I had one more Danny Tompkins story to tell. Will this be the last.
Some time ago, such as in July 2018, the idea came to me for another story in the Danny Tompkins short story series. At least that’s the earliest I have about it on paper. I thought I was done with the series at six stories and then cobbling them together into a short book.
But the idea sat there from mid-2018 until November 2023. Having just finished two fairly major writing projects, I looked for something to fill in a couple of weeks until I was ready to start the next. This came to mind, so I hog-tied it and whipped it out in a week or so, either November or December 2023.
In January I ran the first few pages past my writing critique group, the Scribblers & Scribes. It was obvious from that that the story wasn’t working, wasn’t as clear as I wanted it to be. At another meeting I ran a few more pages by them with the same results. In between other writing, I pulled this story out a few times and made some fairly major changes. I sent it out to the critique group via e-mail and received some comments in return. It seemed that I had the right structure as the comments I received were about smaller things, such as better wording here and a little more detail there.
Last week, while waiting on my Bible study project to simmer a little, I brought Danny’s latest story out and made those final polishes based on comments or what seemed best to me. On Sunday last, I declared it done, or as done as I could make it. Here’s a link to it on Amazon.
I had some trouble writing the book description for the listing on Amazon. Here’s what I came up with.
Daniel Tompkins received word that his sister died, which triggers memories of a day, more than fifty years before, after his mother’s death. He faced a dilemma back then, a dilemma that stressed him out. The memory of what he went through as a 13-year-old helped him deal with his grief now.
So on Monday, after a routine dentist appointment, I got to work on publishing tasks. It all went surprisingly well, including making a simple cover, one that fits in with the rest of the series. Less than three hours after I uploaded it, it went live.
After that, I received some last minute critiques from my critique group (but I had sent it out to them kind of last minute), I made some edits—twice—and uploaded a revised version three times, the last time Wednesday evening. I received one even later critique that I started going through last night. I don’t know yet whether this will result in one last round of edits.
It feels good to get this done and published. I just wish I had better artistic skills and could make a better cover.
Two books covering the same subject in different ways.
Among the books we have in our house are those that belonged to my late mother-in-law, Esther Cheney Barnes. She didn’t have a huge library, maybe 150 books or so. They have been in boxes the last ten years, I looked at them a couple of times, but didn’t want to mess with them.
Over the last six months, Lynda has been going through her mom’s books, sorting into keepers, reads and discards, duplicates of ones we might already have, and get rid ofs without reading. Two small books among those covered the same subject: the lives of the apostles. One was The Master’s Men: Character Sketches of the Disciples, by William Barclay. The other is Thirteen Men Who Changed the World, by H.S. Vigeveno. Both books are short, under 160 paperback pages. That was perfect, I thought, for taking on our last trip.
The two books, while covering the same subject, handle the source material very different. Barclay’s book is essentially a topical Bible study. He looks at what we know about each apostle from the gospels and Acts. Besides the Twelve, he includes a write up about Nathaniel and James son of Alpheus. But he does not include Paul the apostle. After giving the Biblical record, Barclay give information contained in early church records. When he does this, Barclay is careful to separate legend from info biblical accounts.
Vigeveno’s book reads more like creative non-fiction than a Bible study. He takes the same tact as Barclay, first presenting what we know from the Bible than adding what we know from legend. But Vigeveno tends to accept the legends as truth and incudes legendary information in the character sketches. He writes well, and the book is engaging, but Vigeveno’s book is a little less reliable than Barclay’s is.
1959 and 1958 were the dates of publication of the two books. The paperback books I read were from 1973 and 1980. So I think it’s fair to say those of you reading this review are unlikely to run across either of them. If you do, should you read them? I say yes. They are both entertaining short reads about a biblical topic.
But are they keepers? In my mind no. I don’t ever see myself reading them again. So off to the sale/donation pile they go.
