Day of the Dead, Day 1.  Coffee in Mexico

For my first day to write at least 30 blog entries concerning the Day of the Dead, I decided to focus on coffee, to celebrate the brand of coffee I represent: La Catrina Coffee, since La Catrina is such an icon for the Day of Dead celebrations.

According to the Perfect Daily Grind website, Coffee was first brought to Mexico by Europeans who cultivated it on farms and plantations (a large farm). Since those days when the Spanish first brought plants from Cuba, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic, coffee is now grown in sixteen of Mexico’s states and websites say that Mexico is the ninth largest coffee producer in the world. Evidently, there are three major Mexican coffee regions—Chiapas, Oaxaca, and Veracruz.  According to the sources I consulted, after some years of slumps, Mexican coffee production is increasing.

With the Day of the Dead approaching, I felt it would be good to take a look at a fast up-and-coming coffee company in my second home, the Rio Grande Valley. Here’s some information about La Catrina Coffee:

ABOUT THE NAME OF THE COMPANY: As the central character in the Mexican holiday, The Day of the Dead, our namesake La Catrina symbolizes the cultural relationship that Mexicans have with death and allows them a way to honor, protect and celebrate the memory of those who have passed.

ABOUT THE COFFEE

La Catrina’s organically grown coffee is produced by farmers without the use of artificial chemicals and/or pesticides.  Our delicious collection of organically grown coffee is healthy for you, and good for our environment! It is Coffee that is grown, harvested, and then roasted to delightful perfection. Rest assured that we have searched for the perfect coffee beans throughout Latin America and only the BEST roasts make it into our bags! It is educator-owned and operated, and supporting education, fellow teachers, artists, and writers is a top priority.

MORE ABOUT OUR MISSION:

The recent Covid-19 pandemic has made it more difficult than ever for children to have access to music education, so La Catrina Coffee is on a mission to help support those children out there with “big dreams” who may not have the financial support to pay for music lessons, instruments, or other related necessities.  To help foster the love of music in children, $1.00  from every bag sold of Viva La Música coffee, La Santa Rosa (Viva La Música Volume I) and La Luz de Columbia (Viva La Música Volume II) will go to help support various avenues of music education.

La Catrina also wants to show appreciation to teachers, first responders, and military who ALWAYS get 10% off with coupon code: Thankyou10

Gina Gonzalez, CEO and founder of La Catrlna Coffee

HERE is the La Catrina website:   I hope you will check this wonderful company out!

Rickey Pittman

Burning Plantations in the Seminole War

When Florida became an American territory in 1821, and likely even before that in the days of Spanish and English occupation, the cheap, rich fertile land that was able to magically produce bumper crops attracted swarms of settlers eager to cash in on the prosperity the land offered. And soon plantations appeared in the hundreds. Though many of them had slaves to help work the land, the houses were usually not constructed (at least at first) in the lavish Antebellum South’s image of a plantation house, but instead were homesteads, ranches, and farms built by families with a dream. Florida gave them pleasant weather, plenty of water, an abundance of timber, and long growing seasons. The rich land gave the settlers bumper crops of cotton, corn, and sugarcane.

However, because of the Seminole Wars, not many of these plantations saw the quick prosperity their dreams had imagined. Instead, they saw their dreams literally go up in smoke, their families threatened or murdered if they did not flee to Saint Augustine or the under-manned and poorly protected military posts. The existence of those living on the plantations was often an ugly contrast of beauty and ugliness and constant fear of the danger that could fall upon them.

The Seminole, driven from their more northern homes, had determined to move no more, and they resented the ever-increasing presence of the plantations that devoured the land they loved. The U.S. Army and state militias played a game of chase, zigzagging across the state and down the coast from Northern Florida down to the Keys and from one attack to another, trying in vain usually to capture the well-armed Seminole warriors who seemed able to quickly vanish into the hammocks and swamps.

This was a brutal time to own or live on a plantation in Florida.

