On July 24, the state of Utah celebrates the wonderful holiday of Pioneer Day. The purpose is to commemorate the day the Mormon pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on July 24, 1847. It's like a second 4th of July, complete with parades, concerts, family and fireworks. And it's not even a mail holiday!
I grew up hearing stories about my great, great grandparents and their trials as they pulled handcarts across the country. Last summer I had the chance to relive part of their journey as Wifey and I went with 500 other Wellsvillagers to re-enact a few days of the pioneers' journey.
I had the opportunity to see something most people will never witness: 500 people in pioneer clothing pulling handcarts for miles and miles across the barren Wyoming wilderness. Even more impressive than the lack of cell phones and iPods was the lack of whining. In four days I didn't hear a single complaint about being separated from virtual lifelines.
The purpose of the Trek was to teach the youth about what their pioneer forebears experienced. What I learned was that we are the pioneers of the future. They trudged through barren wilderness and muddy rivers. We blaze paths through distraction and uncertainty in an ever-changing world.
The word pioneer can refer to the first people to settle a region, or someone who is among the earliest in any field of study or progress.
From Adam and Eve all the way down to pioneers of the digital age such as Mark Zuckerberg (one of the founders of Facebook), many of the most honored and respected people in history bear the title of pioneer.
The era of the pioneer is far from over. I doubt any of us will pull handcarts across the country in our lifetimes, but there are so many new frontiers to conquer. Not only are there new inventions to be made, new stories to write, and new technology to discover, but also new challenges to overcome, and new trails to be blazed.
Any young man or young woman who refuses to participate in the worldly activities of gossip, immorality, selfishness, or any other of the myriad of vices so common in today’s world is a pioneer, breaking away and treading a new path in a world that is so off-course.
Kids are not the only ones forging paths through unexplored territory. Parents have to raise children in this ever-changing environment.Even empty nesters are faced with new blessings and challenges with each succeeding generation.
So what are you doing to establish a legacy for those who follow you? Will your grandchildren hear stories about your legendary kindness? Will your great, great grandson look at a picture of you and remember the story about the stew you cooked for the entire neighborhood using only items from your garden? Will your kids think of you and smile as they pass along the family traditions you started?
While we place many pioneers up on pedestals, the truth is they were normal people like us. They found a way to overcome hardships and go in a direction no one had ever gone before. There is nothing stopping us from doing the same.
So step out of your comfort zone. Step away from destructive habits no matter how prevalent they are. Decide that whatever it is you devote yourself to, you will excel at it. In the words of David O. McKay, "Whate'er thou art. Act well thy part."
After all, we are the pioneers of the future.
(For more pictures of our pioneer Trek, visit Wifey's blog at So I've Been Thinking.)
Throughout my teen years I had 2 best friends - Trevin and Ben. Of course we had a lot in common including similar book interests and an appreciation for anything that went *BOOM*!
One area we differed in was our appreciation of music. While we had similar tastes, the reason we liked certain songs varied.
For Ben, music was all about the LYRICS. (This is the same man who tells me "There's power in words whether we like it or not." I may steal that concept for a future blog post.)
Trevin, on the other hand, got into the MUSIC. For him, the song didn't even need lyrics. Trevin grew up harmonizing to the Beatles in the car with his family. It came as no surprise when he married an accomplished musician.
Both Ben and Trevin are successful in their left-brained careers. One works in insurance claims, the other in computer security. But they taught me some of the most important right-brained lessons I've ever learned.
Trevin taught me how fun harmonizing can be and I owe my love of singing to him. Fifteen years later, Ben convinced me that I could write. Without his example, I never would have finished 4 novels.
So back to the question: Is it the music or the lyrics that makes you love a song. It's obviously a matter of opinion. If we all had the same tastes, there wouldn't be hundreds of different genres of music.
I think it goes without saying that there is a minimum level of awesomeness required in the music itself. There have been enough unlistenable renditions of Imagine and Amazing Grace to prove that point. After all, lyrics without music is just poetry, and last time I checked, poetry wasn't a multi-billion dollar industry.
So allowing for a minimum standard in the music, which do you hear when your favorite songs come on?
Personally, I don't have a short answer, and I imagine most of us don't. As a writer, I have profound respect for artists who cram entire stories or volumes of emotion into a few verses. My current favorites: Blue October and Mumford and Sons.
If I had to choose one or the other I'd say I'm a LYRICS person. But if a song has music that makes even me feel like dancing, it could be awesome in any language.
Today was such a big day for me, I just have to take a minute for shameless self promotion.
I know it was a great day in my writing career because the release of the Hatter paperback on Amazon was NOT the big news of the day. The highlight was the electronic release of my third book: Gifts and Consequences.
