The other day I was thinking of a new way I might promote my book, Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam. My youngest daughter, a self-proclaimed computer Guru, said, “Pop, you’re pretty damn good at marketing, about the only thing you haven’t tried is bumper stickers.” Bumper stickers, I am thinking to myself, they work pretty good for politicians and whales. So, my daughter and I set off to FayetteNam to one of those chain print stores to check out designing and printing bumper stickers. Normally, I’m much more frugal with my money, I still have the first dollar I ever made (a 1957 Silver Certificate signed by Priest and Anderson I earned mowing my neighbor’s yard with an old rotary mower), but my book is having a good year. I sold over a hundred books in 2020, why, heck, that’s almost 2 books a month! My friends tell me that it’s doing better than most self-published books but it ain’t ever going to be a run-a-way best seller. Shoot, a young man could have a pretty good time with that kind of money.

So, we get to the print shop and start looking around. I see a bumper sticker that says ‘Honk, if you love Jesus.’ Well, the old creative juices start flowing and I’m thinking, That worked pretty good for Jesus, I hear people honking all the time, wonder how that would work for Boot. So, after some haggling with my daughter, the word smith, we finally decided on ‘Honk! If you’ve read Boot.’ I wanted it to say, ‘Honk if you love Boot.’ My daughter convinced me that it was more important to know who read it than who loved it. “Besides,” she said, “We don’t care if they love it, as long as they buy a copy. That’s the American Way, pop. The code of Sam Walton and Jeff Bezos.” So, this big ol’ smile of parental pride spreads itself across my face, I’m thinking, Dagnabbit, I have raised a genius daughter. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my wife about our brilliant daughter. So, after an acceptable amount of time haggling with the clerk over the colors and size, etc., we were ready to make our purchase…..

When I do Good, I feel Good

And

When I do Bad, I feel Bad.

That is my religion.

- attributed to Abraham Lincoln

In 2005 we were visiting different schools around the Northeast where our daughter was auditioning for various music programs. While we were in Baltimore visiting the Peabody Institute, I had a birthday. So we drove down to Washington, D.C. It was something I had wanted to do for a long time because I had not been there since 1970, and I had heard that a lot of changes had taken place. In 1970 Washington D.C. was not a very attractive city, right up there with Bagdad. Certain areas of town were off-limits to young Marines and anyone else who enjoyed breathing. In the back of my mind somewhere, I really wanted to visit the 'Wall' honoring the more than 58,000 who died or were missing in Viet Nam. Eventually, we got around to the reflecting pool, and the three of us began our walking tour. We started at the WW II monument and worked our way along the south side of the reflecting pool to the Korean War monument. The WW II guys either had better lobbyists, or it was a more prestigious war to serve in because their monument beat the Korean memorial all to hell. Hey, but what do I know about monuments?

Then we walked up the steps to the Lincoln Memorial. Now, THERE is a monument! We stopped on the landing about halfway up and asked my daughter, Cat, if she knew what famous American had once spoken here. She looked at me as if I had dog poop on my head. "Dad, everyone knows that. It was Forrest Gump!" Aha, I says to myself, this girl's education is starting to pay off. Actually, we had a good laugh about it and then talked for a while about Dr. King's speech on our way into the memorial. If it was built to inspire and awe, then it certainly achieved its purpose. It was totally silent inside and provided a mood for meditation and reflection. We spent a few moments silently reflecting on Lincoln's words, then became distracted by some rather large woman from Iowa whose underwear must not have fit her properly. We walked outside, and I wondered to myself who else had spoken from the steps of this memorial? Probably some Punk Rock group.

We walked over to the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial. Still, when I saw all these fat guys in motorcycle jackets crying into their hankies and having their pictures taken with some Asian tourists, I thought to myself, another time. My memories of those I served with are just as fresh today as they ever were. I try to honor them by the life I lead and the example I set. Hope they don't mind that I didn't want to 'wail' on their wall. But I must admit, it was the coolest of all the memorials, not the most expensive, but the coolest. Eat your hearts out, Korean vets, you didn't get diddly. Where they will put the Iraq/Afghanistan Memorial is a question congress should be thinking about. I'm sure it will be the largest, gaudiest yet. Constitution gardens seem like an appropriate place, and it's not very far away.