*          *          *

From 1835 until 1849, plantations were targets for the swift-moving Seminole and Negro bands, sometimes numbering 100 or more. They would plunder the crops and stored food, the cattle, horses, mules, and hogs, and burn everything they left behind. And they left plenty of mutilated corpses behind to remind the invaders of the high price that would be paid if the homesteaders would not leave. Farmers, loggers, cowhunters, mail messengers—all were frequent victims.

The soldiers in the American Army assigned to defend the plantations and ranches were often largely foreign, illiterate soldiers scarcely able to speak English.  They suffered from brutal, capricious officers, from the boredom of military life, from fatigue and exposure to the grueling Florida summers that sapped their strength and will. Though many soldiers died at the hands of the Seminole in battle or ambush, death came to many more through diseases borne from mosquitos and other insects as well as a poor diet and deadly water. The 80-100 forts built in the Seminole Wars were usually undermanned and often attacked or threatened.  Even those commanding the military sometimes felt overwhelming pressure and despair. At least two officers reached some kind of breaking point and committed suicide: Colonel John Lane, who plunged a sword into his own head, and a Lt. Wheelock, who shot himself.

Though many families sought safety in the forts when there was a threat of attack, there was truly only safety for the plantation families only inside the large cities of Tallahassee, Saint Augustine, and Jacksonville. Nearly all of Florida, including the military, was in a panic.  Rumors of atrocities fueled the fears of Floridians.  Travel between cities was a frightening experience for one never knew when the Seminole would emerge from the palmetto and hammocks and attack.

At one time, all plantations south of Tampa were destroyed.  By 1835, many plantations were burned along St. Johns and Tomoka rivers. The diaries of soldiers told tale after tale of farms—burned, desolate, and deserted. Many who left their plantations never returned. Many who wouldn’t leave their farms, died.

It was not only the number and frequency of the Seminole attacks that frightened people—it was the ruthless cruelty the Seminole and Negro warriors demonstrated. Neither women nor children were safe when in Seminole hands.

Twelve miles from Tallahassee, in Wakulla County, a man, his wife and two children were killed. Twelve miles south of Mariana, two daughters of the Morris family were set upon while tending their cows by 30 Creek warriors. The girls were shot with arrows and had their brains dashed out by lightwood knots. The warriors only took the family’s bacon and flour as loot.

In Mandarin, the James family and the Harley family were both attacked. Mrs. Harley and her infant were both killed. The settlements of Wacahoota and New Smyrna were burned by 50-100 Indians. William Cooley’s wife, their children and tutor were killed at their home at the New River settlement while Cooley was away salvaging a shipwreck. The New River settlers then abandoned the area and it would be many years before they returned.

Wiley Thompson—sutler and Indian agent in charge of the removal of the Seminole from Florida—and Lt. Smith were attacked and murdered just outside Fort King. The sutler’s store, in sight of the fort, was burned and all his staff killed. Thompson himself was shot over a dozen times. Osceola led in this attack.

The plantation homes of many others were put to the torch—the homes of Moses E. Levy, Gabriel Priest, Mr. Dunham, the homes of de Peysters and the Heriots, the Spring Garden plantation; the homes of Henry Cruger, the Andersons, Samuel Williams, and many others felt the wrath of the Seminole.

Fort Defiance at Micanopy and Fort Drane near the Clinch plantation were both eventually deemed so ineffective in protecting the settlers that they were abandoned. About four miles from Clinch’s Fort Drane, the home of Wiley Brooks was burned to the ground. In Charlotte Harbor, the customs director was killed and his home burned. Indian Key, once the capital of Dade County, was viciously attacked by Spanish Indians whose leader was Chekika. At least 18 died. This was called the Perrine Massacre, in honor of Dr. Perrine who was killed and whose family barely escaped.  A town in Dade County is named for the good doctor.

And so, the war dragged on with the new Florida settlers.  Now, the forts and early plantations are nearly all gone, but the place names remain. And perhaps the memories, deaths, and suffering of those early Florida pioneers will remain. I would not be surprised if their ghosts walk among us as well.

