The Borderlands Cafe, Part Three

This story is the final installment of Brother Gypsy's Dance with the Veil between this world and the next. Where do we go next, and what do we do between now and when we get there? This story is the third part of the tale of The Borderlands Café; the space between here and whatever awaits us in the future, as told in Brother Gypsy’s words:

I danced with the Veil again and came back. No, before I walked across the veil, walked through and came back. The time before, I just sat there. I didn't walk it. This time, I rode the boat from the River Styx, except this one looked like an old wagon from a 30s movie, like I told you. And some old black lady in the back of the wagon didn't like me being there because she knew I hadn't paid the fare. I didn't pay the Ferryman.

Maybe that's the ticket. Maybe if you don't pay the Ferryman, you don't get to stay over there. They bring you back. That old black lady, she didn't want me in the back seat of that taxi, that horse-drawn taxi. I don't even know if she saw what I saw. She could have been seeing something altogether different because she wore a black funeral dress with one of them cookie-box hats with black lace. It was the kind of hat that women wore in the sixties.

I can't tell if she was seeing what I was seeing, but she didn't want me in the back. I hadn't paid the fare. That or maybe she just didn't like the fact that I was in her car. I have no doubt that somewhere tonight, an old black woman crossed the River, past the Veil.

She was sitting all proper like you would expect an old black woman to do, with her purse all tucked up in her lap, one of those hard-sided, patent-leather purses with the strap and the clasp, and the above-the-knee skirt, you know, that one-piece dress from the sixties. I have no doubt that somewhere out there, an old black lady died tonight, May 15th, 2011.

Yeah. I hope she finds her way. I hope she finds her way to someplace jubilant for her. Some place where she doesn't have to be proper. A place that doesn't have discrimination, because she was from that era. I don't think she saw me. I think she saw what she expected to see: not a white man invading her territory, but another woman. In the back of the bus, crossing the river, or going down that dirt road in a Lincoln Continental.

We all choose what we see when we look at the River Styx. This time, it was done in thirties movie props. I don't know what it'll be like next time, but there will be a next time. Wow.

I could be mad. It could just be the metal poisoning. I'll let you be the judge of that because you're of sound mind and body. But you saw my eyes. You know my heart, my mind, my spirit. If I'm mad, you'll never take this anywhere. But I'm not mad. Maybe You'll make us famous. Yeah. And of course, I'll never know because you'll never tell me if you did think I was mad. (Chronicler: Yeah, I would.)

You'll just sit and ride with me into the madness because you love me, hoping that I come back, saying, "Yeah, Gypsy's having delusions from the metal again." Anyhow, I'm gonna have a smoke.

#BrotherGypsy, #TalesoftheRoad, #dancinwiththeVeil, #JackKerouac, #roadtramps, #deathanddying, #dreams, #acceptance, #crossingtheVeil, #Jungian archetypes, #dancinwiththeBeatBoys, #rappinwithKerouac

The Borderlands Cafe, Part Two

With a nod to Carl Jung, here's Part Two of a Tale from the Road as told in Brother Gypsy's words, about his dance with the Veil that separates this world from the next, while Kerouac and the Beat-boys do their thing. Was it real? What is reality?

I'm stone cold sober. Not a drink for weeks, except for the metal that's coursing through my veins, the metal that's killing me. And I want you to make the annotations as the writer of this, the condition I was in when you came to wake me up, and what you saw in my eyes. Did I come back from the Veil, or am I mad? (Chronicler -- You're not mad.)

The wagon, the set, those were all props that my mind provided. But I have no doubt that I danced with the Veil with Kerouac and the Beat-boys. The last line for me, for my gravestone: "One Should Never Fear the Veil."

Tell them about me not breathing, with the red eyes and non-reactive pupils, the low body temperature. Tell them I answered after sixty seconds of not breathing, that I told you I had lunch with Kerouac and my mom, that you had to ask me who I was, who he was.

Most of America, when they looked at the book "On the Road," they saw a man with his hair all long, and a beard, and they saw a bum, a homeless wild man. It's lucky the book ever sold at all. Truthfully, he'd just come in from the wilderness.

He'd been sitting in a fire watchtower up on a mountain, alone in the woods writing for like, a couple of months. And they didn't see his eyes. But I saw his eyes when I saw that book. His eyes were all shiny and alive, and he had Knowledge, knowledge not many have: what it is to be truly alive. Not many get that.

They think they know. They mouth the words. People will think they understand, but they don't. You can't understand till you've been there. The way some might convince themselves that they understand the desperation and hope of tumbleweed coffee. But unless you've been there, you don't get it. You totally don't get it.

