Category Archives: creative writing
Can You Read This Now? A Rant Rebuttal
Recently I read a post from a fellow blogger, that gave 25 reasons why he wouldn’t read some blogs. There were too many problems with a number of sites, the least of which was a black site with white writing. That was probably meant for me, as my site was that way for a long time.
Mostly it was a bitch session, but I took it to heart and thought maybe my readers were tired of straining their eyes at my place. So I rolled out the white walls, and totally ruined my widgetry. Now you can read what’s there but can’t find ” whatever you’re looking for “.
I understand if you are putting up a thousand word post, it works better for people to have it broken up into short paragraphs. Three or four sentences, maybe five if they are relatively short. That goes for all reading. You don’t want to lose someone among all those words in there, so I try to write short paragraphs.
What about this stupid font design I pulled up? Can you read me now? I am sure it won’t matter in the least, as the Word press editor will probably change this format, to something I wasn’t looking for. It always does that, you know? This font is not all that readable, but it is bold!
I never got comments remarking on the readability of the site before I changed the theme, and I suppose it’s easier for people to read when it’s black writing on a white background, but a lot of that is from our upbringing. If paper had been black when it was first manufactured, instead of tan, or gray ( papyrus, bamboo, birch bark, parchment ) people would be used to it. Then it would be normal to see white letters on a black surface.
Straying just a little, paper yellows with age and becomes brittle. Old books are falling apart due to their age. Fortunately we are in the digital age now, and digital information won’t rot, although some of the digital information is rotten!
Anyway, that fellow blogger was moaning about spelling, and I guess he had a point there, as a spell-checker could fix that. The rant about grammar was a little far reaching, when one considers many bloggers are not from America, Australia or England where English is the main written and spoken language. But then again, the Queens provinces write a different English than do us Americans.
I don’t believe translations were taken into account either, and many languages don’t translate nicely into other languages. I expect one day in the future, humanity will manage to speak and write in a universal language. Every few hundred years the contemporary languages change. Greek was the big thing for a while, and then Latin, as scholars learned the languages of the sciences.
Off topic again, I liked ” FIREFLY “, where in a future, humanity lives in another Solar System, and the language has fragmented into the two main powers of that time period. Chinese, and English. That was a great idea!
Colors, banner ads, and other distractions. That blogger said he wouldn’t read a blog if there were two many bright colors, or there were large banners, and ads all over the site. Maybe I’ll have to get some of those. I suspect he wouldn’t like the GIF’s out there either, although he didn’t really specify.
I think he mentioned the different colored texts for every other word, so look out, as he won’t read your blog either. That fellow blogger forgot to mention the sites where you need a magnifying glass to see the text. The Word press editor seems to defeat me on that score. I will write in large bold fonts only to hit publish and have the post come out in calibri 11, and spaced at 1.15, so I don’t know how to deal with that.
Wow, guess what? ( sorta off topic ) I just discovered the ” toolbar toggle ” and I’ll bet if I use that, I can get my words big enough, for you see them from another state! I am going to try that, in a few minutes if I decide this is worth the effort to post.
I think the rest of that rant was about boring, or revamped same old posts, he had seen everywhere. I guess not all that many people are very original. Everything is built up, from a lesser model, or rearranged from a model already out there. Very few ideas are truly original. If they were, the one’s with that original idea are now rich, and certainly not blogging.
I do have to admit, that fellow blogger did make a few points that even I can agree with. I won’t read a blog that spouts a bunch of racist crap, or uses profanity to the extreme, with every other word describing in the foulest manner their views or deeds, I won’t stick around to read hatred, or even just plain nasty ranting.
Sometimes you have to spice a post up a bit, by calling a spade a spade, but a person doesn’t have to get so carried away with it, they drive people away. Even nice people use profanity sometimes. There is a time and a place for that, but it’s another thing to just go on and on.
That blogger didn’t like the one sentence posts either. I guess when you go to all of that effort of pushing a button, you want to satisfy yourself, and recharge with a medium length, interesting post. Now we all have to figure out what is Interesting, and define medium length. I didn’t realize blogging could be full of so many challenges.
Oh yeah, we are not supposed to moan about all of our problems either. That blogger pointed out, we all have our problems, and we should just leave them at home. No body wants to read our dirty laundry out here on the web. Actually he stated we should just sign in to Facebook, if that was all we were going to post. I hate Facebook, so I guess I’ll just have to quit blogging.
We were also reminded to not post our tweets, as that was usually so much drivel, so now I don’t know what to do, where to go, or how to do it. I bet if I asked that blogger, he would tell me in no uncertain terms. I am glad I have friends like that here on the Internet, to guide me and insure my presence is noticed and appreciated.
I Have A CREATIVE BLOGGER AWARD!
Once again, someone had the audacity to nominate me for an award! As though I deserve it, and I am not so sure I want such honors. I don’t consider myself a Creative Blogger, as for the most part I have been posting others work.
I try to give some interesting posts, with valuable information. Or I try to put up something that will teach others things they probably didn’t realize they would like. Mostly I am a radical looking for an outlet to scream my many causes.
My interests are so varied, I never really know what to offer. What turns me on, usually doesn’t interest anyone else. I am still amazed there are over a hundred people following my site. I was never this interesting in the actual world. I guess the digital world is different.
I am supposed to present everyone with 5 random facts about me, and here I am at a loss. I have been disclosing who I am, the real me, through long-winded stories. I have been trying to categorize them as personal / worms…
That’s another can of worms. I’ve said so much, and yet so little about who I really am, and I can’t even think of 5 random facts.
Here are the rules:
1. Contact all of your nominees and notify them of their award. You can pick as many blogs as you like, but five is the minimum.
CREATIVE BLOGGER AWARD
2. Give a shout-out to the blogger that nominated you and post a link to their website.
Butchcountry67, you know payback is a bitch, and I know an awful lot about you now, thanks to your randoms, so remember to look over your shoulder whenever you go out. I am not bothered by going under houses, or crawling around in tight spaces, as I’ve had to do that for 30 years working all phases of construction. And I am not bothered by spiders and snakes.
Just kidding! Thanks Butch, for giving me one more opportunity to show off all my skills at being amusing and Creative! I love ya.
