Nathaniel Robert Winters's Blog: Not Quite Kosher, page 2

Dog-Gone-It

Wolfgang the wolf pup wants you to know Bob's new poetry book Another Revolution is due out October 7th. It has one poem about wolves, 3 poems about dogs, and a story called Dog-Gone-It. Be the first in your pack to buy and review; I was chewing on a copy this morning and from my point of view it tastes better than road kill.

Michael Jordan was right

Got in my car this morning and my tires were low. Thought it may have been a road hazard and I went to a car shop. On further inspection my tires were as bald as I am. Might be time to get new tires and maybe a toupee.
(not really the toupee thing, been there done that) Nothing's worse than a bad toupee. Back in the 80's when I was still trying to figure out what to do with the bald thing, I got a toupee. When I played sports at my school, I took it off and put it in the closet. Another teacher opened the closet door and screamed, she thought it was a rat. Guys take my experience to heart and save yourself the time and expense, go natural, bald is beautiful.

I won!

Great news! One of my poems took 3rd place in the Voices of Lincoln contest out of 1500 poems that were submitted. Here for better or worse is 'Of Dreams' Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Dream
included the notion
his children could live in a nation
not be judged by the color of their skin,
but the content of their character.
Are the two Obama elections what he saw from the mountain top?
After the election
I had my own dream.
Autumn, my golden lab said to Coco, my black lab,
“Can you believe that people care so much about the color of ones coat?”
“No, that’s so dumb. Dogs would never do that.
When I smell another dogs butt
we all look about the same.”

Just Romeing Around

Just Romeing Around

Jules sees her across the room
felt like a man bewitched
her olive skin, head held high,
black mini-dress, long legs

She of shimmering locks
topped with a tiara and
penetrating royal blue eyes
knifing into his heart

They met at the Rubicon River Tavern
she smiled a killer smile, said her name was Cleo
he knew there was no turning back
from this wonderous woman

they danced , glided together
feet never touched the ground
two moved as one, full of grace

Jules tasted Cleo’s luscious lips
melting into each other’s arms
they exploded in passion

But morning came, the ides of March
Cleo retreated to Cairo and her
loveless marriage to a brutus
queen for only one blissful night

Jules left with wingman Mark Anthony
feeling stabbed in the back
dark glasses battled bright sunshine
and hid a single tear

“Which way?” Mark asked.

Jules shrugged, “All roads lead to Rome.”

Catching Up

Catching Up
It’s been seven years since I learned I had Parkinson’s disease and nine since my last failed back surgery. It’s time to take stock and share some thoughts about how I’m doing.
First let me relate how one fits into the other. The back problems included minor pain and discomfort all the time. Pain was exasperated by standing or sitting more then an hour, walking to long and even lying on one side too long. Before this last back procedure I played tennis, skied double diamond run at Lake Tahoe and jogged daily. That is all gone.
I still walk a mile every morning and do other activities like Thi-Chi and swimming. Studies have shown that aerobic exercise can mediate the effects of Parkinson’s.
How does Parkinson’s effect the body? Parkinson’s attacks the part of the brain that controls the central nervous system. The disease stops the brain from making the hormone dopamine. This effects the body many ways. The most obvious problem is shaking. Before the name of this disease was changed to honor Dr. Parkinson’s research, it was called Shaking Disease. I shake, more on my left side. So now both my home state of CA and I quake.
Other ways Parkinson’s affects others and me:
Depression, pain, anxiety-which keeps me from driving out of the Napa Valley, muscle stiffness, memory, balance, trouble sleeping, choking, trouble speaking, constipation and other major or minor problems. Parkinson’s is progressive so I can look forward more of this crap.
What has helped: drugs, drugs and more drugs. When I was in college I smoked dope (pot). Now I take el-dopa, lots of this dopamine substitute and many other pills.
DBS (deep brain stimulation), wires implanted in the brain controlled by a battery pack in the chest. My first battery lasted 2.5 years. It has been replaced by one that will last 10 years but I have to plug myself in for about an hour every day to recharge my battery (really I’m not making this up.) The whole idea of this led me to write the Si-fi book--The Black Night of Berkeley.
Without tennis, skiing and my retiring from teaching I’ve turned to writing to occupy my time. I’ve written and self-published 15 books in ten years. I love writing. (Go to amazon-Nathaniel Robert Winters to find my books).
That’s all for now I’m off to walk my new dog, Rue.
Later,
Bob

Tim loves Lois

Who is my favorite fictional couple?