Just like someone is going to think they know what it's like to dance with the Veil, but when they get there, they're going to sit in their wheelchairs and eat their slop, or whatever symbology presents itself. They're not going to get the fact that Kerouac and I went to this place where everyone was at the border of life and death and started doing what we do, we Live. Even when our bodies give out, we live.

That's it. That's the story. I danced with the Veil again and came back. The last time, I walked through the Veil and came back.

#TalesoftheRoad, #BrotherGypsyandtheVeil, #KerouacandtheBeatBoys, #deathanddying, #symbology, #dreams, #Jungianarchetypes

The Borderlands Cafe, Part One

With a nod to Carl Jung, here's a Tale from the Road as told in the words of Rolyk Waylander. formerly known as Brother Gypsy. Rolyk has danced with the Veil that separates this world from the next several times. This time, he meets up with fellow road tramp, Jack Kerouac:

I've been across the Border before, and I’ll go there again. We'll all be there eventually. Traveling across the Border between here and the Veil is serious biz. Real life, real death. Crossing this way is freaking wild, not some stupid game, but wow. Real wow.

I jumped on the back of this wagon, and there was this old black lady in the back of it. A carriage made from a Model-A sedan frame, horse-drawn, driven by an old man. The harness was crazy at best. It was haphazard.

We were pulling from the main road to a dirt road when the wagon almost went into a ditch. Haphazard all over this bumpy dirt road -- crazy. And somehow we ended up on a paved street in front of some building, boarded up or something. I was sitting by this kid. It was raining, and I was talking to this kid -- I thought it was Kerouac. I said some things to him that only Kerouac would understand to make sure it was him.

Yeah, it was crazy, and I reached out cuz I knew it was him, and I shook his hand. I knew it wasn't any dream. I knew I was shaking hands with Kerouac. He was young, like 17, and I said: "See ya later, Mr. Kerouac." And he said, "C'mon, let's grab some lunch. We ain't supposed to be here."

So we went in the building. That was the funny part. He pointed at the building. There were all these sick and old people milling around in hospital robes in styles from the thirties to the fifties. They had lunch trays with some slop on them, but Kerouac, and I weren't all about that.

So we went poking around the place instead. And there was this room with this sheet over it, and Kerouac said: "Let's jam in here." No, it was "Ain't nobody using this, let's jam in here." And there were some boys with him. And Kerouac started talking, and I started dancing and the other boys, they started making music, but I don't know what they were using to make it.

And Kerouac was doing spoken-word, and I was dancing with this sheet, the sheet that was over the door. And the sick people started joining us. That's when the jock-boys -- those traditionalists -- the same ones you see in every fifties movie -- clean-cuts -- started getting upset. They wanted the sick people to stay where they were.

They didn't want us in this unused room, even though nobody was in it. You know, cuz that's the way they think things are supposed to be -- sickly and crippled and freaked up. They think you're expected to be that way to cross the border. That's where you start freaking with me with mundane crap when you start calling me back.

I wasn't dancing with a sheet over a door in an unused room. I was dancing with the Veil, and I didn't know that. All those sick people were there, and those traditional jock-boys were there, and they didn't know that when you're dead, you're allowed to do anything you want. And that's why all those straights were being all freaked out. They think they're supposed to be all cool and clean, and that Granny's supposed to be all messed up in her deathbed, but they're not right. You can do anything you want to do in death.

This trip, I chose bad black-and-white movie props from the thirties to forties vintage -- the wagon on the road, made out of some old model-A sedan frame, with an old nag pulling it, and freaked-up harness -- rickety. The thing is, I did have lunch with Kerouac. We didn't eat that slop, though. He did spoken word, and I danced, and the Beat Boys, they made music. They didn't have any instruments, but somehow, they made music.

This trip wasn't my first time through the Veil, and it won’t be my last. I'll be going back as frequently as I can because this toxicity ain't going to last forever. I'm going to get better. But the thing is, I got things to learn. I never know who I'll meet next.

But Kerouac taught me to dance with the Veil as he did spoken-word and the Beat-boys made music without instruments. Yeah, and I'll dance with the Veil again. Hell, yeah.

#BrotherGypsy, #TalesoftheRoad, #dancinwiththeVeil, #Jack Kerouac, #roadtramps, #deathanddying, #acceptance, #crossingtheVeil, #dreams, #Jungian archetypes, #dancinwiththeBeatBoys, #rappinwithKerouac

Ultimate Blog Challenge: Day Nine: Extreme Decluttering

Saying goodbye to the past by releasing objects, emotions, and experiences lets you take charge of your future. Whether your clutter is physical, emotional or spiritual, it can block your path and prevent you from molding the life you want. Today, I gave away Rolyk's wheelchair and walker, with his blessing.