This was a strange month. I expected to undergo open-heart surgery on July 22, but it was postponed when I injured my leg. Still waiting on that to heal so the surgery can be rescheduled. But the leg injury has hurt my movements and kept me from working at my writing as much as I’d hoped. Nevertheless, I did have accomplishments.
Blog twice a week on Mondays and Fridays. Got this done, with the help of scheduled posts.
Make as much progress as possible on Volume 2 of A Walk Through Holy Week. It would be nice to have the first draft done before July 22. Completed the first draft on July 27!
Attend one writing group meeting. The two other meetings are cancelled due to venue problems during the summer. Did this. The other two meetings stayed cancelled
Complete the Introduction and occasional commentary of the Saudi letters book. I got the Introduction done in the last few days. The commentary is started but not yet done.
Possibly complete and publish a short story I’ve been working on, the next in the Danny Tompkins series. I worked on this some more, so that it’s more or less done. Some comments from my critique group are not yet fully addressed.
Setting goals going forward is difficult, because I don’t know how my healing will go—not only with my leg but with a new shoulder/arm injury. I might have heart surgery late in the month, or, more likely, it will slip into September. So how do I plan for writing tasks with such uncertainty?
Blog twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays. I may use scheduled posts again.
I’m not making a goal of attending any writers meetings, partly from not knowing how my surgery and illnesses will lay me up, and partly because one meeting may be cancelled due to lack of a venue.
Complete two editorial passes through A Walk Through Holy Week, Vol 2. I should be able to get this done even with uncertainty of schedule.
Figure out any final changes to the latest Danny Tompkins story, then finish and publish it.
Complete the commentary between letters. If I can get that done, begin selection of photos and insert them in the book.
And, one more for good measure: Make a start at outlining Vol 3 of A Walk Through Holy Week.
That’s enough. I’ll be lucky to get this much done.
Dateline: 8 July 2024, 06:10 a.m., for posting on 29 July 2024
Saw eight deer the morning of this post. They are regular visitors this time of year.
This morning the temperature was lower, in the upper 60s instead of the upper 70s. The remnants of Hurricane Beryl will hit us later today and tomorrow. The relative coolness is nice.
The first thing I see when I reach the street from the driveway are,,,two deer, one a buck that looks full grown, not forty feet from me. They came out from behind my first row of my blackberries bushes, making me wonder if they’ve been eating them. We stared at each other as I kept walking to them, then they quickly dashed off.
Up the hill I went, to the next road and then the next, where I saw a group of four deer dash across the road and into the woods. I turned right and went up the next hill, a gentle one, from which I could see the dam and the large lake it impounds. Over the hill just a little way to the loop at the first side road. Off to my right was yet one more deer. Around the loop, a short turnout on another side road, and then retrace my steps. This leg is mostly downhill, but gradual.
I continued on, in the other direction from out street, up another fairly gentle slope. A third of a mile in this other direction is another loop, downhill then uphill. Once again retrace my steps, turn at the right place and I’m home.
A week ago, in preparation for my surgery, I resumed walking. I’ve never totally quit walking, but last year, when I experienced angina every time I walked uphill (and it’s impossible to walk near our house without going uphill), I had to cut back on frequency, distance, and exertion. Then, during our two trips, regular walking was difficult to achieve due to the fullness of activities and responsibilities.
But I figured I’d better do something to improve my muscle tone and stamina pre-surgery. I began with one mile on Monday and increased the distance a tenth of two every day until I went 1.8 miles on Saturday. The goal today was 2 miles, which would then be the distance for the rest of my prep period. And I made the 2 miles, pushing myself to do so with a good time.
By the time you read this, I will have had my surgery. Hopefully I’ll still be alive and kicking, with a new, properly configured valve in place and working well. With a new physical life ahead of me, and a heart that is still strong.
The view from my woodland reading chair. Our house is to the left. Well in the distance is where the sound of the limb falling came from.
