tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55270408838972335012024-03-05T03:38:27.854-05:00A Second ActA Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-21342823636395389972013-01-25T09:41:00.000-05:002013-01-25T09:41:09.302-05:00Meet me at www.geraldgillis.com<span style="font-size: large;">Hi Friends:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to let you know that my blog will now be appearing at my website. Visit me there at </span><a href="http://www.geraldgillis.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">www.geraldgillis.com</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks and best wishes,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gerald</span>A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-72821424965789910902012-12-09T19:03:00.000-05:002012-12-09T19:03:43.014-05:00A Book Launch ExperienceHave you ever wondered what it would be like to launch the new book you've spent weeks and months writing? And then spent weeks and months attempting to find a publishing home for it?<br />
<br />
If you answered Yes to the first question above, let me see if I can explain what it's like. But first, let me note what it isn't like:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>It's not like childbirth. How, you ask, do I know? Well, nobody's dressed in scrubs and there is no beeping fetal monitor and there are no medicinal or distinctive other odors. And nobody is shouting,<em> "Push!"</em></li>
<li>It's not like winning the lottery. A lottery ticket has a far better probability of paying off than does a new book becoming a blockbuster bestseller. </li>
<li>It's not like launching the D-Day invasion. There aren't as many moving pieces to a book launch, the noise levels are far lower, and the spectre of violent death is generally remote .</li>
</ul>
So, then, what is it like? Well . . . <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>It's tense. Will readers like it? Will they talk about it? Will they buy it?</li>
<li>It's busy. Are all of my sites updated, to include website, social media, blogs, etc.?</li>
<li>It's sobering. Will I be able to handle it if it does poorly? Or if it does spectacularly?</li>
<li>It's exciting. My author name is out there now, potentially all over the world. Good, bad or indifferent.</li>
<li>It's fun. It's great fun. It's the payoff for a lot of hard, sometimes lonely work. </li>
</ul>
There you have it. But don't take my word for it. Write and launch your own book and see for yourself. <br />
<br />
And you'll find that it doesn't lend itself to easy description. It's an experience unlike any other. You're bringing something new and unique into the world, with your artistic DNA all over it. You've labored long and hard, and the moment finally arrives. It's not an end, but a beginning. You might even shed a few tears with family and friends.<br />
<br />
Welcome to the world,<em> </em>you beautiful, gorgeous<em> Dare Not Blink</em>.<br />
<br />
(Oops. Does that sound a bit like childbirth?)<br />
<ul>
</ul>
A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-42510269878183713572012-12-04T21:25:00.000-05:002012-12-04T21:25:37.950-05:00My New Book Cover - Dare Not Blink<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMOXt4obGEEIk2yLXaMXVUIleLM9DeufxjF7WCoVWTBah8jivj8iJENSpLdZCQmT9cBDth1UTOc1lLaln_NMPLFF0ZfkCOxIKT7RZr2zy0mHle1gB6vPNkXf4nf25nz18qUnpC5zQMtgo/s1600/Dare+Not+Blink+-+Front+Cover+6x9_Cream_280+(11-10-12)+72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMOXt4obGEEIk2yLXaMXVUIleLM9DeufxjF7WCoVWTBah8jivj8iJENSpLdZCQmT9cBDth1UTOc1lLaln_NMPLFF0ZfkCOxIKT7RZr2zy0mHle1gB6vPNkXf4nf25nz18qUnpC5zQMtgo/s640/Dare+Not+Blink+-+Front+Cover+6x9_Cream_280+(11-10-12)+72dpi.jpg" width="435" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>This is the front cover of my soon-to-be-released novel Dare Not Blink</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-24981366884064946502012-11-07T20:13:00.001-05:002012-11-07T22:13:51.749-05:00Birthday of the Marine CorpsOn November 10, 1775, the Second Continental Congress authorized the creation of the U. S. Marine Corps. Two battalions were eventually raised from young men recruited from places like Philadelphia's Tun Tavern, the very first recruiting location of the Corps.<br />
<br />
Hence, on November 10, 2012, the Marine Corps celebrates its 237th birthday.<br />
<br />
Those Members of Congress could have little imagined what they were authorizing in 1775, apart from an immediate need to turn back the British Redcoats by force of arms during the American Revolution. No small concern, that. But they couldn't have foreseen the growth of the Corps over the coming years, and the expanding role Marines would assume in the defense of the nation. They knew only that the risks were great, the stakes extraordinarily high, and the plight of the fledgling country growing more desperate by the day. They needed men who would fight with tenacity and skill, who would stand their ground and man their posts even when all seemed lost, and in so doing honor and inspire the young nation with their examples of courage and commitment. What they needed were Marines.<br />
<br />
And that's exactly what they got.<br />
<br />
Those Members of Congress in 1775 put into play a military force that, almost a century later, would earn additional battle streamers during the Civil War. A half-century after Appomattox, a larger, harder-hitting force of Marines would take to the field in Europe during World War I and become known as "Devil Dogs" by incredulous Germans who could only slow, but not stop, their repeated, aggressive assaults. In World War II, Marines would fight a bloody, relentless, island-by-island campaign that would soon thereafter become the stuff of legends. The Korean War was likewise bloody, with the Pusan landing and the Chosin Reservoir adding to an already illustrious history. The Vietnam War would produce more Marine Corps casualties than did World War II, with places like Khe Sanh and Hue becoming famous for Marine resolve and bravery.<br />
<br />
More recently, Marines have seen action in Kuwait and Iraq, and today remain in harm's way in Afghanistan. The young men and women who have worn the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor during the War on Terror have honored the county with their service, as Marines always have, for what is now 237 years.<br />
<br />
Those patriots who were Members of Congress created things that would endure, like the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation. And, thankfully, a Marine Corps to ensure their continuity.<br />
<br />
Happy birthday, Marines.<br />
<br />
Semper Fi.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBzACwFHqUvUCNEI1MP3LNSnzYoJomWjKPnIYuDr99KRDdnjixgbYAPm0d_qsNBJiYB873ISTtojJC4mIqAokyV_mSUjGlpIbTIzF6noUEltJXPkvRTpftm35xHU72VoVU8eBdQUWJJR7/s1600/314185_10151065986446714_412677755_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBzACwFHqUvUCNEI1MP3LNSnzYoJomWjKPnIYuDr99KRDdnjixgbYAPm0d_qsNBJiYB873ISTtojJC4mIqAokyV_mSUjGlpIbTIzF6noUEltJXPkvRTpftm35xHU72VoVU8eBdQUWJJR7/s320/314185_10151065986446714_412677755_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-67766735780430537462012-09-27T10:27:00.000-04:002012-09-27T10:27:03.851-04:00Dare Not Blink - Chapter One<span style="font-size: medium;"><em>This is a sneak peek at Chapter One of my new novel "Dare Not Blink" which is currently scheduled for a November release.</em></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: medium;">CHAPTER ONE <br />
</span></b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">The office door was closed, hinting that something was stirring, something big and essential and not widely known—something only for those privileged few who were deemed worthy to hear in advance. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
<br />
"The Old Man’s got cancer, and it’s spreading out of control." <br />
<br />
Jeff Wylie, president of Atlanta-based Elerbee Engineering, a consulting engineering firm, took an ominously deep breath and exhaled slowly. His two closest associates, anxious and close-mouthed, sat across the big desk from him. <br />
<br />
It was April, 2002. <br />
<br />
Wylie cleared his throat and took a sip from a plastic water bottle. He looked over each of the two men carefully, deliberately, knowing full well that his own demeanor was likewise being closely scrutinized. He quickly glanced at his open laptop, then at some scribbled notes on a legal pad atop his desk before finally removing his glasses and straightening in his thick leather chair. <br />
<br />
"I can’t be much more specific than that, except to add that it apparently started in his lungs." <br />
<br />
His two associates were dumbstruck. The firm’s vigorous, indomitable, sixty-six-year-old founder and chairman, Langdon Elerbee—</span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">the </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Elerbee in Elerbee Engineering—had been such a forceful presence for such a long time that the very prospect of his sudden, permanent departure seemed highly implausible. It defied all that was customary and natural, akin to a Federal Reserve proposition to drop the U.S. dollar and adopt the Norwegian kroner as the new monetary standard of value. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">"It doesn’t look good, gentlemen. The time line’s in days and hours, that’s how quickly the disease is overtaking him." <br />
<br />
"My God!" gasped Jim Ogden, a senior executive and Wylie protégé. "How did you find out?" <br />
<br />
Wylie shrugged. "I’ve known for several weeks that something wasn’t right. He’d had some problems, underwent a series of tests, and then his mood changed, almost as if he’d suddenly lost interest in an entire lifetime of work. His coughing was nearly constant, and with his shortness of </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">breath, his arriving late and leaving early, I knew something was up. His wife called last night to tell me he had been hospitalized, that things were serious and that, well, the doctors were now advising things were moving toward a bad outcome." <br />
