I've got this great idea for a story, but I need a little input. Tell me, outside of money and power, what would you consider a "source of evil"?
I'm posting this question on my fb page, and I'll publish the results here. If you have any input, feel free to comment.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
McShane
********************************************************************
Note to reader...
A couple of months ago, I entered a writing contest called "Summer Shootout". I came in fourth!
The contest entailed receiving a 'prompt' on Saturday, and having until the following Saturday to submit a short story. There really were no other rules, other than the deadline.
Some people have asked to read the stories I submitted, so I'm posting them here.
This story is for the second prompt given. "An angry woman, a silver platter and a cannon."
I wrote a short story titled, "Scavenge", submitted here as "McShane". It's a detective, murder/mystery piece.
Thanks for reading.
********************************************************************
Note to reader...
A couple of months ago, I entered a writing contest called "Summer Shootout". I came in fourth!
The contest entailed receiving a 'prompt' on Saturday, and having until the following Saturday to submit a short story. There really were no other rules, other than the deadline.
Some people have asked to read the stories I submitted, so I'm posting them here.
This story is for the second prompt given. "An angry woman, a silver platter and a cannon."
I wrote a short story titled, "Scavenge", submitted here as "McShane". It's a detective, murder/mystery piece.
Thanks for reading.
********************************************************************
McShane
by j l mo
Sam
fumbled for her ringing cell and cursed as it fell off of the nightstand. The
ring tone belonged to her mom. She decided to leave the phone on the floor and
let the call go to voice mail. Calling at nine o’clock in the morning on her
day off deserved voice mail.
The
phone finally stopped ringing. She turned to her side and nuzzled down in the
pillow as the cell announced with a beep a message had been left. The damn
thing started ringing again. Mom was calling back. Then Sam remembered why Mom
was calling so early. Her eyes popped open and she quickly sat up on the edge
of the bed. She wanted Sam to go on a scavenger hunt with someone she’d just
met yesterday. The whole thing sounded strange. She fumbled for the ringing
phone on the floor.
“Yes,
Mom. I’m up.”
“Samantha
Angus McShane! You were supposed to be here already.”
“C’mon,
Mom, you said ten o’clock.”
“I
said we start at ten. You and I were going to have breakfast first.”
Sam
cursed again. She’d forgotten about that. “Sorry, Ma” Sam fell back on her bed.
“I can still make ten. Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
“I
want you to meet Tom! Sam, he’s gorgeous and I know you two are meant for each
other. I told him my single daughter is a detective, and then he told me about
this scavenger hunt his church was holding. One team member has to find their
two teammates through riddles. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Tom almost dropped
out because his two friends couldn’t go, so I volunteered us!”
Sam
groaned. “Ma, how do you know he isn’t some scam artist?”
“I
just know. He says he goes to the First United Methodist Church and his Sunday
school group is hosting this to raise money for the orphanage.”
Sam
smiled at her mother’s continued attempts to replace Amy. “Did you check out
the guy like I suggested?”
“Would
you, for once, trust my judgment?” her mother said with a huff.
“Ma,
you know I hate riddles.” After a heavy sigh she dragged herself off of the bed
and said, “I’m on my way to meet you.”
“You
don’t have to. Tom says we can start early and send you the first riddle by
text. That way you don’t have to come all the way to his church to get it. The
answer to the riddle will tell you where to go to get the second one. Don’t
forget to take a picture to prove you found it. Since there are only four
riddles total, we should be done in time to have lunch together. Okay?”
“Yeah,
Okay.”
The
first riddle came as a text message thirty minutes later. Sometimes Sam hated
her own suspicious mind.
A
park in town
turned
upside down
take
the shot
you’ll
know the spot
Sam
hit the call back button to reach her mom. The call went to voice mail. Sam
called her partner and asked him to run a background check on Tom Novak, her
mom’s new friend.
This
first riddle was taking her to Soqquadro Park. Last year she cornered a scum
named Aldo facing drug charges and a murder warrant in that very park. The
barrel of his gun was pointed at Sam's head when she, her partner Charles, and half
the police force took him out in a spray of bullets and blood. She lived, he
died. Aldo’s partner River Nowak got away, but last known whereabouts put him somewhere
in Southeast Asia.
