. Didn’t feel a single spank,” he said. “But I will never forget looking at the class, my friends, as I went over her lap.”
“Disappointed?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
And so Adam waited. He waited for Anne, the one to whom he had finally, totally submitted and promised to never submit to another, unless she approved or better put, ordered.
That happened. There were parties.
Adam was amazed to find there were so many people into this lifestyle — and a lifestyle it was, he discovered — so many people who “the others” would consider normal.
If they only knew.
“And we really are normal,” said Anne,”aren’t we? What is normal anyway? Why is it normal to take your hard cock and put it into a wet pussy rocking back and forth until you shoot this white bodily fluid into the other person?
Why is it normal for two human beings to put their mouths together tangling tongues and drinking each others’ saliva?
Who the fuck declared all of that to be normal?” she said.
“Who the fuck decided it was wrong to lick my toes but perfectly normal to suck my pussy from which I pee?”
So what is normal, Adam wondered as he stood naked, his feet shoulder length apart, palms of his hands against the cold cement basement wall, eyes closed, pecker coming to attention. Just what the fuck is normal?
Mary smiled. She was upstairs with, her new best friend, Anne. She was going to be Adam’s surprise. Mary was going to stretch his boundaries and expand his limits.
Mary knew what Adam was thinking. She had been there. She could hear his thoughts clear as a bell, and she know exactly how he felt.
“People say we are all the same,” Mary told Anne. “But we are not. We are all different. We are all unique, dead or alive, angel or demon, all are unique.”
So she didn’t know exactly what Adam was feeling at this bare assed, naked moment of anticipatory excitement. But she knew. You know?
Anticipation can be so delicious, she thought.
“That’s really the foreplay of what we do,” Anne told Adam when he expressed his amazement at how good it could feel to just wait.
Adam was there, in kind of a dream-like limbo land, where he was totally into the moment. Smelling concrete, feeling so naked, submissive and vulnerable.
Adam had been waiting years for this.
If only he had known.
Of course, this is just the beginning. For Chapter Two, please click here.
(c) 2014 Lyons Circle Publishing Inc.
January 25, 2014
To Be Creative, Be Lonely, By Rod Kackley
Forget about collaborating with a team to come up with a new idea. Collaboration works best after you have the idea. Then you can recruit others to follow your vision and turn it into reality.
It is better to be lonely, if you want to be creative. I didn’t say it first. John Steinbeck (pictured above) did. Not in so many words, but he made the point in his 1952 classic, East Of Eden.
“Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and the spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.”
Don’t you wish the creator (if he was working alone) of the open office concept had stumbled upon this passage before he tore down our office and then cubicle walls.
Again, John Steinbeck from East Of Eden:
“And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammer blows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.”
“And I this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world.”
So this is why I would never hesitate to say, “No, I am not a team player” nor never hesitate to say, “Stop reading business books.”
However if you feel you cannot break the habit of reading business books, feel free to read my five-part ebook series, Restore The Roar: Manufacturing Renaissance, available wherever ebooks are sold, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Vook.com.
It is better to be lonely, if you want to be creative. I didn’t say it first. John Steinbeck (pictured above) did. Not in so many words, but he made the point in his 1952 classic, East Of Eden.
“Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and the spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.”
Don’t you wish the creator (if he was working alone) of the open office concept had stumbled upon this passage before he tore down our office and then cubicle walls.
Again, John Steinbeck from East Of Eden:
“And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammer blows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.”
“And I this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world.”
So this is why I would never hesitate to say, “No, I am not a team player” nor never hesitate to say, “Stop reading business books.”
However if you feel you cannot break the habit of reading business books, feel free to read my five-part ebook series, Restore The Roar: Manufacturing Renaissance, available wherever ebooks are sold, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Vook.com.
St. Isidore's Library Man By Rod Kackley
Gerald Johnson never missed a day of going to the St. Isidore Library. He would take books back and bring books home. Some days just one book. Other days two or three. Some days he would fill two book bags.
Gerald never missed a day. Take books back to the library. Bring books home.