Cover by Jodie Coleman
Gifts and Consequences is a departure from the Young Adult Fantasy genre in which I wrote Jabberwocky and Hatter. It is Contemporary Fiction with Romantic elements. So why not just call it Romance? Apart from the ridicule I would face at the fire station, there is so much more to it than a love story. This is a book I can proudly recommend to any reader--man or woman.
Here's the blurb:
When multi-millionaire Jonathan Wheeler’s wife contracts a debilitating illness, it transforms both of their lives. No longer concerned with business and finance, Jonathan turns his attention to giving. But no gift comes without a price, and those unwilling to pay the price learn that no gift comes without a consequence.
The recipients of these gifts vary as greatly as the terms of Jonathan’s unusual contracts. From the high school Senior who gets sold-out concert tickets, and the food addict who receives tuition to a weight loss program, to the man who is given the chance to walk to the ends of the earth to save his true love’s life.
Each accepts the gift with the understanding that there’s always a catch, and anyone who agrees to Jonathan’s terms risks losing even more than they stand to gain.
Gifts and Consequences is a tragic love story full of beauty and heartbreak and hope.
While there is no graphic sex or violence, the story contains adult themes, as opposed the the Young Adult books I've written previously.
You can pick up a Kindle sample and/or purchase it here. Try a sample, read the book, spread the word!
Despite what it looks like, I didn't post anything today. I have it written and all ready to go, but it didn't feel right. So you'll have to wait until next week for another Monday Morning Rant.
I used to think the symbol of all that was wrong with the world today was the Deep Fried Twinkie. Talk about overindulgence. I mean, who would’ve thought you could make something unhealthier than a Twinkie?
Fourthmeal by Taco Bell eventually came along and dethroned the Twinkie, but that's a topic for another post.
If the Deep Fried Twinkie and Fourthmeal are top contenders, the guy I'm going to tell you about gets a Lifetime Achievement Award.
Leroy Fick, a food stamps recipient, won a $2 Million lump sum payment in a Michigan lottery.(I’m not even going to touch the issue of people on food stamps playing the lottery.)Even though Fick has his millions in hand, he continues to use his state-issued food stamps card.
How is this possible, you ask?Here’s a quote from the article:
"Department spokeswoman Gisgie Gendreau said that, under federal guidelines, if a person receives a lump-sum payment, the winnings are not counted as income. The money is considered income if the person receives regular, ongoing payments.”
The article focused on the fact that Fick refuses to feel guilty for using his entitlements, despite being a millionaire.
While Fick is a world-class dirt bag, he is far from the only person in this country who would take advantage of such a situation. In my 11 years as a Firefighter, I've come across dozens of people who have made milking the system a way of life.
Years ago, while working in Tucson as a Firefighter/Paramedic, we encountered a disciple of Fick’s philosophy.At 1 a.m. we were called to a house for a woman who had been sick for three days.I’m not talking Cardiac-Patient-Sick or Unbearable-Abdominal-Pain-Deathbed-Sick.She was I’m-Tired-Of-Having-This-Virus-Sick.
We show up and the woman meets us at the door with her purse and keys. She's ready to go.The conversation that follows goes like this: (I’ve placed parenthesis around the comments we wished we could make, but didn’t actually say.)
Us: What’s the emergency, Ma’am?
Her: I just need a ride to the hospital
Us: What’s the problem?
Her: I’ve been sick for three days.
(So why couldn't you call at 1:00 in the afternoon instead of 1:00 in the morning?)
Us: Have you seen your doctor?
Her: No.
Us: Maybe you could go to the clinic.
Her: They’re not open.I have to go to the Emergency Room.
(Oh, I see.You have to go to the ER.In that case…)
Us: Can you drive yourself in?
Her: No.I don’t want to pay for the gas.It’s so expensive.
(As opposed to the ambulance ride which will cost taxpayers a measly $750.Not to mention depriving this part of the city of speedy ambulance response times for the next hour and a half.)
Us: Is there someone else that can give you a ride?
Her: Yeah, but it’s pretty late.I don’t want to wake anyone up.
Us: How about a taxi?
Her: They always want cash.I don’t have to pay the ambulance.
Us: The ambulance isn’t free either, Ma’am.
Her: Yes it is.I have Medicaid.
(So you’d rather have the rest of us pay $1500 for your sniffles than spend $5 in gas to drive yourself to the free clinic?)
At this point we realized we were dealing with a Master Looter.We were clearly out of our league.She got her $750 taxi ride in an ambulance.