She
found the second riddle before Charles called her back. Under the shrub where
Aldo’s body had fallen she found a miniature set of stairs like one found on a
large dollhouse. Each of the four wooden steps contained a carved sentence.
The
bank got robbed
Women
sobbed
your
friend died there
on
the stair
Sam
swallowed the lump forming in her throat. River Nowak was back, and he had her
mom. Wasn’t killing Amy enough? She snapped the photo as her cell rang.
Charles
said, “Mr. Tom Novak is a white male of dubious descent, according to this
photo, who flew into OIA last week. His current whereabouts are unknown. Sam,
he came in from Bangkok.”
Sam’s
stomach clenched tighter. Straight from Southeast Asia. “Tell me true, Charles.
Could the picture be River Nowak in disguise?”
“Yeah,
I’m afraid so.”
“Shit!
He’s got mom.” Sam started jogging toward her car.
“I’ve
got a couple of uniforms on their way to you.”
She
clenched her jaw, but tried not to let her frustration come through her voice.
“You promised not to tell the Captain.”
“Hold
on now, I’ve kept my promise. I’ve spoken to Officer Smith and Officer Wesson.
They volunteered to watch your back until more than just the two of them are
needed.”
“Alright,
but tell them to keep their distance. We don’t know if Nowak’s got eyes on me
or not.”
“Done.
What’s the next riddle?”
“You’re
not gonna believe this. River wants me to go to First National. I’m pretty sure
the next clue will be on the staircase.”
“What
a sick son of a bitch. I’m calling the Chief as well as the Feds. Come on in,
Sam. You’re too close to this. Let the FBI and the department handle matters
from here.”
“I
will, but not now. The bastard’s drawing me in.” Charles was silent for a
matter of moments. She added, “I’ll be careful.”
“Fine,
but I’m telling everyone to meet you at First National.”
“Wouldn’t
expect anything less, Charles.”
“The
bank’s been closed since the robbery. You want me to call the real estate
company to go unlock a door?”
Sam
thought for a moment. “No,” she replied. “If River wants me inside, he’s left a
way. Listen, I’ll check in, but definitely keep tabs on me, OK? It’s good to
know Smith and Wesson have my back.”
“I
swear the Captain put them together just so we could say that.”
“Bye,
Charles.”
The
bank stood only a few blocks from the park. Aldo had stuck to his territory,
and River was doing the same. First National occupied a corner of a two-story
strip mall. She parked her car in front and removed her S&W J-Frame from
the lockbox in the glove compartment.
The
front door was locked and the stairway couldn’t be seen though the windows from
this angle. Sam watched a patrol car roll by in the reflection of the glass.
She waited until they passed before she walked around to the back the building.
The emergency exit door stood open.
Careful
not to touch the door or frame, she entered shouting, “This is the police! I am
armed. Show yourself with your hands over your head!” Silence answered her.
Keeping the weapon raised, she crept down the sunlit hallway and into the
abandoned bank’s lobby. She glanced around the corner to the stairs on her
left. On the third stair, right where Amy died sat a piece of paper on a small
silver platter.
The
memory of that horrid day crashed on her. A lump in her throat threatened to
burst as she blinked away the tears and swallowed hard. Memories of their life
together painfully resurfaced. Amy had been buried for more than a year, along
with Sam’s heart. Why would this sick son of a bitch do this? Amy was an innocent
in the bank when Aldo and his buddies stormed in. Sam took several deep,
cleansing breaths. Careful not disturb any evidence, she read the next clue.
the
bar was filled
you
were billed
the
tab was paid
in
the shade
“Son
of a bitch!” Sam shouted at no one. She snapped the picture and then called
Charles. “The bastard wants me to go to the ruins of O’Malley’s.”
“You
got the riddle? Why did you go in? You should have waited. Now you’re gonna get
your ass chewed. Stay there, the others should arrive any second. Don’t touch
anything else!”