I felt elated and apprehensive as I loaded them into Zach Sayre's SUV for him to take to Rebel and Divine UCC, along with some gently used clothing, shoes, and about 120 pounds of canned food that my coworker, Ruth "Ollie" Hood, and her fantastic anonymous neighbors had collected. Zach Sayre is the Sunday Dinner Coordinator at the church. Rebel and Divine UCC serves QUILTBAG youth when they age out of the foster care system or get tossed out of their homes. QUILTBAG stands for queer, unidentified, intersex, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, asexual and gay. Rebel and Divine UCC also serves everyone in the neighborhood surrounding East Sheridan and 10th Street in Phoenix, Arizona. Rebel and Divine UCC has an upcoming all you can eat Waffle Brunch Fundraiser on Saturday, April 16, 2016, between 9 AM and 1 PM. Tickets are $10.

I told Zach about Rolyk's recovery from long-term illness and told him that the wheelchair and walker come with a blessing of healing and renewal to whoever receives and uses them. I hope whoever receives them recovers fully, just like Rolyk has.

For anyone who cares for someone with a long-term illness, hope can seem foolish, but hope keeps you going when everything else fails. When things were at their worst, and Rolyk lost the ability to stand and walk, we found motivation in music, movement and inspirational videos of other people who had gone from being invalids or near-invalids to full recovery. Rolyk found bodybuilder Kai Green, on YouTube, and I had already come across Arthur Boorman, a disabled Gulf War veteran who had used yoga to recover. We also came across a video by Within Temptation called "The Whole World Is Watching," about a motorcyle rider's recovery from a severe accident. Once he saw those, Rolyk got up, one small change at a time, started doing chair-based exercises, then graduated to a heavy bag workout, and finally, what Rolyk calls Free Movement, which is acting like a kid, waving your arms around, dancing, playing ball, and just having fun. Rolyk lost over 100 pounds between June 2015 and March 2016. Rolyk's diet plan was also a big part of his recovery: little to no animal fat or animal protein, and eating only healthy things, and only as much of those as you can stand. Find our other recipes at Heritage and Home or Tempe Frugal Life. 

Ultimate Blog Challenge: Day Seven

I missed days five and six, but here is day seven. This poem is a response to my good friend and fellow traveler, Cher Guevara, who wrote "Damned in Dixie Blues" as a response to several pieces of hateful legislation passed recently in North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Mississippi, and Tennessee. You can find "Damned in Dixie Blues" on Facebook.

Everyone is so busy protesting for or against the bathroom portion of these bills that no one has noticed that several of them also include language that forbids communities from raising the minimum wage, providing paid sick leave, or giving workers other rights that will enable them to lead more stable lives and keep themselves off assistance programs.

They Want Us to Sing the Blues
by Jack V Sage

They want us to sing the blues
so we don't notice
what they've done:
the poison pill they hid
in their stinking pile
of hateful exclusion.

"Looky here," they say,
pointing at their brandy-new signs
telling us to keep out.

They don't want anyone
looking past the line
at the bathroom door,
or we'll notice how they've
locked us all out: trans and cis,
gay and straight:
taken the food right off our plates,
making sure none of us
can afford a roof over our heads.

Divided, we stand at the bathroom door
while they line their pockets
with our blood, sweat and tears.

"Oh, Looky there," they shout, "another queer!"
And we all turn and look, but no one sees
the line that they use to determine our worth
has grown shorter.

We're too busy looking for dicks on chicks,
imagining perverts in every stall
to realize that the truly perverted
are those in the Capitol buildings and pulpits
all across this land, selling their brothers and sisters
into slavery for the sake of the almighty dollar,
and an hour of power on the airwaves.

Ultimate Blog Challenge Day Four: Oops!

Friends Forever by Jack V. Sage 04/19/2015

Funny how Saturday's post was "Distraction." I got so busy doing a transcript of Rolyk Waylander's "Fun" video on YouTube that he made for his Rolyk Fitness page on Facebook, that I forgot to post anything here yesterday. So head over to Faeriewynd, watch the video and make a comment. 

Today's topic is "Reunification." On my Facebook Memories page, I saw a comment from someone who is no longer on my friends' list for some reason. I do not remember having a falling out with them, so I messaged them and apologized. I said that I no longer remember why we stopped being friends and asked forgiveness for whatever it was. I also said that if it was something they did, I don't remember why I might have been offended, so let's get back to being friends.

Do you remember why you stopped talking to an old friend? Call them up, write them, email them, send a text, whatever. Tell them that you remember your friendship, not the reason it ended. Let's all renew an old friendship today!

