How Green Is Your Valley.

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Part of my addiction problem is an obsession with old movies. Film Noir will capture me almost every time. If it’s got dames & gumshoes I’m in for the duration. Turner Movie Classics is making this an even worse problem: now I’m doing the classics.

I recently spent 4 hours watching Gone With The Wind. Not my cup of tea based on the people who’d told me all about what a wonderful movie I had been missing. Meh. But I was wrong. Really wrong: it rocked.

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Now that wasn’t bad enough – it opened my eyes to the fact that I’d been dismissing a lot of movies based on other’s wimpy fondness for them. Call it blinders, stupidity, gall, or just arrogance. Your choice. I admit freely that my viewing was lacking.

It should come as no surprise then that my DVR captured How Green Was My Valley when it aired recently. The plot didn’t sound all that great on first glance but I gave it a shot.

Wow. I was blown away by the cast for starters. If a great character actor was missing I can’t name them. All of my favorites from an entire generation of actors were in this film. Roddy McDowell, Maureen O’Hara, Walter Pidgeon… and all those faces you know but can’t name as the rest of the cast.

If there was a more beautiful woman on earth during her era Maureen O’Hara didn’t know about it: she exudes sexy charm, fresh faced beauty, and a grace that abounds in every scene. The woman could act to boot. I’ve never seen her in anything where I didn’t want to watch for another two hours. If you want to be transfixed by her beauty and skill, watch The Quiet Man. Funny, piercing, serious, and sad all in one movie.

The movie’s plot is simple: the lives of a family of Welsh coal miners at the turn of the century. The trials and challenges were daunting, but their love and loyalty to each other brought them through it all. The simple story and basic decency of humanity were the focus rather than the despair and depravity that were the opposite side of that coin.

You will find, if you watch the TCM version of the movie, that the story is just a small part of the novel by Richard Llwellyn. I’m going to read it when I get some time next year. (Yes, I have to plan my reading that far in advance. Seems that writing takes up some of the time reading used to in my life.)

I’d give the movie 5 stars out of 5. Well worth a view and not just for Maureen O’Hara. But then again, she is worth it all by herself. Here’s the trailer just for a taste:

How green is your valley? Are you loyal and loving to your friends and family in the face of adversity?

Somewhere Between Jack London And Stephen King Today With A Chance of Ray Bradbury.

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My feet are cold. My nose is cold. My dog is cold. Yes, Stormy is cold. I just went to take a picture of the Grim Reaper’s playground (my back yard) and she didn’t even get off the couch when the door opened. It’s too cold to entice even a Sheltie toward the door this morning. She’s saving up the barking for a warmer day.

Taken through the door - too cold to even open it for a photo.

Taken through the door – too cold to even open it for a photo.

Minnesota weather this winter is right out of the annals of fiction.

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I remember reading Jack London‘s books when I was a kid. Fascinated by the fact that the world I lived in wasn’t all that different than his stories of the remote wilderness where The Call of the Wild took place. Ray Bradbury transported me to Mars – cold and inhospitable. Stephen King can bring a scene like this to life as well. Yesterday was a magical Minnesota day – whiteout conditions at select locations within the city limits of Saint Paul. I was not surprised, but I was not pleased, to see the snow obscuring the road and other cars when the wind pummeled its way out of the alley ways and yards. Roofs were a popular source of misery as subzero snow was blown off of garages and down the collars of passersby.

It’s not just ugly and miserable, it’s dangerous. The homeless are in danger of death when it gets like this. If your car breaks down on the freeway you have 10 minutes outside before you risk frostbite. (Makes you rethink the whole concept of a light coat because it’s so darned warm in that car…) Kids are home today, school’s cancelled because of the cold. And the best part? Tomorrow is even colder.

I have places I have to go today. I’d much rather stay camped out in the living room with the immobile sheep dog. But life does go on. Perchance it will be a repeat of last week when the appointment was cancelled due to illness. This morning I suspect the odds are good that the cold will trump all. That would mean I’d be forced to work on a book instead of watching television in a waiting room. Not all that bad a trade.

