High School Journalists on PBS: Obviously a Different Ballgame

Yesterday, PBS brought three students from T.C. Williams HS and their journalism teacher on the show, and it was almost impossible not to cast a somewhat disparaging eye regarding projects they put together to gain that exposure. The bone of contention is they essentially *reviewed* media from this past year, while HIGHLIGHTS, the school newspaper Ray Patterson rode herd on at Linton HS during the tumultous ’70s, produced an 8-16 page product every two weeks.

Frankly, as dramatically different as the technology of multiple outlets/’platforms’ in the world of 2015 is from 1975, its apples and oranges between CREATING (including 2-3 days of actual physical pasting of copy onto waxed tabloid-sized sheets) an award-winning paper and compiling memorable stuff others produced.

That said, I read the NYTimes online version with a first cup of coffee this morning, and while perusing the weekly Creative Loafing in Charlotte, NC is a regular habit, picking up an actual newspaper is perhaps a once-a-month event, the holy grail that TIME magazine was is now an annoyingly thin red-bordered periodical that can be done without.

Since year-end is the time for reviewing all manner of ‘Best of’ or ’10 Events That Shocked’, admitting the significance of the change is legitimate. This piece is being done on an iPad, and if a tone signals something has landed in an electronic mailbox, that can be examined immediately with the push of a button. That immediacy is a singular important difference between ‘old’ journalism and any 2015 version.

The Vietnam War ended with a roar in 1975, after years of having TV deliver graphic video and body counts of dead-wounded nightly, dividing nearly every demographic in America– especially older “its a duty to your country” WWII or Korean War veterans/fathers and young-enough-to-become-part-of-‘Nam’s-meat grinder-ugliness males. Half a world away, we waited until 6:00 for Walter Cronkite, or a similarly serious news anchor, to watch the final helicopter depart the rooftop of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon, barely unlucky enough final figures trying to jump on-stay attached to its skids. As seminal an event as that was, who in 2014 didn’t know an unarmed (if aggressive) black man named Michael Brown was shot to death by a white police officer in the small town of Ferguson, Missouri, or see the as-it-happened “I can’t breathe!” video-taped final words of another black man (Eric Garner) being choked to death by another white officer in New York City?

In 1968, Bobby Kennedy made the dangerous, incredibly courageous decision to address a largely black crowd in Indianapolis the night of Martin Luther King’s assassination in Memphis, and many of those people were only becoming aware of that event hours after the fact. Would ANYONE in their right mind step before a similar crowd under similar conditions today? That city was one of the few that was unscarred by rioting that erupted across the rest of the country. Kennedy’s absolute sincerity, delivered with the reminder he had suffered exactly the same incredible loss– the well-documented assassination of his brother, President John F. Kennedy, in 1963– was personal, unfiltered, and amazingly, not a fact he ever brought up again in public. Those present understood this was a time to mourn, not senselessly rage.

‘Journalism’ has changed, as has much in this country. Woodward & Bernstein’s efforts, still the gold standard in investigating and writing so much of what became the Watergate scandal for the Washington Post, took *months*, even years, to unravel the presidency of Richard Nixon. Today we know about a cop jumping out of his patrol car and– within two seconds, fatally shooting a child waving a toy gun– and every aspect of that is available immediately on a device we can talk about or send to someone else.

‘Disparaging’ eye of comparison might be harsh; if the opportunities were available 40 years ago (Geraldo Rivera’s ‘bushwhack journalism’ style was just beginning), how many j-majors would’ve wanted their faces in front of people vs. ‘just’ a byline? We know about an almost overwhelming number of things around the world *as they’re happening* now, and shaping that tidal wave into some format, including the terrifying ‘sound bite’ reduction, should probably still be regarded as a legitimate function.

It’s also still apples and oranges to compare a class project to having everyone in school with a newspaper in their hand as ‘real’ journalism.