<br />
Don Burroughs, another corporate officer, could only shake his head in disbelief. <br />
<br />
Wylie took another sip of water, then fidgeted with a cell phone on his desk. Ogden leaned forward, alternately glancing at his boss and his feet. <br />
<br />
Burroughs shook his head again, his face a bright crimson, his shoulders sagging heavily, his mouth forcing a self-conscious half-grin. "What the hell happens </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">now</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">?" he asked in a voice unintentionally louder than usual. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Wylie turned and stared out a window to the side. "I think it would be an understatement to say we’re in for some challenging days ahead." <br />
<br />
Ogden sighed loudly. "No kidding. Who else in the firm knows?" <br />
<br />
"Nobody, although Grace Elerbee did ask me to contact Dave Paige and Larry Collier to make sure they understood the severity of the situation." <br />
<br />
"Have you done that?" <br />
<br />
"No." <br />
<br />
"Are you going to?" <br />
<br />
Wylie turned and glared at Ogden before sharply replying, "No." <br />
<br />
Ogden and Burroughs were suddenly bewildered and unnerved, as much by Wylie’s tone and body language as by the news itself. <br />
<br />
Wylie reached up and opened the top button of his starched white shirt, loosening his red-striped tie—an uncharacteristic move that hardly slipped the notice of his two hyper-attentive colleagues. <br />
<br />
"I should tell you both that I’ve been planning for and anticipating this very opportunity, which incidentally I’ve shared with no one else, not even my wife," Wylie added. "Langdon Elerbee had a plan for the continuance of this firm after his eventual retirement, of course, but now his departure seems likely to occur before his final imprint can be put into place. And I should also tell you that my plan differs considerably from Langdon’s, especially with regard to the people that he and I see as vital to this firm. He has his preferences, and I certainly have mine." <br />
<br />
"But the Board’s already approved Langdon’s plan to name Dave Paige as Executive Vice President," countered Burroughs after a weighty silence. <br />
<br />
Wylie’s expression hardened. "I’m well aware of that, thank you. Do you not remember that I sit on that same Board?" <br />
<br />
Burroughs swallowed and looked away. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Ogden leaned closer to Wylie’s desk. "What the hell’s going on here, Jeff?" <br />
<br />
"What’s going on here is simply that a rare moment of opportunity has arrived, and I don’t intend to squander it. Langdon will soon enough pass from the scene, leaving an obvious void at the very top of the firm. I will be elevated to Chairman and C.E.O. by a Board of Directors that I will now lead. I will then proceed to put into place an organizational structure of my own design, and with people of my own choosing." <br />
<br />
Wylie hesitated a moment before adding, "Let me say once more: I </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">do not </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">intend to let this opportunity pass, gentlemen." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Wylie then sat back and watched. He carefully studied the faces of Ogden and Burroughs as his words were absorbed and comprehended. His two associates were experienced veterans of the intrigue and stealth warfare so common to corporate America, especially at a headquarters level. Wylie’s own arrival two years prior had brought with it a sort of ruthless, zero-sum, internecine style that the traditionally conservative Elerbee Engineering had yet to fully emulate or widely embrace. The gentlemanly, consummately professional approach of Langdon Elerbee still remained the behavioral model throughout the vast majority of the company. Wylie understood all too well that his detached and secretive management style was distasteful to most of the old Elerbee hands, but he also knew that many of the firm’s top executives could be easily browbeaten with a string of smoking-hot expletives or a strategically arranged display of temper. <br />
<br />
Wylie also knew that only one top manager, Dave Paige, could not be so easily cowed. But he would deal with Dave Paige in his new plan, in his own way, and on his own terms. <br />
<br />
The reckoning for Paige would come on day one, page one, paragraph one. It was all in the plan. Things would come roaring at Paige like a runaway locomotive, at once so swift and powerful and unexpectedly that an instant replay would be needed to reconstruct exactly what had transpired. Jeff Wylie could not, </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">would </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">not tolerate the presence of Dave Paige in Wylie’s new order of things. Again, it was all in the plan. And for all practical purposes, it </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">was </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">the plan. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">That rarest of moments will soon arrive, Wylie now knew, filling his head with a dizzying array of rich possibilities, accelerating his pulse like an astronaut’s on the launching pad, triggering his predatory impulses like a tiger stalking its prey. The day would soon be his to win or lose. <br />
<br />
And he had every intention of winning. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Wylie suddenly rose, and as he did so he buttoned his collar and straightened the knot of his tie. Ogden and Burroughs also stood, not knowing what else to do. <br />
<br />
"Enough of the preliminaries, gentlemen," Wylie said, his hands now resting upon his hips, his words coming faster than usual. "Like myself, you are about to hear a knock on the door. If you are bold enough to answer, you will find yourself face-to-face with a magnificent and unequalled opportunity of a sort that, if you are indeed fortunate, will come along only once or twice over an entire career. If you choose to ignore that knock, you will most likely lose your one and only chance to make some serious noise in this company. And I mean </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">serious </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">noise, gents, with all the influence and prestige and remuneration that the term signifies. The decision is yours alone, but the rules are such that you will be required to make it in the next three minutes." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">Wylie stopped and stared at his two associates, sensing the shared tension in the deathly silent room, shifting his icy gaze from one man to the other, feeling his own heart rate quickening inside his chest. <br />
<br />
"Are you gentlemen hearing me loud and clear?" <br />
<br />
Both nodded their understanding, each then cutting a quick glance at the other. <br />
<br />
"Good, because you two are the only people in this firm—hell, on the planet earth!—that I’ve revealed my intentions to. I am going to take control of this organization and drive it to places it never dreamed it could go. There will be new service offerings, new acquisitions, new markets, and unprecedented levels of revenue and profit. I am going to do what I came here to do and overturn the institutional reluctance to take risks and stir up the industry. I am going to reinvent this firm, to change its culture, to put it on a fast track. And I’m going to need a team around me who sees what I see, feels what I feel, wants what I want. And you two are the very first members of that prospective team that I’m approaching. But you must keep silent about this conversation, as I have thus far, for to do otherwise will result in all manner of unpleasantness crashing down upon you. There are those on this executive team who absolutely do not need to hear about this. This has the potential—no, the certainty—that a lot of feelings will be hurt and a lot of careers altered before all is said and done. Be that as it may. I’ll do what needs to be done, you can be sure of that. But I will be the only one to make the decisions as to who needs to hear and who doesn’t. Am I making myself crystal clear?" <br />
<br />
"Yes," they both said in unison. <br />
<br />
Wylie then glanced at his watch. "Time is up. I need to know here and now. And then, either way, I will need your silence until I instruct you </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman; font-size: small;">otherwise. And if you’re thinking that I’m asking you first because I value you and want you with me, well, you’ve guessed correctly. That is why I’ve called you here. That is why you’re hearing this." <br />
<br />
Wylie then smiled slightly, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. <br />
<br />
"Gentlemen, your moment has arrived. You’ve heard the knock. Now you must answer." <br />
<br />
Wylie nodded, his slight smile still attached, his eyebrows arched. <br />
<br />
"So, are you with me?" </span></span>A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-39645217648506289122012-09-10T21:17:00.000-04:002012-09-10T21:55:32.461-04:00Huh? A Business Thriller?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever read a thriller about the business world? The
what, you say? The business world? Really? Somebody’s done that?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Thomas Magnum, Private Investigator, so famously observed,
“I know what you’re thinking.” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is no such genre, right? A business thriller? Who in
the world would write such a thing?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, as Todd Rundgren so famously crooned, “Hello, It’s Me.”