3. Share five random facts about yourself.
4. Display the Creative Blogger Award image above your post.
5. Pass along these rules to the nominees.
So hey you nominees, you are the lucky picks for today and I hope you are excited! You all have interesting blogs and I know you are deserving of the honor of putting a CREATIVE BLOGGER AWARD on your site. Sorry if this makes more work for you, with all of the other stuff have to deal with in your lives, but hey, you are creative and you will find a way!
Lynn k Scott
1) I am not a food person. I don’t care if I eat or not. I only eat because I have to, and if I could get nourishment from the air I would. Why you ask? I would think that was fairly obvious, but if you insist I will tell you. I think ” having to crap is disgusting “. Yes everyone has to, so we are all in the same boat!
2 ) I don’t drive other people’s cars. I am an excellent driver, with only one accident, when I was 16 years old, and that was someone else passing me. The classic example… The sun was close to setting behind me, while I was making a left turn off of a highway. My turn signal was on, and a VW came whipping past me, while I was already turning. Their rear bumper hooked my front bumper, and it pulled the tail end off of the VW. The judge said that was impossible, and the other driver was a pretty woman ( even dressed my best, I am not pretty ), so I took a fall for that. I don’t drive other’s cars because Murphy always is looking for an excuse to visit me!
3 ) I don’t borrow. Not a thing. Every time I borrow something, it turns into some nightmare or other. The lender suddenly needs it back, or are so worried their junk will get stolen, or some such. Then there is the problem, the thing I would borrow is a piece of shit, and it will break, and I have to replace it! If I could afford to buy something, I would, but since I can’t afford to buy something, I usually go without.
4 ) I have a tendency to trust people, even though I’ve been around a long time, and know too many people aren’t to be trusted. I want to believe humanity is generally good, and I don’t want to just assume everybody is really only looking out for themselves, and don’t care about me, even though I keep being proven wrong on that score.
5 ) I was single until I was 35 years old! I decided not to marry my childhood sweety. I had to prove to myself I could take care of me, before I took on the responsibilities of having a family. On May 5th 2015, I will be celebrating my 25th anniversary! My wife let me know a long time ago, this would be a permanent arrangement, as I was too hard to train!
So that was my five randoms, and I hope it made everyone’s day.
Jarte – Better Than Word pad
Jarte – Better Than Word pad
I don’t know how everyone else is writing their posts, I don’t get to sit behind them and see what program they’re using. I didn’t like Office, and Open Office, the free program was just as much a pain, as the Microsoft program was. I never liked notepad, as it always wrapped the sentences. So for years I have used Word pad, which is a great program, except…..
Word pad has great features, and is a well written program, utilizing an engine that functions extremely well. It is versatile and always reminds me when I need to save my work. My only complaint with Word pad is it didn’t come with a spell- check feature, and that will be it’s downfall!
When I want a document for purposes other than a post for this site, I would have to pretend I was creating a new post, so I could edit the document, as this site has a spell-check function, and lets me know when the wording is not right. Word pad doesn’t have those features. Apparently Word pad doesn’t have many features other document editing programs have, so I have changed to a new program!
Jarte \jär · ‘tay\ noun (est. 2001) 1. A free word processor based on the Microsoft Word Pad word processing engine built into Windows. 2. A fast starting, easy to use word processor that expands well beyond the Word Pad feature set. 3. A small, portable, touch enabled word processor whose documents are fully compatible with Word and Word Pad.
“It’s one of life’s little ironies that in a country with free speech, a program called Word costs over a hundred dollars. Fortunately, we also have Carolina Road Software and their free-of-charge word processor, Jarte.”
—PC World magazine
The Jarte word processor relieves that problem by including only the features likely to be needed by real people. Jarte is designed for students, writers, small business people, and home users. But what really makes Jarte special is the unique way it makes the features that are included easily accessible.
You expect a word processor to be able to handle Word documents, font and paragraph formatting, spell checking, print preview, and more. While Jarte performs all the standard functions well, the most important aspect of Jarte is the numerous small details that make it an efficient and enjoyable tool for creating documents. Small details like:
Tabbed document windows for easy access to your open documents
Larger buttons for the most commonly used functions
Instant dictionary and thesaurus word lookup (integrates with free WordWeb)
Spell check and text search tools that do not park themselves on top of the text you are trying to edit
Single click bookmarking that make bookmarks both useful and usable
Instant access to the documents and folders you designate as your favorites
Instant access to the fonts you designate as your favorites
Use of the mouse scroll wheel button to copy and paste text
It is Jarte’s thoughtful details that will leave you wondering how you lived with that cumbersome office word processor for so long.
Take it With You!
Jarte may be the best word processor available for mobile PCs. Jarte takes up very little space on your SSD or hard drive, it runs quickly and efficiently, and Jarte’s compact display is perfect for small screen PCs. Jarte supports touch screen gestures, such as finger swipe scrolling and pinch zoom, for use on tablet PCs such as Microsoft’s Surface Pro. Jarte is an ideal word processor for mobile PCs!
Jarte may also be the best portable word processor available. Jarte can easily be run directly from a USB flash drive (or even a DropBox folder), so your word processor is always ready for you no matter what PC you’re using, providing the ultimate experience in portable word processing.
Stable WordPad Editing Engine
At the heart of Jarte sits the same word processing engine used by Windows’ WordPad. The difference is that Jarte builds far more capability around the WordPad editing engine than the WordPad program itself does. The significance of this fact is that Jarte users are secure in the knowledge that Jarte is making use of the same reliable, time tested editing engine used by millions of other Windows users all over the world. If you have tried other alternative word processors and found them to be unstable that may be in part due to their use of unreliable, home grown editing engines.
Microsoft is continually upgrading the WordPad editing engine, although you would never know it by examining WordPad. The WordPad program itself has not changed since it was first introduced. Jarte, on the other hand, continues to evolve and take advantage of useful features as Microsoft adds them to the WordPad editing engine.
Jarte is a Free Word Processor? What’s the Catch?
Yes, Jarte is completely free. There are no ads, no trial period, no nag screens, and no crippling of essential features. We do sell a separate edition of Jarte called Jarte Plus for those who want more. Many of Jarte’s regular users have been more than willing to pay the small price for the extra bells and whistles provided by Jarte Plus.