A few years back, we bought the unbuilt lot next to us, on the uphill side of our house. We got it for a good price and, based on current prices for lots in Bella Vista, it’s perhaps the most profitable investment we’ve ever made.
I’ve done some improvements on this lot, cutting down dead trees, cutting underbrush, clearing leaves from the edges to allow some grass to get a start. We have our compost pile on the lot (actually had it there before we bought it) and a well-worn path from the garage to the pile.
The woods directly in front of me. I’m keeping this are free of new trees and brush, though there are enough mature trees around it that the shade canopy is complete.
Along that path is my reading place. I don’t go out there to read often. Usually, I take my noon reading break in our sunroom. But it isn’t airconditioned, and this time of year it’s really too hot to read in. So on these days, I either read in the basement or out in the woods. I think I’ve gone to the woods most days this week (see the dateline), usually right around noon.
Isn’t it hot then, you ask? Yes, probably around 92°. But it’s shady. The oaks cover the path. I have a chair out at a level spot. A cut log set on end serves as a small table, leveled up with a wedge piece from a tree felling, to set my phone and cup of coffee on. By 1:00 p.m., the sun will have moved around further south and higher, and gaps in the canopy caused by the death of a couple of oaks due to a blight maybe three years ago. At that point I’ll have to move my chair or go inside.
Another view from my reading chair, looking more to the south and past our lot. Sunshine occasionally finds its way to the ground here.
Today I followed this procedure, but the temperature was a little cooler than recently due to rain yesterday evening. It was 92° with a nice breeze. In the shade of the oaks, I felt quite cool. I had a book and a magazine (an old one) with me. I decided to read the mag and try to get through it. Since it was from 2009, many of the articles were dated and not worth reading. Despite the distractions of woodland reading, I was able to read all I wanted in the hour and put it in the recycling bin afterwards.
What distractions, you ask? Just the sights and sounds of the woodland. And yes, even though our house is well within sight, when I’m sitting on our lot I’m in the woodlands. But most of the sounds are of human civilization. Take today. At first it seemed dead quiet, except for the sound the wind was making with the leaves. Then I heard a car door close, then another. Soon, I heard a lawnmower start and start to move. It sounded like it was coming from down the street at one of the two new houses. Then I could faintly hear a voice; probably one of the mowers.
Before the mower sound came, I watched a small lizard play near the edge of the driveway. A butterfly came by but didn’t stay. A fly somehow got in my coffee, but I fished it out and went right on drinking. I heard a mosquito near ear and swept it away. A vehicle made its way up the steep road across the hollow, somewhat faintly, around a thousand feet away or a little more. In winter, when the oaks are devoid of leaves, we can hear vehicle much clearer.
As the mowing continued, a vehicle came up the hill and passed by me, most likely without seeing me in the shadows. The view from the road into the woods is partly obscured by the first row of trees, some underbrush, and my blackberry vines. I looked back down the hill, into the woods. A bird flew silently across the lot thirty feet away from me.
Then I heard a crashing sound. Shifting my gaze to the north, I saw leaves and branches moving in the direction of the crash. It seems a branch fell from a tree behind our backyard. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go down there and see if I have new deadfall just off the property.
I continued reading in this distracted state. The magazine, the monthly publication of our Rural Electrical Cooperative, had a good article on one woman’s historic preservation work in Arkansas. That was quite interesting. Another article covered things that the State Legislature would be dealing with in the session about to start. But I kept looking up from the mag to see what was going on around me. I heard the sound of a squirrel but didn’t see it.
I looked around for WTBD—work to be done. Some underbrush needed more cutting. Leaves need to be pushed back a few feet more from the house, to widen the grass strip that’s coming up naturally there. Three trees, 6 to 8 inches diameter, fell near the south border of the lot. Someday, perhaps, I’ll saw them up and put them on one of my brush piles.
The sun was moving around to the point where I would soon lose my shade, then thin clouds partly obscured the sun. I decided I’d read all in the mag that was important, laid it on my log table, and took up my coffee. Perhaps you think it strange to take hot coffee out to woods to drink on a hot day, but I like the taste, and in the woods it’s not too hot to drink.