Gerald Johnson watched his neighbor’s children digging holes to China, then years later posing for pre-prom photos and years later finally bring their own children back to the neighborhood to visit their parents.
And they watched him. Every day. Going to the library with books, coming home with books. Year after year.
One day Gerald didn’t go to the library. That day he went to the funeral home.
His daughter, Sarah, went to the library the next day and returned the last of the books Gerald had borrowed.
“Your father did love to read, didn’t he?” said Alice the librarian.
“Oh no,” said Sarah. “He figured out the system you used to send books to the basement if they had not been checked out often enough.”
“He never read the books. He just wanted to make sure none of them wound up in the basement. Ever.”
Gerald never missed a day. Take books back to the library. Bring books home.
Gerald Johnson watched his neighbor’s children digging holes to China, then years later posing for pre-prom photos and years later finally bring their own children back to the neighborhood to visit their parents.
And they watched him. Every day. Going to the library with books, coming home with books. Year after year.
One day Gerald didn’t go to the library. That day he went to the funeral home.
His daughter, Sarah, went to the library the next day and returned the last of the books Gerald had borrowed.
“Your father did love to read, didn’t he?” said Alice the librarian.
“Oh no,” said Sarah. “He figured out the system you used to send books to the basement if they had not been checked out often enough.”
“He never read the books. He just wanted to make sure none of them wound up in the basement. Ever.”
Books that change lives
Is there a book that has changed your life? Or maybe pointed you in a new direction?
For me it was a biography of Ernie Pyle, the World War Two reporter.
This was one of the biographies that were put out by a factory for elementary school students.
I was probably eight years old, and it convinced me that I needed to be a writer, a reporter, an author.
How about you? What book or books have influenced you?
Rod
For me it was a biography of Ernie Pyle, the World War Two reporter.
This was one of the biographies that were put out by a factory for elementary school students.
I was probably eight years old, and it convinced me that I needed to be a writer, a reporter, an author.
How about you? What book or books have influenced you?
Rod
October 1, 2013
Rod Kackley App
My new app is ready for free download on Google Play and iTunes.
I have posted three free chapters of my first book, Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community, along with free chapters from selected ebooks in my Restore The Roar: Manufacturing Renaissance series.
I will also be posting free chapters from my first novel, Sometimes Things Break, along with selected flash fiction and nonfiction.
Let me know what you think..
Rod
I have posted three free chapters of my first book, Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community, along with free chapters from selected ebooks in my Restore The Roar: Manufacturing Renaissance series.
I will also be posting free chapters from my first novel, Sometimes Things Break, along with selected flash fiction and nonfiction.
Let me know what you think..
Rod
September 6, 2013
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg LarssonMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Fantastic book. I just picked it up at the Grand Rapids (MI) Public Library on a whim, and got hooked as soon as I opened it.
Wonderful character development, although I did think there was a very long list of characters. Too many? I guess not, because I really loved this book.
I read the second in the series as soon as I finished the first, and I am getting into the third book now.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
View all my reviews
August 25, 2013
Sometimes Things Break
Sometimes Things Break
An Anne & Adam story
By Rod Kackley
Welcome to the creation of Sometimes Things Break, the first book in the Anne & Adam series. I will be blogging chapter by chapter. This is a work in progress. Let me know what you think of the story and its characters.
Sometimes Things Break is the story of three people in their 50s caught in the twilight of their mediocrity, desperately trying to change their lives, as the finish line gets closer every day.
Characters
Anne is a serial entrepreneur, a woman in her 50s with her own business and her own hobbies. Anne has a new idea that she is sure will be a winner, if only she can turn her local banker into a believer.
As tough as it could be to get a line of credit, she has had much better luck with her bankers than her lovers. It’s not that Anne hasn’t tried.However after more than a half-century of searching, the memories just keep getting in the way. Sometimes there are too many lessons learned.
Adam wants to be a cop. This Baby-Boomer radio reporter, who was a marine deputy until the department discovered he couldn’t swim, has the brains and the courage, but is suffering a severe lack of brawn. Adam also wants to fall in love, again. But this time a real love. No more one-way streets. That’s a dream.