Ultimate Blog Challenge: Day Two

I have participated in the Ultimate Blog Challenge many times over the past few years. The idea is to post something every day for 30 days and to read and comment on at least three other people's blogs every day for those same 30 days, with the idea of increasing traffic and creating and strengthening bonds in the artist, creative, writing and blogging communities. I do not always succeed at posting every single day, but I find it fun to interact with fellow writers.

I am also participating in National Poetry Writing Month. Each post will have a writing prompt. Today's prompt is "distraction." Tell me what distractions you fight. Which ones do you think provide inspiration for your writing or other creative efforts?

National Poetry Month: Day One: Inspiration

Inspiration
by Jack V Sage
A smiling rainbow,
an empty can of spinach
a dollar store gift box with wiggly eyes
a thank you card
four empty cans of Monster Rehab
a homemade sign of peace
mounted on driftwood,
and draped with hand-hammered steel
bent into a monkey shape, with a green glass belly,
and making space for a dragon head molded from paper clay.

Collectible cars at my right
and a white plastic box with a red lid at my left.
Above them all, a greeting card-size Sculpey mosaic
and a handmade bottle-penguin, two stuffed, rainbow-spotted unicorns
and a makeup mirror with "To thyne own self, be true" in silver nail polish.
A plastic screw-top storage container holds four steel roses
and a pink fedora with black zebra stripes.

Bernie 2016 sticker off to my right,
more Monster cans (yellow Juice and Rehab)
a "Happy Holidays" card from Have a Gay Day,
and a book of pictures of my grandsons, my oldest daughter, and her husband.
(I wish I had something of my youngest daughter as well).
The original license plate from my van
and three hardback books: "Beyond the White House,"
"And Another Thing" and "Echoes of Betrayal."

So what's in your space, near your face?
What sparks your mind?

Tastes of Carrollton Ohio: Scooter's Cafe and Ice Cream

I decided to repost this article that I wrote back in 2009 as an example of advertorial copy. If you are in the Phoenix, Arizona metropolitan area, I would be happy to produce copy for your business. Contact me at Faeriewynd.com for a free consultation about your advertorial needs.

Tastes of Carrollton Ohio: Scooter's Cafe and Ice Cream

If you like homemade root beer, hard pack ice cream, and fresh baked chocolate brownies, stop by Scooters Cafe and Ice Cream of Carrollton, Ohio, at 1115 Canton RD (State Route 43). The Cafe lies just minutes from Atwood Lake Resort and Conference Center and Leesville Lake, both part of the Muskingum Watershed Conservancy District.

Scott "Scooter" Carson opened Scooters in June 2009 as an experiment in entrepreneurship. Since then, the menu has evolved to include hot dogs, coneys, sloppy joes, BLT with optional E, pulled pork, hot spiral ham and cheese, and grilled or buffalo chicken sandwiches. Scott serves espresso, mocha, latte, cappuccino and macchiato coffee drinks, along with hot chocolate, chai, and regular tea. The root beer is home brewed, and there is old-fashioned chocolate soda as well. The fresh Pierre's hard-packed ice cream includes black cherry, "chase your tail" caramel, Superman and other popular flavors. Bunker, the Scooters mascot, is a female Boston Terrier, who thrives on attention and loves working her way around the cafe. Bunker welcomes customers and fellow canines alike, setting them at ease and bringing a smile to every face.

Scott's wife Kathy makes homemade pastries and chocolate treats daily. Among her specialties: a cinnamon-laced triangle of baklava, devil's food cupcakes with vanilla cream frosting laced with semi-sweet chocolate chips, and chocolate football pops with a pretzel rod stick. The prices are very wallet-friendly.

Scott and Kathy believe that it is vital to give back to the local community. They hold regular fundraisers for the Carroll County Animal Protection League. They support local talent by providing a venue for Carrollton High School's music and theater department to perform revues of their upcoming shows. Teachers a 50% discount every Monday, and local Bible study groups receive Two for One discounts on Wednesday nights. OSU fans receive discounts and specials on Saturdays when they wear their game gear.

Other entertainment ranges from singers Keith Barnett, Bill Grimes and Scott Velain to local bluegrass fiddle player Marty Jones. It also includes karaoke, bingo, cornhole tournaments, and game nights. Keith Barnett and Marty Grimes drew a respectable crowd on August 29th with their 60s and 70s tunes, including "Love Is All Around Us," by the Troggs. Upcoming events include watching the September 5th OSU -v- Navy football game at noon while enjoying the annual Ponderosa car show; Bill Grimes and Scott Velain's folk and acoustic guitar concert at 7 PM on September 12, and the September 13 performance of CHS Showstoppers at 1 PM, directed by Cherri Miller. September 19 at 7 PM is the Battle of the Sexes: Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. Bring your voice on September 26 for the return of Karaoke Night.