But my time was soon up. I:00 p.m. neared, and lunch beckoned me. The sights and sounds of the woods faded as I traversed the rocky path the 50 feet to the garage. Possibly I’ll return to my reading spot tomorrow for another hour with another mag or a book, and once again read distractedly but enjoyably. Cooler weather and the sunroom are not far away. Any place to read is a good place.
At over 900 pages, this promises to be an interesting book that I can digest in small junks during hospitalization.
About a week ago, when I thought my heart surgery would be today, I began going through books that I would want to take to read. It may be a pipe dream to think I can read much while in the hospital, but I want to be prepared. I’ve picked out one book on prayer and two books of letters. These are print books. I have a fair number of e-books I can easily pull up on my phone.
One book of letters is The Letters of Virginia Woolf. Vol. 3, 1923-1928. I picked this up used quite a few years ago and kept it on a basement shelf, waiting for the right time to read. Well, that seems to be now. It’s a thick paperback to be holding in bed. But the letters are, for the most part, short. I’ve read 40 or 50 pages into it to make sure it’s a suitable volume to read in my circumstances. So far I find it is.
I read a couple letters yesterday, and found an interesting item.
Importunate old gentlemen who have been struck daily by ideas on leaving their baths, which they have copied out in the most beautiful, and at the same time illegible handwriting, dump these manuscripts at the office, and say, what is no doubt true that they can keep it up or years, once a week, if the Nation will pay £3.3 a column. And there are governesses, and poetesses, and miserable hacks of all kinds who keep on calling—So for God’s sake write us something that we can print.
I need to add a little context. Virginia Woolf and her husband, Leonard, were part of a literary group known as the Bloomsbury Circle, or Bloomsbury Set, who had great political and literary influence in the first two or three decades of the 20th century. Leonard had just been appointed literary editor of The Nation and Athenaeum a magazine that dealt with British politics and English Literature. Virginia was, at that time, heavily involved in the Hogarth Press, print a variety of books. Leonard was also involved in that.
Thus, they were busy people. Virginia wrote a letter to Robert Fry on 18 May 1923. Leonard had been less then a month in the editorship, and the couple had just returned from a month-long holiday in Spain and France. Leonard’s plate was full, with coming up to speed at the magazine and dealing with book publishing. Complicating this appears to be a glut of unsolicited submissions to The Nation, submissions that Virginia, in her letter to Fry, considered as from “miserable hacks”. And she begged Fry to “write us something we can print.”
I find it funny almost that this is the same complaint editors have today. Too many submissions from unqualified writers crowding the mail and e-mail inboxes. Given the universality of typing now, they don’t have a lot of “illegible handwriting” to decipher, but reading those many submissions is not easy. Nor is it a good use of time. So most of those submissions go unread, or get shoved off to an intern with instructions such as, “If you’re still reading it after one page, put it in my inbox; if you’re still reading after three pages, bring it to my office right away.”
This should make all authors take some time before they make unsolicited submittals. The editors probably put you in the category of know-nothing writer, and expect nothing of publishable value from them. You’ve wasted your time submitting like that. Instead, take a long time to hone your writing skills, study the market, study the publishing outlets, study the realm of literary agents. Then, after however many years that takes, start submitting in a smart way.
I found it interesting that, in 1923, the problem editors faced was that same as they face today—with illegible handwriting thrown in. Technology makes the process easier, but the problem remains.
As I’ve mentioned before, it won’t be long until I have heart valve replacement surgery. I’ve been expecting it to happen the week of July 22nd.
But I got a twist suddenly. While lifting a heavy box I threw out my back. Except it wasn’t my back. It’s the muscles in my right leg, especially the groin. It’s at the point where I can’t stand fully upright, for pain in the groin prevents it. I’m walking hunched over, using a walker.
