I Don't Know

I Don’t Know 

So, you don’t know something. You’re stuck. Where do you go for an answer, or to whom do you go to? Google? A friend? Let’s say that the information you seek is something of a general nature like: how do you manage with four children? How do you know about all those discount prices? Or how can you convince your hair dresser to charge you for cutting your hair at the same price as a man? Which resort should you stay at in Orlando?

No. I’m not providing the answers to those questions, but I am considering from where those answers come. The first assumption is that you have knowledgeable friends and you are computer savvy. You might wonder, does it matter? In as far as your action can be seen as an indicator of your values, yes. From a writer’s standpoint, it is a factor to consider. 

If you’re comfortable learning about the best daycare center in your area from coffee-time girls, or the best bathroom renovator from your hockey buddies, then it suggests you value your friends and their opinions. A computer nerd who wants information now wouldn’t hesitate to use google. From that behavior one could build a character who prefers to be independent and perhaps desires instant service. In a community where human relationships are valued, the person in the latter case could face friction. Friends not consulted could feel hurt or insulted. Of course, one could check both sources and pick the information that seems most appropriate.  Such a strongly independent person would have to work at cultivating good relationships.

Those two types of individuals are seen in my novel, Baggage burdens. Joseph frequently turns to his close friends, Thomas and Rebecca, when he has marital problems. While they don’t always have an answer, he does appreciate their guidance. On the other hand, Jill, Joseph’s wife, rarely consults with the women in the church about raising children. Her reliance on computer information is not well received by the women in her community. The difference in husband and wife values also sets up for family turmoil. 

As the time for Jill to give birth nears, the women at the church show a renewed interest in Jill’s welfare. They say they are praying for Jill and the birth of a healthy child. Jill judges their interest is genuine. Her reluctance to go to church on summer Sundays decreases. 

Complaining arises among a couple of the older women. It follows after Jill describes her online research efforts to guarantee that she will have a normal birth. The grumbling women expect that Jill would have turned to them. Rebecca points out that Jill’s heart is in the right place. She silences them by questioning where their hearts are.

Joseph’s attempts to engage Jill in conversation result in one- or two-word responses. Once again, in desperation Joseph shares his concerns about Jill’s low-level efforts with Thomas and Rebecca. 

“I think she still can’t get over losing Christine,” he tells Rebecca.

“Could be. Be patient.” Rebecca reaches out to comfort Joseph. In a lower voice, she hints that perhaps it might be time to take Jill to her doctor. “It’s been more than four months.”

“It’s so maddening! It’s like she’s stuck in the mud, spinning her wheels, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Maybe there is.” Thomas’s comment drifts out slowly as if he is thinking of a possibility but hasn’t worked out the details.

“What do you mean?” Joseph studies his friend.

“All I can think of is,” he pauses, “end her brooding; get her mind out of the past. Excite her about something in the future. You know, give her something to look forward to.” 

“Like what?” Frustration colors Joseph’s response. “She didn’t even get excited about Amber’s birthday party. I mean she loves Amber, but—” Joseph throws his arms up in resignation.

“Maybe suggest that she visit Ann or even Mary.” Thomas’s suggestion lacks confidence.

Rebecca quickly offers, “Valentine’s Day is coming up. Find ways to show her that she’s loved. Maybe do something special for Valentine’s Day.” 

Before Joseph leaves, the Croschuks pray for him. While driving home, Joseph feels relieved, even though he didn’t think their suggestions were useful.

haiku capsule:                                                                                   

when lost in a fog

turn to whom?  turn to Google?

Man verses Machine

Next blog: All on You 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

Who do you look to for information? 

What do you think that says about the kind of person you are?  

I’d like to hear your response. (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens. companion novel.