Writing Knights Roundtable 2016 Page a Day Anthology Challenge: September

Writing Knights Roundtable is reprising its Page a Day Anthology, and has issued a call for submissions. This year they ask for 12 pieces of prose or poetry, one for each month of the year, based on your personal view of each month. After querying, I was told that taking the point of view of a character was acceptable. This provides writing prompts and allows me to flesh out characters for a book I want to write. Here is a potential entry for September. The character does not yet have a name, but her country does: Seirac, pronounced "shyrack." Summersend in Seirac

by Jack Equality Smith

Leafturn.

Bartermoon.

Summersend.

The pile by my

anvil grows larger:

polished helms and hauberks,

swords and daggers,

trinkets and toys,

born of liquid fire

at the mouth

of the Great Forge.

Time to gather bees' nectar

fox grapes and crisp

crab-apples.

Load the carts,

hitch the rams,

and travel

to the Barter Market.

Tip a horn of mead,

toss the stein

and ride the rams.

Then load the cart

with sausages and cheeses,

bins of grain, and

casks of mead and ale.

Pulling slowly up the hill

and back into the mountain,

to toil away the winter.

Interfenestration: National Poetry Month, Day Four

Today's vestigial word, "interfenestration" means the space between two windows. I decided to riff on opening up "the dirty window." Post your riff on your blog or enter the National Poetry Month contest at Writing Knights.

The Interfenestration
by Jack V Sage

The interfenestration

cannot be my motivation.

It's the space between the windows

but it doesn't have a view.

I need more inspiration than 

the interfenestration,

so I sit behind my window to

the world and peep at you.

I read about your children,

whether fuzzy or just fussy,

I check out what you had for lunch

and maybe dinner, too.

I read your darkest moments and

your biggest celebrations and

the interfenestration

seems to shrink between us two.

You read about my nightmares

and my wild imanginations,
celebrate peregrinations as
we lose a pound or two.

The interfenestration

cultivates imagination

as we all make art together,

and we write a poem or two.

Khaki Nation: National Poetry Month Challenge, Day Two

Not all laughter is good. When I read today's National Poetry Month word, "cacchinate," and listened to it's pronunciation, I heard a laugh that smacked of death and decay, not encouragement and enlightenment. I chose to use a form of the word, rather than the word itself, because it brought to mind the concept of a Khaki Nation, conforming out of fear of being cast aside. The Khaki Nation is the opposite of of the AWOL Nation, the nation whose citizens are out there flying like squirrels, jumping off buildings like characters in a video game, living lives in fast-forward. Don't forget to submit your poems to Writing Knights Roundtable, or post them on your blog.

Khaki Nation
by Jack V Sage

They drive along in electric cars,
with khaki pants knife-pressed,
blue collars pretending to
promotion to white.

Ash rises to form a humanoid shape.
Aswirl with ambition,
it cacchinates,
its laughter writhing toward the ear.

They hunch their shoulders
as they drive along, heedless.
Ignoring the wraith
as it cacchinates once more.

All they see is the finish line,
hazy in the distance,
as they ignore the chest pains
to stay in motion on the wheel.

Cacchination underpins the Khaki Nation.
It prods its victims toward its greedy maw,
chewing their lives and spitting
the bones of their dreams in a heap.

How to pronounce "cacchinate."

The Agelast: National Poetry Writer's Month Challenge, Day One

This year's National Poetry Month writing prompts are based on vestigial words. Vestigial words are those that no longer are in common use, or their current meaning no longer connects with their physical origin. For example, fewer and fewer people read a newspaper that can be touched, smelled, seen and heard. Most read their daily news on a mobile device or from a computer screen, instead.

Part of poetry comes from the sounds of the words being used. Since fewer people listen to poetry, the sounds of archaic terms are passing from our common consciousness. By using vestigial words as writing prompts, we can all help prevent the loss of the sounds that make up our language.

The Agelast
by Jack V Sage

The agile-assed agelast 
walked right past the fragile ghast.
"I'll live forever," said the gent,
"It was from laughter that ghast went."

And so away he, mirthless, ran.
And never did he laugh again.
Outlived his grandkids, one and all
refusing each of Laughter's calls.

Today's word, "agelast," means "person without mirth," or "one who never laughs."

Here is how to pronounce agelast.

Writing Knights Roundtable: NaPoWriMo Poetry Contest

If Heaven Exists

If Heaven exists, it has baklava,
and video game theme music played by Lindsey Stirling.
It has long tables with comfortable chairs, 
so all of you, my friends and chosen family
can be together at the tables,
laughing, sharing, jabbering away 
like a flock of drunken seagulls.