“I
haven’t touched a god damned thing, Charles. And I ain’t waiting. Do me a
favor. Let them find this riddle on their own and figure out the meaning. Then
they can chase me. Tell Smith and Wesson where I’m going, though. It was good
to see them roll by.” Charles didn’t answer for a moment. Sam held her breath
waiting for her partner’s decision to let her go on alone or not.
Finally
he said, “You cried in my arms for an hour on those stairs, Sam. I know how
much you loved Amy. But your dying won’t bring her back, or bring your Mom
home.”
“I
hear you. Will you keep them off my ass for another minute?”
“Go.
Please be careful.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t bother to tell him she was already parking on a corner lot four
blocks from the bank. This spot once held the most popular bar in town. The old
oak tree here did not completely escape the massive flames that claimed so many
lives. A portion of the trunk and branches still appeared singed. Somehow she,
Amy, Charles, and his wife Isabella escaped the death trap that night. Sam was
put through the ringer with Internal Affairs for the next six weeks.
Under
the tree sat another small silver platter holding the final riddle.
when
you soared
the
cannon roared
then
came thunder
she’ll
be under
Sam
read the paper twice. The patrol car driving by ever so slowly caught her
attention. She realized she should be moving. Snapping the picture she got back
in her car and drove away. The problem being, she had no idea where she was
driving. The riddle made no sense. There was nothing her mind could recall
tying Aldo, or River, to a cannon or soaring or thunder. After driving
aimlessly for ten minutes, she called Charles.
“What
do you know about a cannon?”
“There’s
a cannon in Soqquadro Park.”
“No
there’s not.”
“Yeah,
they put a little one in about six months ago. A plaque says the thing was
found on a sunken Spanish ship fairly close to shore.”
“Shit!”
Sam tried to find a place to turn her car around to go back to the park. “The
bastard’s sent me on a wild goose chase and has probably been there the whole
fucking time!”
“I
don’t want to interrupt an angry woman, but maybe you should come in and let
the Feds handle this.”
“Angry
Woman?” Sam heard herself screech and didn’t care. “He’s got my fucking Mom,
Charles! Angry fucking woman? Are you serious? I am going to get her back!”
“You
can’t get Amy back!” Charles’s screeching voice matched her own. The sound took
her by surprise. She took several deep, very audible breaths. Charles sounded
as if he were doing the same.
“That
was a low blow.”
“I’m
sorry.” Another moment he added, “Amy would demand you come back and you know
it.”
That
much was true. Amy was as overprotective as her mom. “Okay. I’m calming down.
Let’s think. Is the cannon in Soqquadro Park the only one in town?”
“Wait.
Read me the whole clue.”
Sam
didn’t have to read the clue. The words were carved into her memory.
“When you soared, the cannon roared, then came thunder, she’ll be under”
Silence
stretched. Sam wanted to give Charles time to process it, but she began to
think the call had dropped. “Are you there?”
“Yeah.
The clue is for me, Sam.”
“Come
again?”
“I
was flying back from Tallahassee. Isabella had taken the boys to the park.
There was a break in at my house and someone blew up my Cannon gun safe. They
stole my Bersa Thunder 380 and went on to kill four people. They found the damn
thing in a dumpster.”
“Oh
my god! I remember! The dumpster at the fairgrounds! Have everyone meet me
there!” She ended the call and took the next right turn. Her phone rang with
‘Unknown’ where the caller ID should be displayed.
“Hello?”
“Hello,
Sam. Miss me?”
“Who
is this?”
“I’m
hurt. You don’t remember me?”
“River?”
“See,
you do care.”
“Where’s
my mother?”
“Well,
she’s not with Amy. Yet.”
“Where
is my mother?” Sam screamed into the phone.
“Tut-tut,
such anger. No small talk? No ‘how ya been?’, ‘whatcha been up to?’ That kind
of thing?”
“You
mother fucker!”
“Oh,
heavens no! Mother killer, sure. But fucker? Not my thing.”
She
was only another couple of miles from the fairgrounds. Taking a deep breath she
asked again, “Where is my mother?”
“Didn’t
Charles give you the answer to my last riddle? I admit, I’m no poet, but I
couldn’t have made it much clearer.”
“What
does Charles have to do with this?”