But then it occurs to me, how strange it is for the President who presided over America's Civil War (or as President Trump likes to say, the War of Northern Aggression), who hated war and violence, to be presiding over war memorials. Now, don't get me wrong, I think we need war memorials. If they provide even a modicum of consolation for families who have lost loved ones in defense of their country, whether history judges the war justified or not, then they are worth it.

But it seems to me that it would be much more appropriate for the Lincoln Memorial to overlook The WW II Children's Hospital and the Korean Cancer Center, and the Viet Nam Cultural Heritage Museum. Based on everything I have been able to consume about Mr. Lincoln, these would be much more fitting memorials.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI-l0tK8Ok0

You Tube

If you live to be one hundred, you've got it made.

Very few people die past that age. - George Burns

Why is it our children are continually complaining that we are 'too old' to understand, then with the next breath telling us to grow up? More than likely, they are going through that phase where nothing we do is right! Of course, I never complained as a young adult (wink, wink, nod, nod), so it is difficult for me to understand where they are coming from. But for a moment, let's focus on people who are growing older, say past sixty at least. (Of course, this won't make much sense to a 15-year-old who thinks a 25-year-old is over-the-hill or a 25-year-old who thinks 35 is ancient!) What is it that gives folks like those in the video such a passion for life at age ninety, while we all know people who act like they may not make through tomorrow and are only fifty? Is it nature or nurture or some combination of the two? There are older folks I love to be around because of their positive outlook on life and the zeal they have for adventure. My wife belonged to a book club where she was the youngest member. The rest of the group was in their 70's and 80's. This group of women enjoyed every minute of every day, and when they got together, they knew how to party. After a book review, they loved to share a glass of wine or two or three and could quickly go through two cases of Chardonnay. They broke all the familiar stereotypes of old people.

Stereotype 1 - Old people smell bad.

Not that I have noticed. Rest Homes smell bad, basketball games smell bad, motorcyclists, babies, homeless people, congressmen, garbage dumps (P.C: Landfills), anyone in an occupation that requires strenuous outdoor physical activity, and young people that think it is healthy to bathe only once a month smell bad. To generalize that all old people smell bad is grossly inaccurate. O-o-o-o-oh, what is that smell? Do you have mothballs in your pocket?

Dulce et Decorum non Est …

Bill McCloud's iconic collection of poetry in his book, The Smell of the Light, will engulf the reader in a war of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The poems are based on fifty-two letters that Bill wrote home while he was in Vietnam. We become traveling companions with Bill as he engages us in this mind-manifesting odyssey to Vietnam. Bill shares with us his humanity as he describes the unimaginable horrors of war and the tedious quotidian routine of life in the Army.

Bill paints his images in visuals that are relatable and easy to conjure up in your mind. In his poem 'Peace,' he takes a common peace symbol and turns it into an ironic metaphor about the military's outlook on peace in a time of war. Essentially, someone steals a peace symbol from his locker, and he searches everywhere for the missing jewelry. He concludes:

'I figured he'd be pretty easy to spo

But I never saw a soldier

Advertising for peace

At Fort Gordon Georgia'

'Peace' is beautifully written verse that leaves interpretation of the tongue-in-cheek conclusion up to the reader.

This collection of poetry about the war in Vietnam pokes rapid-fire holes in the enduring myth that war is somehow a 'glorious' thing, like a machine gun with a cardboard target. In 'April Fool's,' Bill explains why he no longer celebrates April Fool's Day. Again, Bill takes an ordinary object, April Fool's Day, and reveals to us a whole new way of looking at it. The reader's perceptions are forever altered. On April first of each year I have left in this life, I will think of the cruelty and dark humor soldiers in combat use to hide their frailties and sense of humanity. I will also contemplate how fortunate I am to be able to read this insightful poetry by a soldier who not only maintained his humanity in war but was able to share with us a small slice of his soul.