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My new novel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dare Not
Blink</i> (Navigator Books) is currently scheduled for release in November. It’s
a story about an Atlanta-based company who suddenly finds itself in the midst
of a vicious internal struggle after the sudden death of its beloved founder and
majority owner. For those who have been a part of the rough-and-tumble of corporate
America you will find much that is recognizable—from the strengths and flaws of
the characters to the cutthroat maneuvering of some of the top executive operators.
It’s a fast-paced read with plenty of twists and turns, and the reviews from beta
readers (including a CEO) have been excellent. I’m really looking forward to
its release into the marketplace. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the next few weeks we’ll be finalizing the cover and
getting everything in place for publication. I’ll give you an early peek at it
soon. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So yes, there is such a thing as a business thriller. And I’ve
written one. By golly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the proper English gentleman (and Magnum antagonist) Jonathan
Quail Higgins so famously uttered, “Quite.”<o:p></o:p></span>A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-50830175482662860152012-08-20T16:22:00.000-04:002012-08-20T16:22:21.869-04:0010 Ways to Get America Back on Track
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get rid of reality shows like the one
featuring those pathetic, miserable <strike>fools</strike> sisters and replace them with more
inspiring subjects. Gabby Douglas and Missy Franklin come to mind. The U.S.
military also has an abundance of worthy subjects. Hollywood celebrity worship
is to a healthy culture as a dog-poop topping is to pizza. Neither is
improved. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Create a massively funded legal juggernaut
to oppose the ACLU, with great vigor, especially on matters of religious
freedom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe Donald Trump could lead
it (but not make it into a reality show!).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Break the public unions. Taxpayers
will be well served. It’s a nasty cycle of political bribery and cronyism. God
bless Scott Walker. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Begin some type of ethics training for
middle and high schools, and especially into undergraduate and graduate programs.
The number of crooks now in our public and private sectors is worrisome. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Find the right bi-partisan balance in
regulating market activities, especially in the financial sector. Not overly
burdensome, but smart and with plenty of bite for the offenders. And by all
means don’t house the convicted offenders in minimum-security prisons. Let them
experience for themselves what they did to others. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Consider our national security as the
primary objective for securing our national borders. Then work backwards from
there to create a fair immigration policy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enact term limits for members of
Congress. Say, three terms for a representative and two terms for a senator. Stop
the pattern of going to Congress and staying forever, dodging the tough votes, and
retiring a multi-millionaire. Really, how much good is Harry Reid doing this
nation? Your witness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t gut the military. We have Islamist
extremists who want to murder us by the tens of thousands, and the Chinese are
building their military to control the Pacific region. We draw down at our own
peril. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">9.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Address and fix the debt issue, with
everything on the table. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">10.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Elect
a president who has experience in the private sector, and preferably who would have
a running mate with budget experience.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those are my 10. What are some of yours?</span></span></div>
A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-56285777886575764382012-08-01T15:31:00.000-04:002012-08-01T15:31:58.817-04:00A Lasting Friendship<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwtT6e62hgHbIUlrsLZ9yxs3aXCrbASJraeOlUzO_C_MtsOkgcK0L37XKql4tqGJNsAr-Wjq5NeMnLKRUuYbBAcfQCLx8MTBRFwRmCeAvNY7J9Xd_n7pIPXcf3aaV6WnkFE45hht7FL3c/s1600/942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwtT6e62hgHbIUlrsLZ9yxs3aXCrbASJraeOlUzO_C_MtsOkgcK0L37XKql4tqGJNsAr-Wjq5NeMnLKRUuYbBAcfQCLx8MTBRFwRmCeAvNY7J9Xd_n7pIPXcf3aaV6WnkFE45hht7FL3c/s320/942.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many years ago I had the great privilege of being Executive
Officer (XO) of Battery M, 4<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Battalion, 12<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Marines, 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup>
Marine Division. We were stationed on Okinawa but made two training trips to
Camp Fuji, Japan, near the base of the beautiful, majestic Mt. Fuji. We were
commanded by Captain Robert L. Adams (above, right), a splendid CO who had
earlier been seriously wounded in Vietnam, and who knew his business as an artillery
professional. I was Captain Adams’ second in command, frankly a job I still
consider to be the best I ever had. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We trained hard, and if I do say so myself Mike Battery was
the best firing battery in the entire Marine Corps during our time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were the envy of our battalion, the
equivalent of playing on a championship team. It was heady stuff for a
twenty-something lieutenant in a unit of one-hundred Marines. And we found time
to enjoy Japan—its sights, its culture, and especially its people. It was a
terrific education.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As is tradition, Marines refer to captains as Skipper, and so
for me Bob Adams was then, and remains so today, Skipper. The bond we developed
enabled us to remain in touch over the many years since we were together in
uniform. Skipper continued in the Marines until his eventual retirement, and I
went on to a career in the business world. We raised kids, traveled the world
in our respective careers, and managed to remain in touch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Skipper and wife Leah visited my wife and I in Atlanta not
long ago. When we started reminiscing it was almost like we were young and back
in Japan again. The names of our troops didn’t come quite as easily as they
once did, but it was amazing how much intricate detail we could recollect after
forty years. We even joked as we did years ago about how Japanese often struggle
to pronounce L-words like “village,” which hence becomes “virrage.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to be fair, my command of the Japanese
language has improved nil since we were there.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I also found out that Skipper had become a woodworker of
some distinction, with a gorgeous grandfather clock to his credit. To my
surprise, a box arrived on my doorstep this week. Inside was a bird house, expertly
crafted and made of cedar, and with my name (sorta) inscribed across the front.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can only hope that the birds who take up residence will
have as much fun living in it as I did in receiving it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Semper Fi, Skipper. Stop by if you ever get to Atranta
again. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjeTCUyrLC4dpEABzSkdC_F9sW5PT-BLXjeh3Hgh1n4eBISD3FkwD-qIM8kPNx8dt-w9sHhEY_Ur9HCunni0Dg3NOryiNlRpqolHZnSA7ghS_FBINsRYPSAXayQf4oOkJTwcuF0ocXdSh/s1600/435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjeTCUyrLC4dpEABzSkdC_F9sW5PT-BLXjeh3Hgh1n4eBISD3FkwD-qIM8kPNx8dt-w9sHhEY_Ur9HCunni0Dg3NOryiNlRpqolHZnSA7ghS_FBINsRYPSAXayQf4oOkJTwcuF0ocXdSh/s320/435.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-61116710366508074452012-07-16T17:22:00.001-04:002012-07-16T17:22:51.828-04:00Hard Drive, RIP<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I recently had a tech support person with a hard foreign accent deliver
the hard truth that my hard drive had crashed. I even paid for that diagnosis,
while all along my instincts had been telling me that the hard drive was finished.