“Now
I’m really hurt. He didn’t tell you about us? Shame on Charles.”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Charles
and I were together for a while. He was everything to me. I would have given
him the world. Then he turned straight for Isabella. Aldo was a dear, but I never got over losing Charles.”
“What?”
“See,
now you’re getting the picture.”
“No,
I’m not.”
“Charles
broke my heart and made my life miserable. I, in turn, made life miserable for
everyone he loved. Isabella was supposed to be home that day I got his Thunder,
but I still had fun.”
“You
killed Amy to hurt Charles? You sick mother fucker!”
“We’ve
already gone over that part. Besides, Amy was just a happy coincidence.”
The
screech returned to Sam’s voice. “Where is my mother?”
“Go
to the fairgrounds. Mrs. McShane is on the southeast corner, tied to a chair.
Behind her is the dumpster where I returned Charles’s Bersa Thunder to him. The
one I gave him as a Christmas present all those years ago. Tell him to look
under the dumpster for his next gift. She’s kind of messy. You might want to
bring some extra cleaning supplies.” The phone went dead. Sam hit the call back
and heard an automated voice tell her there is no such number. She called
Charles.
“Where’s
Isabella?” Sam asked.
“At
work. Why?”
“You
should have told me about you and River.”
“What?
Wait. Why? No, there’s nothing to tell! Besides, it was ancient history! Why?
Oh my god. What’s happened to Bella?”
“Charles,
this wasn’t about me or my mom. It’s been about you all along. Go get your
kids. I think something’s happened to their mom.”
********************************************************************
Note to my dear reader; I hope
you’ve enjoyed this. I've had so much fun with Sam, I decided to make this a chapter in my next book.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Normal Parameters
A couple of months ago, I entered a writing contest called "Summer Shootout". It was the first time I'd ever tried such a thing. Of the 22 original contestants, I came in fourth! If you had asked me five years ago where I saw myself in that amount of time, the answer would not have been 'entering a writing contest'. But life does take odd turns, doesn't it?
A few of you have asked to read the stories I submitted, so I'm posting them here.
The contest entailed receiving a 'prompt' on Saturday, and having until the following Saturday to submit a short story. There really were no other rules, other than the deadline.
The first prompt given was "Instrument Failure"
I wrote a short story titled, "Normal Parameter" set in the not-too-distant future. Leave a comment or send me an email and let me know what you think.
Thanks, and enjoy.
A few of you have asked to read the stories I submitted, so I'm posting them here.
The contest entailed receiving a 'prompt' on Saturday, and having until the following Saturday to submit a short story. There really were no other rules, other than the deadline.
The first prompt given was "Instrument Failure"
I wrote a short story titled, "Normal Parameter" set in the not-too-distant future. Leave a comment or send me an email and let me know what you think.
Thanks, and enjoy.
***********************
Normal Parameters
Submitted July 20, 2012
By j l mo
The vibration I feel through my
shoes seems familiar. I step to the small patch of bare wall, one of the few
areas not covered by instruments, pipes or wires, allowing a direct touch to
the inner hull. Reaching up, I place my hand on the slight curve to try and
identify the sensation. Bzzz. A count of ten and again, Bzzz. Rhythmic shivers
gently pulse through her. Something tugged at the back of my mind as I try to
reach a memory of a lesson, buried in layers of lessons from too many years
gone.
I've
been Captain of this antiquated three-level shuttle since my demotion five
months ago. In all fairness, she was a beautiful spacebus in her day. The upper
dome held the helm, mid-deck was for the passengers and the lower deck housed
the engines and gravitational units. The thing is, her day is long past. I
don't believe she should still be in service. However, all of her maintenance
checks came back clean.
“Ensign Tadford. Status update,
please.”
The young woman swiveled around on
the squeaky, too small seat and declared, “All is working within normal
parameters, sir.”
“Are you sure? Oxygen, power,
engines, all read normal?”
“Aye, sir. Would you like a report
sent to your intermail?”
“No, that won't be necessary.”
“Is there anything specific you
might like investigated, sir?”
I decline with a shake of my head.
I'm not sure where to start with something so vague. The military, in their
infinite wisdom, declared system engineers on board a shuttlecraft unnecessary.