All of us would take turns reading bad poetry 
and sketching one another in a huge 
orgy of half-baked art. The background music
would be cutlery and glassware clinking and rattling
with a side of white noise from the air conditioners
blast-chilling us into near-hibernation.

Heaven would have both my daughters, all my grandchildren
and all the people they love and care about
and all the people who love and care about them all together
like the kind of family reunion that takes place only after funerals,
with kids playing on the floor in the first bedroom past the stairs,
Lite Brite pegs and Lego blocks serving as caltrops,
to keep the grownups at bay.

Adults slamming back weak lemonade and sweet tea, 
sampling the casseroles, while all talking over one another 
in a babble of "You look great!" and 
"Didn't the funeral home do a great job 
making (the deceased) look natural?" 

Heaven would have porch swings with creaking chains, 
and lots of webbed lawn chairs, including the rocking kind. 
Your rear gets swallowed whole by the loose webbing
like a boa devours a baby water buffalo, 
so you shift and wriggle, trying to break free.

Heaven would have tricycles, and Big Wheels, and spring horses, 
wagons and skateboards, and old-fashioned skates 
with butterfly nuts and sliding metal grips. 
It would have swing sets with the four-seater gliders, 
and the skin-the-cat bars and the too-short slide.
And the kids file out the door into the back yard 
in a slow-flowing stream, like the one they used to hunt crawdads in.

Heaven would have a piano, where my aunt Jane, 
just a few years older than me, would be playing Fuer Elise. 
Other cousins would be playing recorders 
or tambourines, or wax harmonicas.

Heaven would have all my friends, 
all the people I have met over the years.
My grandmother would still be alive, 
and my friend Brenda's father, JR.
Most of all, my Great Aunt Ressie would still be telling all her tales, 
and wagging her finger in some too-arrogant man's face.
My daughter Jordan would be there as well, 
climbing whatever was taller than a table.

And we would all stay up all night, 
turning marshmallows into torches 
and waving sparklers at the moon.
~Jack V. Sage

The Gift of Life

My dad had lung cancer for 16 years. I never asked whether or not he needed any blood products during that time. Today at work we learned that cancer patients use 10 to 20 units of platelets during chemotherapy. That means it takes 10 to 20 heroes to keep one cancer patient healthy during each round of chemotherapy. Somewhere out there, a minimum of 20 people helped my dad stay healthy during his lifetime. Thank you.

Marketing Yourself With Interesting Facts

Whether it's for an author profile, query letter or interview, the dreaded "Tell Me About Yourself" question can stop the conversation dead in its tracks. In an interview, a long pause before you answer paints an arrow straight out the door. The wrong author blurb takes your reader straight to the next book on the shelf or the next tab in the browser window after making a split-second judgment that your lifeless profile means that your story will be equally lacking.


List Unique Accomplishments


Listing unique accomplishments helps potential employers remember you, according to organizational consultant Ronnie Ann, the founder of Work Coach Cafe. Things like taking live-action photos at rodeos or creating and marketing one-of-a-kind crocheted fashions tell potential employers that you make things happen instead of waiting for someone else to get things moving. Running a charity to teach needlework skills to girls in Africa or living in a tree house in Ohio in late November as research for outdoor living articles also make great icebreakers during an interview.


Provide Relevant Details


When you list your accomplishments, tell potential employers how the experience and knowledge you gained and the skills you used will make you effective in the open position. For example, running a nonprofit corporation requires researching community resources, creating strategic alliances and meeting or exceeding performance and service benchmarks. People with these skills make excellent candidates for executive positions.


Be specific. State that you reduced the wait time between referral for service and actual service delivery from two years to two months, for example, if you directed a planned respite service. If you served as a member of the county board of trustees in your community, state that you ensured that a long-awaited sewer project went through on schedule and within budget.


Tell the Truth


Whatever facts you provide, resist the temptation to exaggerate your role or fabricate an experience. Provide photos, press clippings, letters of commendation and any other relevant documents that back your statements. Create backup files for online portfolios and make copies of everything in your physical collection.


Practice Your Delivery


Pausing too long or fumbling for words after an interviewer asks you to tell him about yourself shows a lack of self-confidence, according to Scott Ginsberg, author of "The Power of Approachability." Practice your exciting facts speech in front of friends and relatives. Record or videotape yourself so that you can examine and correct your posture, eye contact, and voice.


References


Work Coach Cafe: 10 Things I Look for When I Screen Resumes and Cover Letters


The Ladders: 10 Good Ways to "Tell Me About Yourself"

By Hook or By Crook: Skullduggery and Disenfranchisement in Arizona

Dear Arizona Secretary of State Ken Bennett:

It is my understanding that you intend to allow 1200 people to disenfranchise all the other voters in the state of Arizona by refusing to place President Barack Obama's name on the ballot. As a registered voter in Arizona, I am outraged and appalled at the complete effrontery of:

A. Disrespecting the office of the President of the United States of America by refusing to allow a sitting president to run on Arizona's ballot.