Glenn Shorkey

ACRC as Much Spiritual as Ruck ‘n Roll

With all due regard given to the need for writing cover letters to resumes–and a decent quantity of progress on two sexy chapters for next book– it shouldn’t have taken me a month to knock out a blog in praise of the ten game slate of American Collegiate Rugby Championships matches assembled by Steve Siano’s Sevens Sports operation. Showcased at the Rugby Athletic Center on South Tyvola Ave. in Charlotte, NC, the event was, for every ex-rugger, newbie enthusiast, or player in attendance, a Friday afternoon-all day Saturday slice of what live sports is supposed to be about.

From the 4 tries by Corey Patton of North Mecklenburg— correctly identified as a star to watch in a gorgeous full color glossy tournament guide– in their 33-5 whacking of Hough in the high school exhibition that kicked things off, through the 53-19 pillaging of previously unbeaten (8-0) Army by the electric lime-green stockinged hordes of major independent Life(their ‘B’ side punched out Western Michigan 42-10 in Saturdays top-‘o-the-morning match), it was glorious stuff to watch.

Boston College beat Iona 29-19
North Carolina St. devastated Texas St. 63-7 in Fridays nightcap
UMass pounded North Texas 46-0
Kutztown (9-1 as Rugby East champs, only loss to Army) overwhelmed Michigan 43-17
American International pulled out a highly competitive 46-40 thriller over Bowling Green
Clemson (Atlantic Coast champs) pulled away from 20-14 halftime score to beat always a rival South Carolina (Southeastern CRC champs) 40-14 in after-Life Bowl Series finale

Beyond the almost un-rugby-like precision that the schedule maintained, it would be a serious breach of sports journalism not to give generous credit for the overall effect to the RAC facility and Sevens Sports as well.

While Saturday was sunny, and the weather of a satisfying Fall crispness all the way, viewing a premier pitch from the comfort of the triple-tiered and sub-divided into ‘booths’ arena a former golf driving range created, was an exceptional experience. There was never a peep of negatives to be heard about *anything*– despite its college-age participants, beer was cold and available, the toilets clean and always operational; even the fire pit between the foosball table and the 3rd level concession stand created its own smoky ambiance. The fact of $2 for 16-ounce PBRs, $4 cans of Guiness, and the meaty warmth of Chik-fil-a sandwiches were appreciated Goodnesses for anyone who ever lugged their beverages field-side (and then wondered where to take a leak). Enjoying said supplies with a nephew who was left off the Stony Brook (Empire Conference champs and 21-20 victors over West Virginia) roster was cool, as was his low key “thanks for letting me use your extra jacket” after several hours.

While its never been on any personal ‘bucket list’, watching Life’s continuous forward motion as tackled runners popped short passes to others blasting along in close support, made believing their program is every bit of what its advertised to be a Real Deal fact. Having been involved in a 52-0 ass-kicking by Old Blue in a 20-minute halves tournament game (Saranac Lake, NY) almost 30 years ago, and earning a last-play-of-the-game karate chop to left ear (think cartoon sound of broken china when shaking head) for getting close to tackling an Old Blue inside center, brought memories to what a full game of barely slowing down the other guys must’ve felt like.

Memories are actually rugby’s stock in trade, so here’s a pretty good one: Seeing an older gentleman (NCHSRA President P.J. Anderson) in Springbok yellow/green outfit at the games required relating how the city of Albany (NY) hosted the South African team in 1990, when it was still an athletic pariah. Lacking a definitive “you can’t do it” from the state, mayor Erastus Corning ignored anti-apartheid protesters– and a small bombing of the ticket office– to allow the game against the Eastern Rugby Union (ERU), played in a driving rainstorm.

In relating that meeting to a random ex-rugger, it turned out he’d BEEN to the game, even got in free. Part Two, he’d played for Binghamton, a member of the Upstate Rugby Union I’d played in. Memory Part Three, telling Sevens Sports leader Steve Siano about the coincidence of talking with guy who went to that game brought reply (believe it or not) that he’d PLAYED at fullback in the game as a college sophomore.