Anne could be more than the woman who makes his dreams come true. She could be the one who gives him dreams. If only they could find each other.
Tim is a burnt-out high school biology teacher, a man in his mid-50s who has never found the woman of his dreams. He is still looking and hoping...that no one else gets hurt.
Bree could be the woman Tim has been dreaming of and lusting after. The only problem is that she is not a woman. Bree is a girl. She is a kid. Tim doesn’t see her that way, or maybe the problem is he doesn’t see himself as a middle-aged Boomer.
All this 16-year old girl can see is that she has finally found someone who loves her and someone she can love back. It's up to Anne and Adam to find Bree and save her. But first, they need to find each other.
Sometimes Things Break
The Anne & Adam Stories begin
(c) 2013 Lyons Circle Publishing Inc.
An Anne & Adam story
By Rod Kackley
Welcome to the creation of Sometimes Things Break, the first book in the Anne & Adam series. I will be blogging chapter by chapter. This is a work in progress. Let me know what you think of the story and its characters.
Sometimes Things Break is the story of three people in their 50s caught in the twilight of their mediocrity, desperately trying to change their lives, as the finish line gets closer every day.
Characters
Anne is a serial entrepreneur, a woman in her 50s with her own business and her own hobbies. Anne has a new idea that she is sure will be a winner, if only she can turn her local banker into a believer.
As tough as it could be to get a line of credit, she has had much better luck with her bankers than her lovers. It’s not that Anne hasn’t tried.However after more than a half-century of searching, the memories just keep getting in the way. Sometimes there are too many lessons learned.
Adam wants to be a cop. This Baby-Boomer radio reporter, who was a marine deputy until the department discovered he couldn’t swim, has the brains and the courage, but is suffering a severe lack of brawn. Adam also wants to fall in love, again. But this time a real love. No more one-way streets. That’s a dream.
Anne could be more than the woman who makes his dreams come true. She could be the one who gives him dreams. If only they could find each other.
Tim is a burnt-out high school biology teacher, a man in his mid-50s who has never found the woman of his dreams. He is still looking and hoping...that no one else gets hurt.
Bree could be the woman Tim has been dreaming of and lusting after. The only problem is that she is not a woman. Bree is a girl. She is a kid. Tim doesn’t see her that way, or maybe the problem is he doesn’t see himself as a middle-aged Boomer.
All this 16-year old girl can see is that she has finally found someone who loves her and someone she can love back. It's up to Anne and Adam to find Bree and save her. But first, they need to find each other.
Sometimes Things Break
The Anne & Adam Stories begin
(c) 2013 Lyons Circle Publishing Inc.
July 5, 2013
Van Andel Institute: The Anchor
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community
Chapter Six
Van Andel Institute: The Anchor
By Rod Kackley
Dave Van Andel remembered making the call to Birgit (Klohs) to tell her what was going to happen. “I don’t think anybody realized at the time, including myself perhaps, how big a deal this really was,” Dave said in his very comfortable way.
“You have to understand that back then, if you were having a discussion about life sciences in Michigan, people would look at you funny and go, “What?”
Looking back on it, I can remember being one those people asking that single word and maybe simple-minded question. What? Writing some of the first stories about Medical Mile for a regional business publication I was left wondering if I should use the phrase “life science” or “life sciences.” We were all wondering if there was more to a “wet lab” than a sink and running water. Dave Van Andel was truly opening the door to a new world for Grand Rapids.
To tell you the truth, I thought they were nuts. That was a mistake. It was also a lesson for the developers of the next cluster: there will be non-believers. Anything worth doing is worth doubting. In fact, that should be encouraged. There is nothing wrong with critical thinking.
However, the early adopters had to be patient.
“This wasn’t automotive technology, this wasn’t anything to do with furniture, this was life sciences and this was something that was certainly not on the radar screen and certainly was not in the vocabulary of 99 percent of the populace,” Dave said.
“When I made the call to tell her (Birgit) what was going to occur now, what the decision was, what this meant, I think that was an inflection point, if you will, that quite frankly changed the conversation forever about what Grand Rapids was going to become.”