Once again, Afghanistan is in the news.  U.S. leadership is expecting to be able to negotiate with the Taliban.  Khaled Hosseini’s novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns was a wonderful read and such a moving story. Previously, I had only read of Afghanistan in Mitchner’s novel, Caravans  It is obvious Hosseini writes from experience, research, and from interviews. His writing is solid and if one wanted, he or she could conduct a cultural study of Afghanistan by researching the people, places, special words, historical allusions, and historical events. In fact, if I were teaching the novel, I would focus on the cultural enrichment that could be gained from such a study.

There were many lines in this novel worthy of quoting, but the most interesting (and haunting) to me were the decrees of the Taliban once they had taken over. If you ever had any doubts about what your life would be like under the Taliban this should convince you that the society they want to build is not exactly a model of love and tolerance. This message that was proclaimed from loudspeakers, on radios and written in distributed flyers is from p. 247 of the novel:

These are the laws that we will enforce and you will obey:

All citizens must pray five times a day. If it is prayer time and you are caught doing something other, you will be beaten.
All men will grow their beards. The correct length is at least one clenched fist beneath the chin. If you do not abide by this, you will be beaten.
All boys will wear turbans. Boys in grade one through six will wear black turbans, higher grades will wear white. All boys will wear Islamic clothes. Shirt collars will be buttoned.
Singing is forbidden.
Dancing is forbidden.
Playing cards, playing chess, gambling, and kite flying are forbidden.
Writing books, watching films, and painting pictures are forbidden.
If you keep parakeets, you will be beaten. Your birds will be killed.
If you steal, your hand will be cut off at the wrist. If you steal again, your foot will be cut off.
If you are not Muslim, do not worship where you can be seen by Muslims. If you do, you will be beaten and imprisoned. If you are caught trying to convert a Muslim to your faith, you will be executed.

Attention women:

You will stay inside your homes at all times. It is not proper for women to wander aimlessly about the streets. If you go outside, you must be accompanied by a mahram, a male relative. If you are caught alone on the street, you will be beaten and sent home.
You will not, under any circumstance, show your face. You will cover with burqa when outside. If you do not, you will be severely beaten.
Cosmetics are forbidden.
Jewelry is forbidden.
You will not wear charming clothes.
You will not speak unless spoken to.
You will not make eye contact with men.
You will not laugh in public. If you do, you will be beaten.
You will not paint your nails. If you do, you will lose a finger.
Girls are forbidden from attending school. All schools for girls will be closed immediately.
Women are forbidden from working.
If you are found guilty of adultery, you will be stoned to death.
Listen. Listen well. Obey.

“Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson: A Reader-Response Commentary

There are some poems I’ve studied that are so touching so inspiring that I have never forgotten my first encounter. “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson is one of those. Since I am a believer in the Reader Response theory of literary study, I decided to revisit this poem that deeply affected me many years ago when I was in college and see how my personal response to that poem may have shifted or changed. I don’t have those early notes, but I vividly remember how the poem affected me. Reader response can include religious, cultural news and facts, family, personal successes and failures, lessons learned, etc.  Many preachers use a reader response when speaking from the Bible.  There are some preliminary facts about the poem that should be kept in mind before a line-by-line commentary is attempted.

First, Tennyson wrote the poem in 1833 after the death of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam a poet, and the subject of Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam. The poem was first published in 1842. Hallum is known as the jeune homme fatal, the doomed young man of his generation.  In form, it is an interior dramatic monologue, written in blank verse (unrhymed Iambic pentameter). Now, here is the text and my commentary in italics. I may add more thoughts later, so it may be a work in progress:

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I also feel listless at times. As a college instructor, I’ve always felt my task was to civilize my students. More and more students enter my courses as savages—rude, unread, lazy (I believe in rigorous academics), dishonest (plagiarism is too common),  lacking patriotism, with a victim mentality, and too easily influenced by popular fads of media and politics.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;

I have traveled extensively across the nation since 2007, as a storyteller, musician, and author. Sometimes, I’ve experienced great joy, at other times, suffering, sacrifice and pain. When I reflect on those journeys, cities, events, and people I’ve encountered, I realize how greatly they have affected me. I too am a part of all I’ve met. It’s hard for me to rest from travel. To go from close to 150 presentations across the nation to almost nothing because of the COVID shutdown has been hard.