Yeah, it's from the UK, but you get the idea.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to help someone in need. We get "I've fallen and I can't get up" calls all the time, and they can be extremely satisfying. But most people only call us when it's necessary. When no one else can help them. And most importantly, they say 'Thank you'. It's not that I want a medal for doing my job, but gratitude is a sign that someone appreciates the emergency services our society provides as opposed to expecting the collective 'THEM' to provide for their whims.
Politics aside, listen to these two short interviews regarding where the money comes from:
It's Obama money!
That's right, a portion of the thousands of dollars you pay in Federal taxes each year goes to people with no concept of gratitude and who care nothing for your work and toil. Looters.
The next time you wonder why a simple ER visit costs you or your insurance a thousand bucks, think of the Looters who use the ER as their personal clinic and 911 as their personal limo service. (Come back next week for my rant on The Looters.) The next time you're tempted to see how much Uncle Sam took out of your paycheck, I recommend just being thankful you have a paycheck.
There is a scourge sweeping across our great country and across the world. Call it selfishness, indifference, or a Gimme attitude, it is more prevalent than we realize.
So to you, Richest Man on Welfare, I salute you as a World-Class Looter.We, the hard-working tax payers, are glad to pick up your lunch tab.
Before I went to bed last night I checked the sales data for my novella, JABBERWOCKY, and saw that it had sold 13 copies in June. Not too bad considering I've been giving it away free on Smashwords.com for most of the month.
This morning when I logged in I thought I was in the wrong account. It listed my book at 935 sales for the month. I double checked the login and sure enough, the sales data was for JABBERWOCKY.
Here's some raw numbers for number nerds like myself:
at 7:30 I had 'sold' 935 and sat at #111 on the Free Kindle List
at 9:00 it was up to 1431 and had moved up to #93 (that's 5.5 books per minute)
by 9:10, at 1501 'sales' it was up to #52 on the Free Kindle Book List, and #3 overall Epic Fantasy
It climbed through the day, and is still climbing, but the latest numbers show the following:
at 4:50 3700 'sales', it is number #12 on the Free Kindle Book List and #2 overall Epic Fantasy.
With all due respect to Mr. Carroll, JABBERWOCKY is currently ranked above Alice's Adventures in Wonderland on Kindle's Free List.
Here's hoping it climbs to the top 10 overall, and #1 Epic Fantasy!
"Engine 7, Medic 7, respond on a stroke. 83-year-old female, unable to speak, severe facial droop."
It was almost a daily dispatch at Tucson Fire Station 7. But when we arrived on scene and I saw my old friend Bernice Clemens sitting alone in a chair I immediately wondered, "Coincidence or Providence?"
Sure enough, Bernice was suffering from a stroke. Though she couldn't speak or even nod, Bernice kept her eyes on me the whole time.
Call it serendipity, divine intervention, or pure dumb luck, but there are times when things just seem to work out. I'm not talking about the stroke itself, but the fact that I was able to be there to help an old, old friend.
You might say that I was bound to run into someone I knew eventually. Even in a city of 500,000. It wasn't the first time I'd seen friends on medical calls. I'd bandaged, started IV's, given medications and transported a few acquaintances over the years. I had basically done the same thing any other paramedic would have done.
But stroke calls are a little different. Though the situation is extremely critical, once the patient is on oxygen and has an IV, the paramedic either initiates a one-way conversation or works on paperwork during the drive to the hospital.
Within minutes Bernice was on high-flow oxygen, had an IV and was sitting in the back of the ambulance with me. And for one of the first times in my short career, I can honestly say I did something no other paramedic could have. I held Bernice's hand and talked about old times.
Bernice showed no signs of recognition, but she watched me closely as I reminisced about the time my wife invited her and another widow, Bennie, over for dinner. At one point Bernice had made a cheeky remark and her tiny friend Bennie smacked her lips and said, "Oh, Bernice! You're a smart one."
As we rode to the hospital, I told her where Wifey and I had moved to. How old our girls were and some of the funny things they said. How much I loved being a firefighter. And I'm lying if I say my eyes didn't tear up when I told her how special she was to Wifey and I when we were newlyweds.
To this day I have no idea if Bernice understood a single word. But there is no experience I've had in 11 years of firefighting that I would trade for the opportunity to spend 10 minutes with my friend Bernice Clemens that day.
So I ask you: Coincidence or Providence? A strikingoccurrenceoftwoeventsapparentlybymerechance? Or theforeseeingcareandguidanceofGodoverthecreaturesoftheearth.
You can decide for yourself, but personally I agree with Morpheus from The Matrix. I do not see coincidence, I see providence. I see purpose.
Obviously I can't prove it one way or another, but I still thank God for the chance to work at Station 7 that day.
