Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
Missing Bratty, a Very Sweet Dog (2009-2026)
I hate to have to announce such things as this, because I wish beloved pets could live forever. But my mother’s sweet little dog, Bratty, died earlier today at the age of seventeen-and-a-half.
My mother adopted Bratty when she was only four months old. Bratty had an intermittent seizure disorder, that came and went as it pleased, and my best guess is that not too many people wanted to adopt a dog that would always have seizures.
That did not stop my mother.
She was right, too. Bratty often went months without a seizure. And Bratty was the sweetest little dog I’d ever been around…she had empathy, always knew what I was feeling or my mother was feeling, and she loved us.
We loved her right back.
Our hearts are heavy, here, and are likely to be for quite some time.
Cover Reveal for Jasper’s Promise, Plus Three More Chapters…
Artist Brad Fraunfelter created this awesome cover for my forthcoming novel JASPER’S PROMISE, written by permission in Chris Nuttall’s Schooled in Magic universe, with a foreword from Chris himself.
I’m not great at showing off covers, as I don’t deal much with pictures. (I hope I sized this properly.) But I am happy to have this cover, as that’s exactly what I was thinking about with regards to Jasper, my main character, and his later love interest, Talinda. Jasper is studying healing, and that is exactly what he’s doing there — healing, not studying. (Minor joke there.)
As to why? Take my word for it that Talinda needs his help, specifically, in this one case due to a unique ability Jasper has that no one else seems to have.
At any rate, the last time I posted, I put up chapters one and two of JASPER’S PROMISE. I’m about to put up chapters three, four, and five…and I do hope you’ll enjoy them. (All of these chapters are meant as “teasers,” also known as things to whet the reader’s interest.)
Make sure to hit the back arrow if you haven’t yet read the first two chapters of JASPER’S PROMISE, then dive into the next three chapters, below.
…and away we go!
Chapter Three
The stagecoach, as my grandma had said, was just down the street. I was heartened to see that it was driven by someone I actually knew, a guy named Warren who had often spent time with Grandma Hannah playing cards or enjoying a good, home-cooked meal. (Sometimes, he even brought food that he cooked himself, and he was at least as good of a cook as Grandma was. Not that I’d ever admit that, even under torture. My grandmother had her reputation to worry about, after all.)
“Glad to see you, Jasper,” Warren said, doffing his cap. “Hop on. Or you can ride in the carriage, if you like.”
“No, I’d rather be up with you and the horses, providing David doesn’t see me.” I did open the carriage up, though, and stored my two bags—the food, and the clothes and books Grandma had given me—inside.
Warren understood, fortunately. “If I see him, I will pretend I didn’t. And if he tries to flag me down, he will regret it.” He patted his pocket, where a smaller version of Grandma’s blunderbuss seemed to sit. “Now, let’s go.”
Once I was up next to him, he clucked his tongue at the horses, and they set off at a steady pace. I didn’t know much about horses. But these seemed well-matched, and they had a flowing gait I could only admire. “How did you find four horses to work so well together?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“These four were put up for auction by a guy with less sense than Goddess Anujit gave a gnat,” Warren told me in disgust. “I was fortunate to be there. He had gambling debts, I think…I paid him a fair price, and have used them ever since.”
I hadn’t known that Warren had ever driven a carriage before. I guess I’d just seen him as my Grandma’s friend, and the rest didn’t matter…I was fortunate, looking back, that Warren was the carriage-driver as it’s possible someone else wouldn’t have waited until I got there before setting off.
“Hannah told me you’re going to go to a new school, something called a ‘university,’ somewhere near a desert,” Warren said, his eyes not moving from watching over the horses. It was a bit past midday, the air was a bit cool but pleasant, without much in the way of wind.
“It will be a big change,” I told him. “I didn’t know anything at all about this place, Heart’s Eye University, before both my mother and Grandma Hannah told me about it.” I realized I was taking a lot on faith, but I didn’t want to examine things too closely just then. Or I might just have Warren turn around and take me back, which would be a betrayal of the promises I’d made to both my mother and my grandmother.
“I’ve heard that a lot of the New Learning has come from some of the teachers there,” Warren said, skillfully continuing to drive the horses. The terrain wasn’t all that bad, but it did have boulders studded here and there, so the track wasn’t always steady. “I hope they’ll figure out soon how to properly grade roads. You will ask them if you get a chance, won’t you?”
I agreed that I would. And I could see why he was worried, too. A less skillful driver than Warren was could’ve easily broken an axle or foundered one or more of the horses on this trail, as it wasn’t much more than a goat track.
