Uncovered During Some Digital Digging

Buried in one of the many old files that have been passed down from computer to computer over the last seven years I stumbled across a small word document containing the notes for a few story ideas that I jotted down back in 2009 while riding the train to work. There are a few interesting ideas and a number of options regarding the directions that these brief glimpses can go. What I find most interesting is I can remember each building, station, and person that I passed when these ideas came to mind. However, there are also many issues and a heck of a lot of polishing that needs to be done in each instance but thought I would share because it is interesting at times to consider the raw idea…

Her neck flexed and vanes protruded as the rope swung forward and back. A dripping lead pipe kept time in the echoes of the opposite corner. In the cool cavernous corner of the basement she pursed her lips for one more breath of musty air. Her body relaxed, she struggled to caress her lungs with one more pollen laden breeze.

She found the staccato of the braided hemp stuttering as it rubbed across the wooded floor support to be soothing. The light shaking reminded her of collecting tickets for the roller coaster at the amusement park on the boardwalk. At the end of the night, with the cool ocean air swollen with the stale smells of caramel corn and hot dogs, she would take the last ride.

She knew every turn, every drop. She sat in the same seat, front right, every night.

Pressing the start button, the hydraulics would hiss, and she would run to her seat. As the car began to climb the spiraled ascent she would pull the lap bar down, cross her legs, smile, and watch as Ocean City went to sleep.

As she neared the top the clicking crescendo echoed across the now empty park. Slowly, the car would tip forward and she would close her eyes and listen for the crashing waves.

The wind filled her lungs and caressed her face as she recalled every turn and dip, side to side, front to back, until the ride was over.

***

What is written by the hand is determined by the mind. The devious script of the foreseeing mind tells all. These hands shall harm no more than paper.

He studied the hand written letters line by line, word by word, letter by letter.

“See here. He Stopped. Like he was thinking. Like he didn’t know what came next.”

“Where? I don’t see it.”

“Right here.” He pressed his calloused finger to the middle of the first sentence. “Right there, as the d trails in the word hand there is a hesitation. The ink bleeds.”

“You’re right. As if he didn’t know what to say. That might explain why it is so cryptic.”

He brushed the note with the tips of his fingers mumbling something that, by his expression, seemed to be a circle of questions.

“What is it?”

“A man who takes so much pride in his writing, in his work, but no signature.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

***

The elderly man stared out the lower deck window of the arriving New Jersey Transit train.

“I know that walk.”

The half asleep crowd paid no attention to the hunched over man with the long white beard.

“I know that walk!”

Not a single look glanced his way as he pressed his hands against the window trying to grasp the shoes walking past.

“I know that man!”

The train hissed to a quick stop, the doors slid open, and the determined herd hurriedly pressed toward the nearest escalator.

The old man waited for the crowd to pass, slowly pressed himself to his feet, and took slow, measured steps toward the grinding paddles of the moving stairs.

As his eyes passed the horizon of the Penn Station lobby floor he saw those same salt stained brown shoes that passed by his window.

He slowly lifted his head and as his eyes met those of the owner of the brown leather shoes his brow lifted.

Both men stood in silence. They were of similar age and height. The two old me slowed their breathing. Mist pouring from the other man’s clean shaven face while the warm breath rolled from under the old man’s white beard.

The other man strained to stand strait, wincing as he pulled his chest up. In a disbelieving raspy whisper the other man said, “I thought you were dead.”

The old man responded with deliberate words, “I’m surprised you didn’t kill me.”

There may be something to the ideas above… of course, there may not be anything at all. I guess I am going to have to give them some more thought and try to find any notes or outlines that may be scribbled somewhere else. After that, it will all come down to finding the motivation to pursue the stories, develop the characters, and let everything unfold before me without over thinking the process of progression. That has always been the hardest part for me.

Guest Post: Why Traveling is an Essential Element of Storytelling

I have two books published and one in my laptop waiting. I have traveled throughout the Caribbean to more than 20 islands and more than 15 states including Hawaii’s five main islands with more to come as I’m making plans to travel to Oregon, Washington state and Alaska by next summer. When I am traveling I always have my mind’s eye open to the possibility of a future story or book to write. I have found that, while traveling, it is important to pay attention to your surroundings and even to your dreams at night. When you wake up write your dreams down. That dream may be about some place that you had seen during the day. It could lead to a book one day as two of my books came from dreams. Dreams are short most of the time but you can expand them. Keep your mind working in overtime all the time even around your hometown… it could be more interesting than you realize.