Whether or not you choose to upgrade to Jarte Plus, we hope you will go forth and free other weary souls from their corporate office word processors by introducing them to Jarte —the word processor for the rest of us.3/20/2015
Dear WordPress Support
I don’t know what exactly is going on with OM’s blog or the troubles he’s having, but I had thought I was following people, and they were following me as well, only to find I had to re-follow. I will send Jason an email and see what is going on. I recommend everyone re-blog this as a protest, or at least to make a point , and act as a statement! I know that may seem like biting the hand that feeds us, but sometimes speaking up is more important, than the consequences they bring.
The Rise of YouTube Plagiarism Bots
This is almost Plagiarism, as I didn’t change any part of it. I know at some point I will get in trouble over some of my posts. I found what I was looking for. Everything on my site is under a Creative Commons license that allows reuse with attribution.
So I used part of this post to help inform you all. Again, I wrote none of the post you’re about to read, and you must follow the link to finish it.
The Rise of YouTube Plagiarism Bots
By Jonathan Bailey on Mar 17, 2015 03:47 pm
For almost as long as there’s been a YouTube, there’s been spam on it.
Traditionally this spam has taken the format of garbage accounts uploading misleading videos, often with fake thumbnails, for the purpose of promoting products, services or some cause.
But while that type of spam still certainly exists on YouTube, it’s now being joined by a new kind of spam, automated videos that plagiarize content from blogs, news sites and other text sources.
For the spammer, this is a very easy way to flood YouTube with a large number of low-quality topical videos. The result for content creators, especially those who produce text or image content, is that your hard work is being used to fuel spam videoblogs and those spammers will have an upper hand in search results because of the way Google shows preference to YouTube in its algorithm.
This raises two difficult questions: What can YouTube do to battle this problem? And what can creators do to protect their work?
Understanding YouTube’s Plagiarism Bots
I would like to thank Jonathan Bailey for allowing me to use some of his material for the preceding post. You can find more information at his site plagiarismtoday.com/stopping-inter…
Pa Fenton loaded us into his car and drove on down the road. The ride was a short one, as us kids had walked most of the way to his home, over the long cold night. The car was crowded, as Pa and Ma were in the front seat. Both Ma and Pa were old, probably in their late sixties, with silver hair and wrinkled skin. They all were dressed for court, and Pa had shaved sort of.
Jack’s Mannequin- Rescued/lyrics
Marty, a girl of about 16 years was in the back seat, and moved over to let my brother, sister and myself have some room in there with her. She smiled a big smile at me, and I didn’t know how to deal with that, my heart thumped in my chest sitting next to her. The house we were headed for was only another mile down the road. We had almost made it there on our own, despite how tired we were.
At least we would be safe now. Ma and Pa Fenton ran a receiving home for abused children, and allowed those kids to live with them, until foster homes could be found. Usually that process only took a month or so, but in this case it might take a little longer than that. We would still have to be processed through the system, and we would probably be split up, as nobody ever took in three kids at the same time.
The process can be long and involved. We would have to call my probation officer, who worked for the state, schedule a court appearance, and go through the multitude of formalities involved with children that had been abused, or were considered beyond parental control. I had been through all of this before a couple of times. I was labeled 601, according to California statutes.
601 was beyond parental control. I was considered a chronic runaway. At no time had anyone listened to or understood, my views of the events, that finally led to why we were here now. I was only 12 years old, and grown-ups didn’t think I should have any ideas or opinions, about what my brother, sister and I, had been living with. It was generally thought, children didn’t know anything.
Pa started telling us what was to happen in the coming days. I was to call my probation officer as soon as we got to the house, so Ma and Pa wouldn’t get into any trouble. Harboring runaways was as bad as robbing banks, as far as the state was concerned. It was okay to beat your kids, but it wasn’t okay for someone to save them, it seemed.
The ride only lasted ten minutes, and didn’t allow us to rest from our ordeal. Marty said she was happy to see my brother and myself again, and that probably made me blush. We had met her 4 months prior, and I had a mild crush on her. Marty was 15 or 16 years old, and pretty in my way of thinking. She had, had a bad home life, and was living in the receiving home, awaiting a family that could treat her right. Sometimes it seemed as though nobody had a very nice family.
When we pulled up in the driveway a young boy came out of the house. His name was Steven we were told. He immediately told Ma and Pa, about the phone call, and said whoever it had been wasn’t willing to leave a message. I chimed in at that. ” That was me ” I said, and then explained how I only had 1 dime, and knew it would be pointless to leave a message. I wouldn’t be near a phone, as we were walking across town, and trying to hide from the authorities.
Us kids hadn’t eaten since the evening before we left home. We were starved, and weary. Karol and Kevin were a little apprehensive as to what was going to happen next. I wasn’t quite so worried as this time I had witnesses, as to the conditions we had been living with. Ma and Pa Fenton knew who my probation officer was, so while Ma made food for us, Pa dialed the phone and talking to my probation officer started the next phase of our tribulations.
During the 60’s, social workers were called probation officers. They had large case loads, and at that time, and children were meant to be seen, not heard. She had known of my situation, and had figured it was just a case of a 12-year-old boy, that didn’t want to conform, or follow rules. I realized this was going to muck things up, especially since I was stronger than my siblings and prone to speaking my mind, when I was allowed to.
Pa Fenton talked to my p.o. It was late enough in the day, to put off any kind of action until the following day. I didn’t have to talk to her, at least not then. Ma and Pa both, were happy to see us again and even happier to meet Karol. They had heard about her, and how bad we said things were. They did believe us, but having a new source of information definitely helped the situation. Karol telling the story would at least give credence to my tales.
Marty and Steven were the only children at the home, at that time, so there was room for the three of us as well. The place was set up dormitory style, with a girls section and a boys. there were lots of bunk beds along two of the walls, and each section had room for about a dozen kids in waiting. Last time I had been there, eight other kids were pretending that was home.
We settled in, hoping we would be able to stay there more permanently. I was dreading the coming day, having to see my p.o. She wasn’t ever mean, just disbelieving about things, when it came to me. She would be one of the more decent people I had to deal with, it turned out.
Morning came and I had to be awakened. I slept so soundly everyone thought I had kicked the bucket. I couldn’t remember a time before then, that I rested so well. I didn’t have to be aware of my Step Mother slipping in and hitting or kicking me. My Step Mother had broken my nose so many times, I had deviated septum, and couldn’t breathe through my nose. I would get hit, for sleeping with my mouth open too! I had learned to cover half of my face when I slept.