I saw the surgeon on Tuesday. He put the heart operation off until July 29 to give my leg time to heal, saying he doesn’t want me fighting two traumas at once. Then later that day I saw my PCP. She ordered x-rays, CT scan, and ultra sound to rule out a skeletal cause of my pain. All is done except the ultra sound.
Meanwhile, I’m in bad pain that is getting worse, with back pain added due to being hunched over. Right now, with no improvement in my leg muscles or relief of pain, I’m wondering if the heart surgery will be put off longer than that. I’ll keep people posted from a combination of this blog and Facebook.
An attack was made against ex-president Donald Trump this afternoon, maybe around 5 p.m. my time. We had a game warden program on the TV so the first I heard of it was when a good friend on Facebook posted about it. We finished the program we were watching then turned over to a news station. It was obvious the president was injured.
I checked news sites on-line, but monitored Facebook off and on. The same friend had another post or two as information began to trickle out. Then I saw a post by a woman I went to elementary school with. It was:
He doesn’t deserve a bandaid..
That was quickly followed by this post by a man I went to elementary school with.
That was all a set-up by his people!.
I was stunned. That same man went on to post:
How come nobody else was hurt and where are the bullets. That cut on his ear was self inflicted. They’ll never find the people who fired the shots because it was his people. [sic]
I replied to that with the following.
[name redacted]: Please wait for full reports to come in. They are now saying one rally attendee was killed. Too early to know for sure.
One man who I don’t know had his own reply:
[name redacted] you sire [sic] look like an idiot..get your hate in check…people died today because of this kind of hate,,
Such strange hatred against the former president, and by one commenter against his fellow man. Trump is not my candidate; I won’t vote for him, as I didn’t the last two times. But the posts by those three people are just sick. One post accuses the president of being an accessory to murder. Does this man’s hate not allow him to see what it is he’s saying? Apparently so. I wouldn’t want to be him when the Secret Service comes around reviewing relevant posts.
How terrible a thing hate is. It clouds judgment, send us off on tangents, makes us irrational, and can eventually destroy us. I hope I can avoid it in my own life. I see lots of hate on both sides this election year. I pray that it doesn’t destroy our nation.
For several years I’ve been keeping a journal. I’m not very regular with it. My typical time to write is in the evenings, after everything else is done and we are watching TV.
Up at 5:50 a.m. Weight 202.0; blood sugar 117.
Walked 2 miles, my fourth straight day to walk that distance, and my tenth day of morning walking in an effort to improve strength and stamina ahead of my surgery.
To The Dungeon, without coffee. Devotional reading (currently in a book on prayer) and prayer.
Begin work on the Bible study I’m writing. My goal was to write one section, about 600 words. I was able to do that. Had time left, so began work on the next section. It was a good time of writing.
No book sales when I checked early.
Reviewed the stock market and made one trade.
Upstairs for breakfast of sausage-onions-peppers-eggs-cheese on pita bread, then outside to do some light yardwork.
Checked on two home improvement items. Our propane company did change out the hardware on the propane takes as I asked. Someone called me about it a couple of weeks ago but the reception was so bad that I couldn’t understand him. And, I called the plumbing supply store about the replacement toilet seats I wanted to buy. They had never called me. I learned they couldn’t find one of the right size, material, and color that I need. So I researched and found one on Amazon and ordered it. Let’s hope the color matches.
Worked on scanning documents to save electronically and then discard the papers. I got rid of three stray genealogy papers and a number of writing site papers. I only need two more days at that pace to get rid of one more notebook.
Read in the sunroom. Cloud cover made it easy to do today. May have napped a little out there.
Lunch of leftover pizza, crackers, and blackberries.
Made a blackberry cobbler to give away.
Back to The Dungeon for a few more computer tasks, including managing correspondence.
Looked through some books to choose a couple to take to the hospital with me.
Rested upstairs in my reading/TV watching chair. Worked on crossword puzzles but fell asleep.