Once confirmed, I had to consider the next steps. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So what now? Buy a new hard drive and replace it myself? Buy a new computer? Shrug it all off and catch the next flight to Costa Rica?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Well, I bought a new computer. On balance, I think I made the right choice. I can only hope it all works out. Here's a bit of the summary: </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Good news: I saved the most important files only an hour before the crash.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Bad news: I lost all my work-related Outlook folders and emails.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Good news: My wife and I kept up with emails and texts from our amazing new iPhones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Bad news: We never talk anymore since we're busy doing amazing iPhone stuff.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Good news: The 330 songs I had purchased from iTunes were saved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Bad news: The 700 songs I had added from my own CD collection weren't. (iCrap!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Good news: I'm learning Windows 7.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Bad news: I miss Windows XP (sorta like I'd miss my favorite watch; it was comfortable).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Good news: I've now got a new, updated computer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Bad news: It wasn't free.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I would prefer not to hear the phrase, "Your hard drive has crashed," for a long time to come. But of all the "crashes" that could have come my way, I suppose this one was probably the least destructive.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">iGrateful, iThink.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-46183221895294063962012-06-14T21:55:00.000-04:002012-06-14T22:27:24.773-04:00I Still Miss John Wayne<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFc3J_sEDo9tn3DMokje0p4rEfoUu4t_X4agdaiEWMwO9aQNv0H6DqijeKQ5rU0aFsr_5XIrYtXTYBpjUsSJfS5Z0Hg728XJL_ASa7D0MOClXwVjUl-0p9imkkEj0VzloYrisSSs1xi95k/s1600/288354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFc3J_sEDo9tn3DMokje0p4rEfoUu4t_X4agdaiEWMwO9aQNv0H6DqijeKQ5rU0aFsr_5XIrYtXTYBpjUsSJfS5Z0Hg728XJL_ASa7D0MOClXwVjUl-0p9imkkEj0VzloYrisSSs1xi95k/s320/288354.jpg" width="256" /></a><br />
<br />
The Duke, John Wayne, died 33 years ago this week. I miss him, still. And I still enjoy his movies, especially those World War II films where he and the good guys would always win. He was greatly popular with U.S. Marines, and there were at least two C-ration items named in his honor: the John Wayne can opener and the John Wayne cookie. Why? Beats me. We Marines didn’t question. <br />
<br />
I read a biography about Duke several years ago and discovered the interesting tidbit that he really didn’t like horses. For an actor who arguably did more to popularize the Western film genre than anyone else, not liking horses came as a bit of a surprise. I suppose it would be akin to discovering Mario Andretti’s dislike of fast cars or Bruce Springsteen’s dislike of loud music. Or Bill Clinton’s dislike of a gorgeous, um, bacon cheeseburger. It just didn’t seem to fit. <br />
<br />
John Wayne came along at the right time. He was an unabashed American patriot at a time when patriotism was widely understood in simpler terms than is apparent today. He smoked cigarettes, drank whiskey, and killed the bad guys in his films. He was gentle toward women (except Maureen O’Hara, with whom he had an extraordinary on-screen chemistry and off-screen friendship). Occasionally he would die a hero’s noble death at the end of a picture, which was never pleasant. And he would almost always provide a worthwhile life lesson somewhere between the opening and closing credits. <br />
<br />
His friends in the entertainment industry spoke often of his loyalty and generosity as a friend. As big an international star as he became over a long career, he could poke as much fun at himself as he could others. Comedian Rich Little did a splendid impersonation of Wayne, from his voice to his gestures to his walk, and I can remember Duke roaring with laughter as he sat with Johnny Carson and watched Little’s hilarious routine. And the laughter was authentic, as was much else with Wayne. <br />
<br />
That was then. <br />
<br />
Now we’ve got the pretty-boy actors who spend a disproportionate amount of time doing little more in their films than eating. And their causes are rarely conservative anymore. Or often hardly even patriotic. Was John Wayne the greatest film actor ever? Nah, I won’t go that far. But he was darned good, and his screen presence was always infinitely more commanding than these contemporary lightweights. <br />
<br />
Thanks, Duke, for all the great work you’ve left for us to enjoy. <br />
<br />
Semper Fi, good sir.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-44401230575477185002012-05-23T16:38:00.000-04:002012-05-23T16:38:24.604-04:00A Memorial Day Remembrance of the SullivansThere were five Sullivan brothers: Depression-era, Catholic Irish-American sons of Tom and Alleta Sullivan of Davenport, Iowa. George, Francis, Joseph, Madison, and Albert Sullivan discovered that when Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941, one of their friends was aboard the USS <i>Arizona</i>. In their desire to avenge a friend’s death, they did what so many other Americans did in the aftermath of that devastating attack. They enlisted in the armed forces.<br />
<br />
They chose the U.S. Navy and insisted that they be assigned to the same ship. The Navy had a policy against such assignments, but it was loosely enforced. By August, 1942 the brothers were aboard the light cruiser USS <i>Juneau</i> and participating in the Guadalcanal Campaign. On November 13, 1942, their ship was hit by a torpedo and withdrew from the naval engagement. The <i>Juneau</i> was later hit by another torpedo which detonated near the ammunition magazine. The ship exploded and quickly sank.<br />
<br />
Letters from the Sullivan brothers suddenly stopped arriving at their Davenport home and the parents grew worried. Letters were the lifeblood that connected anxious American families with their sons in harm’s way. <br />
<br />
On January 12, 1943, as father Tom prepared to leave for work, three naval officers arrived at the front door. Tom knew immediately that the news would not be good.<br />
<br />
“Which one?” Tom asked.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry,” one of the officers replied. “All five.”<br />
<br />
In addition to the parents and sister Genevieve, the survivors included Albert’s wife and young son. <br />
<br />
The loss of a single service member is a devastating event for a family. We’ve seen it repeated across the nation for the past ten years with wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Many of us can still remember the losses from Vietnam. It’s always heartbreaking, always painful and gripping. <br />
<br />
But five?<br />
<br />
Can you imagine the shock and inconsolable despair the Sullivan family felt on that day in 1943? <br />
<br />
No, of course not. Only the Sullivan family knew the pain, the numbness, and the utter disbelief in losing all five of the brothers. The blue-star flag in the window, indicating sons serving in the military, would now have five gold stars. FDR would send a condolence letter and resolutions honoring the family would be passed by state and local governments. Later, a U.S. warship would be named after the Sullivan brothers. But nothing could bring those boys back.<br />
<br />
On this Memorial Day weekend, we honor all the gold-star families who have lost sons and daughters in service to our nation. If not for the willingness of our citizens to serve and sometimes sacrifice, American history would have charted a far different course. That willingness is still on display, from the distant battlefields to the blue-star flags in the windows. Thank God for those magnificent Americans in uniform, and those equally magnificent families supporting them. <br />
<br />
In the movie <i>The Fighting Sullivans</i>, made in 1944, Tom watches with pride as Alleta christens the new destroyer, the USS <i>The Sullivans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</i>. As the ship sails away, Alleta turns and says, “Tom, our boys are afloat again.” <br />
<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-32057763174169681002012-05-17T21:23:00.000-04:002012-05-17T21:23:06.712-04:00Mark Zuckerberg, Can You Spare A Dime?Facebook becomes a public company this week. It’s expected to make a google of top executives and employees wealthy, so much so that Facebook is concerned about being able to retain many of its people once they discover the condition of great wealth. CNBC Squawk Box co-host Becky Quick retweeted this week that Facebook’s chief exec Mark Zuckerberg, who turned a ripe old 28 this week, could spend an after-tax $300,000 per day until age 80, and still have money left.<br />
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Should I take the stance now in vogue in some quarters that such a huge new concentration of wealth is nothing short of obscene? And in need of regulation? And unfair at its very core? And among such young, technology-savvy people?<br />
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Heck no. On the contrary, I think it’s terrific. Someone develops a product used by 800 million people, over 10% of the world’s population, and it would appear to the untutored eye that they just might have a value proposition to take to the marketplace. Investors will elbow one another in the temples and push their grandmas out of the way to get a piece of this one. And somebody’s gonna make some big money. Ya’ think?<br />