What more could you ask for from a weekend of rugby, an exceptionally well-run event that brings ancient memories into close order with what those participants (and my nephew) will be part of forever? Not sure who won the ‘canoe races’ between rivals UMass and Boston College, but someone will probably still be telling stories about that this Christmas break.

Glenn Shorkey

Booing for W’s? Nahh, Otherwise Philly…

As I’ve maintained throughout the Bobcat years– especially when owner Bob Johnson complained about not getting the community love he’d expected– if there is anyplace that knows what good hoops looked like, it was North Carolina. I also opined that since people could watch at least two ACC games/their alma maters a week for free, ‘supporting’ over-priced nobodies (sorry Mr. Wallace) that even Hubie Brown couldn’t coach wasn’t high on a lot of people’s lists.

Yes, the home opener featuring the return of Hornets name and that knowledge base presented a mixed emotional bag; the crowd certainly had expectations for Victory #1, since Milwaukee was last years worst club. In the third quarter theHornets were down 24 and playing lousy enough to elicit significant boos says something; giving them props for actually turning things around for a 108-106 overtime win is equally legitimate. While Kemba Walker went 9-28 FGs, he nailed both the tying trey in regulation and the gamer; the chances of very many more victories will diminish with 31% shooting nights. Its every fans right to express displeasure in the product being presented– as Madden memorably said, “Philly fans even boo Santa Claus.” (I saw the game, it was a pretty raggedy, stupid acting Santa), and I salute the crowd for their candor, especially since it worked.
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There must’ve been a couple fans who were willing to try motivating more inspired play by expressing displeasure at the big Thursday night Panthers-Saints game as well. The final was 28-10, but if you watched it, you never got any feeling the now 3-4-1 Panthers would come out on top. Okay, nice that Cam’s running effectively again, his big stretch to stick a TD in at the cone another of those things we will definitely cheer, and become antsy about when its lacking.

Two weeks ago commentator Howie Long said this wasn’t the 2013 Panthers #2-rated in league defense, which provided the backbone to their 12-4 record. If you allow (I don’t) for “we don’t have Greg Hardy” laments, the secondary hasn’t been getting toasted as regularly as many might’ve suspected; clearly, getting field goals offensively instead of TDs has killed them, even more than fact other teams keep putting together multi-play drives on the D. Moral victories for defensive intensity in a 13-9 loss the previous week to Seattle Seahawks mean nothing– I was pretty sure those 3 FGs by the Panthers Gano would be cancelled out if Russell Wilson of Seattle put a single drive together, and thats exactly what happened.

There was some booing done Thursday, although my noise at home was more groaning-griping about Panthers trying to cover Saints freaking star tight end Jimmy Graham one-on-one. I’m a Drew Brees fan, and he probably could’ve passed to someone else if Graham was doubled, but it looked like pitch and catch at times. This moves the Saints back into divisional lead, but almost everyone in the NFC South is still in the hunt on that point.

I’ll reserve booing at this point, although I believe it actually made a difference at the Hornets game. If booing always worked, Philly would be a dominant contender in every sport; right now I WOULD actually boo if that would eliminate the next 150 Hagan-Tillis ads I’ll inevitably be subjected to between now and Tuesday night. This Senate race is a STUNNINGLY ugly piece of negativity– there’s not a commentator in the country that doesn’t mention the mudslinging that **$200 MILLION** in outside funding has financed. How does that *obvious* a twisting of ‘voting voice’ truly relate to that of the North Carolina electorate? I don’t know, but yeah, I’d boo! it.

Glenn S.

Sorry, Just Won’t Do It

I read an amazing bit of journalism this morning, an at-length piece on what they call The Inland Empire, about the proliferation– to tune of almost *15 million sq. ft./year* of warehouse space in California’s Moreno Valley. The nut was the pollution caused by massive volume of trucks in and around the area, which is also ‘at the end of the tailpipe’ of what gets blown out of LA across the Valley.