Read three letters in the Carlyle Letters Online.
Had supper of leftover taco salad, still quite good on the fourth day. Dessert for me was, you guessed it, blackberries with a little sugar sprinkled on them.
Wrote a letter to my second grandson, which I’ll mail tomorrow.
Remembered I needed to write a blog post for tomorrow, and so started writing this.
Well, that seems to describe a full day. Maybe I’ll actually find time to write this in my journal.
I found lots of illustrations on-line for the type of valve I have.
A little late getting today’s post up, but here it is. In several recent posts I’ve alluded to surgery that I’m going to have soon, but haven’t given specific info. It will be open-heart surgery.
Now, before everyone freaks out, they surgeon and others tell me this is the least risky, least invasive type of open-heart surgery you could have. That sounds strange, I know. but here are the details.
I was born with an abnormal aortic valve. A normal heart valve has three leaves that move together, opening to allow flow and closing to block flow. My aortic valve, however, has only two leaves (cusps is the medics call them). I normally say genetically defective valve, but that’s probably unfair to the valve. It has served me well for 72+ years, but my cardiologist thinks it’s time to replace the two-cusp wonder, and the surgeons who normally do this kind of surgery agree.
The valve has a condition that’s called stenosis, a build-up of calcium (and maybe other stuff) on it. It’s opening and closing fine, and not leaking, but with the degree of buildup on it, it’s only a matter of time until it won’t work properly, or some of the calcium will slough off and cause a problem in my lungs or elsewhere. So the doc says it’s time to replace it, while I’m still “young” and not a very big risk for surgery. Based on tests, they say I’m low risk.
They aren’t saying the valve was the cause of my mini-stroke in January—it most likely wasn’t. But with that health scare, and with their knowledge of how these things go as a man ages, they strongly recommended I have the procedure done now. That was back in mid-February. The surgery will be, most likely, the week of July 22.
Why so long a wait? Well, it isn’t an emergency. My heart is strong. Tests show my arteries are not blocked (“widely patent” is medical speak for a clear artery, and tests show almost all mine are “widely patent”). I have a good ejection fraction, a measure of the squeezing function of the heart. I have no symptoms of heart disease—no angina (thought I did have some last year) and no shortness of breath. Everything is fine except for my genetically defective valve, which is stenotic, calcifies, and perhaps ossified, petrified, and mummified.
With the wonders of modern medicine, most of these valve replacements, maybe 80 percent of them, are done through the groin. That requires one or two days in the hospital and a seven-to-ten-day recovery period. Back in February they thought mine would be done through-the-groin, and they began running the tests needed to know for sure. Well, it turns out that my two-cusp wonder is quite elongated rather than circular. The two manufacturers of the through-the-groin valves cannot guarantee that their valves will fit and lodge properly, with no leakage or looseness.
Hence, they gotta do mine the old-fashioned way. Put me to sleep; switch my breathing to a heart-lung machine; stop my heart; open my chest to expose the heart; detach the aorta; cut out the bad valve; possibly reshape the valve opening; insert and stabilize the new valve; sew me back up; restart the heart; and wake me up. I’ll then have a week or maybe ten days in the hospital, followed by two months of at home recovery. Easy-peasy. Seems almost ridiculous seeing as I have no symptoms. But the tests don’t lie.
One good thing about doing this via open heart is that in ten years, when my replacement valve wears out and I need another valve, presumably I’ll be less strong to withstand another surgery but they will be able to do it through the groin. To every cloud there is a silver lining, even if you have to wait ten years to see it.
But, with every surgery there are risks. What is my heart doesn’t want to re-start when it’s over? What if some calcium decides to slough off during the surgery? What if the anesthesia is at the wrong level? What if my otherwise strong heart is damaged during the surgery?
I’ll have some posts written ahead of time for when I’m in the hospital. Meanwhile, if you’re interested in this kind of condition, you can find quite a few reputable websites that discuss it.
