Sixty nine years ago, on a beach...

Sixty-nine years ago, boys soon to be grown men, landed on a beach they've never seen and most likely never heard of.

As we turn the calendar  on another anniversary of D-Day, these men fought for the freedoms we have today, some freedoms cherished, some taken for granted, but there's no denying without these courageous young men, our liberty to Facebook, tweet, blog, text, and email may not have been realized.

Steven Spielberg, in Saving Private Ryan , reminds us of a Mrs. Bixby:

Executive Mansion,
Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.

Dear Madam,-- I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. Lincoln

Although Memorial Day has passed and we remembered those from all conflicts, lest not forget those soldiers both foreign and domestic who joined the fight to defeat dictatorship, Fascism and Nazism some sixty-nine years ago.

God Speed to those that serve; pray that they'll arrive home to their own Mrs. Bixby, safe and sound.

Great Scott! The Masters and a Downhill Lie...

Through the rain in Augusta Georgia yesterday, while a distant purr from a tiger could be heard, an Argentinian made the turn at Amen corner.  A figurative papal whisp of smoke rose from the chimney of Butler cabin signaling we may have a new Masters Champ. But a man from down under sprang to life like a kangaroo and Great Scott!, an Aussie is wearing a green jacket for the first time in Masters history!

There were no green jackets the previous weekend in Florida during a respite from this laughable 'spring' weather we're having in Minnesota.

Yes, my first official round of golf this year was just that... laughable.  To ease my pain and looking for empathy, I began reading a highly recommended  book written by fellow ball striker Carl Hiaasen called, The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport



Toads and Monkeys.  From shanking toads to being chased by monkeys; to sinking putts and even a golf cart,  Hiaasen's Downhill Lie is a sanctuary for all us hackers and duffers. A book recommended to me by someone who has yet to see me play golf. Perhaps this person is clairvoyant and by my mere physical appearance realizes I'll never break 80 and thought a humorous story will see me through the sand traps of this season.

Downhill Lie is Hiaasen's journal of resurrection. Resurrecting his game of golf, returning to it,  a frustrating tough love of a game he gave up  thirty years plus ago.  Perhaps I should do that, give it up for thirty years, but given I'm a half century old, taking up the game again at 80 doesn't sound too appealing. But then maybe I'll be able to shoot my age?

In reading Hiaasen's hilarity thus far ( I'm about to make the turn as they say in golf lore) I can safely say I'm not alone in the world of foot wedges, training aides both practical and medicinal, and little red books and zen theologies. I find comfort that this singular game, where a club and a dimpled ball is played on a meticulously manicured field of sod, can be as frustating to others as it is to me.

And just as the golf devils divot our games into the hazzards of embarrassment, blind squirrels find a nut every once in a while and we make that great drive, chip in or long putt to rehab us through the lovely sometimes laughable addiction we call, golf.

Thanks to the empathizer( or sympathizer?)  who recommended this book and thank you, Mr. Hiaasen, I hope the back nine is just as funny and entertaining as the front nine.

Harlan Coben's Six Years a real line jumper?

Ever find yourself, fast forwarding to the good parts of a recorded, or in these days, dvr'd or tivo'd TV show? Skipping through the mind numbing potpourri of advertisements?   Well, when it comes to books, there are no ads, its the complete opposite. What we have in mysterys and thrillers are spine tingling plots and hair raising ploys. Such is the case in Harlan Coben's Six Years.  No skipping through the commercials( there are none, it's a book!) for the good parts, but several times one is tantalized to skip ahead. 

A real line jumper as a moniker doesn't sound very, well, euphonious. ( I use this word a lot 'cause I like the sound of it.) but page turner is so overused. But my  vocabularic limitations leave me with...line jumper.  Speaking of jumping, Coben's characters jump right off the page and right at you. His creativity leaves you hauntingly breathless.

So, line jumper it is...

Having read my fair share of crime thrillers, mysterys and suspenseful intrigues, Cobens latest was just that a line jumper. One finds themselves so enthralled, the plot being so intense, that one fights the urge to jump a line or two or three to see what happens next, literally, holding back.