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

The COVID shutdown, not only cost me a great amount of money, but it revealed how my schedule drove me on and how boring my life can be without goals and tasks and opportunities. As another possible shutdown of the nation looms before us, I hope I can keep this same positive attitude to follow knowledge. I don’t want to rust out.  I need to use my time better, to “save every hour from that eternal silence.” I still want to see how far I can go.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

I too have a son, who seems to have more sense than I have, more stability, and so committed to his own work. All I leave behind when I leave this world will be in his hands.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I hope this will always be my optimistic attitude, my philosophy. I may go down, but I won’t die sitting still, without dreams. I do a song in my music show, “40 Days of Rain,” that has these lines: “This dry land may get me, but it ain’t got me yet.”  Like a farmer, I must wait to see what the next year will bring my way.  The last two lines are my favorite in this poem. “Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

Biden’s America: When Things Fall Apart

“He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.”   —Chinua Achebe

A few months into Biden’s presidency, it is stating the obvious to say that things haven’t gone well. The hatred for President Trump and the poison liberal ideology that resulted in Biden’s fraudulent election, a cracking economy, a power-mad Washington elite, and an increasing border disaster is, to borrow Achebe’s words, a knife that may sever America from a prosperous and happy future. The MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN slogan is quickly changing to WE MUST SAVE AMERICA.

In fact, things are going so badly since the projected  Golden Age of Biden has not materialized, the liberal and media emphasis has shifted once again to creating fear of another pandemic so that government can mandate masks and lock the whole country down again and then use the imaginary pandemic as an excuse to monkey with and cheat in elections as they did before because they know they cannot win another election otherwise.

They do not want Americans to have their country back.

Yet, there are many who think things are fine and do not realize the ship of our nation is sinking. We have charged full steam into an iceberg that has halted progress and ripped the bottom off unprecedented prosperity that existed just a few months ago.

I suspect the books of Charles Bowden are not read by many of our leaders or they would take the border problem much more seriously. The progress in halting the COVID pandemic is now jeopardized by the porous border allowing thousands carrying COVID to enter our nation, dispersing them at taxpayer expense through our nation, carrying COVID and other third-world diseases with them. In addition, dangerous gangs, known and convicted criminals, unprecedented quantities of drugs, and human traffickers follow like hungry wolves. Theodore Shoebat made a full-length documentary titled Hell Across the Border that reveals how gangs and death cults from Mexico have already come to America. There are already too many crime-ridden cities where travel, business, and living are not safe. That will only worsen if the present conditions are not corrected. Porous borders once helped destroy the Roman Empire.

Why are these things happening? Why is there a loss of patriotism? Why are people protesting law enforcement, kneeling during the National Anthem, praising anti-American groups like Antifa and Black Lives Matter, canceling bail, not arresting criminals, and releasing criminals? Why are hundreds dying because of violence in Democrat cities?

Why? Basically, too many are following media-fed fads. It’s a contagion of the bandwagon fallacy.  It’s a sort of virtue signaling, the popular thing to do.  Some support these measures because of monetary interests. Worse of all, there are many in the Washington elite who don’t care what happens to the citizens of our land as long as they don’t lose power.  They are protected by their huge fortunes, by their walled compounds and private security, and by legal immunity and exemption from laws and mandates.

The hatred of people like President Trump and conservatives is irrational. People who scream at the sky, harass people in restaurants, tear down statues, are little different than the fanatical Muslims who likewise scream, chant, and harass people who differ from them. Fanatical Islam defaces century-old monuments and stones people to death for minor offenses.

What solutions are offered to correct our crime problem? Disarming citizens is not the answer. Defunding and dismantling police forces have already born poison fruit. There are now more large areas of cities where it is not safe to drive through or even live in. Raising taxes or depending on government bailouts certainly can’t be the answer.