The manufacturer, AGN, claim there is no need for them. All monitoring and
minor repairs could be performed by the crewmembers, if necessary. Except for
odd things like this.
“Call
Lieutenant Meyers to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.”
The memory of a lesson from long ago
danced just outside of total recall. What caused that damn vibration? I'd had
so many professors at the academy I couldn't remember them all. Their
individual lessons were even more distant. This was something I should know.
This shuttle with its crew of three
carrying a dozen passengers could fly fine without me. After my demotion, the
route assignment turned out to be the worst of my punishment. I accepted losing
rank from Major to Captain with grace. My true hell lay in the monotonous
shuttling of passengers from Earth all the way to Moon, with five regular stops
on each surface. The most uninteresting, mind numbing route to be had, and I am
to fly this until retirement.
“Excuse me, Captain Casey.
Lieutenant Meyers, as ordered.”
The formality on this shuttle still
boggles my mind, but the others appreciate the military protocol. So, I deal
with the uniforms, and the salutes and the posturing as if we were actually on
a military mission. Well, I suppose we are, but it's an AGN Class B
Shuttlecraft, for God’s sake! I return his salute, stifling my frustration.
“At ease, Lieutenant. Have you
noticed a pulse, an odd vibration, through the ship?”
“A vibration, sir?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Here, put your
hand right here.” Meyers places his palm where indicated on the ship’s inner
hull.
“No sir, I don't feel anything.”
“It's faint. Wait a moment longer.”
Dutifully, Meyers obeys. He lowers
his head and closes his eyes, doing what he’s ordered to do with every ounce of
concentration. After twenty seconds his head jerks up with his eyes wide.
“Shit! I mean, Captain!” Meyers glances at the ensign who swung around quickly
in her chair. “Ensign Tadford! Has a flux been recorded by the Bosonic
Gravitron Meter?”
My chest clenched as I heard her
say, “No, sir. As I told the Captain, all is working within normal–”
She didn’t finish the sentence. I
pushed her out of the way to get to the instrument panel. The lesson dodging my
memory came back to me like a lightning flash. The AGN Shuttles were one of the
first passenger ships built with the HB Artificial Gravity Field. In the
preceding seventy-five years of use, not one failure had occurred. This would
be the first on record. If anyone survived.
The instruments all gave normal
readings. I scramble to the other consoles to check the back-up instruments.
They all show the BGM working within parameters.
I
spin to face Meyers. He had helped Tadford to her feet. The Lieutenant’s face
had lost all color, while the Ensign appeared too calm.
“Is
there a problem, Captain?” she asked, as her lips curled into a cruel
curve. Tadford’s eyes locked mine as she reached into her pocket and proudly displayed
a recognized, much-hated black calling card depicting a hologram of the red
planet. I froze in shock. The card marked her a MarSaver. One of the terrorists responsible
for thousands of deaths in their pursuit to ‘save Mars from man’ has sabotaged my ship.
“What
have you done?” My voice sounded much calmer than I felt.
“What
my people told me to do. Kill you.”
“You
would kill yourself and all these innocent people, possibly Earth itself, to
get to me?”
“Well
worth the sacrifice!”
My
voice seemed hollow as I shouted, “I told the military of your people’s demands!
They refused to negotiate! I lost my rank because I wouldn’t stop my crusade to
save those people, and you blew up the Mars station anyway, killing hundreds of
innocents! What more could I do?”
“Die.”
“Captain!”
Meyers voice broke the spell of incredulity this woman held me in. “We might
still save the passengers on board!”
“Yes!
Bypass the instruments and sound the alarm!” The too-smooth, female automated
voice started before Meyers reached the control panel.
“The containment field is failing.”
“Repeat - The containment field is
failing.”
“Repeat - The containment field is
failing.”
“I
know, Agnes!” I growl under my breath.
“Captain,
the alarm began–”
“Yes,
Lieutenant! Tell me this piece of flying space junk carries the proper number
of escape pods!”
Tadford
said, “It did until I had two removed for maintenance. The instrument failure
was overridden. Captain Casey? Are you afraid to die?”
“Captain!”
Meyers shouted. “We have to move! The HB is pulsing harder!”