We came to a bigger-sized town, and Warren stopped at a place he seemed familiar with. No one was there, which might’ve been just as well…no one to see where we went, if nothing else. He went into a local tavern to get a few provisions, and gave them to me, these being three hearty beef sandwiches with a slice of good, well-aged cheddar cheese on each. “Take these on the train with you.”
“Thanks!” I didn’t know why I deserved such largesse, but before I could ask, he’d gone on.
“You’re a growing boy. You need more than just what your grandma sent along, no shame to her.” He had a twinkle in his eye, which was both reassuring and disturbing at the same time. I didn’t think I wanted to know what he was thinking about, if that makes any sense.
After driving through the two additional towns, Warren drove straight up to the train depot. That was still a fairly new place at the time, as steam trains had only been in existence as far as I knew for five, maybe six years, and of course it took time to lay tracks to make those rides possible. The railroad had only put in a line to this town, called Trenton after its founder, in the last several months…the depot was made of white clapboard, but I didn’t need to go inside as Warren handed me a ticket and pointed me to the right train.
“This should get you to Heart’s Eye, son,” Warren said. “Go now, and be sure to write to your grandmother on occasion. I’ll be waiting for your news, too!” He smiled, a bit cheekily, as I got my belongings out of the carriage, then he doffed his cap again, bent from the waist in a manner that was oddly formal, then straightened up and clucked his tongue at the horses again.
I watched as he drove away, then went to the train he’d indicated. A man was checking tickets, and I presented mine. “This is the train that will take me to Heart’s Eye University?”
“To Heart’s Ease, anyway,” the man said, thawing fractionally.
“What’s that?” There was no one else behind me, so I felt reasonably safe in asking a question. I also used my magic to sense whether or not the man was telling the truth, for good measure.
“It’s the town outside of Heart’s Eye, and it grew up because of the school there. I don’t know much else about it, except that after Lady Emily beat the necromancer who’d taken the place over, people came back and got the town back up and running.”
The man was telling the truth as he knew it, which was comforting.
“I can see why they’d fled,” I ventured. “No one wants to be anywhere close to a necromancer if they can help it.” I felt like shivering, but refrained.
“Lady Emily fixed it, all right and tight,” the man said. “Now, it’s time to get going…take a seat anywhere you like, and when we stop for a break, I’ll let you know.” He also informed me that there was a privy on the train, but that he hoped I’d not have to use it.
After I thanked him, I went to sit down. I knew the train trip would take several days, minimum, but it was heartening to know that they knew where we were going, and that neither my mother nor grandmother had been misled.
I wonder, I thought. They’ll train me? Me? Why?
Yet I’d promised my grandma, and promised my mother herself, that I would go and do the very best I could to get the training Mom had lacked. No matter how worried I was about what would happen when I got there, I needed to put that aside…and as the miles went on, and as we first went up one mountain, down another, into a valley, then up onto a plain, I did my best to calm my nerves.
The stops we had along the way, I used the way the man (called a “porter”) had suggested, carrying my belongings with me as I went, just in case the train started up again without me.
But I was fortunate. The porter looked out for me, letting me know when we were within a half a day of Heart’s Ease, the town outside Heart’s Eye. I went to use the privy, which stank as much as I’d feared, but it did have clean, running water. I used the water purification spell, too, just in case, before I cleaned my face, hands, and neck as best I could (as everything else was covered, I didn’t have to worry about that). I also put on my best outfit, a cambric shirt with a bit of Mom’s whimsical embroidery around the cuffs (why she liked yellow sunflowers, I’ll never understand, but they reminded me of her) and a pair of tough denim pants of a dark blue indigo. They fit well, because I’d only had them for maybe a month…
The longer I thought about it, the more planning and forethought I saw in my mother’s decision. She wanted what was best for me.
Now I had to go convert on my promise. And hope that it would be possible, as anything else would be unthinkable.
oOo
Chapter Four
The porter, who’d since told me on the several-day trip that his name was Dave (like my stepfather, but as unlike the man as it was possible to be, thank goodness), came to let me know the depot was within sight. I appreciated that, as there were a lot more people on the train than before…at the last stop, at least fifty people had boarded, most with a hatbox and a suitcase in hand.
Dave must’ve known I was nervous, because he blurted out, “Son, you will do just fine here. There’s all sorts of opportunities for a young man with ambition here. And I sense you have that.”
Startled, I looked at him again, trying to figure out if he had magic or some other talent that I wasn’t aware of. As far as I could tell, he didn’t.
“How—Why—What do you mean?” I stammered.
“A young man doesn’t come from so far away unless he has ambition,” Dave said comfortably. “And not much in the way of prospects where he initially came from…am I right?”