Can you blame someone who wants to move to a safer, less taxed state?

Our political leaders waste time so they can argue about masks. Will the mandate to wear masks become our national dress code? They threaten fines and arrest for violations of their policies, but they tolerate riots and violence. They revoked President Trump’s executive orders out of spite with no explanation. They either don’t have the knowledge or intelligence to see or they don’t care about the contradictions.

There are several current, destructive issues that loom in America’s future:

1) Shutdowns.  So many businesses have been permanently ruined. Too many will never be back. Many fear that another shutdown will break our nation beyond repair.

2) Travel by air,  both locally and internationally, is already difficult, and in some cases impossible.

3) The English language is under attack from WOKE censors and political correctness.

4) Phantom of white supremacy. America is the freest nation on earth and a land where any person, of any gender, nationality, or race can reinvent him or herself and fulfill their dreams. All they need is a strong work ethic, determination, ambition, and to take advantage of the many resources our nation offers.

5) The race card, especially through Critical Race Theory, is being used to create a victim mentality and actually creates hostility instead of harmony.

6) Hypocrisy and double standards of those in political power.

7) The use and application of logic have vanished. People who cannot think properly are dangerous.

8) There is a fast-growing loss of work ethics, due in part to government subsidies. When people don’t have to work, they won’t.

9) Media has largely become a tool of the Democratic Party. True the number of conservative media alternatives is growing, but it will be a while before they can have an influence that can equal liberal media.  Once upon a time I enjoyed PBS programs and selected upbeat shows like CBS Morning Show. I learned from them, was inspired by them, encouraged my students to listen to them. That is no longer true.

10) Celebrities and the Hollywood industry have stepped onto the liberal bandwagon, persecuting, blacklisting any who dare go against them.

11) Education is in real jeopardy. The power of the Teacher Unions is massive, resisting school openings. Higher education seems to be ignorant of history, resistant to the classics of literature, the dangers of communism, and principles of logic.

Of course, there is more than can be said, but perhaps this essay will be of some help to someone’s thinking.  I think there’s no better closing for us to remember than this prophetic quote from Cormac McCarthy’s  No Country for Old Men , “Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it. You understand what I’m sayin?”

Let’s hope our citizens and especially our leaders take the right steps.

–Rickey Pittman, 2021

Quotations from No Country for Old Men 

The purpose of this post is to post the lines from Cormac’s McCarthy’s novel, No Country for Old Men. In my literary thinking, I am a follower of the Reader Response theory. Sixteen years ago, almost to the day, I read this novel. Since then, I’ve watched the movie numerous times. I decided to give the book a second read and see what I’ve brought to this second reading that I did not have in my mind, heart, and experience that I had that first read. I thought a good exercise for that is to record lines that touched me or caught my attention.

Other than No Country for Old Men, I’ve read every novel of McCarthy at least twice, and now I can add the title to my “read twice” list. Every work of McCarthy’s that I’ve read has touched me deeply and each provides great quotations that touched upon my human existence. Because of McCarthy’s historical research and extensive vocabulary,  each reading has been a learning experience. And many of the lines and phrases pushed me to immediate research. Lines such as “pictographs perhaps a thousand years old” (11) and “There were Mojave rattlesnakes in that country” (18), made me search for images of the pictographs and research on the Mojave rattlesnake (18), the most poisonous snake in the United States. Though there are many more I could have used, I hope that these quotations may also touch you as well. They are lifted from Knopf’s 2005 edition. The spelling and punctuation are McCarthy’s.

16 And the chances of me seein you fore you see me are about as close to nothin as you can get without fallin in.

17 – He was scared in a way that he didn’t even understand.

19 –It was a penitentiary offense to own one (machine pistol).

20 – You live to be a hundred, he said, and there wont be another day like this one. As soon as he said he was sorry.

25 -the road deserted, the truck radio in this outland country dead even of static from one end of the band to the other.

