Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 129

The Leaning Table, or Shevacon 21 is History

Old dude at the leaning table, Blues BBQ Company, Roanoke, VAShevacon 21 officially ended today, and my final activity in Roanoke was to have lunch with Brugger at The Blues BBQ Company, on Market Street, which served us the best barbecue I think I've ever tasted... and that's saying all kinds of something. The restaurant is in a very old building, and the floor clearly sags in places; our table leaned at an angle of about five degrees, which made for a most entertaining lunch experience — and, as the young lady said, it would have been even more fun if we'd had marbles to play with.

This year, I ended up spending less time than usual at the con and more time wandering Roanoke with Kimberly — snagging geocaches when appropriate, of course. I did participate in four panels, which all went swimmingly, and I quite enjoyed the dealers' room and art show. By all accounts, the programming went smoothly this year, with panels commencing and ending right on time, and con personnel typically on hand to reign in out-of-control aliens (though it did appear that a squad of Imperial stormtroopers crashed a Mardi Gras party in one of the banquet rooms; I hope there was no shooting, for the stormtroopers wouldn't have had a prayer). I understand the judges of the costume contest dilly-dallied far too long, but that particular activity is one for which I have little affinity, so I did not experience this frustration firsthand. My compliments to programming director Jeremy Stroup and his team, who evidently had things well in paw this year.
Creeple people enjoying drinks — and
frightening the passersby — by firelight
on the terrace of the Hotel Roanoke
For Kimberly and I, the weekend's highlight was the Hotel Roanoke itself, which hosted the con this year. We only stayed there Saturday night, since it's a bit on the pricey side, but its central location made it easy for us to get out and about and find myriad interesting corners in the downtown area. There's lots... and I mean lots... of choices for dining, and we discovered some distinctive and surprisingly affordable establishments. Besides the barbecue joint, we enjoyed Alejandro's Mexican Grill, Metro!, Thai Continental, and Wasabi's — not to mention the hotel bar, The Pine Room (which served as an officer's club in World War II). After dinner at Wasabi's last night, upon our return to the hotel, we discovered numerous lit braziers providing warmth out on the hotel terrace, so Brugger and I spent a quarter hour or so sitting in the frigid wilds of downtown Roanoke, sipping wine and martinis, and loving every freezing minute of it. Despite oftentimes painfully cold temperatures and roaring high winds, we walked just about everywhere (which, after some of these meals, was the only decent thing to do), and I have to say I enjoyed Roanoke's character more than I ever thought I would. In my college days at Ferrum, only a few miles down the road from there, I visited Roanoke frequently (on its original run, I saw Star Wars in theaters 23 times, most of them in Roanoke — I beg your pardon, I am not a geek!), and I've been back through there many times over the years, but I'd say the city has remade itself remarkably in the past two or three decades. Go, Roanoke!

I, for one, hope Shevacon will be back at the grand hotel next year, and that, for our part, circumstances are right for a return engagement.

That is all.

The Hotel Roanoke viewed from the downtown Railwalk; that wonderful covered walkway
more than once offered us some much-needed respite from howling arctic winds.

Return to Shevacon

I haven't attended Shevacon in Roanoke, VA, either as a guest or attendee, in several years, but I'm back for Shevacon 21 this weekend as a writer guest. It's at the Hotel Roanoke, which is a bit pricier than than your typical mid-size convention accommodations, but it's smack in the heart of downtown, in a scenic location, and close to lots of dining and other entertainment establishments. Drove up from Greensboro this afternoon — and as a matter of fact, yes, I did grab a slew of geocaches along the way; thanks for asking. I had just one panel this evening — "Short Stories: When Do You Expand and When Do You Stop?" — but I'll be on several more over the course of the weekend, and I've got plenty of copies of The Monarchs , along with Blue Devil Island , Other Gods , and The Gaki to foist on unsuspecting victims.

Here's the schedule for the rest of the weekend:

Saturday, February 9
"Beating Writer’s Block" — 2:00 PM–2:50 PM, Harrison/Tyler Room
"Dealing With Taboo Subjects in Writing" — 10:00 PM–10:50 PM, Harrison/Tyler Room

Sunday, February 10
"Creature Creation: Classic, New, or New Twist on a Classic?" — 12:00 PM–10:50 PM, Harrison/Tyler Room

When not involved with con business, I spent the afternoon and evening wandering around downtown, mostly hunting caches (found several), and taking in the character of the town. I used to spend a lot of time in Roanoke, but it's been many years, especially since I've visited downtown itself, and I'm finding myself quite taken with it. There's a walkway near the railroad tracks — aptly called the Railwalk — that describes a great deal of Roanoke's rich history, which I enjoyed walking but for the incessant, frigid winds that just about cut me into little pieces. I gotta tell you, this stuff felt just about like Chicago cold. Finally, I discovered a decent little Thai restaurant — Thai Continental, on Market Street — that quite hit the spot.