Respiratory problems of the people involved is significant, as is bribery of officials who continue to allow building of warehouses, which are a transmission point for goods arriving from Asia, to all points pretty much west of Chicago. One committee member (Mr. Co) is accused of taking the largest bribe in FBI sting history, $2.36 million. That he’s been out and about over a year since his arrest leads many to believe he’s been wearing a wire, so I wasn’t listening that much to those delineated as ‘bad actors’ in story proclaiming their innocence– time enough for that later.

I wanted to comment about the great journalistic effort, might have considered reposting, because while the pollution and negatives mentioned don’t affect me in Charlotte, NC, I reposted as much of Glenn Greenwalds Snowden/gov’t surveillance stuff as I could, because important stuff should be brought to light wherever its found. I didn’t post a comment, because Facebook login meant they get to look at not only MY information, but my entire Friends list.

I don’t do much on FB, in spite of many HS acquaintences contacting me in this year before reunion. I *HATE* the idea I can’t make a comment without putting a bunch of other names on the line. I’m writing as an individual– what right do I have to say, “check out/use the info from anyone else I know”?

Maybe its a useless consideration on my part, because theres no telling how many others are simply pushing the button and allowing my name on some list so they can post elsewhere. But for those I know, I’ll do what little I can to protect you. And yes, I will always appreciate good journalism.

Glenn S.

Gorgeous Fall Day, Bro Left Game Before Big Ending

Having gone to neighborhood pocket park with good rims down the street to shoot some hoops after a disappointing first half of Panthers game, its a little two-faced to fault my brother for leaving Panther-Bank of America Stadium before the really good stuff happened at the game yesterday. I haven’t researched how crowds reacted elsewhere in NFL during a day that involved several amazing rallies, but I have noted Charlotteans early departures from games; to me it seems a basic un-goodness to bail on events, even when the home team isn’t covering themselves in glory. (Stinking out the joint in a driving rain, ya got a case…)

My real regret for the day was denying two young– maybe 11-12– black men the chance to shoot with me and swap some sports talk. A lot of times, if people have their own ball (they did) they use basket at other end, but they’d given theirs to two younger kids, the obvious assumption being we’d just use mine. It was a dumb case of bad social grace that I decided splitting shots in the limited time I’d allowed myself wouldn’t quite work for me. Forget about any gimpy knee, my lack of real schedule could’ve allowed for extra time to get my ya-yas and still be a good guy, sharing time and opinions, because those guys had opinions about LeBron and upcoming NBA season, and I’ll usually yak with anybody about sports.

I promise I’ll do better the next time, just like I’ll do good about buying a bicycle tube, the second half of a necessary repair job after pulling a major piece of steel out a two-week unfixed flat Saturday morning.

Putting those three events in perspective, not expecting a miracle finish from the Panthers wasn’t the most negative thing. The *best* was tight end Greg Olsentell the post-game sideline reporter having his 2-year old son TJ– who recently had a 4th heart procedure– on the field during pre-game warmups meant more than catching a game-winning 2nd TD against his former team (Bears). You can never go wrong feeling good about stuff like that.

Glenn Shorkey

That’s What LinkedIn Should Be For

Getting a private, positive response yesterday as a direct result of an online discussion (Global Executive Assistants) validates what I’ve believed LinkedIn was supposed to be about. While there are still too many ‘PLEASE read my blog!’ type messages on writing sites I utilize, articulating my objections about what should-shouldn’t be included on CV-resumes got a specific unfairness off my chest as strongly as I wanted. Based on comments from others and that indicator of attention I needed, it hit a righteous chord.

Given that *everyone* says recruiters only give resumes a scant 6-8 seconds attention, and resumes aren’t supposed to go past 12-15 years at the max, my point was 6.5 years of retail work that paid bills-put food on the table-gas in the car-allowed for occasional road trip vacations during The Great Recession was apparently DQing me from consideration for executive assistant level positions handled prior to 2007. That contract work, which was my case from 1995-2000 after leaving regional sales rep positions, of less than six months shouldn’t be included– even if it involved learning a significant skill– was a deal-killer many applicants recognize. Most recruiters, and even a *computer generated notation* for one application I labored on, still pick at EVERY TIME GAP, making for a Catch-22 situation.

