GVP's Way is the author's blog including book and movie reviews, thoughts on the craft of writing, perspectives on the business of publishing, and musings on life, politics, and family.
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He's a walking contradiction
Partly truth and partly fiction
Taken every wrong direction
On his lonely way back home
And there's a lot of wrong directions
On that lonely way back home.
The Pilgrim
Kris Kristofferson
Entries by Gary (161)
Five Things You Can Learn From a Dog
In the nearly three weeks since Shelby's sudden and unexpected passage I've had some time to reflect on my years with her and my relationship with her. On my now solitary jogs and walks through Jetton Park, I've come to realize I learned a few things from Shelby over the years. I think I'm a better person for our relatively brief time together.
Food, Water, Shelter, and Love. Gurf Morlix, a much admired singer/songwriter, has a song by this title and it underscores and summarizes one of the most important things I learned from Shelby. So long as you have these basics in your life, little else really matters and you can pretty much get through anything. Early on, I learned that Shelby was not just satisfied with these things, she was happy. But that didn't stop her from asking for the occasional treat and in retrospect I wish I'd given her more treats.
Gary
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Off to Omaha
I expected to rant for several entries about how George W ruined the country, Why, I was just get warmed up. I was going to go on about his administration forgot to plan for the aftermath of a war won in 3days, how him and Cheney and Rummy almost singlehandledly demolished US relations with most other countries in the world, how George W is personally responsible for the housing market melt down and high gas prices. I wanted to rant on about how eight years of "do nothing" had left this country more insecure from attack and economic failure than anything the terrorists had done. I wanted to bitch about how the Constitution had suffered such a frontal attack since Nixon.
But then my dog died and I lost steam. Mary and I sat on the back porch, drank wine, and cried for three nights running.
Shelby the Dog--July 1999 to July 2008
We lost our dog, Shelby last night. It happened so suddenly we're still not sure what exactly happened. She became disoriented and unable to move well shortly after dinner last night. We called the vet and about 8:30 decided that the best thing to do was bring in the next morning. She got progressively worse, basically falling into a deep sleep, but apparently without discomfort. Mary and I left her resting under the dining room table about 11:00 PM. I found her by her food and water dishes in the kitchen early this morning about 5:00 AM. She'd been dead several hours.
How to Ruin a Country-Part 1
I overheard someone say the other day that he wouldn't vote for Barack Obama, because the country couldn't stand four years of Obama. The speaker didn't especially care for McCain either, because McCain had made deals over the years with liberals, but at the end of the day he preferred McCain over Obama. I could hardly believe my ears. Obama is being blamed by the Right for ruining the country, before he even gets in office.
On Horicon Marsh
I couldn't be more pleased that my story "On Horicon Marsh" found a home and was published this month by moonShine Review. I took my first shot at this story 30 years ago while living in Brookfield, Wisconsin. Renowned author Ellen Hunnicut, and a wonderful teacher and mentor, loved the story and it won, in an earlier version, a scholarship award to the IU Summer Writer's Conference. But I couldn't get it published anywhere. I tried a lot of places. Then I let it sit for many years. Last year, I revived it. I cut from it mercilessy, 4500 words to under 3000 words. I informed the story with all I've learned about writing and storytelling over the years.
Road Trip
My seven year-old son will never understand. Well, maybe he will, because I’ll keep on him until he does.
We took our annual road trip to Chicago to visit family last week—even with $4.00 gas it’s cheaper to drive than fly. Along the way, we stopped in places like Asheville, North Carolina, Berea Kentucky, Bloomington and Elkhart, Indiana. Notwithstanding my son’s penchant for “kid meals” and plastic toys served up alongside smashed burgers and soggy fries at the usual fast-food havens, I resisted with a passion, choosing instead the Moose Café, the Daniel Boone Inn, the Malibu Grille, and the Cozy Corner.
It’s harder and harder to find roadside cafes, diners, and truck stops, real places owned by local owners serving authentic food, but I do my darnedest.
What Kind of People Are We Anyway?
The conservatives are up in arms. The pundits are full of themselves. The liberals are telling each other "I told you so."
Last week, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the plaintiff in the landmark case of Boumediene v Bush. The case involved the rights of an individual who was deemed an enemy combatant and held in the notorious Guatanamo Bay prison in Cuba. The Supreme Court, via a slim majority of an emerging coalition of Ginsberg, Kennedy, Souter, Stevens, and Breyer, ruled that prisoners held at Guantanamo have the right to challenge their imprisonment in the US Courts.
The conservatives believe it's the end of the world--how will we ever be able to combat terrorism if we can't lock up people suspected of terrorism, torture them, refuse them a hearing, and lock them away?
Tim Russert Can't be Dead
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was only 58, just like I'm about to be.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was only a little overweight, always had a lot of energy, never stopped working, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He's got a wife and son, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was a lawyer who changed careers, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He grew up in a gritty Midwest town and never left his roots behind, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He lived through the 60s, loved baseball, and enjoyed politics, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He's got an old man he likes to tell stories about, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead.
He was the best at what he did.
Based on everything I heard and read about him, he was a decent guy who always remained grounded.
From the first time I saw him on TV years ago, I liked him, felt a connection to him.
And now I'm feeling about as mortal as I've felt in a long time.
Tim Russert, dead at age 58.
Damn.
Red on Red
Jeff and Bill, I really appreciate your thoughtful comments, and I'm so glad we've found this blog as a way to reconnect. I think the history we share, growing up in Elkhart in the 60s , gives us a common perspective that is rare.
So, guys, this story, "Red on Red," set in Elkhart in that time when "gas was cheap and RVs sold for less than ten grand" is for you.
I'm fortunate enough that while I've not reached a point with my writing where my novels have been noticed, my short stories usually find a publisher and some have even received modest acclaim. In the last couple of years I've written four stories set in Elkhart in the late 60s, early 70s. "Homecoming" took third prize in SEAK's Legal Fiction Contest. "Redemption," which I hope to post soon on this blog, has just made the second cut in a prestigious competition (so I learned today). "Savage Nights," took first prize in a contest last summer. And I just recently completed "Red on Red."
We Miss You Bobby Kennedy
1968 began on a bad note. Things went from bad to worse.
The Tet Offensive kicked off the night of January 30 with over 100 simultaneous attacks against American targets throughout South Viet Nam. The offensive was intended to inspire an uprising against the Americans, who were in disarray at home. Eugene McCarthy had already launched a campaign against President Johnson on the single issue of bringing the troops home. General Westmoreland was predicting outright victory with light at the end of the tunnel, but he thought he needed another 200,000 troops in addition to the half million US troops already in country. The Tet attacks were strategically unsuccessful, mopped up in 24 hours, but the impact was more far reaching. An already skittish nation watched on the evening news as the US Embassy in Saigon came under enemy fire. A famous photo of the execution of a bound Viet Cong soldier at point blank range by the commander of the South Vietnamese police added fuel to the fire--a doubtful country sensed chaos, defeat, and wasted lives.