I
stopped engaging this lunatic and paid attention the vibrations. The pulse was
so hard it had become audible. RUMBLE. A count of five and RUMBLE.
“Follow proper
protocol to abandon ship. With two pods gone, one remains. All of the
passengers will fit if they double up for the ride. Go!”
Meyers
scrambled off the bridge and down toward the passengers.
“Repeat - The containment field is failing.”
“Well,
Captain,” the terrorist purred. “I would say it's been a pleasure serving under
you, but, well, you know.” The shrug she gave and the sickening, cruel upturn
of her lips pushed me too far. In two strides I reached her and she hit the
floor hard. I'd never punched a woman before, but since I was gonna die anyway,
I figured, what the hell. I may have broken her jaw.
The
panel still read everything working normally, even with Agnes blaring her
warning. Think, man! Professor Watts taught you well, so pull the shit back
into your mind! If the instrument says it's OK, then the instrument is wrong.
So, what made it go wrong? The instrument failure is not the point! What will
it take to make the HB Artificial Gravity Field not implode? No one’s ever done
this! Think!
“Repeat - The containment field is failing.”
“Wait!”
I shout. I turn to Tadford still on the floor holding her jaw. “The gravity
field needs the Stress Energy Tensor! Is that what you did? You disabled the
SET?”
The
only response I receive is her glare. At least she’s not smiling anymore.
“I
need to get to the engine room and put the two back together before this ship
becomes a black hole!”
From
behind me Meyers says, “You’ll need help.”
“Repeat - The containment field is failing.”
“Secure Tadford to something. Let's
make sure she can't cause any more trouble. Then, please, turn Agnes off.”
All lights dimmed to lowest illumination
level through the passageways, as per protocol. I could still see, but barely.
The pulse now gave the impression of being inside a beating heart. A dying
heart. “We'll try to save you, girl,” I whisper. “Just hang on for another
minute.”
POUND. A count of two and POUND. The
gravity field is trying to pull the ship in on itself. The closer we get the
more difficult it is to move, as if walking through molasses.
We reach the engine room adjacent to
the HB Gravity Field unit. Meyers crossed himself as we went in. Here was the
source of the heartbeat. A monstrosity of machinery, as reliable as the sunrise
in the east. That is, unless someone sabotaged her, which somebody did. The SET
was destroyed. Tadford must have had help with this. There must be another
MarSaver among the escaping passengers. Tadford somehow manipulated the
instrument panel while her accomplice came down here and performed this
catastrophe.
“What'll we do, Cap?” asked a
nervous-sounding Meyers.
The too-smooth, female automated voice
said, “Repair the Stress Energy Tensor by
removing the HB Artificial Gravity Field.”
My stomach clenched as I gasped.
Agnes was not programmed for speech recognition. She should not be able to
respond, or to give instruction. Meyers’ face looked like he'd just seen a
ghost. Mine probably looked the same. I asked, “Didn’t you shut Agnes off?”
“Yes, Captain. I did.”
POUND. A count of two and POUND.
“Repeat.
Repair the Stress Energy Tensor by removing the HB Artificial Gravity Field.”
“Agnes?” I venture.
“Repeat.
Repair the Stress Energy Tensor by removing the HB Artificial Gravity Field.”
I attempt to process what I'm
hearing. “Agnes that will kill us all.”
“Correction,”
Agnes replied in the annoying, non-emotional voice, “That will kill the three humans on board, and terminate the
shuttlecraft. The planet we serve will survive.”
“Agnes?” I asked, voice shaky to my own ears. “How long have you
been sentient?” “Repeat. Repair the Stress Energy Tensor by
removing the HB Artificial Gravity Field. It's been an honor to serve with you,
Captain Casey. Repeat. Repair the Stress Energy Tensor by removing the HB
Artificial Gravity Field.”
Monday, August 6, 2012
Get a CLUE Or: A five-step solution to the Gay Marriage debate (in 500 words or less)
I am republishing this post (original post August 6, 2012) in celebration of - Supreme Court delivers wins for gay marriage movement
This is a small step in the right direction. I still think the following is a better option.