Back tomorrow.

Click on the images to enlarge.
The Railwalk information center Looking south on Williamson Road, with Mill Mountain in the distance The view east on the footbridge over the railroad tracks. The wind
just about swiped my phone out of my hands. A view of the hotel, with St. Andrews Catholic Church in the background; as a younger chap, I was
more than certain Lovecraft's Haunter of the Dark lived there. Perhaps I was right.

THE MONARCHS at Nook First

This week, The Monarchs is the featured title at barnesandnoble.com's Nook First section. The e-book is $4.99, available for immediate download. You can also get it in trade paperback ($12.99) and hardback ($26.89). I gotta tell you, Ms. B. read this thing and enjoyed it so much that, instead of grievous bodily harm, she hit me with mere vicious verbal abuse. That's some real testimony, that is.

Get it from Barnes & Noble here, or read more about the book and other ordering options at my website here. Do enjoy!

"Beneath the Pier" at Lovecraft e-Zine

"Beneath the Pier," one of my most recent little tales of fear, horror, dread, and woe, is now live at Lovecraft e-Zine (issue #21). The online edition is free. You can get the entire issue for your Kindle or Nook for $2.99, or the podcast edition for 99¢. Here's a little teaser from "Beneath the Pier":

Mercer was only fifty, but they called him "Old Grand-dad," like the whiskey, because he had made the trip to Lufford Bay every year since the others were adolescents and his weathered features and thin, sandy hair made him look wise—or perhaps more apt, battered but unbeaten. He liked these young people; six of them this year: the sons and daughters of his companions from trips long past, when the highway between Georgetown and Charleston was little more than a rutted, two-lane passage through the pine forests, cotton fields, and marshes. The highway was bigger and better paved now, but once you left it for the narrow, sandy roads that snaked toward the bay, you went back a hundred years, or thousands, into a lonely, primeval landscape that once had been the domain only of pioneers, pirates, and the Swamp Fox.
Once each year they came, early in the autumn, while the ocean was warm even as a chill began to overtake the nights. There was too much marsh and mud here for hotels and tourists, so Lufford remained mostly unspoiled by humans. Nature, however, had smashed it time and again with wind and water, leaving behind vast networks of black, reed-ridden pools and scattered clusters of only the sturdiest oaks, their branches choked and dripping with Spanish moss, their trunks gnarled, bent, and knotted. The beach cabin looked as if the slightest breeze might topple it, yet it had withstood five decades of storms and might stand for just as many more. Its dark bulk squatted atop a balustrade of bowed stilts, its sharply angled roof crooked but sturdy, its seams still sealed against the elements. Mercer didn’t remember what color it might have been, all the paint long since stripped, the splintered wooden siding now as gray as ancient cobweb. His father had built the house to endure.The two four-wheel drive vehicles rattled and shuddered as they pulled up next to the cabin, their bodies and tires coated with fine gray sand. Mercer drove the lead truck; he always drove. Without a word to his companions, he shoved the door open and dropped into a bed of sand that swallowed his feet to his ankles. The others disembarked slowly, sighing and groaning after the long drive from Chapel Hill. The late afternoon sun was hot, almost stifling, but within the hour, the ocean breeze would turn cool, and come nightfall, a roaring fire would feel like heaven.
"I thirst," Ted Wakefield rumbled, stretching his arms out, Christ-like. "Rum, I think."
Check out the issue — if there's not too much seriously wrong with you (or maybe if there is), you'll love the hell out of it. Also on board are authors Joe Pulver, Gerry Huntman, Tom Lynch, and Wilum H. Pugmire; artists Nick Gucker, Mike Dominic, Stephen Lukac, Robert Elrod, Leslie Herzfeld, and Adam Baker; and audio readers Vincent LaRosa, Chaz Engan, David Binks, Lew Columbus, and Morgan Scorpion. Lovecraft e-Zine is edited by Mike Davis.