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My twenty-something nephew told me recently that those of my generation are technology-immigrants. Those of his generation are technology-natives. And what about those who are coming along in the next 15-20 years? Interesting, huh?<br />
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Zuckerberg’s success will encourage other young Americans of the technology persuasion to keep innovating and developing. As long as our tax and other policies won’t discourage wealth building (and, importantly, wealth keeping), we’ll continue to see enormously bright and talented people bring products and services to market that will make all our lives better. Does Facebook make our lives better? Well, that’s debatable, at least to me. But social media won’t be the only business sector affected by this success story. <br />
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I can easily foresee technological innovations transforming such industries as transportation, manufacturing, and energy. Medical information and recordkeeping is another sector on the cusp of major new leaps. As a writer, technological innovation has all but turned the publishing industry on its ear.<br />
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Don’t be surprised to see Mark Zuckerberg become a major philanthropist as he grows older and thinks of ways to give back. Just like Bill Gates. Just like many wealthy Americans have been doing since our nation's founding. It’s part of our tradition, a reflection on who we are as a people. The fortunate help the less fortunate. That’s why we need more fortunates, not less. People who can spare a dime very often do.<br />
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Mr. Zuckerberg will be able to spare lots of dimes, and my guess is he’ll put most of ‘em to work in the right places.<br />
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Congrats, Facebook.<br />
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<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-27435720415864350722012-05-14T11:57:00.000-04:002012-05-14T11:57:23.034-04:00The Tim Tebow PhenomenonUnless you were hibernating last winter or stranded on a U.S. airport taxiway awaiting takeoff, you’re no doubt aware of the attention surrounding Tim Tebow, lately of the New York Jets.<br />
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Tebow is arguably the biggest draw in the NFL, America’s premier sports league. His jersey sales are among the leaders. He is discussed in minute, excruciating detail on the sports channels. And his larger-than-life celeb status has his photo in all the magazines of choice for those who follow the gossip. <br />
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However, there are plenty of vocal critics who denigrate his throwing motion, who question a team’s need to build an offense suited to his specific (and some argue, limited) skills, and who foresee his likely inability to become a bona fide NFL quarterback over the long term. <br />
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Others detest him for his religious displays and his kneeling in prayer on the field, a fad now popularly known as “Tebowing.” Many find it offensive that he uses football to take his message beyond the playing field, which he does enthusiastically and unapologetically. <br />
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He is both loved and reviled for his religious displays and beliefs in a nation where there seems to be little or no middle ground remaining.<br />
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Why is Tebow such a polarizing figure? After all, he’s a willing role model, a good citizen, and a man of faith who is building a children’s hospital in the Philippines. His good works are authentic and numerous.<br />
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Mothers (and probably many fathers) would want him as a son-in-law. Some would prefer that he leave football and enter politics, eventually seeking the presidency itself.<br />
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And he’s a winner. Americans love winners, right? Tebow was a part of two BCS national championships at the University of Florida. He was awarded the Heisman Trophy in 2007. He’s in the conversation as being perhaps the greatest football player in collegiate history. In the pros, he lit a fire under a lackluster Denver Broncos team and took them to the playoffs last season, defying the naysayers and validating his standing among his growing legion of followers. According to Twitter, immediately after his 80-yard touchdown pass to beat the Pittsburg Steelers in the wild-card playoffs, 9,420 tweets per second were generated.<br />
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I confess to being a Tebow admirer. I certainly didn’t like it when his Florida Gators were beating my Georgia Bulldogs in all but one of their meetings, but I always admired Tebow. And I still do.<br />
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As for the controversy, is one man kneeling in prayer, humbly and sincerely, really such a threat?<br />
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<br />A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-60433852173825268702012-04-25T20:50:00.000-04:002012-04-25T20:50:56.304-04:00The Power of PrayerMy wife and I had three robust, healthy children, who all reached full-bodied adulthood and went on to have children of their own. We have been blessed with eight grandchildren, who are all vibrant and in good health in their own right. Two of our grandchildren, however, arrived with problems at birth: One developed pneumonia and underwent months of breathing treatments; another arrived with a cleft palate which was surgically repaired 6 months after birth. <br />
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Nothing, <em>nothing</em> quite pulls at a grandparent (and I’m sure a parent) like a baby in the throes of a struggle. Thanks to lots of prayer, the 24X7 attentiveness of their parents, and some wonderful doctors and caregivers, both boys are today physically strong, willfully strong, and acting like, well, just like boys are supposed to act. And we are grateful beyond words, to say the least. <br />
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This week one of my daughter’s dearest friends, who is pregnant with her second child, received word that all may not be well with her baby. Recent tests indicated that the baby is at high risk for Down syndrome. Accordingly, a more specific series of tests have been performed, and this Friday they will be told whether the 5 chromosomal disorders have been detected. As you might expect, a young couple’s world has suddenly been turned upside down. <br />
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I’m asking my blog friends, my Facebook and Twitter friends, and anyone else who may read this piece to say a prayer for our friends. I am a believer in the power of prayer. So, too, is this young family. I’ll leave the parents unnamed, but since they are both loyal St. Louis Cardinals fans, we’ll call the baby Baby Redbird, and if you mention Baby Redbird in your prayers, at a time and in a manner of your own choosing, I’m quite certain that God will sort it out in his own infinite wisdom. And there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that He will answer those prayers, in His own divine way, and provide encouragement and strength to this family at a time of need only a few among us can really understand. <br />
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I sincerely thank you in advance for this young couple, and you certainly have my own appreciation.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-50607034044066687942012-04-15T21:35:00.005-04:002012-04-15T21:43:49.024-04:00Alma Mater<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkcOfKfwOxUVmBxFLx6yeRdkUYWXiBXSV5ST03qu6DL3PYBAENIrOXqL7hXIPc78FmgF4z_E5mPOVAaHStC1lzInYEpRSWsYJWLqd01hSh-vLWkbuI5C3BUqI59ZseVpk7FWejStE_SLn/s1600/Arch__from_the_street_island___2_10-15-03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwkcOfKfwOxUVmBxFLx6yeRdkUYWXiBXSV5ST03qu6DL3PYBAENIrOXqL7hXIPc78FmgF4z_E5mPOVAaHStC1lzInYEpRSWsYJWLqd01hSh-vLWkbuI5C3BUqI59ZseVpk7FWejStE_SLn/s320/Arch__from_the_street_island___2_10-15-03.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731806687906142034" /></a><br />I traveled to Athens yesterday for a visit to my alma mater, the University of Georgia. The occasion was the Bulldogs annual spring football game, G-Day, where admission is free and the families bring throngs of excited kids attired in red-and-black. Along with 40,000 of my closest friends, we all enjoyed the game, the weather, and our unflagging expectations for another great season from our beloved Dawgs.