I nodded, but didn’t go into any of my story. It wasn’t proper. And if I tried to tell him, I might break down in tears, something not befitting under the circumstances..
“I wish you the best of luck and every happiness,” Dave said with a big smile.
I didn’t know what I’d ever done to warrant that smile, but I smiled back, tentatively, and thanked him. Then I waited in a line until I had disembarked, and saw the many carriages and conveyances waiting there—one had two big wheels on the back, a bigger wheel on the front, and space for several people to sit along with the driver! It seemed to be steam-powered, unless I missed my guess, and I couldn’t help but stare at it in astonishment. In addition, they seemed to be constructing even more train tracks, possibly going up to Heart’s Eye University itself soon…but for now, this was all there was.
There was no way I was going to use that strange wheeled-thing, not now anyway, because I had to conserve money. I’d long since eaten the excellent beefsteak sandwiches, eaten most of the cheese my grandma gave me, and also ate some raisins, though I still had some left of both for another meal in case I couldn’t afford anything else. I had no idea what the prices were here, and couldn’t assume that things would be cheap just because the tuition at the university was said to be free.
After walking in the same direction a number of other young men and women, hatboxes and suitcases in hand, were going, I came along a row of what seemed to be boarding houses, or perhaps a type of inn. I used my nascent magic to see if any of the homes had a welcoming aura, and found that four of them had a warn-off (Don’t touch! Danger!) for whatever reason, but two others seemed worthy of consideration. The first was at the beginning of the row, while the second was at the end…and I could see in the distance what I took to be Heart’s Eye University: a massive school, one that could hold hundreds of people if not even more than that, and it even included a castle with a moat! Most of it seemed made of brick and mortar, with newer, wooden buildings popping up here and there as needed. Several areas seemed to have new construction going, too…there even were barns, which presumably held animals, and grain silos, too! This had to be the right place.
You might be wondering why I didn’t go straight up to the university as the others I saw seemed to be doing. Well, they’d been on the train far less time than I had. They might not be as tired…or maybe they already had instructors that had agreed to take them on.
I felt it was far too risky to do that, because if I did, and if I wasn’t at my best, how could I make a good impression? As it was, I had to find out what was what in a hurry, get the lay of the land (as the saying goes), and also get out of the heat, as it was true that Heart’s Ease, like Heart’s Eye University, was on the edge of a searing desert.
When I walked into the inn I chose, the temperature dropped immediately, enough so I was comfortable and no longer sweating. A clerk at a nearby desk chirped brightly, “New in town?” She gestured to a pitcher of water.
“Yes, actually.” I used my magic and sensed the water was good, so I poured some of the water out into a nearby waiting glass. It was cold and took the grit out of my throat. “My name is Jasper, and I’m here because I am looking into applying to Heart’s Eye’s university.”
“Really?” she asked. Then we haggled over the price, until I gave over a single gold coin. (I was surprised it wasn’t more. I still had more than enough to buy any book I wanted or another night at the inn if I needed it, so I was happy.) She had me sign something she called a “register of guests,” and told me that dinner would be available in a few hours.
I thanked her, went to the room I’d been assigned, and cleaned up using the warm water jug and a hand-towel the inn provided. I sat down on a hard, but comfortable chair, and tried not to think about Mom, dying at home, or probably already dead, with Grandma having to arrange a funeral (as I was sure David wouldn’t do it, the old skinflint).
At dinner, which was a midday meal here (rather than the later time I was used to back in Newtown), there was a lively conversation, first about a musical production held elsewhere in town (something called a “revue,” I guess; a bunch of different singers and actors doing all sorts of different things), then about goings-on at the university. My ears perked up as I heard reference to a young Gorgon woman, and I heard the following:
“It’s weird to be in a store with that Gorgon, you know?” a youngish woman said, sitting alongside the man I thought was probably her husband, as they held hands and seemed to dote on one another. “I kept expecting her to turn me into stone!”
“She doesn’t do that,” a bluff, hearty, older man put in. “She’s the Administrator’s apprentice, so she is. The last thing she wants to do is alienate the townspeople!”
Then the conversation turned to other things, and I tuned back out again.
So, the head of the university was called an administrator. The young Gorgon woman was her apprentice. And it was widely known as to who and what she was…this had to be the person I should approach, as maybe she’d understand exactly why I’d come here, her being the only Gorgon I’d heard reference to whatsoever, living and working among others who weren’t Gorgons.
Yes, she had to be the person to approach. And if nothing else, I told myself, I won’t mistake her for anyone else.