Earth, Wind, Fire, & Water

Everybody's got a laughing place. For some, it's a
crematorium oven in an old WWII POW compound.
Earth, Wind, Fire, & Water (GCJJTP). Headed out the door bright and early this morning, bound for Butner, just northeast of Durham, to meet up with a group of 20-some cachers determined to tackle this modest little hide. It's a four-stager, with each stage progressively more challenging — physically and otherwise — than the last. Among the suggested accouterments to bring along is a Native American numerologist, and, as the lot of us soon found out, for good reason. We gathered near stage 1 at 10:00 AM, and soon we were hiking out to ground zero, which turned out to be a crumbling ammo bunker circa World War II. We found and decrypted the hide quickly enough; returning it to its hiding place — an interesting balancing act — was no doubt my main material contribution to the group for the day. Alas, I did manage to carelessly place myself directly beneath a massive deluge of rusty debris as I maneuvered certain objects and ended up a very dirty Damned Rodan. From there, we had to negotiate some fairly treacherous terrain to reach the next stage, which certain of our party made short work of. At this point, though, the team became quite fragmented, and getting us all back together was kind of like trying to herd cats. At last, though, we found ourselves more or less regrouped, and thus resumed our forward progress. At the parking area for stage 3, Mr. Steve "Nthacker66" Thacker procured us a tasty bit of venison for lunch, and after we finished urping, we made the short hike to a challenging and fairly spectacular ground zero. Happily, we had brought along a few agile cachemonkeys to undertake the acrobatics — the highlight of which was an airborne squirrel passing directly over the heads of our unsuspecting, precariously perched daredevils. Finally, we're down to the final endeavor. This one had us scratching our heads for a bit, but at last, the hide revealed itself. An intrepid few of our number — military guys, much to our benefit — geared up for the job, which proved anything but quick and easy. There were a couple of fairly hairy moments here, but at the end of it, we all managed to scribble our signatures in the logbook. The cache owner and a previous finder or two came along to witness the proceedings, and I'm pretty sure they got themselves a few chuckles along the way. A great cache indeed, and a mighty fine crowd of cachers to do it with. Could hardly have asked for a better day. Many thanks to the CO and all who came out for the venture.

Hmm, did I say modest little hide up there? I meant monster hide. Yeah, that was it.
Don't do it, Ms. Nocona, don't jump! It's not THAT bad!!! Wonder where this stage might be hidden? Oh... yeah, there. NOMS! I say, are there trolls in this neighborhood? Why, yes there are. The victorious caching party on the old bridge.

A New Angel

Martha and Mum at Christmas, 2008
Growing up in Martinsville, VA, I had not one mom but two. More or less, anyway. My mom's best friend, Martha Wickliffe, was a constant in our family, always there to keep my brother and I straight when Mum and Dad weren't able, and, in later years, as a dear friend and confidant who always knew just the right thing to say or do whenever life offered up one of its inevitable challenges. Back in 2000 and 2001, When my dad was going through his final trials, Martha and her husband, Dick, were my family's lifeline; I really don't know how any of us, especially my mom, would have sanely made it through that period if Martha and Dick hadn't been there to provide physical, emotional, and spiritual support.

Martha has been going through her own terrible trials these past couple of years, and she finally succumbed on this past Tuesday, January 15, 2013. The funeral was today in Martinsville.

Martha and Dick had three young' uns — Gretchen, who was my age; Todd, a couple of years younger; and Scott, five years younger and the same age as my brother. We spent a lot of our youthful years together, making mischief, sometimes getting in trouble (it was all Scott's fault, of course — except for those times it wasn't), playing army, creating mad scientist creations, climbing way too high up any tree we could find, wracking ourselves up playing tackle football sans any form of protection... all that good stuff that kids do. We often tried to keep our parents from discovering the crap we were up to, but they had ways of figuring it out... especially Martha. She always seemed tuned in to our secrets, and if it became necessary to foil us for our own safety, she would do it happily — but in such a way that it was "cool." When the general perception among the adults was that I was misbehaving (clearly this was wrong because I never did any such thing), she wouldn't tell Mum but have a little heart-to-heart with me, which usually made me feel a wee bit ashamed of myself — but not at the expense of my personal dignity. Now, I don't know whether Gretchen, Todd, and Scott got this kind of treatment (I suspect she just whooped them), but I think it's safe to say that her brand of discipline perfectly complemented my folks', who could straighten me out all right, but never so pleasantly as Martha.

As an adult, I maintained a close friendship with Martha, and for so many years, she was there to share her unique brand of wisdom with me, particularly when we were going through my dad's crisis and when my marriage began to crumble. I credit Martha with helping me understand Peg in a way I never could have on my own, which I think truly helped us work through the divorce as amiably as we did.

Martha Wickliffe was a guiding angel in my life, and I know I'll miss her with all my heart. But her influence on me was profound, and that is something that will remain with me till my time comes. In my just over a half-century of existence, I've been privileged to know many shining examples of life and how to live it, and Martha was among the brightest. Rest in peace, my dear friend.
Martha snugger than a bug in a rug. Christmas 2008: Happy times. Back: Martha and Dick Wickliffe, Mum, Peggy Rainey, old dude.
Front: Mary Clifton, brother Phred

It Was a Dark, Snowy, Sleety, Rainy, Windy, Thundery Night

After several days of temperatures that insinuated summer might be in the offing, we get our first winter storm, and it was kind of a doozy. Don't think I've ever experienced snow, sleet, rain, wind, lightning, and thunder simultaneously until tonight. And for some time, I kept hearing the distinctive, repetitive sound of footsteps on my roof. It unnerved the cats, and they all skulked off to hide. I took my camera and went outside for a bit, but couldn't spot any supernatural entities lurking about. Lots of snowflakes with delusions of grandeur, though — some as big as the Cockroach What Ate Cincinnati.