<br /><br />The daughter of one of our parking-lot regulars had been accepted to UGA and with great excitement she was looking forward to reporting to campus in the Fall. It reminded me of how I felt when I got my acceptance, and how the cycle of excited incoming freshmen has been repeating itself since 1785. The enrollment has grown by three times in the forty-plus years since I began as a student, and there are lots of new buildings that have been thoughtfully added to the lovely landscape. But there are enough of the old buildings and old trees and familiar road names to confirm to me that I am in a place I love and revere. <br /><br />I was the first member of my family to have an opportunity to go to college. The first one, ever. The University of Georgia was my choice, and it was one of the wiser decisions I’ve made in life. UGA was plenty challenging, and my fellow accounting-major classmates still stand out in my mind as some of the brightest, most able people I’ve ever encountered, anywhere. I learned I had to work harder to compete with so many gifted, ambitious people. UGA left it up to me to make those choices—work hard and compete or fall behind; work hard and compete or always be prepared to settle for the leftovers; work hard and compete or just go home. They cared little about my self-esteem or my modest means, but only about my demonstrable grasp of the material. It prepared me for the Marine Corps, for graduate school, and for life in the rough-and-tumble of the business world. They gave me something that I needed far more than a mere understanding of balance sheets and income statements. They gave me a lesson in life. <br /><br />And I am forever indebted.<br /><br />I am deeply proud of my alma mater, grateful for what it did for me, for what it now means to me. The University will have my devotion and loyalty for as long as I live. I will never tire of returning to that beautiful space, breathing that refreshing air, and allowing the many memories of long ago to take me back to my youth, however briefly. I remember telling my late father upon my daughter’s UGA graduation that he should be proud of the legacy he and my mother began. And I could tell from the look on his face that he was profoundly satisfied that his children and grandchildren would all be college graduates. He was proud just like I was when my own kids graduated, just like my parking-lot friend will be in a few short years. It truly is a very special place.<br /><br />Go Dawgs!A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-64429662808721531262012-03-13T11:15:00.005-04:002012-03-13T11:33:21.022-04:00A Trip For The Ages<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRqLcKXEwhu-bGKQGIj_J8VFpWKMk8JTtHqfGO4IhWX9_6Yx_SCjLrKAPljT0JKDuvSOf8mHmAbsL7DT_6X-Kj6mEpUxDpayxKT0khAQ69gxsRwTIZCCWMyMds4rswnocxSr4FlMWEUMv/s1600/IMG_0310.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRqLcKXEwhu-bGKQGIj_J8VFpWKMk8JTtHqfGO4IhWX9_6Yx_SCjLrKAPljT0JKDuvSOf8mHmAbsL7DT_6X-Kj6mEpUxDpayxKT0khAQ69gxsRwTIZCCWMyMds4rswnocxSr4FlMWEUMv/s320/IMG_0310.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719401754647422194" /></a><br /><br />My wife and I recently concluded a group trip to Israel that was remarkable in this sense: I’ve never visited any other place that was so dense in human history, so diverse in language, culture, and religion, and so determinative in the origins of my own Christian faith. Too, I have never been in a land where such a perceptible spiritual presence was always hovering, unobtrusive but always there for the taking, like a refreshing, restorative breath of mountain air. It truly was a trip for the ages, and I’ll be grateful for the rest of my earthly days that I could walk where Jesus walked (even with my still floppy foot from recent back surgery). <br /><br />For those of you who have yet to visit the Holy Land, nothing I could write here could adequately describe the experience in actually viewing what one has read about, been taught, and seen in pictures since childhood. I suppose it’s a bit like seeing for the first time your own newborn baby—its effects are profoundly affecting and indescribable, and only when experiencing it for yourself do you then begin to comprehend its significance. Such was my visit to Israel.<br /><br />My pastor son was a co-host, together with another talented young American pastor. Our Israeli host was steeped in the history of Israel and added richness and texture with his explanations of Jewish culture and tradition. My son had a gift of providing just the right words of his own with exactly the right verse of scripture to provide context and illumination to the sites we visited. <br /><br />There were many highlights, and these are but a few:<br /><br />• Saying a prayer at the Western Wall (that’s me in red in the photo, hardly an Orthodox look). The 2,000-year-old Wall was itself not part of the ancient Temple, but instead a massive retaining wall. I also placed a prayer on a slip of paper into a crack between the massive stones. Jewish custom holds that as soon as the paper touches the Wall, the prayer is sent. The cracks are cleared of the written prayers several times a year, and buried with reverence in a Jewish cemetery.<br />• Looking out at the Sea of Galilee, hearing the water lapping at the rocks on shore, breathing the air, hearing the birds, and seeing the same surrounding hills that Jesus saw so often, along with Peter and the other disciples. <br />• Looking over at Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, across the Kidron Valley, at the Temple Mount, the Lions’ Gate, and the surrounding Old City. It is firmly fixed in my mind as the single most grand and moving geographical sight I have ever before witnessed. I could have stood there for a week, contemplating its significance, its idiosyncratic (and sometimes competing) vibes of both reverence and tension, even its uniquely complex and sprawling beauty. As well, the nearby Garden of Gethsemane is equally mesmerizing in its own quiet way.<br />• Visiting an old synagogue in Nazareth where the stones on the floor and walls dated to the time of Jesus. <i>He was here</i>, I kept thinking. He played on these stones as a child. He listened to and was taught by the rabbis here. When my son read from Luke 4: 16-31, where Jesus had returned to this same small building as a minister in his own right, I’m quite certain the hair on my arms stood up. He <i>is</i> here, I now thought. It may have been the singular most powerful moment of the trip for me.<br />• Taking communion at the Garden Tomb. An empty ancient tomb, Golgotha “the place of the skull,” and the remembrance not only of a crucifixion, but also the celebration of a resurrection that forever changed the world. And me along with it. <br /><br />What an experience. What a trip. Writing this makes me want to go again. <br /><br />Shalom, y’all.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-589062904682634772012-02-24T17:39:00.006-05:002012-02-24T17:50:15.541-05:00Get Up Offa That ThangIt’s been an interesting year thus far.<br /><br />Long story short: A week before Christmas I had pain that radiated from the lower back through the hip to the leg, and eventually settled into the lower leg and foot. The pain was relentless, and sleep was scarce. I sought the help of a chiropractor whose treatments eventually moderated the pain. Then my foot dropped and became floppy (in technical medical parlance: not a good sign). I saw an orthopedist that ordered an MRI and soon thereafter advised that my back was, as we say in the South, a mess. So, in early February I underwent back surgery to relieve the compressed nerves. And the surgery went well.<br /><br />Already on my schedule was a trip to Israel, the trip of a lifetime with the tour being guided by none other than my eldest son. <br /><br />Yep, now I’m in a real mess.<br /><br />So, less than a week after surgery I decided to start walking to strengthen the muscles in my leg. I really want to make this trip. My doc’s withholding judgment until my two-week follow up visit. The walking is physically taxing but tolerable, but the aftermath the next day hurts. I mean, really hurts. So I walk some more. And it hurts too. <br /><br />I came upon a hawk in the road ahead on one of my walks, a gorgeous, golden, powerful creature, and he was busily studying something in the asphalt and paid me little heed. Finally he ascended to a nearby limb and waited for me to limp on by. He then looked down at me and made a calm, restrained noise as I passed, but since I don’t speak hawk, I greeted him in English, tipped my cap, and moved along. <br /><br />It took a while, but I think the hawk was telling me, “No pain, no gain. You’re doing the right thing.”<br /><br />Get up offa that thang!<br /><br />At the follow up visit, my doc said he loved my motivation but didn’t want me to overdue things. After all, he had cut into the muscles in my lower back, and as you’ve already noticed they’ll bark loudly when stressed. My back is otherwise structurally sound, even though the feeling has not yet returned to my foot. He also said that if I felt like I can tolerate the trip, then he’d leave it up to me to make the decision. <br /><br />So I walked some more. And the pain began to lessen. I knew my friend the hawk was right all along. And so was James Brown.<br /><br />I’m going to Israel. <br /><br />Shalom.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-58516345368646254992012-01-29T19:50:00.001-05:002012-01-29T19:54:06.805-05:00Ali - Still the Greatest!Muhammad Ali recently celebrated his 70th birthday. He has been, and remains, my favorite professional athlete of my lifetime. <br /><br />I remember when, as a 22-year-old challenger to heavyweight-champion Sonny Liston, young Cassius Clay danced and jabbed and frustrated Liston, the prohibitive favorite, to such a point where the champ remained on his stool for the start of the 7th round. He became the ex-champ in an astonishing upset. “I shook up the world,” shouted the newly crowned Clay, the Louisville Lip. And I loved every minute of it.