*****************************************************
Note: There are a few lines here you might find glib, but understand I wrote it with a (somewhat) humorous slant.
Get a CLUE
Or: A five-step
solution to the Gay Marriage debate (in 500 words or less)
I won’t bore you as to how we, as a
people, arrived at this juncture. I’ll get straight to it. We have divined a
smooth solution to the otherwise divided rocky road ‘marriage’ has become.
On the side of heterosexuality are
those who lay claim of the Divine ordination of one man, and one woman to
constitute a marriage. They also legitimately point to scripture that strictly
state the sin of homosexuality. It’s a religious thing. Check.
On the side of homosexuality are the
men and women who want the legal (federal) right to be acknowledged as a couple. However,
since nothing is simple when it comes to legalities in today’s society, that
acknowledgment would constitute incorporating the rights reserved strictly to
heterosexuals when it comes to government-recognized relationships. For
instance, ownership of property, insurance, wills, family titles, etc. It’s a
legal thing. Check.
So, how do we marry these two
opposing forces? In the same manner all oppositions are resolved. Compromise.
We submit our suggestion: Civil
Licensed Union (with) Expiration, or CLUE.
While it will not replace marriage
as a religious institution, it will replace the legalities of a recognized
union. If you get married without a CLUE, then yours won’t be a legal entity
in the eyes of the law. Because marriage is a term coined from religious minds
and, as everyone knows, the government stays out of our churches (that’s a
debate for another time, people!). This is how a CLUE would be broken down in
500 words or less.
***********************
Civil Licensed
Union (with) Expiration
Heretofore
referenced as CLUE
1st Two
people meet and fall in love (or whatever). It doesn’t matter if they are man,
woman, black, white, or green with purple polka dots. Two people of adult age
and possessing the proper mental capacity to enter into a binding union, may.
Sorry, this does exclude Martians, Saturnians, dogs, cats, livestock or any
other non-human species. We do have to set standards.
2nd Once
their decision to get a CLUE is made, they must decide how long a CLUE they
want. It would be offered in increments of one, two, five, eight, ten and
twenty years. Of course the biggest leap would be the CLUE of a lifetime. Be aware,
a CLUE cannot be annulled, discarded or otherwise dissolved prior to the
expiration date. Period.
3rd The
couple must appear in person at the Clerk of the Circuit Court to complete the
CLUE application and be witnessed by a government official. This document would
replace the marriage license of old. The cost increases with the length of time
desired. The shorter the time frame, the cheaper the license. Each applicant
must complete his or her own addendum (CLUE-A and CLUE-B) to list every
possession owned prior to the CLUE process. No duplications (shared
possessions) shall be included.
4th When
the CLUE app is completed and approved, notarized, appropriate fees paid and
submitted, the government will then recognize the CLUE these two people share.
That recognition will come with every legal right now afforded ‘married’
individuals.
5th The
renewal of a CLUE must be made in the presence of the Clerk of the Circuit
Court prior to its expiration date. Any possessions acquired during the
previous CLUE must be added to the appropriate owner’s addendum. Once the
renewal CLUE app is completed and approved, notarized, appropriate fees paid
and submitted, the government will then continue to recognize the CLUE these
two people share.
But, what happens if a couple decide
the CLUE was a bad decision? Maybe they thought they wanted to get a CLUE, but
after six months of a year long CLUE, they want out?
No problem. They simply do not renew
their CLUE. They cannot be CLUE’d with another person until the expiration of
their current (sorry, lifers) and any possession whose ownership was not listed
in the addendum's and is in dispute must be sold and the profit split two ways.
No divorce court, no settlement disputes, and no alimony. You had a CLUE and
now it’s expired. Deal with it.
Children are another addendum. If a
child is conceived or adopted during a CLUE period, Addendum C (CLUE-C) must be
completed. The signature of the child’s responsible parental units, agreeing to
terms of custody and monetary support should the CLUE expire prior to the child
becoming of legal age, will be filed immediately.
***********************
So concludes
our proposal for “A five step solution to the Gay Marriage debate (in 500 words
or less).”
After all, marriage is a private club
with specific membership requirements. Stop trying to sue your way into it.