Thrills of Creative Work

Thrills of Creative Work

If you have the time to pursue a creative endeavor (painting, writing, photography, drama, music) you have to be happy.  My opinion? Yes, but it is based up on experience and talks with various artists. One quality of being a creative person is that you can be a dreamer.What if I used the image of a pansy instead of a dandelion? Will the early spring flowering of the pansy kindle a greater appreciation of resilience in a reader than the dandelion? What if I bled narrow streaks of a bright yellow in the orange tiger lily? Will an awe flare up in seeing an unexpected expression of individuality? What if the flower’s name is the same as my neighbor in the next block? Will a gratefulness of his uniqueness be kindled? What if? What if? What if?

A dreamer’s bonus is having freedom, at least for a short time, to mentally travel to alternate realities like someone who pays to go on a holiday to a different country, to the beach or for golfing. The difference is that the artistic person communicates their treasured visions through words, sounds or colors. Viewers or listeners of inspired works spark resounding values for beauty or maybe stimulate explorations of fresh possibilities.

Crafting new realities from nothing is like tasting the joy of God who fashioned the earth and its inhabitants. While creators toil at their work, they enjoy it. Also, it is an escape time. Inventing a new reality takes much longer than a holiday and so is even more delightful for the artist.

Several characters in my novel, Baggage burdens. relish the love of framing new lasting realities for others to experience. Can you sense their joy?

Jill announces that Amber was asked to put one of her paintings up for sale in a silent auction in May. The event is a fundraiser for the Wellness Center in which the church participates to help homeless people.

One of Joseph’s favorite spots on the farm inspired Amber's work. While her father was driving her to the farm to go horseback riding, Amber learned the importance of an oak tree beyond the garage, near the edge of the family garden. Joseph described his Uncle Mike’s oak tree as if it were a dear friend. On the other side of the garden stood his weeping birch tree. Sometimes Joseph watched the spray of the sprinkler watering the sentinels of the garden. The droplets of water falling from the oak’s leaves made him imagine his Uncle Mike was crying because he was no longer with him. 

Amber captured his memory on canvas. Her imagination added two details. For the flow of water droplets flying through the air, she glued hundreds of tiny silver speckles, speckles one sees on ceilings. A faint rainbow arched across the background, disappearing behind the weeping birch. Joseph understood Amber’s symbolic meaning—he was his uncle’s pot of gold. She painted that scene shortly after they moved to Camrose. 

When the ladies pressured Joseph to offer that painting for the auction, he agreed on the condition that there could be a reserve bid of one hundred dollars. He thought the ladies would reject his condition, but they didn’t. When Amber heard what had been proposed, she protected her father’s gift by promising her mother that she would create an alternative painting for the auction. Amber began to work on her new piece, focusing on creating a textured work, a technique she had been experimenting on in art class.

Five minutes before her appointment, Bill pulls up to Bossard’s Photography Studio. “Would you like me to come in with you?”

“Thank you for asking, but no.” 

Before entering, she pauses, looking at the window display––pictures of weddings, baptisms, and older couples celebrating an anniversary. Pictures captured in ovals, in fogs, in black and whites, and group displays all demonstrate a creative flair that Jill never realized was part of Dave’s talents.  

*   *  *

Jill enters the studio and is greeted by an attractive thirtyish woman with short, clipped blond hair. 

“Jill Kreshky to see Mr. Bossard. I’ve a ten thirty appointment.” 

The receptionist picks up the phone.

“Dave will be with you in a few moments.” 

Jill scans the walls of the waiting room. One wall features portraits while another is filled with scenes from all four seasons. Photos of winter poke into spring and spring into summer like trickling water not being confined to any space. As summer scenes claim their space, Dave’s voice cuts Jill’s admiration of his work.

haiku capsule:                                                                                   

 a “what if”  hunter

portraying alternatives

playing creator

Nextblog: I Don’t Know 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

Let me know can you see the artist’s joys.  (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Pet Attachment

Pet Attachment

I loved dogs since I was in high school. I loved my neighbor’s chained-up Belgian Shepherd so much that they gave it to me. He became my highly trained furry buddy who accompanied me where ever I rode my bike. 