26 Everbody is somethin.

27 – A trespasser. Among the dead. Dont get weird on me, he said. You aint one of em. Not yet.

27 – There is no description of a fool, he said, that you fail to satisfy. Now you’re goin to die.

28 – The spotlight swept over the rocks again, It’s all right, he said. You need to be put out of your misery. Be the best thing for everbody.

29 – Then he realized that he would never see his truck again, Well, he said. There’s lots of things you aint goin to see again.

29 – If you knew there was somebody out here afoot that had two million dollars of your money, at what point would you quit lookin for me? That’s right. There aint no such point.

36 – By then they would know who he was and they would never stop looking for him, Never, as in never.

39 – Point bein you don’t know what all you’re stopping when you do stop somebody.

45 – Beyond in the stone arroyos the tracks of dragons.

57 – Anything can be an instrument, Chigurh said. Small things. Things you wouldnt even notice. They pass from hand to hand. People don’t pay attention. And then one day there’s an accounting. And after that nothing is the same.

62 – I don’t know that law enforcement benefits all that much from new technology Tools that comes into our hands comes into theirs too.

62 – It [a new car] wouldn’t outrun a fatman.

62 The ones that really ought to be on death row will never make it. I believe that.

64 – It takes very little to govern good people. Very little. And bad people cant be governed at all. Of if they could I never heard of it.

66 – I aint makin no promises, he said. That’s how you get hurt.

79 – This whole thing is just hell in spectacles, aint it, Sheriff.

79 – I ain’t sure we’ve seen these people before. Their kind. I don’t known what to do about em even. If you killed em all they’d have to building a annex on to hell.

87 – By the time he got up he knew that he was probably goig to have to kill somebody. He just didnt know who it was.

90 – Jack used to say that bein sheriff was one of the best jobs you culd have and bein an ex-sheriff one of the worst.

91 – People think they know what they want but they generally don’t Sometimes if they’re lucky they’ll get it anyways.

109 – It had already occurred to him that would probably never be safe again in his life and he wondered if that was something that you got used to. And if you did?

110 – What have you done. What have you failed to do.

123 – I think that when the lies are all told and forgot the truth will be there yet.

124 – [T]he dead have more claims on you than what you might want to admit or even what you might know about and them claims can be very strong indeed.

133 – The people of Terrell County hired me to look after em. That’s my job. I get paid to be the first one hurt. Killed, for that matter.

150 – The people he meets tend to have very short futures. Nonexistent, in fact.

158 – Young people anymore they seem to have a hard time growing up. I dont know why.

158 – People anymore you talk about right and wrong they’re liable to smile at you.

159 – I know as certain as death that there aint nothin short of the second comin of Christ that can slow this train.

177 – You’ve been giving up things for years to get here.

189 – Sometimes you have a little problem and you dont fix it and then all of a sudden it aint a little problem anymore.

198 – fear of an enemy can often blind men to other hazards.

216 – I’ve lost a lot of friends over these last few years. Not all of em older than me neither. One of the things you realize about getting older is that not everbody is goin to get older with you.

216 – They have no respect for the law? That aint half of it. They don’t even think about the law. It don’t seem to even concern em.

p. 217 – I think if you were Satan and you were settin around tryin to think up something that would just bring the human race to its knees what you would probably come up with is narcotics.

220 – Things happen to you they happen. They dont ask first. They dont require your permission.

227 – It’s not about knowin where you are. It’s about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you, Your notions about startin over. Or anybody’s. You don’t start ovr. That’s what it’s about. Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it.

227 – You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday don’t count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin else.

234 – But there’s a lot of bad luck out there. You hand around long enough and you’ll come in for your share of it.

235 – I dont change my mind. I like to get it right the first time.

249 – My daddy always told me to just do the best you knew how and tell the truth. He said there was nothin to set a man’s mind at ease like wakin up in the morning and not havin to decide who you were. And if you don’t something wrong just stand up and say you done it and say you’re sorry and get on with it. Dont haul stuff aound with you.

p.259 Everthing I ever thought has turned out different, she said. There aint the least part of my life I could of guessed.