Having illuminated that frustrating situation won’t change 99% of recruiters methodology. When I first changed from being a ‘windshield warrior’ to getting results driving a desk in 1995, it was mandatory that you do alllll the paperwork with an agency (it still screws up applications to put ‘multiple agencies’ under Employer, because who remembers origin of each assignment ?) and test on software before anyone would talk to you. Now, even after going through online on-boarding process for a major temp-placement operation, the recruiter stonewalled an office visit 3x in one phone call because “there’s no sense WASTING your time or mine” to determine how jobs that barely made it– no description or dates, just the position– onto a page might make me a better candidate. *I* sure wouldn’t think its a waste, not when most EA ads involve ‘Exceptional verbal- written communications skills’ in the description, something barely scratched on Page 1 that is a HUGE strength of mine, much higher order than being current on learnable software.

I’m going with the positives though. I’ve followed that particular lady for a while, and now I’ve done something that attracted her personal interest; a guy whose house I’ve played several Hold ’em poker tournaments at is a recruiter and he’s also looking at my material. That recruiter who said “all we have” is a survey situation for a Republican project and a tele-marketing deal up-selling dating site users to full membership, wow, his whole office must be starving. Guess he should have some extra time to read deeper into resumes then, right?

Glenn S.

A Month of Unemployment is Good for the Soul

At some soon-future time I’ll add pictures from this past weekend in the VA mountains around Meadows of Dan, elevation 3100′ and a full 12 degrees cooler than the swelter brother Steve and I returned to in Charlotte.

A buddy of his gave us tickets to 13th annual FloydFest, and beyond an optimally sunny Saturday afternoon filled with nothing but A-1 tunes, there was a generous sprinkling of sweet/curvaceous ladies whose ‘thong & something gauzy’ garbs simplicity was in tune with a 100% genuine aura of Good Will. On Sunday we hiked about three miles worth of the Blue Ridge, saw a trio of deer and a 30′ free-stack fireplace from a Works Program camp when they built the Parkway. I even attempted fishing in his front yard pond.

Putting my idyllic and mentally relaxing time– especially two evenings of good friends and food-drink aplenty– in what seems a realistic perspective, it felt GREAT to have a whole weekend off to completely enjoy all that transpired. While its changed my economics on a weekly basis, whenever I finally get unemployment, the $232/week will be about $50 less than that MSER outfit paid me for 35 hrs. of my life. That’s just part of current facts, as is 14 weeks max of UI, down from 26 last year. I got away from a situation where flunky management and money were so difficult to deal with, to being able to invest days and keyboard time in search for situations where my professional skills, detailed in LinkedIn profile, should eventually become my next Real Job.

After 30 days, I’m not stroking myself to say I’m not missing that previous set-up at all.

The personal-professional writing I’ve diverted prime time hours of my day into isn’t difficult to measure at all; I’ve got the discipline that puts writing in Number 1 position, without denying that finding a recruiter who cares about finding me a contract situation where I can prove/improve my administrative-organizational abilities is a strong 1-A.  It doesn’t make me a slacker that I choose timing for bike rides that have strengthened left leg-knee vs. the cumulative daily grind of walking and selling for maybe 7 hours; I’m in solidly better shape, tanned and feeling physically confident. The difference between guy hiking a music festival and the Blue Ridge is appreciated by the drudge who wondered if he was athletically dead when his jump shot went away with knee integrity and just working.

When, as will always happen, I had a period of disappointment over a phone call or series of leads going nowhere this month, I gave thanks it was a relatively new stress. “I don’t have kids in school, a mortgage, or even a car payment,” is simpler economics than dramatic negatives and choices many people have faced for lots longer times in this country. Israel and Hamas and civilian deaths at over 1200, with constant deadly fears EVERY DAY OF THEIR LIVES, isn’t in any balance I really have to be concerned about. (I’ll cop to ‘7 Habits of Highly Successful People’ on that– look to the 5% of things you CAN affect in your life vs. worry)

I just passed my first month of unemployment. I know its a numbers game, yet just like with the fundraising company I worked for before moving to Charlotte 19 years ago, its my job to track down those whom I need to speak with. I’m projecting myself online in relevant discussion groups, I’m feeling as strong as I have in maybe a year or more, and I have *two* recruiters who know enough about my resume-me to count. I’ve even got the first 12,600 words for next book cranking.