<br /><br />I remember listening to the weak signal of my hometown Atlanta’s WSB Radio from Lawton, Oklahoma for a round-by-round recap of the first Ali-Frazier fight in Madison Square Garden in 1971. I hated it when Ali lost. <br /><br />I remember when Ali was stripped of his title for failing to enter the Army in 1967. I remember when he fought and defeated an outclassed Jerry Quarry in Atlanta in 1970 to begin his quest to regain the heavyweight championship. I remember his rope-a-dope strategy to defeat a younger, stronger George Foreman in Zaire in 1974. And the 3rd fight with Frazier, the Thrilla in Manila in 1975, was perhaps the bravest athletic exhibition by two competitors I’ve ever seen. I loved it when Ali won back his championship belt. <br /><br />I remember how sad I felt when Ali’s skills deteriorated to a point where he began losing badly in the late Seventies and early Eighties. He was getting hit in the head a lot, and at times it was almost too ugly to bear. It made me feel my own mortality in an odd way that I’d never experienced before, and in that odd way I felt for both of us.<br /><br />I remember Ali walking out of the shadows with the Olympic torch in his trembling hand to light the flame for the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta. My wife pointed and shouted, “It’s Muhammad!” With tears in both our eyes, I realized that Billy Payne, the Atlanta Olympics chief and a classmate of mine at UGA, had gotten it exactly right. Billy’s choice to light the flame had been spot-on perfect. The most famous person in the world was once again on a world stage, and I’ll never forget it.<br /><br />I didn’t agree with Ali’s politics; I didn’t agree with his stance on serving in the military; I didn’t always like the way he taunted opponents in and outside the ring. But he has the heart of a lion, still, and I love that about him. Like it or not, he stood up for what he believed. He never flinched, never took a step backward. He paid a heavy price for his stance, but then he fought his way back to the top of his sport.<br /><br />There’s been no one like him. He is truly an American treasure.<br /><br />You’re still the greatest, champ. Happy birthday.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-83499505274060662632012-01-18T16:04:00.002-05:002012-01-18T16:08:50.931-05:00Captain of the ShipLike many of you, I’ve been struck by the news of the recent cruise-ship fiasco off the coast of Italy. If the stories are indeed accurate about the behavior of the captain after his ship’s grounding and incapacitation, then his name may become synonymous with cowardice in the same sense that Benedict Arnold’s is identified as traitorous. And cowardice may be the least of the captain’s problems before all is finally settled.<br /><br />How could such a man be entrusted with an expensive vessel and hundreds of lives in his care? Shouldn’t something in his character have been noticed along the way which would’ve raised a red flag about his fitness? I’m guessing that the red flags were there all along. Maybe not, but I’d bet that clues will surface suggesting this guy was a loose cannon. And just as likely, we’ll find that nobody in a position of authority did anything about it. Now, lives have been lost, property has been destroyed, and the threat of an environmental disaster is looming. <br /><br />Captains stay with their ships. <br /><br />Did no one ever teach this guy that age-old maxim? Can you imagine the chaos that would’ve followed if a panicked Capt. Sullenberger had immediately elbowed his way out of the cockpit and jumped into a lifeboat after the airliner he was piloting crash-landed in the Hudson River? <br /><br />The Marine Corps taught us as young lieutenants that officers eat last. When the troops have been fed, only then do the officers eat (and only if anything is left). It’s all about responsibility; it’s about being in charge and looking out for your people. Commanders stay with their men. Captains stay with their ships. <br /><br />The marketplace will not be kind to the cruise-ship company. And it shouldn’t. The company had a buffoon in its employ whose judgment was suspect in normal times and whose spinelessness was tragically evident in a crisis. It was a recipe for disaster, and a disaster is what they got. It’s virtually guaranteed that other cruise-ship companies are reviewing their ship captains’ records of performance, at this very moment, looking for those red flags.<br /><br />It’s sad that this one slipped through the cracks only after his ship was on its side and he was elsewhere.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-26810450005485690292012-01-11T15:29:00.002-05:002012-01-11T15:33:53.931-05:00Year of the DragonDid you know that 2012 in the Chinese New Year is the Year of the Dragon?<br /><br />I kinda like that. There’s something powerful and mysterious about a dragon. Dragons usually appear with a body like a huge lizard, or a snake with two pairs of lizard-type legs, able to emit fire from its mouth. The European dragon has bat-type wings growing from its back. An American dragon might be seen in a New England Patriots cap and holding a bolt-action rifle. Hence no need for the fiery breath, or the wings. Or anything else European, for that matter. <br /><br />I think 2012 will be a great year. Here’s why:<br /><br />• Novel #3 will be released later this year through my new publisher, Navigator Books.<br /><br />• My eldest son will guide a tour of Israel for a group that will include his mom and dad. My middle son’s non-profit will start benefiting orphans who at this moment have no hope. My daughter’s small business will start acting mid-sized.<br /><br />• I’ll get another terrific annual treat and get to see my grandkids play baseball and soccer.<br /><br />• My sciatic nerve will stop being angry with me, my wife’s knee will be scoped and fixed, and we'll celebrate being pain-free with a Mexican dinner in Marietta.<br /><br />• My kids and grandkids will fight the successful fight with the allergies that so exasperate them.<br /><br />• The Atlanta Braves will give Chipper Jones a National League pennant and a chance for a World Series ring as his fabulous career comes to an end.<br /><br />• The Georgia Bulldogs will win the SEC and get to the national-championship game.<br /><br />• The U.S. economy will gain even more traction and put more Americans back to work.<br /><br />• There will be a national election in November (Thank God!).<br /><br />Here’s hoping the very best for you and yours in 2012!A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-75279413248340376332011-12-05T21:08:00.002-05:002011-12-05T21:14:41.263-05:00Christmas ThoughtsAs a boy, Christmas was by far my most anxiously awaited day of the year. I used to mark the days off a calendar tacked to my bedroom wall, starting the day after Thanksgiving. My mother adored all things Christmas, and her enthusiasm was infectious. You couldn’t live in her house and not be excited about Christmas. I would hear her singing, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” every single day of the season. <br /><br />I made my Christmas wishes known early in a personal letter to Santa Claus. I wrote a copy for my mother just in case the rumors swirling around elementary school concerning the “Santa Question” turned out to be factual. I didn’t want to believe it then, and I’m still not happy about it even now. I understand the universal truths about no free lunches and what goes around comes around, but c’mon, wouldn’t the world be a far better place with a real Santa Claus in it? Oh sure, I know what you’re thinking. Somebody, somewhere would be offended. Santa would be forced to lawyer up to deal with all the injunctions. His liability insurance would go out the roof, so to speak. And attempts would be made to unionize his helpers and risk outsourcing the entire production process to India. But wouldn’t an iPod or an iPad or an iPhone underneath the tree help? Or a pair of iMittens and a scarf? Or a signed copy of <em>Shall Never See So Much</em>? Of course it would.<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />On Christmas Eve, our tradition was to have our family gathering at my grandmother’s home. Our family budgets were always limited, but that didn’t stop my grandmother and uncles from giving terrific gifts. I couldn’t wait to tear into my stack of boxes. And I was never disappointed.<br /><br />On Christmas Day, my brother and I awoke early and charged into the living room to see what awaited. I remember some of the sights, but what I remember more clearly were the smells of the electronic devices like radios and trains and games. Santa was perpetually generous, a nice return on the investment of a cookie and glass of milk, which he never entirely finished. We then opened the gifts we exchanged as a family, which, in my case, tended more toward gifts of clothing. A big breakfast with big biscuits and sausage followed, and then it was on to playing with the new stuff.<br /><br />Our extended family gathered in the afternoon at our home. I wish I could turn back the clock and have just one more hour with my parents and relatives all under that same roof again. One more hour to share the laughter and the revel in the fellowship of family. Just one hour.<br /><br />When our family gathers this Christmas, I’ll make it a point to remember that priceless memories are being made. I’ll enjoy each moment, each person, like we always do, like we used to do when I was a kid. No, I can’t get that long-ago hour back, but I can enjoy and savor the hour I’ll be gifted when we’re all together again.<br /><br />I can’t wait. And for the record, I still miss Santa Claus.