259 – Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this.

265 – I think by the time you’re grown you’re as happy as you’re goin to be . . . You sign on for the ride you probably think you got at least some notion of where the ride’s goin. But you might not. Or you might have been lied to.

267 – Anyway, you never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.

267 – You always pay too much. Particularly for promises. There aint no such things as a bargain promise. You’ll see. Maybe you done have.

267 – I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didnt. I dont blame him. If I was him I’d have the same opinion about me that he does.

283 – I told my deputies more than once that you fix what you can fix and you let the rest go. If there aint nothin to be done about it it aint even a problem. It’s just an aggravation.

295 – It’s a life’s work to see yourself for what you really are and even then you might be wrong.

298 -There’s two kinds of people that dont ask a lot of questions. One is too dumb to and the other dont need to.

303 – I think I know where we’re headed. We’re bein bought with our own money. And it aint just the drugs. There is fortunes bein accumulated out there that thy dont nobody even know about. What do we think is goin to come of that money? Money that can buy whole countries. It done has. Can it buy this one? I dont think so. But it will put you in bed with people you ought not to be there with.

The Legend of Why the Sun Cries . . .  

    It is said by those who heard the tales from the ancients, the old men and women of Wales, who heard the story first from those who had memories of the Druids and even Arthur’s sword. It is said that on those late summer afternoons when the sun is still shining hot and strong and raindrops fall from the blue sky, fall warm on your skin, it is said that if you sit in a quiet place of rocks and trees and if you shut your eyes, you’ll hear a harp’s melody, soft and sad and sweet as a harper using golden strings.

The harper is no less than Thomas the Rhymer, bold and gifted and impulsive, and a man who had a heart as passionate as his music. He had journeyed to Wales, into the mountains of Snowdonia, to perform for a particular noble and to create a song by which the occasion would always be remembered.  The noble’s daughter was a young lady, named Gwen, with porcelain white skin,  eyes blue and wild, and long, auburn hair with golden streaks. In the candlelit room, she would smile and her eyes would shift to gray and to almost green. When the king summoned him to begin playing, she listened when he played and clung to every note, to every word of his verse. Thomas watched her close her eyes and echo-whisper the lines of the poem. He ended the song and began another, his heart swelling in him in a way that only love-struck musicians know. The music shifted from praising the king to extolling Gwen’s beauty. He wove the words he found in the well of his heart and declared his love for her.  He sang stanza after stanza. It seemed he could not stop and sang for the rest of the night.  She seemed to know. When the meal was finished and his songs ended, the young maiden rose, looked at Thomas, then at a stairwell. He nodded, laid down his harp, and followed her.

There in the stairwell they kissed and declared their love. Thomas spoke to her father that night and he gave the couple their blessing in the condition that Thomas would stay with them.  Oh, those were times of such music!  Thomas’ heart swelled with new melodies for his new love.  He envisioned a life with her—she traveling with him as he won the world with his harp and verse.  This would require money, for though Thomas could easily bear the hardships of the road, he would not inflict that lifestyle on his new bride.  Thomas vowed to enter and win a harp competition, some say it was in Cardiff, others say it was in Ireland, and return for her with prize money in hand.  Months went by, but Thomas never returned. Gwen was sick with worry. These were not happy days in Wales. Longshanks’ armies invaded to crush Llewellyn’s rebellion as he had the rebellion of the Scots.  Those nobles who weren’t killed were taken captive and sold into slavery.  Gwen was one of them. He never saw her again.

When Thomas finally returned, he found Gwen’s home burned to the ground, and the land of Wales filled with death, hunger, and lamentation for those slain and missing. He slung his harp on his shoulder and trudged back to Scotland. As you may know, there he was seduced by the faerie queen and vanished from the land for seven years.

Oh, there were many adventures there and it was there he was given “the tongue that could not lie.”  The queen of the fairies took him to Belenus, the sun god of the Celts. The sun god asked Thomas, “Have you ever been in love?”