It’s time for the government to get a clue, so we can get a CLUE.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Techno-relationships
Techno-relationships
**********
Techno-relationship [tek-noh]-[ri-ley-shuhn-ship] the interaction
of social groups providing themselves with electronic connection between each other.
Techno-friend [tek-noh]-[frend] the term which social groups use to
identify members of the same social network.
**********
My two grown sons are blessed
with many, many friends they’ve kept throughout their lifetimes. A good deal of
them, now in their mid 20's and 30's, still keep in touch with each other
through various means.
I can’t help but wonder if
myspace, facebook, twitter, and/or cell phones were around as I grew up, would
I still be in touch with my old friends? My friend Sue and I have been friends
for so long, we can’t remember when we first met. But, this life long,
interpersonal relationship is unique in my current circle of friends.
An old friend of my son’s and I
had a long, face-to-face talk on the subject. We came up with a few new terms.
The two terms I coined are techno-relationship and techno-friend (see
definitions above).
For instance, if you knew Joe
Blow and now are strictly social network friends, you would be in a
techno-relationship, and he would be your techno-friend. One might check the
others social network status, without putting in the extra effort to make a
phone call. The drawback would be you were left unaware Mr. Blow was thinking
of you. A benefit would be, should you ever need to contact your techno-friend
again, you’ll probably read about his status change to ‘divorced’, and not
suffer the awkward, painful method of discovery by asking “So Joe, how’s Mrs.
Blow?”
These terms would also apply to
techno-friends on public forums and blogs.
I am not forgetting the term
cyber-friend. Unfortunately, ‘cyber’, in reference to a relationship, suffers
negative connotations. An example to my point would be the terms cyber-stalker,
cyber-bully, and cyber-sex. Those negative labels brought my son’s friend to
suggest ‘eolivebranch’. For instance, if you hurt a techno-friend in some way,
rather than ‘de-friend’ due to the embarrassment of the situation, you might
reach out with a cyber-apology and offer an eolivebranch.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Surprise!
Surprise!
My life rocks. No, that’s not
the surprise.
Once upon a time, my life
sucked. I can attest to this for any number of reasons, most of which were my
own doing. Anyway, as with most folks at some point, my life sucked.
However...
The good Lord saw fit to allow
me enough time on this earth to grow up. Seriously, I should have kicked it
long ago. Many others whose lives suffered similarly are gone. But, here I am,
and I gotta say again, my life rocks!
Part of the reason for how great
my life is would be the blessing of my two sons. This cannot be overstated.
They share a close relationship, are supportive of one another, have wonderful
marriages, love their mama, and put family first.
My oldest son accompanied his
beautiful, army-solider wife when deployed to Hawaii. Good for them, but their
leaving broke my heart. The rest of the family lives here in Florida, so the
move put us apart by almost half the world. I am so heartbrokenly happy for
them.
My youngest son and his gorgeous
wife, who is a nurse, live about twenty minutes away. They were married last
year, and they are already buying their own home this year! Icing on the
proverbial cake? They plan on starting a family soon.
I could not be more proud of my
boys. Again, my life rocks!
On a recent Saturday, I had to
go to the store. My husband offers if I wait and go tonight, he would go with
me in order to avoid the crowd. Shrugging, and somewhat surprised he would
volunteer such a thing, I settle back in front of my laptop and keep writing.
Soon a knock comes to the door,
and as I approach I call “Who is it?’
My youngest calls back, “It’s
me.”
I open the door and I ask, “Why
didn’t you use your key?”
“Cuz I brought a friend.”
He was standing on the porch
alone. I glanced past him to his car in the driveway. No one sat in it, so I
looked at him questioningly. Then, from around the corner, out pops his brother
from Hawaii! I couldn’t breathe. I stood frozen, with my hand still on the door
and my eyes bulging. I’m still processing the fact that my two sons are
standing on my front porch together as I’m told my entire family worked to get
him home for a week as a surprise for me!
Surprise! My life rocks.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Sunset on the East Coast
How do you describe nightfall on the beach? The fading
lights, the surf, the shifting tides all lend themselves to beauty. But then
again, I’m a beach bum. Here’s a quick take on one recent night’s view.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)