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-72982063033903565522011-11-02T10:55:00.007-04:002011-11-06T21:04:31.240-05:00Birthday of the Marine Corps<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQ7c0MRNbRgcTs21TtvjZp0EmSn8s2rdqujeuqUzSwZ960B2fvbLiSY6SaKoQnJlF7UiLQsxWIoHDEn6V1XqLHbA9o5d5TA0TIi3aViFxnAlP3mgS844bQGgn83qkGgg3YUzNrlbpdzpr/s1600/6032659138_bd1d27f430_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQ7c0MRNbRgcTs21TtvjZp0EmSn8s2rdqujeuqUzSwZ960B2fvbLiSY6SaKoQnJlF7UiLQsxWIoHDEn6V1XqLHbA9o5d5TA0TIi3aViFxnAlP3mgS844bQGgn83qkGgg3YUzNrlbpdzpr/s320/6032659138_bd1d27f430_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670412538245013730" /></a><br />November 10th is the 236th birthday of the United States Marine Corps.<br /><br />I had the great privilege of serving on active duty in the Marine Corps for three years back in the early Seventies. Apart from my family members, a few close friends, and the 4th of July, the only other birthday I point to each year is the birthday of the Corps. <br /><br />It’s worth noting that the Marine Corps birthday is a big deal to Marines. It’s been celebrated for as long as this nation has existed. Marines have been mounting up, moving out, and following their commanders into every clime and place since those first young men stepped forward at Philadelphia’s Tun Tavern in 1775. And they’re still stepping forward, thankfully. Indeed, they’re still performing brilliantly—the very best and brightest and bravest this nation possesses, as good now as they’ve ever been. <br /><br />These young men and women who wear the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor belong to the United States of America, to us, to all of us, and we should stop and thank God for them. Countless generations of Marines have said goodbye to loved ones, endured harsh weather and debilitating disease, faced and defeated determined enemies, shed their blood, lost their buddies and sometimes even their own lives, and in the process honored us and the Corps they served by keeping us a free nation. Their sacrifices, their courage, their <em>magnificence</em> is what I remember and celebrate every November 10. It’s a small act for such an incredible lineage of honorable, gallant, and victorious service.<br /><br />I feel blessed to have worn a uniform upon which the world-renowned initials <em>USMC</em> were etched. <br /><br />Happy birthday, Marines. <br /><br />And by the way, Thank You. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZUNGRo340fSfbXrzdx0KOz6aN-mVXS94V2mpTaUZx4Iyjl2MClpnEDMHoSsa2wd7SpClZ0IEOGaMdxvEem7685knJibCTPfikoL2CiK-PeJqvGxGB-FyO1sN_Ki-x77HKm-ZAAuRH1tZ/s1600/5867796211_6ccb6e79bd_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZUNGRo340fSfbXrzdx0KOz6aN-mVXS94V2mpTaUZx4Iyjl2MClpnEDMHoSsa2wd7SpClZ0IEOGaMdxvEem7685knJibCTPfikoL2CiK-PeJqvGxGB-FyO1sN_Ki-x77HKm-ZAAuRH1tZ/s320/5867796211_6ccb6e79bd_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670884651524370786" /></a>A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-2517574550225023932011-11-01T17:28:00.002-04:002011-11-01T17:34:06.910-04:00Airports & Airplanes: Observations of Useful Things (Or Not)• When eating peanuts, women often place the peanuts on a napkin and proceed to consume one at a time. Men will often open the bag and invert directly into the mouth. Southerners will open the bag, pour a few into their free hand, gently shake back and forth as if cleansing, and then toss into the mouth. I can always spot a fellow grit.<br /><br />• If someone in the coach section reclines their seatback into your face, well past the one or two customary clicks, then try coughing with such force that their hair actually parts. It very often works. Throw in some sniffles for additional urgency. “Oh, I think I’m gonna sneeze,” can be the clincher. If it’s a long flight, throw in a warning cough every half-hour, or so.<br /><br />• If a female traveler with a carry-on bag strikes up a conversation with you in the gate area, know that she is judging your trustworthiness. Soon you may hear, “Will you watch my bag while I make a quick trip to the ladies room?” Just beware that on average a quick trip will take 16.25 minutes, so if you’re eligible to board early, you’re obliged to stay with her bag. You gotta do it. A good preemptive move would be to declare, “Yes, I’ll watch your bag,” as soon as eye contact is made. Could save you five or six minutes; could make you look like a fool, too. Whatever.<br /><br />• American air carriers have an extraordinary record of safety, but it’s always worthwhile to know where the emergency exits are located. It’s also worthwhile to guess which of the passengers will be the ones pushing and crawling over others in a mad attempt to escape first. I’ve always assumed that the biggest men would be the most ruthless (and thereby the least helpful) in an emergency. And then I have to remind myself that I’m a big man. <br /><br />• Remember that the most dangerous part of any trip starts when you get off the airplane and get into a car.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-30546235319596047672011-10-04T20:46:00.003-04:002011-10-04T20:50:29.809-04:00A Gold Medal MomentBack in February, my novel <em>Shall Never See So Much</em> was chosen by MWSA (Military Writers Society of America, of which I am a member) as its Book of the Month selection. MWSA had also provided a very favorable review that described the story as “incredible.”<br /><br />Is there an author anywhere who wouldn’t relish such a description? Not at this desk, I have to say. The adjective <em>incredible</em> is always a coveted measure of performance unless, of course, its negative use flouts a particularly dark part of one’s character or boorish behavior, in which case its inclusion in a blog of this sort would become unlikely.<br /><br />At any rate, I received notification this past weekend that MWSA selected my novel for a Gold Medal in its category of Historical Fiction–Chronicle. A freakin’ Gold Medal, for cryin’ out loud! Like Michael Phelps wins every time he enters a pool. Like the award that launched the career of Sugar Ray Leonard. Like the entire 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey team wore after they took down the vaunted Russkies and the Finns.<br /><br /> I’ve always wondered what it might be like to win a Gold Medal.<br /><br />Well, thanks to the wonderful folks at MWSA, I’m going to construct a podium, unfurl my American flag, and find a recording of the National Anthem. Then I’m going to stand up there proudly and have myself a moment. I don’t mean just any moment; I’m talking about A GOLD MEDAL MOMENT.<br /><br />Then I’ll finally know.A Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527040883897233501.post-5574345655002636182011-09-26T14:29:00.010-04:002011-09-26T14:46:17.927-04:00Elephant in the Room"<strong>Elephant in the room</strong>" (as described by Wikipedia) is an English metaphorical idiom for an obvious truth that is being ignored or goes unaddressed. It is based on the idea that an elephant in a room would be impossible to overlook; thus, those who pretend the elephant is not there have chosen to avoid dealing with the looming big issue.<br /><br />One of those issues is the Orphan Epidemic. You've probably seen the pictures and heard the stories of their plight. The bad news is that it’s often easy for us to turn away from dirty, snotty, malnourished kids. The good news is that my middle son is addressing this particular “elephant in the room” through a non-profit organization called Patch Our Planet. He saw a problem that is largely underserved and felt compelled to do something about it. <br /><br />According to most estimates, there are in excess of 140 million orphans worldwide. The population of Russia is slightly under 142 million people, to provide some context. Enormous numbers of children are in the streets of our countries each year, with no direction and no hope. Is it any wonder that sex trafficking, drugs, and homelessness enter into and profoundly affect these young lives? <br /><br />My son founded Patch Our Planet with the belief that there is only one lasting solution, or <em>patch</em>, to the Orphan Epidemic, and that is through churches. There was a time when churches took the lead in this crisis. But at some point that church leadership diminished, while at the same time the orphan problem was growing exponentially larger. That is what Patch Our Planet has been chartered to do: to provide sustaining leadership. It exists to equip and educate churches to care for orphans here and around the world. It sees a world where every church in every community is caring for every orphan. <em>That’s</em> leadership! And <em>that’s</em> working toward a sensible solution to a large and seemingly intractable problem.<br /><br />How exactly does it work? Patch Our Planet has developed two strategies for the local church. There is a Local Orphan Strategy (foster care) and a Global Orphan Strategy (world orphans). It works in collaboration with the leaders of churches to fit the strategy into the church's overall vision.<br /><br />How can you help? You can imagine trying to start a non-profit organization in this economic environment. Launching any type of venture at any given time is a daunting task, so there must be a passion that underlies the organization. I see that passion in my son's organization. There is an elephant in the room and my son has chosen to step forward and do something about it. He can use your help, along with the millions of orphans’ lives he has been inspired to improve. Here are some ways you can learn more:<br />Website: <a href="www.patchourplanet.org">www.patchourplanet.org</a><br />Donate: <a href="http://patchourplanet.blogspot.com/p/our-inspiration_25.html">http://patchourplanet.blogspot.com/p/our-inspiration_25.html</a><br />Follow on Facebook: Patch Our PlanetA Second Acthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11223618401107398802noreply@blogger.com0