No kidding.
“I also remember a call from then-Mayor (John) Logie who asked ‘what does this mean?’” recalled Birgit. “I remember John asking, ‘what’s a spin off?’ ‘It is really when someone has an innovation that becomes a full-fledged business over time,’ I explained.”
She explained to him and everyone else whose world had been shaken and whose minds were soon to be opened to unthinkable possibilities that first of all it meant that Grand Rapids was going to have to attract “incredible intellectual capacity.”
Intellect does attract intellect, and talent attracts talent. After the Detroit Tigers had the worst season in baseball history, owner Mike Illitch recruited and signed a real all-star, Ivan “Pudge” Rodriguez to the team, and then used Pudge to recruit and attract other top talent.
The same thing is happening on Medical Mile, just as Birgit predicted more than a decade ago.
She knew that the walls of a research institute of this magnitude would have to be papered with lots of framed Ph.D. diplomas. There would be many other support positions, as well. But the core of that institute would be Ph.D. scientists.
“And from that I told people, you will hopefully get spin-offs, you will get clinical trials, and we are going to have to talk venture capital,” explained Birgit. I could see in her eyes 15 years after that phone call that her mind must have been spinning when all this happened. Even now she gets more and more excited recalling the early days of Medical Mile conversations. It is hard not to get caught up in the enthusiasm.
“Eventually somebody is going to invent something, or find something or a cure for something that will turn into a business,” said Birgit. That has always been the dream, the vision, the hope, that someone, some day would create the next “sticky notes” of life sciences and move Grand Rapids off the average plate.
It is happening now on Medical Mile. We will look at progress made in later chapters. However during the creation days Grand Rapids had to, and is still, learning a new vocabulary.
Van Andel Institute, this anchor of the Medical Mile, was not only a game changer; it was an attitude- and vision-changer for metro Grand Rapids.
Birgit can forgive us for being confused in the days that followed the phone call from Dave. She was too.
“What we said to the Right Place board was, ‘We are getting this incredible gift. We don’t particularly know what it means. But let’s figure out what we need to put around it to make it worthwhile.’”
The rest of this story is told in the pages of Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community by Rod Kackley.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community tells the story of how the people of Grand Rapids changed the way the world sees their community and the way their community sees the world and is available wherever books are sold, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iTunes.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community is also available at Barnes & Noble-Woodland Mall, Schuler Books & Music-28th Street and West Coast Coffee-Monroe Center, Grand Rapids, Michigan
To purchase a personally autographed copy of Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community, click on the Buy Now button at www.rodkackley.com.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community
Chapter Six
Van Andel Institute: The Anchor
By Rod Kackley
Dave Van Andel remembered making the call to Birgit (Klohs) to tell her what was going to happen. “I don’t think anybody realized at the time, including myself perhaps, how big a deal this really was,” Dave said in his very comfortable way.
“You have to understand that back then, if you were having a discussion about life sciences in Michigan, people would look at you funny and go, “What?”
Looking back on it, I can remember being one those people asking that single word and maybe simple-minded question. What? Writing some of the first stories about Medical Mile for a regional business publication I was left wondering if I should use the phrase “life science” or “life sciences.” We were all wondering if there was more to a “wet lab” than a sink and running water. Dave Van Andel was truly opening the door to a new world for Grand Rapids.
To tell you the truth, I thought they were nuts. That was a mistake. It was also a lesson for the developers of the next cluster: there will be non-believers. Anything worth doing is worth doubting. In fact, that should be encouraged. There is nothing wrong with critical thinking.
However, the early adopters had to be patient.
“This wasn’t automotive technology, this wasn’t anything to do with furniture, this was life sciences and this was something that was certainly not on the radar screen and certainly was not in the vocabulary of 99 percent of the populace,” Dave said.
“When I made the call to tell her (Birgit) what was going to occur now, what the decision was, what this meant, I think that was an inflection point, if you will, that quite frankly changed the conversation forever about what Grand Rapids was going to become.”
No kidding.