Looking forward to what August brings, including getting at least 3 readings/book events for ‘CARDS & CONSEQUENCES: Return of Marlena the Magnificent’. Goals baby, make it happen!

Glenn S.

The Dad Project

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Having finally gotten the picture from cell phone to here: The Dad Project is a pegboard homage, using many of his hand tools obviously. The top section is suspended by hook-eyelet from a simple bar resting on nails; the middle also rests on nails. Of course, the blue level, as two of my brothers astutely noticed; his father’s hammer actually,a beautiful saw, that 3-section 19″ piece of folding measure he used as much as anything, a coil of oooooold electrical cord. Lower left is picture of Dad showing 3 nephews how to make pens; upper left is a shadowy little square that’s the mantlepiece in front room in Tampa, the last thing he ever did.

I pulled 3 pieces of wood fairly randomly from his scrap barrel in the garage at the time of his funeral, Groundhog Day, 2013, and decided I’d put together something like that memorable portion of his Work Area– thats what we always called it. This is exactly what I wanted it to look like.

Well, except for the saw thing; its there now though. With a sanding block, too.
Glenn Shorkey, second son of Waldo & Ernel.

Personal Memorial Day 2014

I celebrated Memorial Day a week later than most, because I arrived in Charlotte 19 years ago on June 1, leaving upstate NY after a final NYC holiday weekend. Tercel packed to the gills and my trusty Miyata 12 spd. on the back, I emerged from the Holland Tunnel into a thundering hail storm, made a bad decision getting off 81 before Ronoake, and took part of Tues. cutting across southern Virginia futilely trying to catch *something* to get me to Charlotte.

Anyway, 19 years, and here’s how I’ll always remember my terrific nephew and Blackhawk helicopter pilot Lt. Curtiss Shorkey from that day before: he wouldn’t give me a hug goodbye, and I 100% understood, ‘cuz I get teary thinking about how bad my leaving made him feel. At 38 I had plenty of previous exits, but that five year old I loved the best (I maintain a favorite is granted aunts and uncles, whatever the rationale) touched me that deep from really early on. He is genuinely liked by everyone I’ve ever met, a straight-shooter you KNOW would do the Right Thing in any imaginable situation. If I ever get married, he’s the guy I want standing next to me, even if its just because that uniform *always* makes for a better picture.
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I spent a quite satisfying final week of the month knocking out sales goals with Jack, and as they say in Charlotte, from Thurs. on “we was gettin’ us some gravy,” to go with a Nautica bonus we’d already qualified for. Ended up $10,000 over budget, but the bonus is on total, so we sopped us up a mess of gravy. I’m always willing to help the economy when there’s a bit of extra cash, and I guess it’s definitely time for a new basketball, even if that wonderous ‘J’ of mine is no more…

Besides putting head down and producing, I’m reasonably pleased with having put WRITING in front of alternatives several times this week and invested ‘extra’ hours in developing my second book. That I sell a copy a day of my FIRST book, ‘CARDS & CONSEQUENCES: Return of Marlena the Magnificent’ is part of the deal, but doing that creative process again engenders a lot of hopeful enthusiasm.

I’ve regarded situation at MSER (Major SouthEastern Retailer) as ‘cash cow’ and BPBPJ (bill paying, benefit providing job), but having physical copies that people are willing to give me $18-20 for, that counts for a lot in the Bigger Picture. Like they always tell musicians and actors, “don’t quit your day job,” and while I continue searching for more appropriate uses for my organizational talents, putting some meat on the bones for Book #2 was a good use of Memorial Week-19th anniversary. I enjoyed an outstanding dinner at Miro Spanish Grille with b-day girl/manager Anne on Sat., couldn’t have asked for a more empowering finale than to know I will get to take it off my taxes too. I’ve got my personal days off arranged for later this month so I can fulfill commitment I made to So. Carolina HOBY organization about getting a childrens read-along book project to completion, and on Memorial Day, when we admire commitment just a little more, I’ll try doing all I can.