When I was in Puerto Rico my wife and I visited the El Morro Fortress in San Juan. It was built in 1584 to protect the city from pirates and even during World War Two it was used to watch for German ships and U-boats. I went in all the hallways and rooms where men slept and lived. I saw where they cared for the wounded. I looked out over the Caribbean and could see in my mind the men going around the fort preparing for battle. The cannons being readied and the bugle being blown to alert the men that battle was close and the proud flag flying overhead. Then there was the rain forest in Puerto Rico. I could see rebels or pirates cutting their way through the lush thick forest and hair raising times crossing the rivers with hundred foot waterfalls that could be the end of them.

In Cozumel, Mexico we went to the Milan ruins and I could see in my mind the tribes sacrificing people to their Gods and where they married each other. One idea is to take your camera and have it ready to take pictures. This is a great way to bring back details to your memory; I always have mine ready. Anywhere you go you might get a picture of an animal, birds, or even an Iguana that you can insert in a story. The Hawaiian Islands were great fodder for story ideas. The volcanos and sacrificing virgins to the Gods. The beaches with the pipe-line and the North Shore have so many stories within them. Then there is Pearl Harbor and the many stories about World War Two and the sacrifice men and women made.

Then traveling through New Mexico and Arizona the desert and mountains bring to mind all the old west stories of gold and silver mines and the men and women that help develop those states before moving on to Colorado and California. These are my kinds of books but you might have a different interest. It can all be awaken in your mind by traveling and opening your mind’s eye. Good luck where ever you go and in finding your story or book. Remember, keep your mind active and don’t forget the dreams. 

Lynn Luick is from Texas but was born in Oregon. He has a wife, two daughters and three grandchildren. He loves nature and traveling. He has been working for 50 years - first in a grocery store and then his own distributing business - to raise his family. He has always wanted to write but was too busy to do so. Now that he has retired, he has plenty of time to do what he loves. He will be traveling and writing more "Silver Buck" adventures and also other Western titles. He loves to write fiction stories about places he has been.

Writing With The TV On

Have you ever tried to write while watching a movie? When struggling to find an idea it can be difficult especially when it is the beginning of “Throw Momma From The Train” when Billy Crystal’s character is struggling more than you are at that moment. It is a little painful to watch not for the actions of the character but because you can see yourself and sometimes remember yourself going through those same motions. “You’ve been on 'The night was’ since July.” It is not a pleasant thought but that is the reality of writing.

I guess there could be worse movies to have on the television. “Funny Farm” comes to mind as a prime example. The internal hell that Chevy Chase goes through in that movie is darn funny (this is when Chevy Chase was funny for those young people that don’t know any better). But it also touches on the jealousy of inspiration that comes so easily to others. We have all been in that situation when we hear a line or read a story and have that ‘I wish I had thought of that’ notion float through your mind.

Those can be disturbing moments if you let them percolate in your mind. What we have to realize is that we all have those moments of clear creativity when everything just fits together but, most of the time, we are either not aware of the spark or don’t write it down quickly enough to keep the ember burning until you can get it down on paper. However, when you catch those moments it can be something of a mesmerizing experience when the world falls away and all you can see is the images and actions that your words are etching into your eyes and embedding in your ears.  

Those instances may be rare for many of us but it is still enough to keep us going. Sometimes it is an entire story that just blindly falls onto the pages while other times it can be a word combination that you have never heard before. Sometimes it is a matter of finding a different perspective while other times that tiny ember can be found in the smallest crevice or the minutest detail found in a crystal of rock salt borrowing through the whining ice on its journey to the gray tar patch in the middle of the pockmarked road. Inspiration is in details and perspectives. Once those are established the action can be introduced organically. Of course, scotch helps too.

One Man Can Change The World

District Governor (7450) Charles E. Streitwieser hands off the microphone to Rotary International Past President Wilfrid Wilkinson during a special meeting of the Rotary Club of Bala Cynwyd - Narberth held at the Merion Cricket Club (Ardmore, Pennsylvania) on September 25, 2013. Photo courtesy of Jay Childress

Since our club’s founding in 1926 we had never had such a distinguished guest speaker as we had yesterday when Rotary International Past President Wilfred Wilkinson honored us with his presence. In attendance were fellow Rotarians from throughout the region comprising of hundreds, if not over a thousand years of service. It was not only an inspiring but a humbling experience. Seeing so many great men and women united in Rotary is an amazing experience to be a part of.

The afternoon flew by so quickly that it is hard to recall all of the details but there are a few clear moments and emotions that will forever resonate in my own life. Past President Wilkinson’s remarks were full of not only a passion for Rotary and service but a love for people and the impact that our work has had on this world. Having traveled around the world, he has seen the many faces that have benefited from the efforts of Rotarians and he has seen the diversity that is represented in Rotary clubs around the globe. No matter how different we all may seem, we are all connected to one another through Rotary and through a desire for peace.