B. Disrespecting the voters of the state of Arizona by refusing them the opportunity to vote for the candidate of their choice.

C. Patronizing the voters of the state of Arizona by implying, through your refusal to allow a sitting president to run for office, that they do not have enough sense to know who they should trust with the most important office in the United States.

I feel sorry for someone so craven that they cannot go toe to toe with their foes in a legitimate and fair election, but instead must stoop to every dirty trick they can envision in order to advance their own personal agenda. Shame on you!

My vote counts just as much as any other person's vote in this state, and I want Barack Obama's name on the ballot. If he is not allowed to run, whoever wins the election will always know that his victory is hollow, based on lies and half-truths. Such a presidency is doomed to failure. Whoever runs for President of the United States in Arizona needs to win in a true, fair and honest election, not through trickery and skullduggery, and definitely not through placing a higher value on the opinions of 1200 voters than on all others.

Sincerely,

Jane M. Smith,
registered voter in the state of Arizona.

Annular Solar Eclispe May 20 2012

I took these photos at 6:15 PM Arizona time, while wearing a pair of 99-percent UV-reduction welder's glasses and a hat to block the sun from my eyes. I love the effect of the rays over the back wall of the yard. The palm tree in the background is about a full block away and stands about three stories tall. I'll take more photos around 6:30 PM. The apparent change in the sun's position from north of the palm to south of it was me taking photos from multiple angles, not any genuine movement of the sun itself. I think that pink-orange arc might be an optical illusion.

Sunset, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset B, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset C, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset D, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset E, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset F, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset G, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset H, 6:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

I took this next batch of photos at 6:30 PM AZ time, two houses over for the first two, and about half a block north of the house for the other six. I had to move because the sun dropped too far below the horizon to see it over the roof of the houses behind ours. It makes a beautiful scene over the neighbor's Cereus peruvianus.

Sunset A, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset B, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset C, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset D, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset E, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset F, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset G, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset H, 6:30 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

I took this last set of photos between 6:50PM and 7:15PM AZ time. The sun kept dropping below the horizon faster than I could walk to keep up with it, so I never did get a shot of the eclipse itself. There was a bite out of the upper left arc of the sun by 7:15, and the sunset was a bright neon orange to bright neon pink.

Sunset A, 6:50 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

 

Sunset B, 6:50 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset C, 7:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Sunset D, 7:15 PM AZT May 20, 2012 by Jack V. Sage

Artists and Writers: Create Your Space

Artists and writers both need a workspace that inspires creativity. I share a workspace that faces a big picture window, so it has plenty of natural light during the day. I use a shop light at night, since our floor lamp has seen better days.The laptop sits on a Lifetime folding show table made of molded plastic, and I have a big red core ball for a chair. I have a one-drawer side table at the left end of my shop table, and a corner-style computer desk holds most of our art supplies. The floor lamp sits at the right end of the corner desk, and we have a two-drawer, single-shelf night stand to the right of the floor lamp, holding our acrylic paints, paper and assorted boxes that we pull apart, fold and store until we need them.

A metal display shelf turned on its short side leans against the east wall of the house, providing a place to hang spare eyeglasses, a Valentine's Day rose, tweezers, nail clippers and a few jewelry tools. All the paintbrushes, sponge brushes and clay tools sit in bottles, jars and cocoa containers, waiting for the next project. To the left of the shelf you see an "ideas in progress" area, with notes about ideas that spring up in the middle of other projects. To the left of the picture window you see a mini gallery of finished paintings and a second motivational/idea area.

Clutter piles up over time, which blocks creative flow. Dust makes things feel stale, and balls of paper, cardboard and other assorted bits and pieces build negativity. Once all that trash gets bagged and hauled out, the room has a fresh, vibrant feeling.

View from my work station. Photo 1 by Jack V. Sage, May 2012

View from my work station. Photo 2 by Jack V. Sage, May 2012

"On the Hunt" Acrylic Wash by Jack V. Sage, Photo 1, May 6, 2012

"On the Hunt" Acrylic Wash by Jack V. Sage, Photo 2, May 6, 2012

C is for Character: Unless You're Gay

With Phoenix Pride Weekend beginning this morning, with the parade at 11 AM Arizona time, I have to take a moment to address an issue that had me speechless when I learned of it. One of the writers featured on this blog, Cher Guevara of Indiana, has been fired from their current job as a summer camp counselor with the Boys Scouts of America for stating the following on Facebook:

“Alright, in the interest of public service, I am about to release the real homosexual agenda. I hope all you out there are taking notes, here it is:

We, the GLBTQ Citizens of the United States of America, want the same rights and promises of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we want to be able to defend our country, have families and provide for them, we want our children to be well-educated and treated with respect, we want our lives to quit being used as political fodder by the Religious Right, we are human beings and we are American Citizens, we are entitled to the same rights, promises and protections as outlined in the United States Constitution.