I’d just like to put the rest of the state on notice that the first person who complains about how hot it is in July will be thrown to the ground and covered with dry ice. There is no reason to complain about our summer heat. It’s the only way we avoid having permafrost around this place.

Final Reminder: Saturday Is CPR Training Day.

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I know, I know – blah, blah, blah. I just figure that you’re like me and need reminding. One more time for the flyer and then some humor (*stolen from my Facebook feed because I’m too lazy to write it out twice and I liked what I wrote enough to… never mind*) below that for you.

This is the best deal going for really learning CPR, and it benefits a great charity.

This is the best deal going for really learning CPR, and it benefits a great charity.

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It is now the part of winter where it’s no longer fun in any way. Today it is stupid cold – -18 Fahrenheit. This is the time of winter when the following things happen:

The dog, who lives to bark, runs out and voids all waste in less than 1 minute. Not a peep uttered as it’s too cold to even make it to the fence without freezing your paws.

People start wearing shorts and no hat or gloves to prove that they are tougher than nature. (They will lose – skin, noses, fingertips, etc.)

Norwegians begin to pity us for our pasty skin.

Crazed Minnesotans begin to take hostages at tanning salons in order to skip ahead in the line.

Cars are a uniform scaly gray from the road salt. Pinstriping occurs where you have slipped on the ice and dragged your parka along the side as you crashed to the ground.

Snow is now an obstacle that must be hurdled along many curb lines as opposed to a “nice change of pace.”

Snowshoe enthusiasts press their noses against the window and mutter, “As soon as it warms up a little…”

The travel sites begin to see a traffic uptick that will blow the servers. Inquiries about MSP to anywhere warmer than Oslo flood the internet and threaten to eat up all available bandwidth.

Finally, torture scenes in Lawrence of Arabia begin to look inviting – at least he was warm.

See you tomorrow at CPR training.

That Was A Long Time Coming.

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I started writing again the other day. It was a long hiatus since shipping off the manuscript to the publishers last fall and my first serious work on the new book.

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Some authors sit down and just hammer out their work. They write and write until the pages are full and then they edit. I don’t do that in my world. I also don’t plot in detail on paper. I also don’t… I don’t know what I do or what to call it so that people understand.

I know what the book will do in the end. I was forced to put it on paper for a submission last fall, and so I’m able to point to that and say, “I intend to do the following…” Normally I just ponder it in my head. This time there’s some words on a computer outlining the plot in about 100 words.

The reality of it is that I sit and fantasize about what the characters will do. I write entire chapters in my head and file them for that magic moment when I sit down and start the book. Nothing firm, just a lot of brain cells with changes that I hope will index and regurgitate the good stuff.

The first chapter had been sitting around for months. Nothing beyond that was done. Santa took over. But yesterday I sat at they keyboard and started banging it out. Within minutes the characters came to life. The evil ones, the good ones, and all those seeking their path in life. Within seconds friendships formed and I could smell the air in the rooms where they met.

This is a gift from God. I don’t know how many people will ever read the book I’m currently writing. I don’t even really care at the moment. I do know that I’m curious as to how it will all work out when I’m done. Because I’ve learned that my plans go out the windows when I breathe life into the characters.

God had the same problem in the Garden of Eden. I trust Him to guide me in this work. If it ends as well as it has begun, I know it will rock.

Well, back to Prince and his family. Bobby has to talk to Jeff and Omar is getting a suntan. More than that would just spoil it for you.

Thanks for reading this blog. Now, what are you writing about?

Sochi Has Potential – For A Spectacular Calamity.

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It is always dangerous to prognosticate on terrorism. You run the risk of looking like a dimwit no matter what your prediction is on any prospective attack. It’s almost digital, zeros and ones: you’re right or you’re wrong.