These poems are a reflection of a young man's life laid out on a continuum we call space and time. Bill's journey of self-discovery and finding meaning in his life, in his surreal surroundings, mirror Bill's heart and humanity. His very soul. Of all of Bill's poems, I grew most attached to 'Eating Glass.' I sought Bill's permission to use it in my novel, Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam, because it symbolized the difficulty of understanding and articulating human emotion. (You can read the poem here: https://emerge-writerscolony.org/eating-glass/.) I was so enamored of Bill's poetry that I asked for six more poems, and he graciously acceded to my request.

David Willson, who writes Book Reviews for the Vietnam Veterans of America, said, "This book of Vietnam War poetry sits very near the top of the heap." David, I agree with you one hundred percent. I highly recommend this book.

If it Tastes like Chicken …

Let me state unequivocally that Utopia Avenue by David Mitchell is the best literature I have read, thus far, in 2020. In fact, it is the best book I have read since Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. In this reviewer's opinion, it is David Mitchell's best work since Cloud Atlas. I would venture to say that Utopia exhibits a literary sophistication that far surpasses the Cloud. Mitchell's ability to weave an intricate tale and draw us into the narrative is almost supernatural. Being a writer, I know that it has taken Mitchell years of study and many moons of grinding away at the keyboard, editing, revising, editing, and rewriting to pull off a literary work of this magnitude.

The story revolves around the exegesis of the rock and roll revolution taking place in England in the late 1960s, through the eyes of individual band members of Mitchell's fictional band Utopia Avenue. The band's main characters are about as disparate as any other band playing rock and roll then or now. Each member is fundamentally a virtuoso on his/her respective instrument(s), and each has worked in different groups. How they are brought together is as vital to the story as to how they interact, grow, and flourish as musicians and songwriters. The group is formed almost as an accident, as were many of the bands in this era of musical reformation and metamorphosis.

Music appears to be essential to life in many of Mitchell's stories, and in Utopia Avenue, it serves as a powerful force for triggering introspection. Not just ours, but members of the band. For example, when the crew discusses a name for themselves:

"'Utopia' means 'no place.' An avenue is a place. So is music. When we are playing well, I'm here, but elsewhere, too. That's the paradox. Utopia is unattainable. Avenues are everywhere." (Utopia Avenue p. 61)

The paradox of the band's name is a powerful symbol of band's music, as we discover how they write their songs and where each band members' respective inspiration is derived.

When we reach a point in the story where we are asking ourselves 'How did that happen?' or 'Why did Elf do that?' or 'Is Jasper nuts?', Mitchell subtly leads us to an explanation. We want to know what happens next, but we also desire to understand why things are the way they are.

If you are old enough, Utopia Avenue will flood your mind with memories of a different time. A time filled with music coming out of at least one garage on every block here in America. And if you are young enough, you can appreciate the technology that continues to develop and expand our ability to create beautiful harmonies and wordplay. It is without reservation that I highly recommend Utopia Avenue.

I am throwing this out there for the folks that are so reactionary on social media. To give them something to think about. Let’s say that you are a teacher in a classroom of 9 and 10-year-olds. The bathroom monitor grabs a student who was apparently misbehaving and holds them on the floor with a knee on the student’s neck until the student passes out. “Oh, that would never happen,” you say. But let’s say it did, and the community is in an uproar about and wants answers. But the bathroom monitor’s organization (BMO) stands with their member and claims the monitor is a really nice person that got carried away in the heat of the moment. The BMO flood the social media with photos of bathroom monitors with American Flag patches on their arms, helping little children across the street, finding lost kittens for children, and passing out coats and school supplies. The next thing you know social media is flooded with stories about how wonderful the BMOs are, and they should not all be condemned for the actions of few. Many even ask, “Where was the teacher?”