Betty Ralph’s came by at about 8:30 am, and talked with us. We already had a court docket for 2:15 that afternoon. She was extremely apologetic for allowing us boys to be sent back to my parents place after the last time, we went through this. The judge I had seen told me, ” If you were my son, I would take you home and give you what for “. That was just what I had needed to hear. The attitudes back then were different from today.
Court was a fiasco, as one might expect. The same judge, my same probation officer, only this time she actually argued in favor for us kids. Although the judge didn’t like this turn of events, he allowed us children to remain in the custody of the receiving home until foster homes could be located. We were never able to be placed in a home together, and over the course of a two month period, we were placed into separate foster homes.
We finally had been heard, and I should have just called Ma and Pa Fenton in the first place. We could have saved ourselves the long walk, and all of the worry about police, truant officers, and my Step Mother’s punishments. We had finally been Rescued….
I could hear my Step-Mother yelling and hitting my sister. The house was small. you couldn’t, not hear what was happening anywhere in it. It was an old place, put on the side of a salt water creek. When it was a new house, it was probably just a fishing shack. A place to get out of the weather.
We had a small room near the street side of the house. The house sat back 300 feet off of the road. The three of us shared the same bedroom, and my step-mother and my dad had the other bedroom. Their room was at the view end of the place, with a big picture window looking out at the creek, and Mt. Tamalpais. The mountain was only a mile away to its base, and rose to a height of 2571 feet.
We had been in that house now for over a year, and I had only been allowed outside to go to school. I wasn’t allowed to go hunt lizards, or catch frogs, or do anything that would give me a sense of not being watched. I almost got to go outside one day.
I was being let out, to play or whatever, and I was truly stunned. I get to go out! I grabbed my jacket and started for the back door, and wham! I got smacked so hard in the mouth, my caps on my previously broken teeth, broke, tearing my lips and cutting my tongue. ” You know better than to go out, where your dad is!” she screamed at me.
” Your dad is out there working on the car, now if you’re going out, use the sliding door off the porch! “. She continue to scream at me, and paid no attention to the damage she had just caused. I knew If I cried, I only got it worse, so I hid my tears, shut my bleeding broken toothed mouth, and tip-toed out the sliding glass door, before she changed her mind.
My sister was still in our room, crying. My little brother had been outside many times, and was out by the creek already. I was so happy with being outside, away from HER. I even liked school, even though I was supposed to keep my grades low. That was hard. Pretending to be dumb. Acting like I didn’t understand stuff, just so I might not get a beating.
I joined my brother on the stinky muddy bank of the creek, watching the tide going out, exposing turds and toilet paper. The houses along the creek drained all of their plumbing, right into the creek. Low tide was nasty, but outside was a thrill. I would rather have the stink and turds, than go back inside.
” What’s she yelling about now? “, my brother asked. ” She said I could go out, and then smacked me for almost going out by where dad is”. I said. I had to be careful of what I said. I couldn’t talk to either my sister, or my brother. Steppie had a way of getting information out of them. I never had that problem, because she never asked me anything, in the way of just talking.
We could see over the bank of the creek, and my dad was intent on working on the car. He either never heard anything, or had learned to turn a deaf ear to it. I heard him ask HER, where us kids were once. She told him, we had already eaten dinner, and were in our room, studying.
He seemed to approve of that. He went to work at 7 in the morning, and came home about 5pm. He never saw us. we weren’t allowed to see him either. He never seemed concerned, as to where we were, or what we were doing.
My brother and I didn’t have much in common, aside from living in Hell. He wasn’t very coordinated when it came to throwing a ball or catching. Not balls, not lizards or snakes, and usually even the frogs were more coordinated than he was. He didn’t get picked for teams at school, and he didn’t seem to care.
” Is She still mad?” he asked. I shrugged, that was good enough for an answer. “I heard Her hitting Karol ” he said, and then kicked at an old willow stump, almost fiercely, and actually looking angry. ” What’s your problem?” I asked, even though I was sure he had none. He was the youngest of us, and held favor with Steppie, almost equal to Karol.
” I don’t like Steppie! I hate it here, and Karol told me she hates HER too “. I didn’t say much, it was dangerous to say anything that might get back to Steppie. I pretended to be interested in the sunset, and ignored him. The sun was going down, and we had to get back inside, or more crap would happen. I reveled in the last rays of the sun as it buried itself behind the mountain.
” We gotta go in now, before we get in more trouble ” I said, and started sluggishly walking toward the house. I had to look to see if my dad was about, so I could avoid the wrath of my Step-Mother. I couldn’t do anything right. No matter what I did, I was always in trouble.
Today we were all in trouble, and no one did anything wrong. We did the chores, cleaning the house, and that was only an okay chore when SHE had the t.v. on. That was the only time I ever got to watch it. My life was get up, go to school, get right back home, and don’t be late. Hurry home so we can clean the house and cook dinner, and eat before dad got there. Then, back into our room.
Dad was already inside. My Step-Mother was out on the deck. She pointed to the back door, meaning don’t come in this way. I just about had her all figured out. I didn’t want to aggravate her. The smallest thing set her off, and I never knew what it would be next. I headed around the side of our house, my brother tailing me like a cat, following a mouse.
When us boys got into our room, we could see the slap marks on Karol’s face. She was sullenly sitting on her bed, staring at the ceiling, and holding her guitar. She couldn’t play it, but she pretended to, and having a big something across her body protected her sometimes.
She looked at me hard. I could feel her looking at me, so I glanced over at her. She mouthed something. Steppie could hear us if we whispered, so we didn’t. Karol mouthed, slowly, and carefully enunciated soundless, “we need to get out of here “. What a trick, I heard her loud and clear, as if she had screamed it. I only nodded, and my brother pipes up, ” Whatcha noddin for? ” and he said that so loudly, I wanted to kill him.
In very quiet tones I lied, and told him I was thinking of a song. He then wanted to know which one. I told him ” Sky Pilot “, knowing it was one of his favorites. He believed me and started humming the tune to himself. I looked at my sister and mouthed ” tonight “. She understood me, and we let the conversation go.