In reading about Past President Wilkinson’s achievements and his tenure at the helm of Rotary International there was one quote that I came across that summed up my impression of this great man as the embodiment of the Rotary motto “service above self”.  During his address at the Rotary Convention in Los Angeles, California on June 15^th, 2008 he said the following:

“One of the first questions I had from the staff when I was nominated was what I wanted as my RI theme. I was all ready with my answer. I said my theme would be Rotary Shares. Because to me, these words captured all that was good about Rotary and Rotarians. Because to me, Rotary is about sharing. It’s about sharing our time, every week in our meetings with our fellow members and with our communities and with people throughout the world. It’s about sharing our expertise, our talents, and our resources in countless ways. It’s about sharing what we have, with our fellow Rotarians and with those in need. That’s what I told my district governors, when we began this Rotary year. But now I know better. Yes, Rotary Shares means all that, but it means so much more. It means every one of you and every single Rotarian in every Rotary country working together. Working with dedication and working with love, working for a better, safer, healthier, and more peaceful world.”

This is what it means to be a Rotarian. This is what we all strive to do each and every day of our lives. This is how we continue to improve our communities, this is how we touch the lives of people we have never met in places we have never been, this is how we change the world. One person, one club, one community, one seemingly insignificant action, one small project, one life impacted can make all the difference in this world.

Let our work be enhanced through Rotary. Let us work together to serve our communities. Let our actions, through Rotary, be magnified 100 fold. It is in this spirit, with all of us together as one community, that we launched our raffle to benefit The Rotary Club of Bala Cynwyd – Narberth’s Community Educational Initiative which supports children from West Philadelphia schools through various programs and projects.

The Paul Harris Fellow Award Raffle is an idea that, to the knowledge of everyone I have spoken with, has never been done in the history of our great organization. By selling tickets for a prize that is unique to Rotary, every Rotarian and every club is sharing in the support of those school children in need in our community. Each ten dollars collected has a Rotarian’s name and carries with it their passion for service and their desire to improve the community. The success of this program will be shared with the holders of the two hundred tickets while the credit goes to every Rotarian for supporting us in this endeavor and making it possible to accomplish such great work.  

It all starts with an idea just like Rotary started as an idea by one man, Paul Harris. Ideas come and go but those which are met with passion and supported by the community quickly take hold and begin to bring about change. One idea can certainly impact a community while some ideas can change the world. This world needs great ideas and this world needs great men. We need, especially during this time in history, passionate people dedicated to making this world a better, more peaceful place. We need people like Past President Wilfred Wilkinson.

Rotary International President Wilfrid Wilkinson answers questions during his visit to the Rotary Club of Bala Cynwyd - Narberth. Photo courtesy of Jay Childress.

Day and Dusk Meditation

I have spent the last few days looking over all the pictures that I have taken over the summer. Some are pretty good and, overall, I am happy with the way they came out. Others not so much. Taking a second look this morning there were a couple of the photos that stood out from the rest. Not because they were anything special individually (the same can be said for all the photos I have taken) but because I happened to take the same photo twice without noticing it until now.

The first time I reached for my cell phone I was focused on the red rust of the beams and the angles of the wires as they stretched along the train tracks that run behind our apartment building. I always find angular patterned and geometric scenes interesting. It was early in the day and, as I recall, one of the few clear days we had in some time so I took the shot and I was pretty happy with how it came out. It was just one of those times when it was one spontaneous picture with my iPhone.

Months passed when I found myself in the same exact spot in the parking lot. Walking back from taking the garbage to the dumpster I happened to look up and see the rich colors saturating the sky. As usual, I had my phone on me so I pulled it out and tried to find the right angle where I could get as much of the cloud laced spectrum in frame. As it turns out, I am now looking back and I can see that I was in almost the same exact spot from when I took the first photo.

Making this discovery now instead of weeks or months ago, I have better appreciation of the play between the two photos. Perspective is everything in life. Sometimes you can see the big picture, the sky burning at dusk, while other times your focus is on the things that are much closer to you, things you can touch and understand like the structure that surrounds the SEPTA line. It is all a matter of perspective and time.

If you take the time to see not only what is in front of you but what awaits you just behind it allows you to be open to what G-d has in store for you and the beauty that the future brings beyond the confines of your immediate surroundings. Give it time and things will change for the better. Life isn’t always cold rusted steel in front of a cool pale blue. There is fire on the horizon that no matter how brief the colors may flow through the sky, it is a brilliant sight to behold and one that change your perspective for the following day. It is the fleeting, but also cyclical, beauty of this life and this world that elevates the sometimes monotonous tasks of our everyday lives. It is the daily gift that is waiting for us if we open our eyes and look to the horizon for hope.