The talent of writing and forming complete sentences in a logical, thrilling way is one thing, but the ability to create a story or novel is truly awe inspiring. Coben does this very well in all his books. How do people think these things up?! Amazing!

Six years its been. Six years based on a promise. Six years of no contact because a promise is a promise, right?

Coben's Six Years is a one bonafide,  line jumper with more twists and turns than Texas tornado! 

 4.5 bookmarks on a scale of 5.

 

 

After finishing Cobens new book, I caught myself staring at about 20 books of Iris Johansen that I've never read, only collected or saved until a day when I was ready to try a new author.

 Thinking that Body of Lies was the first in the Eve Duncan series, I grabbed it to read.

But something pulled me to the web.  Was I a victim of my own deception or faultering recollection? Had I formed my own conclusion as to what was the first book? I scanned the many web sites of authors I favor and clicked on Iris Johansen's.

I was grateful. For Body of Lies wasn't the first. The Face of Deception was indeed the first of sixteen of a series with #17 and #18 to be released this year, Hunting Eve ( July) and Silencing Eve  (October).

 The Face of Deception  is where the world is introduced to Eve Duncan, forensic sculptor. With little or no evidence other than a skull, Duncan recreates a persons identity through science to solve a crime and with Face of Deception the construction of a character begins. And begin it does.

One takes a chance when buying an authors books based solely on "wow, look at all of these on the shelf,  the author must be good so I'll buy or 'collect' all of them." Or you're just plain crazy like me and will buy a book based on cover or genre then feed your obsession and continue to buy more. ( Similar to wine, but that's a story for another day.)

 98 pages, now over 170 pages, into the life of Eve, and now having finished it,  I'm completely sold.

Finding a new author is like opening presents on Christmas day, Iris Johansen's books leaves this reader...jumping for joy!



(Books # 10 and #11 read this year)

 

 

 

It's March Madness and someone isn't here...

It's been thirty years.  Thirty years since Dereck Wittenburg's airball of a pass to Lorenzo Charles in the 1983 NCAA Championship and Charles' dunk that catapulted the NC State Wolfpack to the pinnacle of college basketball.

Who can forget Jim Valvano running around the court to hug someone in pure pandemonium?

Yes it's been thirty years.  And it's been twenty years, this April 28, that Jim Valvano passed away. Those fans of college basketball, ESPN and society in general can't forget his touching speech at the 1993 ESPY awards. "... To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special....Don't Give Up...Don't Ever Give Up ..."



Jimmy V's not here but his NC State Wolf Pack are.

Sadly too, there's someone else who isn't here. Rick Majerus

The humble, jovial and intense Coach of the St. Louis Billikens passed away Dec 5 2012.

The title of his autobiography alone shows his humility:

My Life On a Napkin: Pillow Mints, Playground Dreams and Coaching the Runnin' Utes




Valvano and Majerus reminds us that the spirit of this tournament lies in not only the purity of the sport but the inspiration of those before us.

How sweet would the sweet sixteen be if NCSt ( in the East)  and St. Louis ( in the Midwest) advanced?  How elite would the Elite 8 be if they extended their play?  How fanatic would the Final Four be if the Wolfpack and Billikens made it? And yes, they could meet each other in the Championship.

Could the Basketball Fairy Godmother bestow a pair of glass slippers on these two Cinderella sentimental favorites?

I'm not sure, but...

In taking Jim's advice, if we spend time in thought as we fill out our brackets,  laugh at some of our picks and cry when we win (or lose)...think, laugh and cry, we'll have a heck of a tournament and it's going to be special!

A 3D book?

No, you won't need special glasses to ready Jeffery Deaver's The Devil's Teardrop. However, a pair of  readers, aka cheaters, or eye glasses or contacts may be needed for the older generation.

In Devil's Teardrop, help Deaver's characters solve a puzzle. A mass-murderer is on the loose in DC and Parker Kincaid and Margaret Lukas have until midnight on December 31, 1999 to solve this master of a puzzle.

On a rating system of 5 bookmarks, I give it a 4. Noone is perfect, even the smartest of criminals, and when you read Deavers book,  you'll understand why!

A masterful thriller!