With thanks to my own uncles and Dad for their past service: Donnie (Air Force), Howard (Marines), Dad and Harold (Navy). While I always remember Curt, I know my cousin Frank Ball has a son in the Navy he’s exceptionally proud of too, so kudos there. I had opportunity to give a military person a 10% discount the other day, and I believe we should all take every small thing we can do and affirm that we know and give thanks for what they do for us. I saw a short note while scrolling on FB the other day: If you don’t support our military before and after a war, you don’t support the military, you support war. ‘Nuff said.

Oh, except that the working title for next book is, 3rd Time, Lots Less Nice.

Glenn S.

Book, Birthday, Belk and Beyond

As a soon to be published ‘real’ author, I’m obviously excited about holding my first book and feeling the solid proof of accomplishment. Not that I’m lacking pride regarding all the bylines I’ve accumulated over the years, or that knocking out-articulating in writing a blog for others to agree or perhaps just say hmmm… about doesn’t float my boat, BUT…

I don’t believe I’m the only one that feels this way, but a book somehow marks your passage in life as a writer. No matter how many times I mentioned I was a writer, one of the first two inevitable questions was, “Have you written a book?” With kudos to the Grantland Rice’s or Jim Murray’s who cranked out more sports articles than there are drunken, nearly naked sophomores on a Spring Break beach, ‘CARDS & CONSEQUENCES: Return of Marlena the Magnificent’ means I’m definitely not a wanna-be. It’s not ‘War and Peace’,’Sister Carrie’, or ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ literature, but its as I envisioned it when I began, and whenever somebody takes it to the register, I’ll get a confirmation I did something worth while.
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Mom’s surprise 80th birthday at the beginning of the month (actually a week earlier, which was the surprise) was one of those moments every son I know wants to tell people about, because in a very real way it DOES prove you’re a Good Person and you love your Mom a lot more than they can ever put in a Hallmark card.

Two other brothers from Charlotte and I (the NY guy was already there) arrived in Tampa after 1:30 a.m., woke her up, let her go back to bed, then had a houseful of people to greet her when youngest bro Dave returned with her from a seashell exhibit in St. Pete later in the afternoon. When they pulled up in front of the house, I heard Mom say, “Oh, now I get it,” because Dave had been telling her all week the guy next door was going to have a party, and had asked about people parking on her property. She cried and hugged people all the way to the door, and if it seemed a little silly at times that we were congratulated for doing something so special when I kind of assumed anyone would WANT to do that for their Mom, in my heart I know she’ll remember it until she really doesn’t remember anything.
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As for the MSER where we peasants will generally be getting back to 35 hr. work weeks after *three full months* of budget-straining skinny checks ($460 for two weeks can keep a single guy with no mortgage, kids in school, or car payment going, but anything extra, sheeee-it!), it only took ONE very helpful recruiter to listen to me explain my resume and say, “I’ll rewrite it a little so you can see what a recruiter is looking for,” to restore my confidence about getting out of retail in the near future.

Having achieved that career event of ‘first book published’ and gotten nearly 20,000 words into the next, I’m looking forward to the marketing challenge of selling those 65 units I self-published, doing a book signing at Maggiano’s, having a friend say, “You were right, reading this DOES go great with a couple glasses of chardonnay.” Getting to break-even (only 150 copies) is a legit mark, as is 1,000 units, and maybe a royalty check bigger than my BPBPJ (bill paying, benefit providing job). It all seems more possible now, and if my NCAA bracket picking brings a return on my $20 investment, I’ll take that as another positive.

Friends and people from work keep saying, “Good luck with your book, and I’ll be able to say, ‘I knew him before…'” and that sounds REAL damn good to me.

Glenn S.