The Nine and Ten-year-olds all across America get organized and start marching on the schools to demand more training for BMOs and stricter policies regarding their behaviors. They even form a Young Lives Matter organization (YLM). The National Organization of Benevolent Bathroom Monitors gets involved. The next thing you know, photoshopped pictures of Elementary Schools being vandalized are all over social media. Slogans like ‘YLM’ and ‘BMs are Mean’ appear on school doors. Different groups start fundraisers online to repair the vandalism. The media finds out it’s a hoax and reports it on page 13 of whatever newspapers are still in existence. The fundraisers continue. Cute pictures appear on social media of John Wayne defending the much-abused BMs.

As absurd as this story is, it mirrors the irrational reactions I have seen all over social media after the murder of George Floyd. Everything from photoshopped pictures of national monuments being defaced (which keep cropping up, the photos that will never die) by ‘those commie Black Lives Matter kids,’ photos of the police doing all the things they should be doing like, helping little old ladies across the street, and taking a baby that can’t breathe to an emergency room, you know, the kinds of things we love the police for doing, protecting and serving their communities.

And when social media does not seem to have the influence to stop the protests? Why, now is the time to run the American Flag up the pole. That will certainly distract everyone from demanding that ALL people be treated equally under the law. Playing the ‘Patriot’ card is a distraction that still seems to work.

Is there a solution to the insane divisiveness that divides our country? Quite possibly, IMHO. A solution is something we will look at in Part Two.

Until Next Time,

I Remain,

Just another Zororastafarian ‘trying to get by on being quiet and shy,’ but still slows down when he sees a police car…

On my Facebook author page, https://www.facebook.com/CharlesLTempleton/, I use a variety of photoshopped images. These images are photoshopped to 1) change the context and meaning of the image, 2) capture the imagination of the viewer, 3) attempt to provide some humor, but the primary reason for photoshopping, is to 4) promote my debut novel, Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam. So, are all the photos on my Facebook page photoshopped? That depends on what you mean by photoshop. A photo has been photoshopped if it has been manipulated or enhanced in any way. This could mean, cropping the photo to make it fit on Facebook, or changing the hue or brightness of the photo to enhance its looks. Also, there are many photos that I borrow for reuse. Do I check to see if these photos have been photoshopped? Not always. Like the photo for this blog, is it real? 

The simple answer is YES, if we really want to know more about ourselves and others. Of course, the other answer is NO, if we think that what we read (or don’t read) reveals something about our psyches is just a load of manure.

So, if your answer is yes, read on…

During this time of Covid 19 I have been allowed to see people’s bookshelves on TV as well as various forms of social media. I can’t help but look closely at the titles of their books. I don’t know what it is that draws me to the titles, maybe an inherent curiosity to know if I read the same books as Stacey Abrams, Cate Blanchett, Barack Obama and George W. Bush.

But does this say more about my curiosity or theirs? What inspired my thinking about this is two-fold: 1) the brutal murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis and 2) looking at different book lists folks have been posting on social media. What do these two things have in common? Maybe nothing, maybe everything.It dawned on me that on the lists of Anglos, a preponderance of the authors were male Anglos. This was surprising to me, even though maybe it shouldn’t have been. I know if you’re reading this and you’re a male Anglo, you are probably thinking, ‘Not me, I have a Toni Morrison on shelves!’ Remember, I said preponderance and if you have a Toni Morrison, a Ta-Nehisi Coates, or a book of poetry by Langston Hughes on your bookshelves, or in your list of top 100 books you have read, it puts you in a minority.

Interestingly enough, even women and minorities tend to have a preponderance of male Anglo Authors on their bookshelves. They also have a significant number of female and minorities on their bookshelves, which leads me to believe that their reading is much more inclusive than white males.

While I admire President Obama, I admire his reading lists even more (Eat your heart out, Oprah!). They tend to both fiction and non-fiction, history and biographies as well as the conservative view of world events. George Bush on the other hand tended more toward history and biographies in his reading lists. While Barack’s lists tended to be much more inclusive, authors from around the world both male and female, George’s tended to be much more Anglocentric.