Deaver Doesn't Disappoint!

a Thin Mints poem

I opened my freezer door

And what did I find

A box of cookies

From some great friends of mine

 

I had forgotten that

They were in there

So I’m very grateful for

My friends generosity and care

 

A box of Thin Mints

Frozen and ready to eat

So I tossed a few in my mouth

My diet has been beat

 

I hope that my friends

Enjoyed their weekend stay

My diet has been put on hold

For yet another day!

 

Hi, my name is Phil...

Hi, my name is Phil, citizen of Punxsutawny Pennsylvania, and a proud, pelaged purveyor of prognostication on potentially prolonged winter precipitation.

My prophetic day of prediction is this Saturday, aptly named Groundhogs Day, February 2nd. Why post this on February 1? Well as I so proudly proclaimed, I'm a proud, pelaged purveyor of prognostication on potentially prolonged precipitation, winter or spring. And with that, I prophesize that I won't see my shadow, bring on spring! Now what does this have to do with books and reading, well do just that, keep reading.*

In terms of monikers, I'm also known as a whistle-pig or a woodchuck, I'm not one for whistling, but I've been known to live like a sloppy pig in my college days.  However, I was brought into this world as Phil. Not Chuck. Besides, "how much wood would Phil chuck" isn't very euphonious.  But how much wood does a woodchuck chuck? Well, according to Cornell University, distinguished educational institution of Andy Bernard of the TV Series, The Office, a woodchuck can chuck about 700 lbs of wood.

Now I share this pronounced purposeful of a day with the birthday of royalty, authors, actors, actresses, athletes, military dignitaries, musical artists, a pope and... some Dude named, Henderson not to be confused with the Dude Lebowski.

A comprised list of luminaries:

 King John of Denmark (1455 - 1513)



Benedict XIII, [Pierfrancesco Orsini], Italy, 245th pope  (1694 - 1730)  (papal: 1724-30)

Albert Sidney Johnston, Gen (Confederate Army) (1803-1862)

Nathaniel Collins McLean, Brig Gen (Union volunteers), (1815-1905)

 James Joyce*, novelist/poet (Dubliners, Ulysses, Finnigan's Wake) (1882 - 1941),
who to my knowledge  is no relation to Dr. Joyce Brothers or Joyce DeWitt of Three's Company fame.






Ayn Rand*, Russian-born author and philosopher who shouldn't be confused with Rand Paul, Paul Ryan or Ron Paul.(1905-1982)

 


 



Coach George S Halas, [Papa Bear], end/coach (Bears), co-founder NFL. (1895 - 1983) who is seen here with another famous Bear...Yea, Go Bearzz! 

Howard Johnson, American hotelier (1897 -1972)

Clarence "Buster" Crabbe, California, swimmer (Olympic-gold-1932)/actor  (1908 - 1983)

Al "Red" Schoendienst, baseball manager/2nd baseman (St Louis Cards) (1923 -   )

1927 - Stan Getz, Phila, jazz tenor saxophonist  (1927 -1991)

The ever so funny, sometimes controversial, Tom Smothers, comedian. I mean, all you have to do is look at him and laugh. (1937 -  ) That's him on the left:

Graham Nash, guitarist (Crosby, Stills, Nash & sometimes Young)...(1942 - )"Our House is a very very fine house, with two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard, but now everything is easy cause of you..."

Farrah Fawcett, actress (1947 - 2009) - Hubba Hubba!

 

Christie Brinkley, [Ex-Mrs Billy Joel], model/actress (1954 - )  Dubba Hubba Hubba!

Pebbles Flintstone, fictional character on "The Flintstones"...strange but true

The wonderful singer Eva Cassidy who left us way too soon. (1963 - 1996)

 Mike Henderson, (1964 - )not to be confused with the Dude. "Look, let me explain something to you. I'm not Mr. Lebowski. You're Mr. Lebowski. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. That, or His Dudeness … Duder … or El Duderino, if, you know, you're not into the whole brevity thing."

and last but not least...

1977 - Shakira [Shakira Isabel Mebarak Ripoll],  Colombian pop singer  - - SCHWING!

Will we see our shadow? Reminds me of a song, " Shadows grow so long, before my eyes...and they're moving.."

Who was born on your birthday?  Thanks to www.historyorb.com for helping compile this list of fellow groundhogs.