There you are, the real homosexual agenda. Are there any questions?”

Anyone who can read that and find anything offensive in it needs to examine their values, so here goes. According to the Boy Scouts of America, on their very own website, their 12 Core Values are as follows:

Cub Scouting's 12 Core Values

Citizenship: Contributing service and showing responsibility to local, state, and national communities.   Compassion: Being kind and considerate, and showing concern for the well-being of others.   Cooperation: Being helpful and working together with others toward a common goal   Courage: Being brave and doing what is right regardless of our fears, the difficulties, or the consequences.   Faith: Having inner strength and confidence based on our trust in God.   Health and Fitness: Being personally committed to keeping our minds and bodies clean and fit.

Honesty: Telling the truth and being worthy of trust.   Perseverance: Sticking with something and not giving up, even if it is difficult.   Positive Attitude: Being cheerful and setting our minds to look for and find the best in all situations.   Resourcefulness: Using human and other resources to their fullest.   Respect: Showing regard for the worth of something or someone.   Responsibility: Fulfilling our duty to God, country, other people, and ourselves.

In its very first core value, Citizenship, The Boy Scouts of America state that every scout, including Eagle Scout and 9-year camp counselor Cher Guevara, is supposed to serve the entire local, state and national community.

In its second core value, Compassion, the Boy Scouts of America states that every scout is supposed to care what happens to other people.

Their third core value, Cooperation, means working toward common goals that benefit everyone in the community.

It is Core Value Number Four, however, where Cher Guevara excels, and where the Boy Scouts of America have chosen to teach Cher a lesson by rendering them both unemployed and unemployable in the future anywhere else: Courage. It takes courage to choose between a job you love and the community that you know needs your voice. It takes courage to stand up for what is right when it will cost you your future ability to earn a living in your chosen field. Above all, it takes courage to speak out, not just for your own community members and yourself, but for those in even more marginalized groups: gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, intersex and non-gender-conforming people.

Guevara definitely exercises their Faith, listed as Core Value Number Five by the Boy Scouts of America. Cher Guevara is an ordained minister, providing spiritual reassurance to those who have been ostracized and fighting against those who spend their time spewing venom at people who are already at the end of their ropes.

Cher Guevara's willingness to be Honest in the face of all of the disciplinary power waged against them, standing up for the right of future scouts and their family members to participate in all aspects of Scouting is inspiring. Guevara's Perseverance, demonstrated by nine years of service and by having achieved the status of Eagle Scout are also unquestionable.

Cher Guevara expresses a Positive Attitude, maintaining the hope that somehow this current struggle will help other gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer scouts and their family members. Guevara's Resourcefulness in turning to social media as a platform to advance the rights of all people to serve and participate in Scouting earns Cher Guevara the Rainbow Arrow, an award that was created specifically to honor that struggle and its accompanying sacrifice. The Rainbow Arrow is a Human Being award, and if anyone deserves it, Cher Guevara certainly does.

Respect includes self-respect. Self-respect requires an ability to stand in the face of attempts to marginalize and silence you, which Guevara certainly has done. Self-respect also includes having the gumption to believe that all of the benefits of society are just as much yours by right of existence as anyone else, and yes, even if you are gay, or lesbian, or bisexual, or transgender or queer. Human rights do not depend on whether or not we conform to the gender binary, who we sleep with or which bathroom we use. Human rights belong to all. Even if you're gay, bisexual, lesbian, transgender or queer.

Finally, Cher Guevara epitomizes Boy Scouts of America's Core Value Number Twelve: Responsibility. Guevara has placed life, fortune and sacred honor on the line to stand up for the right of everyone, everywhere, to be treated with dignity and respect and to serve in the community in all capacities. Guevara dared to publish "The Real Homosexual Agenda" on Cher's personal Facebook page, and dared to publicly kiss a man during a counter-protest against Westboro Baptist Chuch.

Today, Tempe Tempest of Arizona honors that sacrifice by presenting Cher Guevara with the very first Rainbow Arrow Award. Designed by Jordan Ethan Michael of Mississippi, the rainbow represents the entire community, while the arrow represents the determination and courage Cher Guevara displayed when sacrificing employability rather than lying about what Cher believes is important in life.