So, what does all this have to do with the murder of George Floyd? I’m not really sure, I’m just throwing a lot of random thoughts out there at one time. Scattershooting, a friend would say. More for reflection and to just think about, than for debate. One thing I hear a lot when something like this happens, ‘All policemen aren’t racists.’ Yeah? Who said they were? The fact is a white police officer killed a black man. It’s just a distraction and I do not know who the master of distraction really is, the President of the United States or the Media. Let’s talk about riots, not about a white policeman killing a black man. Let’s talk about who is really doing the looting, not about a white policeman killing a black man. Let’s debate ‘Black Lives Matter,’ and not talk about a white policeman killing a black man.Let’s face the ugly truth about America, we are a racist nation. If we were not we would not need criminal justice reform and we would not need to reform our police departments. How do I know this? I’ve seen your bookshelves, America.

The easy answer to this age-old question is YES if you mean no one has the right to stop you from saying or thinking whatever you want. However, if entitled to your opinion, means you have the right to have your opinion treated as the truth, then the answer is a loud NO.

I mean, please, can you try to stop saying, “Everyone is entitled to their opinion” when you are trying to end an argument because you don’t have any facts on your side, just your subjective opinion?

How is it possible I can accept your opinion that the greatest band of the sixties was the Rolling Stones, but you cannot accept my opinion that climate change is a hoax? First of all, your opinion that the Rolling Stones were the greatest band of the sixties is totally subjective; it is your judgment or view and not something that can be argued logically. It is a matter of taste. Using your opinion to share a view or judgment is fine in this situation. However, if I say it is my opinion that climate change is a hoax when there is a preponderance of evidence refuting my opinion, then I am not entitled to have that opinion.

So, when you hear the opinion that the Rolling Stones were the best band of the sixties, do not get upset, that is just an opinion, a judgment. You may not agree with it, but the person who holds that opinion is entitled to it. It may be a good conversation starter, however. But, by the same token, when you hear the opinion that climate change is a hoax, then no, that is no longer a subjective opinion that someone is entitled to, because of the vast amount of evidence that says climate change is indeed a fact.

What do we do when someone presents their opinion to us as a fact that we do not accept based on evidence? We try to present the evidence to them in such a way that we provide them with a basis to change their ‘opinion.’ However, if you hear, “Well, we just have to agree to disagree.” Save yourself, your time, and your arguments for another day; you have just met another human who accepts their own opinions as facts but has not a clue as to what constitutes a fact.

Until Next Time,

I Remain,

Just Another Opinionated Zororastafarian looking for a clue…

In Chapter Thirty-Three, page 273 of Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam, Bill McCloud adroitly applies his poetry to the paradox of Schrödinger's Cat (SC). SC was basically a thought experiment. If you had a box and you told someone there was a cat in the box, then asked is the cat alive or dead? Well, of course, you have a 50/50 chance of answering correctly, but the truth is that the cat is neither alive nor dead until you open the box. This paradox is juxtaposed against the naming of things. Why do parents spend so much time on naming a child? It bestows dignity upon the child. It says you are an individual among the herd, and it will give meaning to the child’s existence later. It also gives meaning to the namer’s existence and becomes a mode of sacramental communion with the world. I loved the irony of this poem because my protagonist is named George Orwell Hill. But even more than the observation that they are both Hills, only different, is the fact that George Orwell was known for all the new words and concepts he named in his novel, 1984.

That hill has a name to

separate it from all the

other hills that have their

own names or no name

It’s just a hill What we

gave it is just a name

But it’s hard to separate

the deaths on that hill

from all the other deaths

on all the other hills

And all the names of all

the dead on all the hills

Bill’s final poem is in the Epilogue on page 315 and concludes the story….

In Chapter Fourteen, page 84 of the Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam, we have another poem by Bill McCloud, author of The Smell of the Light. In this descriptive verse, you can almost conjure up the smell of bodies that were ubiquitous in Vietnam. The smell permeated your clothing, the insides of the helicopters, and pretty much lingered in the air around you and infected the currents of your mind. It was, as Bill says, ‘An aroma of uncertainty.’