“I also remember a call from then-Mayor (John) Logie who asked ‘what does this mean?’” recalled Birgit. “I remember John asking, ‘what’s a spin off?’ ‘It is really when someone has an innovation that becomes a full-fledged business over time,’ I explained.”
She explained to him and everyone else whose world had been shaken and whose minds were soon to be opened to unthinkable possibilities that first of all it meant that Grand Rapids was going to have to attract “incredible intellectual capacity.”
Intellect does attract intellect, and talent attracts talent. After the Detroit Tigers had the worst season in baseball history, owner Mike Illitch recruited and signed a real all-star, Ivan “Pudge” Rodriguez to the team, and then used Pudge to recruit and attract other top talent.
The same thing is happening on Medical Mile, just as Birgit predicted more than a decade ago.
She knew that the walls of a research institute of this magnitude would have to be papered with lots of framed Ph.D. diplomas. There would be many other support positions, as well. But the core of that institute would be Ph.D. scientists.
“And from that I told people, you will hopefully get spin-offs, you will get clinical trials, and we are going to have to talk venture capital,” explained Birgit. I could see in her eyes 15 years after that phone call that her mind must have been spinning when all this happened. Even now she gets more and more excited recalling the early days of Medical Mile conversations. It is hard not to get caught up in the enthusiasm.
“Eventually somebody is going to invent something, or find something or a cure for something that will turn into a business,” said Birgit. That has always been the dream, the vision, the hope, that someone, some day would create the next “sticky notes” of life sciences and move Grand Rapids off the average plate.
It is happening now on Medical Mile. We will look at progress made in later chapters. However during the creation days Grand Rapids had to, and is still, learning a new vocabulary.
Van Andel Institute, this anchor of the Medical Mile, was not only a game changer; it was an attitude- and vision-changer for metro Grand Rapids.
Birgit can forgive us for being confused in the days that followed the phone call from Dave. She was too.
“What we said to the Right Place board was, ‘We are getting this incredible gift. We don’t particularly know what it means. But let’s figure out what we need to put around it to make it worthwhile.’”
The rest of this story is told in the pages of Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community by Rod Kackley.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community tells the story of how the people of Grand Rapids changed the way the world sees their community and the way their community sees the world and is available wherever books are sold, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iTunes.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community is also available at Barnes & Noble-Woodland Mall, Schuler Books & Music-28th Street and West Coast Coffee-Monroe Center, Grand Rapids, Michigan
To purchase a personally autographed copy of Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community, click on the Buy Now button at www.rodkackley.com.
Last Chance Mile: The Reinvention of an American Community
July 4, 2013
Thank The Farmer For That Beer In Your Hand
Quenching The Thirst
Chapter One: The Farmers
By Rod Kackley
Jeff and Bonnie Steinman are betting their farm on Michigan’s craft brewing industry. The Barry County, Michigan couple spent several years experimenting before launching Hop Head Farms LLC in the summer of 2012. They are growing hops that brewers need on a 40-acre lot with 15-acres of new plants.
They also have a small test yard that the Steinmans started in 2009.
This is perfect for these two. Jeff and Bonnie are just what they say they are and you can feel their enthusiasm for their craft even in a conference call phone interview. I spoke with them from the patio of a Starbucks near Kalamazoo, Mich. while they took a break from their farming operation on a hot summer day
You have to believe her when Bonne says that she and Jeff are “plant people” who are always looking for new crops to grow. Perhaps more importantly, they don’t just like beer. They love beer. Bonnie said they are “beer enthusiasts, especially (for) Michigan-brewed beers.”
How could there be any business more perfect for this couple?
They are targeting craft and home brewers who Jeff said are having a hard time getting the hops they need, especially locally grown hops. Large hop farms are locked into long-term contracts with the macro-brewers, the giants of the industry. “So we are trying to reopen the market to some of the smaller guys,” he said. “Very few have large barrel capacity in any one state. The small breweries have a hard time. We would like to work with larger breweries but would like to help the smaller breweries with supply issues.”