That is an easy question to answer. It is two lovers that I created: Tim and Lois from the
"The Adventures of the Omaha Kid" If you haven't read it yet, you are missing a great story. Look at the reviews on Amazon and pick up on their unique love story for Valentines day.

Ocean Devotion

A poem
for Colleen

Ocean Devotion
Nathaniel Robert Winters

I want to make love to you like a tropical ocean
envelope you in warm water’s embrace
waves of pleasure move with a passion
fill your body by my devotion
alter the motion and the pace
no one made love to you in this fashion

touch you with kiss after kiss
lips with sexy salty taste
tell me you love this
float in orgasmic bliss

Baby Bears

On the eve of destiny or disaster the Cubbies, baseball's lovable losers, jinxed by billey-goat and Bartman, home on Chicago's Northside, comfortable confines of Wrigley Field. Even with the great Ernie Banks, they played just good enough to lose, haven't won a World Series in over a century. A fan even wrote a play to their futility, the way off Broadway "Bleacher Bums." But with the best record in the majors expectations have been elevated. But be careful what you wish for, win and you are just another team, like when the Red Sox finally beat the course of the Bambino and Beantown Boston, lost its underdog role to the dreaded Yankees.
So what will it be? Another disaster or destiny?
Will the Cubs become bears?
Nathaniel Robert (Bob) Winters

Not Quite Kosher

MY NEW BOOK "NOT QUITE KOSHER" IS NOW PUBLISHED AND WILL BE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.
The book is not quite a memoir but a unique blend of non-fiction prose, poetry and even some fiction that parallels my life.
My life has had its share of tragedy, joy, disappointment and celebration. Join me in a life well traveled. Thanks.

Chapter from: Not Quite Kosher

Nathaniel Robert “Bob” Winters
Dude
If you called someone a dude in the 1970’s, it was a name of endearment, like, “Dude pass me that joint.” The most righteous dude of all had to be the first one to say, “Hey man, don’t bogart that joint, pass it over to me.” He had to be one stoned movie buff. Maybe he was the film critic for Rolling Stone magazine.
In 1961 at Ringo Ranch, being called a dude was the opposite of cool. It meant you were a city slicker and you don’t know a horse’s ass from the other end. Well we didn’t. The three of us, my brothers Fred, Doug and I, had never been near an equine. Somehow my parents thought it was a good idea to send us to a dude ranch on Lake Champlain in Vermont.
We joined eight other enrollees as well as an equal number of staff. It was a strange number of kids, not enough to play most camp games, like war or even baseball. So we had to find a different kind of routine. At first we were a bit uncomfortable but by the third week we relaxed and went with the flow. Horseback riding in the morning, swimming and lake activities in the afternoon.
I was a strong swimmer and I decided to swim the mile and a half across the lake. Accompanied by a staff member in a canoe, I made it about halfway and said to myself, screw this, and gave it up. Obviously, I needed more incentive, like a really cute girl on the other side. Oh well, I thought, halfway across the lake, that’s not too bad for an 11-year-old.
I know what you’re thinking; I was too young to be interested in cute girls. Wrong, I was always attracted to a pretty face. I didn’t have a clue what to do if I was with a girl, but I was interested.
When parent’s day arrived, the three of us were feeling pretty enthusiastic about this whole dude ranch thing. Mom and Dad were proudly watching their boys cantering along on their steeds when suddenly the big silver stallion broke loose from his corral.
Tramp, the stud, showing his full maleness, knew what he wanted to do with a mare. Unfortunately, he chose the appaloosa with Doug in the saddle. To my parent’s and my brother’s horror, Tramp mounted the already mounted horse. Just in time, an aware staff member sprinted up and pulled my panicking eight year old brother off the mare.
The next thing we knew, the three of us were slung in the back seat of the car headed home. We stared ahead, eyes wide open, silently shocked for quite a while. Then I heard myself say, “You could have been trampled by Tramp.”
Fred said, “Did you see the size of his thing?”
That broke the spell. The three of us started laughing hysterically. Even Dad laughed, then Mom. We all started to talk about Ringo Ranch, and everything was funny all the way home.
It would be many years an