It was dark. My sister awakened me, and whispered ” I think they’re asleep now “. I got out of bed carefully so I wouldn’t wake Kevin, and crept to the blanket that separated the two bedrooms. Carefully I peeked around it, without letting it move more than an inch, Just snores, maybe we could do this.
” Get a heavy coat, and good walking shoes ” I whispered to Karol. While she crept around the room getting what I had told her to get, I woke my brother. ” We are leaving ” I whispered, “Get your jacket, and shoes. Don’t put your shoes on yet, just carry them “, and I grabbed my stuff too.
We quietly crept from our room, and I swear, every step made an echo, every board in the floor creaked, loudly. I made it to the back door and tried to turn the lock latch, without making a sound. It needed oil, and it made a squeaking, grinding noise that seemed to bounce off of every surface. I got the lock open and turned the rattly door knob. It was loose, and rattled loudly.
The snore sounds were different now, we probably made too much noise, but we would get killed if Steppie caught us now. I pulled the door open and the scream of squeaky hinges, should have awakened the neighbors, a quarter-mile away. It was so loud to me, I didn’t hesitate to move. We bolted away from the house, jumping across the porch, and down into the dirt.
Karol and Kevin were right behind me, and no one shut the door. We ran down the driveway out to the main street in front of the house. We were far enough away now, we could talk quietly, but we needed to get away from there, It was late, one o’clock or so, and it wouldn’t do, for us to be seen by the police. We put on our shoes, and I led the way, taking a track across an empty field. Moving as quickly as we could, we put some distance between the house and ourselves.
“where are we going to go? ” my sister wanted to know. ” There is a place on the other side of San Rafael, where we can go “, I said. ” The Fenton’s? ” asked Kevin. ” Yeah, the Fenton’s ” I said, ” But we have to be quiet, and stay in the shadows, until we can get into the hills .
Ma and Pa Fenton were an old couple. They ran a receiving home, a place where kids could stay, between foster homes or adoptions, or just when kids needed a safe place. They took in kids, that were in trouble. All I really knew, was they were nice.
” I know a way over the big Greenbrea hill, that cops don’t go on. We’ll have to walk all night though. The fenton’s place is out by Santa Venetia, and that’s 14 miles down the freeway. We can’t go that way, so it’ll be a lot farther”.
We negotiated our way around the creek, and I led them across a mile of empty fields, tripping and stumbling over and around the torn up ground. The lights from the cities around us, gave us a little illumination, but It was extremely dark. Being in a hurry, and afraid we would be seen or picked up by the police, seemed to heighten our senses.
We had to cross a bridge, on a main road, so we waited in some brush by the edge of the road, until there were no cars near, and bolted across the bridge, diving back into the tall brush on the other side of the bridge. “Just past the church on the main drag, we can start up the hill, and no one will be able to see us or get to us ” I told them.
We sneaked the rest of the way across the next town, and no one seemed to have noticed. As soon as we started up the hill, I heard a car, rolling up the gravel road. panicking, I pushed my brother and sister down on the ground, and told them to hide in the trees about 50 feet away. We belly crawled all 50 feet, and barely made it to cover when headlights cut through the air above us. We huddled quietly, trying to be small, and heard the radio blare, ” J19, request your location”.
It was a cop! Someone must have seen us. I was nearly panicked, and the faces of Kevin and Karol were dripping with terror. Karol whispered to me ” If we get caught they’ll send us back there “. She was almost in tears, and Kevin was about to cry as well. ” SHHH, just be quiet. Don’t make a sound. If he can’t see us or hear us, he won’t know we’re here”, I bravely whispered back. I couldn’t let them know how afraid I was at that moment.
The cop turned on his spotlight and flashed it around. He did it too fast, and didn’t see us when the light flashed by, right at us. He pointed the light at something off to our left. I was inspired, and had an idea. I found a fist sized rock and threw it as far as I could. I threw it high, and away from the path we would take. It arced up over a tree and sailed down through the leaves of a tree a long way from us. The cop heard it passing through the leaves and turned his spotlight in that direction.
It was an inspired move. The rock made lots of noise going through the trees, and bounced off of something. Before the rock even stopped moving, I heard the sound of something running away. The cop heard it too, and jumped back in his car headed back the way he had come, probably looking for the running whatever.
We stayed hidden for another ten minutes or so, and then headed up the hill. I followed some deer trails, leading Karol and Kevin up and over the hill. It was late and getting cool out, so I stepped up the pace to help keep us warm.
We made our way down the hill, and I angled our trail toward the industrial area, where we hoped no one would see us at that time of day. I had been a runaway several times before, so I kind of knew what we could do, and how we could go, without causing notice. We got into the industrial area at about 5 o’clock am, and the cities were beginning to wake up.
I led us to an old run down shed alongside the railroad tracks, and we huddled in there for a couple of hours. Every noise struck terror. I wasn’t afraid of animals, I was afraid of the police. Every time a car rolled by, I felt sure we were going to be discovered. After a couple of hours, I noticed school busses starting on their rounds.
” We can go out on the streets now, but we have to go fast. If we’re seen after school starts, we’ll get picked up, so come on, let’s go! ” They didn’t argue, but we all were tired, and we still had a long way to go.
We followed the tracks for about a mile, to the base of another tall forested hill. ” We can go over this hill, and that will cut a couple of miles off this walk”, I explained, ” the Fenton’s live maybe 5 or 6 miles farther, this hill will take us to the next valley, it’s steep, but it’s a shortcut, and the cops won’t see us”.
We climbed the hill, sticking to the trees. It was a hard climb because of the slope, but we made good time and only had to rest a couple of times. When we came out of the trees at the bottom of the hill, it was only 8:30, according to the clock by City Hall. It would be alright for us to be on the streets, but only for an hour or so.
” We have to hurry ” I urged, ” we only have about half an hour before the truant officers will ask, why we’re not at school “. Although we were tired, from all of the walking, and climbing over the hills, we picked up our pace. It looked like we might just make it. It would be hard to cover 3 or 4 miles in the time we had.
We had no money, so we couldn’t jump on a bus, and I knew better than to suggest we hitch hike. I told Karol and Kevin, the cops would bust us for sure if we tried that. 3 youngsters hitchhiking would be like starting a fire, so we tried jogging for a while. That helped eat the distance, but it would be close. Schools would already be starting, and we needed to get off of the streets, and hidden again.