The smaller breweries are really a victim of their own success, or better said, they are a victim of their own recipes. They have supply issues because the micro- and craft-brewers use a lot more hops to make barrels of beer than do macro-brewers, according to Jeff. “Even though is a small percentage, the craft brewers have really impacted the supply of hops.”
Jeff and Bonnie got down and dirty when it came time to ignite their passion. With a business model in the works for several years , Jeff said that close to 15,000 plants were hand-planted in hand-crafted hop hills augmented with local compost and covered in organic weed control paper over a period of three and a half weeks. Five varieties of hops were planted of which three were in short supply for the 2012 season already when I spoke with the Jeff and Bonnie.
More than 20 volunteers came from as far away as the Chicago and Detroit areas to assist the Steinmans in the planting of the hops. They converted a corn field located in downtown Hickory Corners to a hop farm of nearly 15,000 plants grown on a trellis system reaching over 20 feet high in merely four months.
“The farm and facilities were developed with the assistance of several different contractors contributing their expertise to the project including a trellis contractor, well drillers, irrigation contractor, and Morton Buildings and their subcontractors as well,” Jeff said. Nearly all materials and work are from Michigan businesses including treated pine poles, wire, compost, and starter plants.”
He also said they planned to receive additional assistance with the work still ahead of them through University of Illinois interns, paid seasonal employees and continual volunteer assistance that has proven invaluable.
Quenching The Thirst
Chapter One: The Farmers
By Rod Kackley
Jeff and Bonnie Steinman are betting their farm on Michigan’s craft brewing industry. The Barry County, Michigan couple spent several years experimenting before launching Hop Head Farms LLC in the summer of 2012. They are growing hops that brewers need on a 40-acre lot with 15-acres of new plants.
They also have a small test yard that the Steinmans started in 2009.
This is perfect for these two. Jeff and Bonnie are just what they say they are and you can feel their enthusiasm for their craft even in a conference call phone interview. I spoke with them from the patio of a Starbucks near Kalamazoo, Mich. while they took a break from their farming operation on a hot summer day
You have to believe her when Bonne says that she and Jeff are “plant people” who are always looking for new crops to grow. Perhaps more importantly, they don’t just like beer. They love beer. Bonnie said they are “beer enthusiasts, especially (for) Michigan-brewed beers.”
How could there be any business more perfect for this couple?
They are targeting craft and home brewers who Jeff said are having a hard time getting the hops they need, especially locally grown hops. Large hop farms are locked into long-term contracts with the macro-brewers, the giants of the industry. “So we are trying to reopen the market to some of the smaller guys,” he said. “Very few have large barrel capacity in any one state. The small breweries have a hard time. We would like to work with larger breweries but would like to help the smaller breweries with supply issues.”
The smaller breweries are really a victim of their own success, or better said, they are a victim of their own recipes. They have supply issues because the micro- and craft-brewers use a lot more hops to make barrels of beer than do macro-brewers, according to Jeff. “Even though is a small percentage, the craft brewers have really impacted the supply of hops.”
Jeff and Bonnie got down and dirty when it came time to ignite their passion. With a business model in the works for several years , Jeff said that close to 15,000 plants were hand-planted in hand-crafted hop hills augmented with local compost and covered in organic weed control paper over a period of three and a half weeks. Five varieties of hops were planted of which three were in short supply for the 2012 season already when I spoke with the Jeff and Bonnie.
More than 20 volunteers came from as far away as the Chicago and Detroit areas to assist the Steinmans in the planting of the hops. They converted a corn field located in downtown Hickory Corners to a hop farm of nearly 15,000 plants grown on a trellis system reaching over 20 feet high in merely four months.
“The farm and facilities were developed with the assistance of several different contractors contributing their expertise to the project including a trellis contractor, well drillers, irrigation contractor, and Morton Buildings and their subcontractors as well,” Jeff said. Nearly all materials and work are from Michigan businesses including treated pine poles, wire, compost, and starter plants.”
He also said they planned to receive additional assistance with the work still ahead of them through University of Illinois interns, paid seasonal employees and continual volunteer assistance that has proven invaluable.
Quenching The Thirst