The smell of death

combines the scents of

almonds

fish

garlic

roses and

shit and also

something undefined

An aroma of uncertainty

A fear of the future

In Chapter Twenty-Five, page 192,…

In Chapter Six, page 27, of the Boot: A Sorta Novel of Vietnam, there is another poetic interlude by the author. This free verse is an exploration of a wall that exists between enlisted and officer. On a deeper level, the walls that separate humans into stereotypical groups. The verse questions why any wall would exist that separates us from our humanity.

Black from white.

Penis from Clitoris Magnus (-a, -um).

All Hail Vishnu

Protector of the thick of head

Breeder of superstition

Creator of the White-trash limbo

Curator of the Museum of Unnatural Stupidity

Banish thyself from the King’s Garden of Cups.

In Chapter Seven, page 37, there is more free verse concerned with other recurring themes in the book. Religion and moral ambivalence and their role in war. G.O. is a fence-sitter when it comes to religion but is opposed to orthodoxy and is rebellious against all authority. His psychological doppelgänger, Locker, is a true atheist. True in the sense that he is much more tolerant of orthodox religion than his counterpart, G.O. In this poem, G.O. is mind traveling while staring at a picture of the crucifixion, by Matthias Grünewald:

Why include poems in novels? How do they affect the reading of the novel – as well as the poems? There are many reasons to include poetry in your prose. Basically, you have personal reasons and structural reasons. Many contemporary poets have made a stab at writing novels, a venue that gives them an opportunity to include and share their poetry to broader audience, an audience that might not ordinarily read poetry. A structural reason would be to entice the reader to slow down and smell the coffee. While reading a novel, you may come across a poem. What happens? You stop and think about the poem or you skip over it and continue. The author is suggesting you stop for a moment and think about what you are reading.

Poetry can serve many different functions within the novel. These range from ornamental, used as epigraphs (short quotes at the beginning of the book or each chapter) or giving the characters something to say when words fail them. Some books use the poetry to enhance character development and for foreshadowing some future action that will drive the story. Poetry can also be used to call attention to an emotion or action, that prose would not sufficiently explain. In…

Is one of those questions that has been around for quite awhile. Probably, first used legitimately by radio and TV technicians before it was appropriated by the Timothy Leary and the counterculture of the 60s – Turn on, tune in, drop out. Exactly what we were supposed to be ‘tuning into’ escaped me…I suppose I was operating on a different frequency than Timmy. Your frequency being the number of cycles or waves that you operate on or the measurement of your brain waves. Since that time, it has metamorphosed into music, movies, and now has become a staple in the new age gurus’ arsenal of spiritual awareness. Ohmmmmmmm…

The first time I actually considered that humans have frequencies that were unique, and that all of us march to different beats, and that life itself is asynchronous; I was sitting on the ramp of my helicopter in 1969, reading Moby Dick. I came across these lines by Herman Melville:

What is Real? Asked the Rabbit one day. Real isn't how you are made! It's a thing that happens to you! – Velveteen Rabbit

One of the questions that arise most often from readers, “Are these stories in Boot real?” is also one of the most difficult to answer. The Boot is a fictionalized account of a group of Marine helicopter crew chiefs in Vietnam. I cannot emphasize the word fiction, enough. As to what is real? That’s a different story. The war in Vietnam was all too real for those who fought there and for the Vietnamese that lived through decades of war. For many, back in America, the Vietnam war became real when the telegram came in the mail or when Johnny came home with only one arm or one leg. What is real, then becomes a matter of perception. If a six-year-old runs across the lawn and spikes a football, is that just as real to him/her as the high school,…

I have heard a myriad of logical reasons and a bathtub full of creative logic by different writers. George Orwell (Wouldn’t that be a clever name for a character in a book? Hm-m-m.), in an essay entitled, Why I Write, lists four straightforward reasons to write. The first reason is egoism. The “desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get back at grown-ups that snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc.” The next reason, aesthetic enthusiasm, is “the perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement.” Orwell’s third reason is historical impulse. The “desire to see things as they are to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.” I am much more in alignment with Anais Nin who said, “We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.” His final motive for writing is political purpose. It is a “desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people’s idea of the kind of society that they should strive after.”