The last three miles were the toughest. The road we needed take, to get to where we were going, would lead right past, where my Step-Mother worked part-time. None of us kids figured Steppie would be there, with us being ” runaways “, and having been gone when her day started. We were still jogging, and walking, trying to hurry.
We were dead tired after walking all night, and I was afraid we would get picked up by the police, if we were out on the streets much longer. We still had a couple of miles to travel, to get to safety. There were a lot of cars on the road, mostly commuters who didn’t have to be at work early. There were vehicles parked in parallel along the edge of the roadway.
I saw a police car up ahead of us, heading toward us. It was about six or seven cars back in a long string of cars, that had just taken off from a stop-light. I told the others to walk closely to the parked vehicles, and we paced ourselves so we could be behind a van when the cop passed by. It worked! The police man didn’t see us as he passed, but when we came out from behind the van, I saw my Dad’s car going toward where Steppie worked.
He was taking my Step Mother to her job, only a few blocks farther up this same road. Now my terror was rising, did they see us? My Dad kept driving up the road, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. That was too close. If he was taking Steppie to work, he would be coming back this way in another few minutes.
There were a lot of cars parked on the side of the road, but I didn’t see another truck or van to hide behind. My panic was taking over, and my mind was racing through plans, as to what we might be able to do. There were parking meters along the edge of the sidewalk. I was looking down at the gutter and spotted a dime, someone must have dropped. If we could find enough change, we could catch a bus! I told Karol, she should cross the road, and look along the street edge for more change.
She argued about that. She didn’t want us to separate, especially with our Dad in the vicinity. It made sense, but I thought we would be better off if we found some more money. She won that battle. I knew it was asking a lot. We all were scared, tired, out of options, and in a panic. We were so close.
On the other side of the street, about half a block farther was a gas station, and off to the side of it was a phone booth. We could call the Fenton’s! How is it I hadn’t thought of that before now? They had told me I could call them, if I ever needed help. We were close to their place, so the call shouldn’t be a toll call. That was the answer, and it would put us on the other side of the road. Maybe my dad wouldn’t be looking here for us.
The last time I had run away, I had Kevin with me. Steppie never even called the police! We were gone from home for two weeks, and she didn’t report it. Maybe my Dad didn’t know we had run away. Maybe to him, we weren’t missing, and he wouldn’t be looking. All of the wishful thoughts rattled around my brain. All of the positive maybe’s left me feeling like we had a chance.
” Cross the street, after these cars pass, and we’ll go to the gas station ” I told them. ” I have that dime, and there’s a phone booth over there “, I pointed with my chin. ” We can call them and maybe they’ll come get us. Also Dad might be coming by here again in a few minutes, and I don’t see anywhere else to hide. You kin go into the bathrooms while I try to call the Fenton’s. If Dad drove by, he’d only see a kid in a phone booth, and it’s half way back of the station “. I hoped I sounded convincing, so we could get off of the streets, and out of sight.
The line of cars passed, and we dashed across the street, and just kept running to the side of the gas station. I was faster than them, by a mile. I got in the phone booth, and slammed the door shut, before they even made it half way there.
The phone book was in there, and it was pretty new, not all ripped up like they get. I started looking for their number, still watching for my dad’s car, and praying the Fentons would be there. I found the number, dropped my only dime in the slot, and heard the chime of the phone eating my dime. The dial tone came on and I carefully started dialing. 4….3…5…..7…….9………1.8……..itstarted to ring in the earpiece, and I impatiently counted rings. 1…..2…..3……4…..Karol and Kevin were just shutting the doors to the restrooms, and there was my Dad’s car! It rolled by, and he never looked! 6…..7…..8..” hello? ” It was a kid, not Ma or Pa Fenton. ” I’m trying to reach Ma or Pa Fenton ” I spoke as, grown up as I could sound. ” They aren’t here, could I take a message? ” the kid asked. My hopes crashed, so much for wishful thinking, I thought. I wasn’t going to be able to call them back, and I didn’t know if you could even call a phone booth. I was starting to panic again, and my brain mentioned Marty to me. ” Is Marty there? ” I asked hopefully. ” No, Marty had to go to court, that’s where Ma n Pa are too” the kid replied. That meant we couldn’t get them to pick us up. Court can take all day sometimes. I know, I’ve been to court a couple of times already. ” D’you know when they’ll be back? ” I asked, knowing already this was a waste of a dime. ” They said about one, if things went smooth” he replied, sounding confidently. My hopes were smashed, now what are we going to do? We can’t stay around here, and we can’t be on the streets, and I was running out of ideas. ” Okay ” I said, ” Thanks, guess I’ll just go ” I blurted, not knowing what to say anymore. It wouldn’t matter who I was, or what I wanted. This kid wouldn’t be able to help, or do anything for me. I hung the receiver up hard, hoping, that would fool the thing into giving me back my dime, and growled when it didn’t.
The convalescent home Steppie worked at was only another block farther up the road, and we would have to pass by it. There was a park, we might be able to hide in, but it was going to be risky going 3 or 4 more blocks. The parking meter zone, would quit at the next corner, and there wouldn’t be parked cars to help shield us.
I told Karol and my brother what was up, and we debated what to do. We all knew we couldn’t stay here in the restrooms, and we shouldn’t be on the streets. How come I always had to do stuff, with no real options, I wondered to myself? All the grown-ups always talked about solutions, and all I ever had was problems.
We ran back across the street, and made for the park, hoping no one would see us. As we went passed the nursing home, we saw Steppie, shaking out some sheets through a second floor window! We ran as fast as we could for the last few blocks to the park. There was a little dip in the center, with a few trees around an old beat up picnic table and rusted firebox. We crawled under the table, sure we would get caught.
” I saw HER up there, on the second floor ” my sister said quietly, ” SHE looked right at us! What are we going to do? ” I shrugged, I didn’t know what to do. If it were a math problem, it would at least have something on the other side of the equal sign. I didn’t see that something. I was fresh out of ideas. ” We’ll have to stay hidden here, until schools get out ” I stammered, ” There’s no way we can get another mile down the road, and there’s nothing we could do”.