Thomas said, “Yes. So in love that I was lost. So in love that I felt I would never need another muse. But she was taken from me.”

“Tell me her story in a song, harper.”

Thomas sat on a stone. tilted the harp against his left shoulder, brushed the strings of his clarsach with his left hand, and began. In a minor key, he told the sun-god the story of Gwen, his love for her, the plans they had, his returning to find her gone, and he knew gone forever. He told of how his heart had cracked, and how he had fallen into despair, and become almost mad with grief. When he was finished, the sun god’s palace in the Otherworld was silent. Belenus leaned forward, touched his face with hands and wept, and the sun-god’s tears fell through the Otherworld to the earth. It was a beautiful sunny  afternoon, and this was the first time mortals had ever seen rain fall when the sun was shining. And today, when those warm teardrops touch your cheek like a kiss, and you look up into that bright sky, know that it only means the sun-god has once again remembered the sad story of Gwen and Thomas and he weeps again.  And if you close your eyes and listen closely, you’ll hear the sad notes of the Rhymer’s harp.

And that my friends, is why the sun cries . . .

Rickey Pittman

Bard of the South

While attending the Texas Haunter’s Convention in Mesquite, Texas (July 16-18,) I was granted an interview with Jerry DeCastro, a featured author of the convention. DeCastro, originally from Joplin, Missouri, now resides in Tulsa, and in our conversation I found him to be quite knowledgeable on the secrets of writing horror and the horror industry and encouraging for me to continue with my own horror writing.

Though he has an impressive reader following, he feels there our age may be experiencing a decline in horror reading, and that the trend is now toward listening to horror books on CD. He introduced me to two of his books, Ghoul Squad and Skinned. These are fascinating novels, full of mystery, twists, and of course graphic violence (as the titles suggest)–a recipe sure to attract horror fans. You can find videos and synopses of his novels on this Facebook page, HERE.  Below are the covers of his novels.

I encourage you to investigate this author and explore his books. You will not be disappointed.

Rickey Pittman

Bard of the South

bardofthe south.com

Until I picked up this book about the life and writings of Émile Zola, I did not realize how little I knew about French authors. The book is part of the Twayne World of Authors Series and had been discarded from a university library.  My reading of the book was slow and deliberate and I marked phrases I liked, had to look up and research French words,  historical events, and places–some of which I made marginal notes about.

  My research revealed that there are many websites, detailed books, and fine videos concerning Zola. Elliott M. Grant, the author/editor, spent many years researching Zola. The book is not intended to be an exhaustive biography, but it does include enough to help the reader to understand Zola and appreciate his literary work, which includes novels, short stories, poems, journal and newspaper articles, and dramatic works. The book includes chapter notes and references, a selected bibliography, and an index. My feeling is that the book is an easy reference and useful tool for one wanting to explore Zola and his world.

Zola’s oeuvre is enormous and would require years to fully read and write about. His life is a tale of a writer who goes from hard years as a starving artist to fame and wealth. He is known as a prominent early promoter of the literary theory of naturalism. As a writer, he documented meticulously the details he included and visited the locations in his novels. Zola was ambitious, disciplined (he wrote every day for thirty years), methodical in his planning, a compulsive reader, and a writer who believed in observation and experiment. In fact, he once said, “The novelist is part observer, part experimenter.” Zola often charmed an audience with the reading aloud of pages of his writing.

Zola, who could unite the physical and the psychological, could write well about the working class, as well as the educated bourgeois and the ruling classes who obviously resemble the elite of our own Washington elite, the rich, liberal rulers of our country. France too had its own swamp that needed draining, and Zola made many enemies by his descriptions of how he thought the bourgeois were inferior to the working class. He also pictured France, under the rule of Napolean III, as a train rushing to disaster, much like our own nation is under our current leadership.

This weekend I performed music and signed my Rio Grande Valley ABC book at the Frontier Village in Denison Texas. After I arrived, I strolled the grounds and took these photos. Each building in Frontier Village has a unique story!