My love for dogs didn’t change until I retired and turned into an empty nester. Surprise! Spotting a mouse in the house meant a visit to the Humane Society. An ordinarily estranged five-year-old blond cat decided I was the person to adopt him. All I did was pet him. 

My mouse catcher won my heart, not my wife’s heart. Not only would Mister Noodles purr when I petted him or picked him up, but he curled up at my feet or at least slept in the same room when I was working at my desk. If I was shoveling the snow or it was time for me to return home, he’d look out the window. He honored my every wish. He’d never go on the furniture, except a couple of times when I was sick and lying on the couch. Then he’d curl up to me. Soon after he died I found an abandoned eight-month mouse catcher. Noodles’ roots of affection sank so deep in me that for a year after his death I caught myself calling the kitten Mister Noodles. Noodles now graces the cover of my next novel, Helping Hands.

When you live alone, the death of a pet can be devasting. In my novel, Baggage burdens. twenty-somethingJoseph, suffers when his dog, Butch, dies in an accident. Originally Butch belonged to Joseph’s Uncle Mike who lived alone on a farm. Joseph frequently came and helped him on the farm. When Mike died, he left his farm and his dog to Joseph. For the next two years, Joseph lived a lonely life, not really part of the rural church community. He had no girlfriend, just Butch. 

A truck carrying lumber spilled its load. Butch was found beneath it. 

“You were devastated,” said Thomas, looking at Joseph. 

He nodded momentarily, reliving the event. 

“Two years earlier, I lost Uncle Mike. Then Butch. All I had left was you and Rebecca,” Joseph said, still sad.

Thomas had sat with Joseph while the other men picked up the lumber. Then Thomas and Joseph dug a shallow grave for Butch near the spot where he died. After temporarily marking the grave with a stick, Thomas sat with Joseph for the rest of the afternoon by the grave as Joseph talked about his lost friend.

After more than twenty years of living on the farm, Joseph prepares to move to the city. He walks around the farm reliving memories.

A small, white wooden cross greets Joseph at the end of the driveway. Two years ago, Joseph repainted the cross and tacked on two-inch, black metal letters spelling Butch. In two years, Butch had wagged his way into Joseph’s heart. 

“Never needed a doorbell,” Joseph used to say. Butch always barked a welcome or goodbye as people drove on the driveway. 

On the day that the men drove into his yard to build a new workshop, the lumber on the second truck flew off the deck. Whether the driver rounded the corner too fast or the rope just snapped was irrelevant. Butch lay beneath the load. Joseph accepted the men’s sympathy. He questioned how he could have become so attached to the dog.

What story can you tell about how a pet can steal a person’s heart?

haiku capsule:                                                                                   

my pet, my buddy

my purring, couch-cuddling cat

my heart stealer’s hooks

Next blog: Thrills of Creative Efforts 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

Let me know about another special pet’s impact.  (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.

Muddied Waters

I love courtroom settings. The implication is a time of high drama. Lawyers from both sides of a dispute come armed with all the legal tools they can find. They’re like gladiators entering the Roman arena. They do battle with words and ideas, but the results are no less devasting. The defendants could lose their fortune, their freedom or in some criminal cases their lives. Will justice triumph? Will mercy rule? With that introduction, I begin.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have before you Frank Rezley, a disgusting character in the novel, Baggage burdens. He stands before you accused of egregious abuse, of delivering serious physical pain to his daughter, Jill. But that’s not the worst part of his shameless behavior. Those beatings fueled by alcohol resulted in mental anguish for his daughter, a torment that lasted not only while her scars were healing but for more than twenty-five torturous years. If only that were the limit of suffering born from the fists Frank Rezley, a limit that is far too great for any person to have to endure. His violent behavior resulted in Jill fearing bearded men, fearing those who smoked, fearing those who consumed alcohol. Her condition generalized to fearing any man, unless she felt she was in control. The controlling drive created tension between Jill and her husband, between Jill and her eldest son. Her lack of trust spread causing tensions in the religious community in which she lived, and to her female neighbors and her niece. 