My brain was spinning! We were in trouble. My Dad wouldn’t normally drive Steppie to work, so he must know we were gone. She saw us, maybe, but she couldn’t call him, yet. But if she did see us, she could call the cops! We were only three blocks from where she was, and if they looked for us, they would check here!
Hope, was only another mile away, and town was thinning. We didn’t belong on any street, or in any public place. We were supposed to be in school. It was almost 10 o’clock, by my reckoning, and we needed to lay low until at least 2 o’clock. I said we could probably rest for the time being, and I would see if there was something else we do. All I could do, was to try to keep us from panicking, and exposing ourselves.
We were only hidden from the street. If anyone decided to walk through the small park, they would see three kids hiding under a picnic table. I just hoped we could wait it out without being discovered. We all were tired, but I was so pent-up with nervous energy, I could barely lay there quietly.
Every car that slowed on the roadway caused me to jump. Every sound was clear to me. I could hear voices of people walking by out near the street, and was sure, I would see them peering into the park looking for us. The time did not pass nearly fast enough. It seemed time had actually stopped.
Finally! A school bus rolled by, but it was empty. I saw Karol and Kevin were napping and I didn’t want to bother them. I was getting antsy. Just a bit longer, and we could continue in the open, without being too obvious. It occurred to me, if we were being sought by police, we would only be too obvious anyway. We needed to walk separately when we did get to go. We needed to appear as though we had nothing in common, aside from coming home from school.
Another bus was rolling by, and slowing near the park. It was full of mixed aged kids. ” Hey you two, it’s time to go. I will go in front, cuz I know where it is. Kevin, you need to follow me, and stay back about 5 feet. Can’t hide we’re brothers, if the cops are really looking, we’re dead. Karol, you gotta stay back about 30 feet, like from here to that fountain, so it ain’t like you’re with us “. I finished explaining my long thought out plan.
We were able to be seen now without looking too out-of-place. I learned the last time I split, you had to look like you belonged where you were. We could blend in with the other kids getting off of the bus. We left the pit area and ran over to the restrooms and got drinks at the fountain.
I led the way with my brother trailing my steps. There were about six other kids walking past the park, and a few more were cutting through it from the other side. Karol waited until we were well ahead of her and followed. There were kids between my sister and us boys, and when I looked back there, I think it would have fooled anyone.
Some of the kids were turning off the sidewalk at different houses, and cross streets. We weren’t quite pacing the bus, and that meant we would run out of kid cover fast. I tried to go faster, without being too obvious, but we all were hungry and dead tired. The bus dropping kids off, was already a half of a mile ahead, and there was no way we would be able to keep up with it.
There were cars going by, probably Moms picking up kids, and getting groceries. So far no cops, but even I knew they liked to hide behind stuff and wait. A purple car went past and then hit the brakes. The car pulled over to the shoulder, on the other side of the road, and stopped. The back window was rolling down and a girl yelled in my direction. I looked behind me and saw Karol walking slowly, hanging back about 50 feet. There was no one between us anymore,
” Rusty! What are you doing here? ” she shouted out of the window. The driver was getting out of the car, and I recognized him. It was Pa Fenton! I couldn’t believe my eyes or our good fortune. ” Karol, catch up, we got a ride! ” I shouted, and she double timed it, catching up fast. Pa was crossing the road, studying us and smiling. He was probably in his late 60’s, and moved pretty slow. He was grizzly looking, because he didn’t care much for shaving.
” Watcha doin, and who’s that? ” he asked me, while pointing at Karol. I hugged him, so happy to be rescued. I told him we ran away in the middle of the night, and what we had to do to get there. He shook Karol’s hand and told us to get into the car. Never had I felt as safe or secure before that. Pa had seen us, and we would be safe now.
IT’S THE LIEBSTER AWARD!
Well looky here, I have been nominated for the prestigious, much coveted and fought over, LIEBSTER AWARD! I truly have to give my thanks and appreciation to Shruti of Shruti Insights, for offering me this unexpected and awkwardly wonderful opportunity. She has offered me a chance to experience a shot at the Golden Ring, the Kewpie Doll, the Final frontier of Fame and Glory in the ” Blogosphere “. I certainly would never have attempted, or volunteered for Honors such as these, on my own, so again Thank you for the inspiration, and privilege, only using my fear of shotguns or Wrathful, and thoroughly disappointed Friends, to make a man of me, and Accept this One Giant Leap For Mankind Test. Shruti, you’re the best!
So there are rules to all of this. Apparently in order to be a big shot around these parts, I have to play by THESE RULES.
Put the Liebster Award logo on your blog.
Thank and tag the blog who nominated you.
Answer their questions and come up with 10 new ones for you nominees.
Nominate 8 blogs with less than 200 followers, let them know you’ve nominated them and link them in your post.
So Shruti, with much pounding of heart, I will under take this feat, and I Thank You sincerely for your having Faith and Belief in my abilities!
These are the Ten questions I get to answer!
1.Among your blog posts, which one is your favourite?
Well thank you for asking! My favorite post was a story I wrote a couple of years ago, called ” The Waiting Game”, and It was basically a true story about circumstances I had no control over. I only embellished it a tad.
2.At what time of the day do you usually write a blog post?
That is tricky because I post whenever I am either inspired by an idea, or feel like I’m not delivering enough, or not giving people what they want.
3.What is your favourite word in your native language?
Wow, I wish you hadn’t asked me that. I don’t believe I have a singular favorite word. My favorite phrase is ” Papa, I love you! ”
4.What do you like to eat in the morning?
That is an easy one, as I don’t eat in the early day. Usually I start getting hungry about 2 or 3 in the afternoon, and I’m a guy so it really doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it can be wolfed down easily.
5.Choose one: tea, coffee, milk, hot chocolate. Why do you choose it?
Coffee with cream and sugar. But again, I drink freshly ground dark French Roast. Oh I’m sorry, you asked why? I grew up with good coffee in the S.F. bay area, and I’ve learned coffee really is the cheapest beverage, aside from water, and I don’t like water as fish do things in it.
6.Do you have a close friend? Is there one thing that you can only do with that friend?
I am married to my bestest, closest friend, and the thing we do together, I am not allowed to publicly speak about!
7.What is your favourite book and why do you like it?