Now, back into the warmth, which I am very thankful to have. I hope whatever's walking around on my roof doesn't poke holes in it.

And a late addendum. I had no sooner typed the above when the power went out. Fortunately, the house didn't get too cold, and the electricity was restored sometime around 1:00 AM. Things are returning to normal.... as they said in Invasion of the Body Snatchers ....

THE MONARCHS — Get the e-Book Now!

Yes sir, the e-book edition of The Monarchs is available now — in Mobi (Kindle), ePub (Sony/Nook/iPad/Kobo), PDF (Adobe), and PRC (Mobipocket) formats. You can pick it up directly from Crossroad Press for $4.99 (try buying a glass of wine for that!) here: Crossroad Press: The Monarchs. Or you can get it (for the same price) for the Nook directly from Barnes & Noble (Barnes & Noble: The Monarchs) or for Kindle directly from Amazon.com (Amazon.com: The Monarchs). The Monarchs is scheduled to be featured in Barnes & Noble's "Nook First" program on February 7.

The trade paperback and hardcover editions will be available in February as well.

You can view a portion of the novel on both the Barnes & Noble and Amazon sites. Or you can read a sample chapter at my website, here: The Realm of Stephen Mark Rainey: The Monarchs.

Give it a look, that you may shake, rattle, and moan to your heart's utter delight.

That is all.

Another Mini-Milestone

Lord have mercy, a terrible coffee accident!
I'm pretty sure today was the first time I've ever considered turning on the air conditioning in my house in January, since the temperature upstairs was pushing 80 degrees this afternoon. Outside, it was in the mid 70s, which is kind of obscene for this time of year, but at least it made for some good geocaching weather. Yesterday, I was up and out before the crack of dawn, bound for Martinsville and Eden, where several new caches had been published. The ones in Martinsville — four entertaining "mystery" caches, which required solving puzzles in advance to obtain the coordinates for the hide — put me on the Dick & Willie Rail Trail, formerly the Danville & Western rail line; the hikes weren't terribly long, but most enjoyable in the early morning mist. From there, it was off to Freedom Park in Eden to snag a couple of more new hides.

Last night, Ms. Kimberly and I caught The Hobbit in 3D and iMax, which was visually impressive and generally entertaining, if not quite spot-on in the direction department. Following, we hit Singha II in High Point for some decent Thai food, then The Vino Shoppe, just down the road from there, for a wee spot of wine. A few episodes of Twin Peaks , which we've been watching from the beginning, wrapped up the evening.

Today, it was out on the caching trail again with Debbie "Cupdaisy" Shoffner — mostly park-n-grab caches in Rockingham County. We busted the cache owner, Mr DanRiverRunner (a.k.a. CountryBicycleRider), planting a few caches, and thus located one of his new hides before it was published. It came out tonight, actually, and is appropriately named "Busted." We got first-to-find, and it turned out to be my "mini-milestone" 5,500th cache find. All kinds of fun, wot? The day was spoiled only by Cupdaisy very rudely hitting the accelerator while I was taking a big old slug of coffee, sending a fair quantity of it clean out of the cup, as evidenced in the photo above. I'm a forgiving soul, of course, so I'll only hold it against her for the rest of my natural life and half of the next.

That is all.

First to Find

King of the hill. Er... rock.
First to find new geocaches, that is. Last night, late, I got notification of a new cache not far down the road, so after Kimberly and I wound up a most enjoyable evening — dinner at The Claddagh in High Point and then some episodes of Twin Peaks — I decided to head out after it. Just a park-and-grab hide, but no one else had logged it, so it was a fun little first-to-find at 1:20 in the AM. I was reminded by some that this is an utterly indecent hour, but hey... it's a cache. It's all about the fun.

Another enjoyable full-day outing today, with Bridget "Suntigres" Langley and her friend Dan, who's trying out caching for the first time. Snagged 29, if my math is correct, including another FTF and a fair number of creative hides, including a match container inside a hole in a telephone pole covered by a magnet-backed metal strip; a stick hanging from a tree (yep); a metal plate concealing a bison tube in the ground; and a bison tube hanging inside some evergreens that required some seriously prickly crawling to reach. Most fun of all, I got to climb stone pylons, boulders, and park signs. We ended it all by meeting Kimberly at Bill's Pizza Pub on Randleman Road for a big old pizza feast.

The weekend was far more enjoyable than the week to come, I fear. Son of beech.

That is all.
Yessir, dude up on sign. Nice view from here! L: The old Cedar Falls Post Office; R: Bridget holding some wood