Now Frank’s defender would like to say that by pointing to all the other people that suffer at Jill’s hands is muddying the waters. He can’t be blamed for Jill’s actions years later. Who could possibly predict that actions taken between two fighting people could have consequences way in the future? Who could predict that people who weren’t at a violent encounter would be affected?

That is the challenge that readers of Baggage burdens. face. Is it reasonable to hold Frank responsible for Jill’s lengthy suffering? For the suffering of Jill’s husband? Of Daniel, Of her eldest son? Of her friends? Of her niece? If he’s not to blame, then who is to blame? Is other's mental suffering really that significant?

Joseph plods through loose, dry soil to Jill. 

“About a month ago, you brought up Daniel’s schooling.” 

Joseph speaks in a low, controlled monotone. Jill suspects leashed anger. At times her father sounded like that before he exploded. Jill nods in response to Joseph’s assertion. 

“I hear you tried to convince Daniel he should take his schooling at home with his sister after we talked. It scared him.” Joseph’s neck stretches forward as if he is preparing to snap at any objection before she can start it. “I told him I’d fix it with you so you wouldn’t bring it up again. We talked about it again last week. You agreed you wouldn’t say anything about it. Remember?”

She’d hoped Daniel might be more open to reconsidering. Still disturbed by Joseph’s aggressive tone, she nods.

“I told him the issue was settled. Not to worry. Then last night you hinted about it again. If he gets wind of it, he’ll be so upset. We’ll both lose his trust. I don’t expect to hear about Daniel and homeschooling ever again. Got it?”

Jill nods.

“Good. It’s settled.” Joseph takes one last long look at Jill. 

She feels he’s searching for a hint of an objection. She breathes easy when he turns around, climbs on the tractor, and moves his load farther down the row to pick up more potatoes. Jill slowly walks back to the house. 

He sounds like my father, issuing orders.

Joseph’s frustration supplies him with surplus energy to finish picking up the rest of the harvest from the field. He unloads the whole wagon, then carefully stacks the sacks in the cold storage bin.

“It’s not fair. It not fair. He’s such a good man.” Looking at Eve, Daniel adds, “You know Dad said he’d drive me to school every day so I wouldn’t have to take homeschooling from my mother?”

“I know. You told me.”

“And now he’s broke. He’s broke because of that stupid house my mother wants. Dad has to borrow money.”

“It’s only a temporary thing. And it’s good that your dad has people like Thomas who are willing to help. Maybe it’s good that sometimes he is on the receiving end. It shows you that people love him too.”

“But it shouldn’t have happened. It’s all my mother’s fault.” Daniel takes a deep breath. Tension drains as if he lanced a boil. The peace is short-lived. “She doesn’t have to choose the most expensive house. She doesn’t even have to move. It’s almost like she has blinkers on. You know like Mr. Starzak’s horse. All she can see is her own narrow self-interests. She can’t see the trouble she’s causing for the rest of us—Dad driving me to school, Amber boarding her horse here, Dad unhappy about moving to the city. It’s just not fair.”

“But there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s what your dad wants to do.”

“Maybe there is. Maybe, if I can convince my mother that the move is more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe she’ll change her mind, or maybe she’ll agree to a different house.”

“Well, if you’re pleading, you’ll have to change your tone. Challenging her desire to move will anger her, and you’ll end up upsetting your father.”

“I know.”

To appreciate the full impact of Jill’s troubled mental state read the novel, then consider whether her actions are linked to the abusive treatment that she received at the hands of her father.

haiku capsule:                                                                                      

scales-of-justice work

for lasting harmful affects

culpability?

Nextblog: Pet Attachment 

Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.

Let me know who is to blame for the mental suffering.  (callingkensaik@gmail.com)

I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.

All comments will be entered for a draw on Baggage burdens. companion novel.