That’s a hard one, but I can safely say my nearly favorite book, if I can only name one is BattleField Earth, by L. Ron Hubbard. I like that it’s long and involved, even though some of it is rather childish, I enjoy humanity taking back their home, and making a difference out in the cosmos.
8.What do you really want to learn but you haven’t got the time to do it?
Everything! I want my education to always continue. Right now I want to learn how to make my site work for me. The part about not enough time, unfortunately takes presidence over everything.
9.What do you miss from your childhood?
I miss my mommy! She died when I was 9, and I had to grow up because of that.
10.Where will you go if you just feel bored at home?
I am not at home at present. In December, I had to come down here to Reno Nevada to help take care of my family. I don’t get bored at home, as I live on 20 acres, in the mountains, and if the trailer feels cramped I just go outside.
Now it’s time to make my own nominations for the LIEBSTER AWARD, so I hope I don’t lose any friends over this!
Random Musings And Wanderlust
Bittersweet Sensations babyruthbeer
Dr. J M Landin @ RedNewtGallery
LIZZIE BRIGHT @ http://lizziebright.com/
Victoria Iskak @ Raindrops & Fireflies
Margaret @ Suds & Kisses
mboki_m @ learning web development
And now, finally I get to ask my nominees their most dreaded and difficult to answer, questions.
1) Now that you are here in the magical realm of the blogosphere, what do you want?
2) What is your inner animal?
3) On your blog, are you public, or private, in regard to your personal self?
4) Are you happy in your present place in this life?
5) If I could give you one wish, what would that be?
6) What would be your ideal job?
7) Do you have a favorite kind of pet?
8) Are you able to discuss, religion, politics, or feelings openly, with strangers?
9) Knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently, and of course, why?
10) How many fingers am I holding up?
I told you these would be formidable questions, even though I didn’t word it that way. I didn’t want to scare you away. And in advance, Thank You for playing, now take your dang football and go home!
The Car part 2
” Bill just gave my keys to someone I don’t know! I thought we were
getting along just fine. That’s always the way of things though. I
treated Bill and the family right, didn’t break, unless it was absolutely
necessary, and then it was only a small thing. I wasn’t really broken,
just had a couple of loose connections”.
Bill was always able to figure out what I needed, but today he up and
gave me away! I don’t understand these people sometimes. The
worst part of this whole deal is this new guy, who now has my keys,
also has dogs! Not the little cute, fit in a pocket type dogs, but huge
hundred pounders. Maybe one might be tolerable, two would be
stretching things, but three?”.
Three huge dogs that take up all of the room in my back seat. They are so big, they can’t even lay down at the same time. And the extra weight! I’m sure the combined weight is about 350 pounds, and I’m not used to any of this. I have been known to allow a dog a ride on occasion, but this new guy takes those huge, furry, slobbering animals everywhere! I really do hate dogs. Nasty beasts, always licking their crotches, and shedding fur constantly!”.
So as a faithful rig (that’s what the guy calls me, a rig ) I keep myself in control, and pretend dogs are alright, even though I would rather have normal passengers like people. The worst part about having to accept the dog thing is I don’t get any say, not one word as to what my preferences are. It’s like my feelings don’t matter. The guy acts like me hauling, big, hairy,crotch licking, overweight dogs is my driving ambition”.
” At least there is one thing I don’t mind about this whole new guy affair, and that is the country. This guy and his wife and the God awful, overweight dogs, live somewhere outside of the city, in the mountains. Even though I’m not big powerful car, with a super powerful V8 engine, I really do love the country. I don’t have to fight with all of those newer cars all vying for position on the roadways”.
” Another thing I like, even though I would never admit it to the guy, is he only drives me into big town about once a month, and to the little town, every couple of weeks. That allows me to rest somewhat. It’s not that I hate going places, but this guy lives way up a mountain, and it’s uphill all of the way. And, it’s a crappy dirt and rock trail he drives me up. Not like the perfect gravel I was so at home on”.
” I will have to admit, the guy with those damn dogs drives me nicely. He has a way of letting me feel like I have control rolling down the roads and trails he uses. He must look way out in front of me when he’s driving, because I hardly ever have to come to a stop so fast that it hurts my soft parts. It’s like he watches out for me, and that is kinda nice”.
” I still don’t understand why Bill gave me away. It’s frustrating, you know? A car gets in the habit of being with a particular driver, knowing what is expected, and knowing the way to go. This new guy doesn’t treat me wrong or anything, but I was with Bill for 18 years, and that is like a lifetime! But, now I’ve been here with giant, fat, crotch licking dogs guy, for about 2 years, and even though I can tell he respects me, I miss my comfortable gravel and Bill”.
” Another thing that bothers me about all of this is, I was just getting used to the guy, and even not really minding having the stupid dogs always jumping in me, and messing around with my seat covers. I was getting used to this life, and was even resigned to this as my life, and then one day, the guy did the same thing Bill did! What are people’s problems that they just give their friends away? At least, I thought we were friends. I was there for him, and those frigging dogs, and he up and gave me to some girl!”.
” A girl! Can you believe that? I was always a guy’s car, and then all of a sudden, without any warning, I am suddenly a girl’s car! People are truly strange, you know what I mean? I was getting along with the guy, and the dogs, and the nasty trail the guy pretends is a road, and he gives me away to a girl! Now I’ll have to try to get along with her, and she doesn’t know diddly squat about cars, let alone me and my quirks. How could she? Girls don’t know about stuff like that!”.
” I realize I have to accept these things, and can’t pout or act up, because I know other cars have been scrapped for doing stuff like that. But it just ain’t fair, not one little bit. I did overhear a conversation about this change of circumstance for me. I don’t know if I agree with the reasoning, but, apparently the guy and dogs, only used me on occasion, like I said earlier, and this girl ( I don’t think I like them very much ) needed me for a 50 mile each way commute”.
” This would happen on a daily basis! No more, once a month to the big town, every two weeks to the little town stuff. Now I was going to have to move down the road every day. At least this would be on a paved surface. I don’t miss the dirt and rock trail, not one bit. It still bothers me that the girl is my driver though. I’m just not that kind of rig. See? I still think I’m that guy’s rig, and am not thinking right, any more. I just don’t know what is to become of me. Maybe someday I’ll figure all of this out. At least I hope I do, I don’t like all of this suspension!”.