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I’m old enough to remember the Munich Olympics and the horrendous attack on the Israeli team by Palestinian terrorists. I’m old enough to remember a lot of terrorist attacks: some I participated in after the fact. As an intelligence collector/analyst you had a responsibility to guide your commanding officer’s actions by providing timely, accurate, and factual arguments for your thesis. Sometimes you’re right on the money, sometimes you miss it so widely that you want to crawl under a rock. No matter how it turns out, if you’ve done your homework and keep current on the flow of intelligence you can hold your head up at the conclusion.

That doubt exists because you have to be right every time to be credible, the terrorists only have to be lucky/smart/blessed/shrewd once in a row to be victorious. Truly, and history bears this out, they only have to present a threat that is so dangerous that the defender spends an inordinate amount of treasure and prestige trying to prevent the act that it destroys their economy, the individual event, or the morale of the nation. By simply coordinating the planting of communications intelligence they can fake out the defenders and misdirect the forces standing in readiness. They can also drive away the crowds (and their money) with sufficiently gruesome nightmares planted in the minds of the guests.

That’s exactly what the Islamic (yes, the Islamic, not Lutheran, Norwegian, Brazilian, Navajo, or Australian) terrorists in Russia and the surrounding states have done. There has been an orchestrated series of attacks, and threats of attack, in recent days that have put the world on edge. Not just a little: a lot.

Here is my prediction: whether or not there are terrorist attacks against Russia directly during the Olympics in 11 days, there will be an enormous cost to the IOC (International Olympic Committee) and the Russians trying to prevent attacks and preserve the fluidity of the games. Nobody wants to attend an event where you’re strip-searched at every venue. Nor do they want to find a bomb under their seat. The trick is finding the middle ground. I don’t think that’s going to be very easy for the Russians to do this time.

History has shown the Russian response to terrorism to be very heavy-handed. The apparent view of the Russian security organs (the successors to the KGB) is that you’ve won if you kill all the terrorists, no matter the cost in other lives. Russian security forces have killed more civilians than terrorists in the past few decades with no apologies that I can remember. Winning is the goal. Their definition is very different than that of the United States. We should probably take a lesson from them in being more firm, but they take it to an extreme.

The terrorists are a bloody-minded group that also has little concern for innocents. Innocents don’t exist in a state of Jihad. If you are attending the Olympics in Sochi (as an athlete or a guest) you are contributing funds to the oppressive regime that is Russia. Jihad allows you to use any force needed to glorify Islam and defeat the infidels.

You now have two vicious animals in a small cage. The terrorists can strike any time and any where they want to disrupt the Olympics. The Russians need to crush any attack or face an emboldened enemy. It’s a lot easier for the terrorists to win this one. All they have to do is head fake the Russians into something brutal and it’s “game on” for the ensuing blood shedding.

I’ve wondered what additional United States military units being moved to the area are supposed to accomplish? I really can’t envision the Russians letting our armed forces rescue people on their soil. Nor should we participate in any attacks of retribution. I think it’s a mistake to put more forces in the region: let the Russians do their thing. Stay clear of the blast when it goes off. We’re setting ourselves up for a big fail if this goes wrong.

I also see the potential for this to be a trigger event for other terrorists in the region (and around the world) in the wake of an attack in Sochi. Standing up our forces around the world would be a good idea – just not with the intention of being involved in Russia. Let’s just get everybody focused on the ball before it goes into play. Or, perhaps in this case, the puck before it’s dropped.

Will there be a terrorist attack in Sochi? I don’t know. I’m sure God does, but He’s not letting me in on the plan. What I’m saying is that if there is it will be horrendous for all involved. And if the Russians stay true to their past behavior the aftermath will be even worse for the innocents.

Let’s all pray that it goes off smoothly and the only blood shed in Sochi is from a rowdy hockey game, or an inept athlete who makes a comedy reel of Olympic bloopers with nothing worse than a broken nose. Let’s not kill each other -at least this time around.