On that note, I went to my room, laid down on the bed, and slept for at least fourteen solid hours.
oOo
Chapter Five
When I got to the university, proper, I saw many people bustling around. There wasn’t an official greeter; in some ways, there didn’t seem to be an official anything. I wandered around, seeing various outbuildings, all sorts of different places being constructed, and knew that couldn’t be where I needed to go. But after some searching, I found a long, low building that seemed to be where newcomers were supposed to go. I walked in, and saw I was in a fairly large chamber with several entrances and exits. There were chairs and benches dotted here and there, and there were staircases going up one side and down the other…it was most confusing.
Eventually, though, I spotted the young Gorgon woman I’d heard about the day before in the inn, and because I knew that the Gorgon was highly placed at Heart’s Eye, she should know what to do with me.
I walked up to her, bowed as my grandmother had taught me, and said, “Madam Gorgon, I am Jasper. I’ve come for teaching, as I have magical gifts but don’t know how to use them very well.”
The Gorgon looked surprised but made a motion with her hand to continue.
I took a deep breath and went on. “My mother was a magician. She was the first in her family, but she was cast out. Only her mother, my grandmother, was willing to help, and they both moved to a town far away from their family. Mom died recently, and her dying wish was for me to come to Heart’s Eye and get the training she, herself, didn’t have that she so desperately wanted.” I wasn’t sure why I was giving the Gorgon so much of my truth, but I wasn’t about to stop now. “I admit I haven’t been to any of the magical schools, and I’m about fifteen years old.”
“I’d have guessed you for at least eighteen,” the Gorgon said in a soft alto voice. “But please, do go on.”
“I have two talents and know a few scraps of spells, but I learn quickly and adore reading.”
“Emily would love you,” the Gorgon mused.
Emily? Lady Emily? The Necromancer’s Bane? Even I had heard of her—but the Gorgon had continued.
“What do you want to do with your life?” she asked.
“I want to live well, treat others with respect, and find a way to help people like my mother, so they don’t die in childbirth.”
The Gorgon raised her eyebrows, impressed.
“I don’t know if I have any healing talents because my mother didn’t have any of those spells. What I know I can do is light up my fingers and teleport a book from across the room.”
“The first, most of us can do. We magicians, I mean, as there are nonmagicians who also study here.”
Yes, my grandmother had told me that. But she went right on.
“The second, though…would you be willing to demonstrate it for me, after some food and rest? There are a few people I’d like you to meet, later.”
I willingly agreed, and she brought me to a well-appointed guest room of sorts. It had a big, wide bed with fresh and clean sheets, more pillows than I’d ever seen on a bed before (I’d only had one when I’d stayed the night before in Heart’s Ease, and it was a thin rag at best compared to these bounteous pillows), and there was a private bathroom off to the side with clean running water. It even had both hot and cold water, something the Gorgon murmured was due to nonmagical engineers.
After giving me some chits for the evening and morning meals and reminding me to follow the arrows to find the mess hall, she promised to find me in the morning so I could demonstrate my book-teleportation talent.
I tried not to be nervous, as I settled on that big, wide bed. It had springs and was very comfortable…I’d never before felt the like. Wealthy people in our part of the world had featherbeds, and those who weren’t as wealthy or who had a skinflint stepfather like mine made do with scratchy straw-filled ones. But this bed was a revelation…and maybe even a warning.
What could my talents possibly do here, in a place swimming with such luxury that they willingly gave anyone who showed up a lovely room like this?
End Excerpt
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the chapters and seeing the excellent cover artwork, too. I’m sure I’ll be back fairly soon to show you a few more chapters.
This Month’s Health Update, Etc.
Folks, I’ve been asked to give an update about housing and such, so this blog is that answer.
Because of my health cratering, I haven’t been able to find a new apartment or place to live. In addition, the finances aren’t exactly there either. I’ve been able to keep my health from further going off the cliff than it already was, but I haven’t been able to regain much, if any, energy since I moved out of Dad’s house in late August.
The doctors have run a number of blood tests. They didn’t find much. They have no idea what’s causing this.
What I’m trying to do is to keep my head up, work to tolerance, write when I can, and find something good in every day no matter how lousy I feel otherwise. (Usually, it has to do with my mother’s dog, Bratty, AKA Ms. Brat. She’s a sweet little thing, and she makes me laugh daily.) Sunsets are good. Conversations with friends are good. The occasional visit to my friend who lives nearby is good. Talking with my sister is good. Stuff like that, along with of course talking with Mom daily and enjoying a few laughs with her when we can find something we both enjoy or appreciate, helps me to keep going.
Is this what I wanted when I moved out of Dad’s house? Absolutely not.
The problem is, I need a health miracle that I don’t possess in order to regain enough energy to do all that I’m doing now (what amounts to two full-time jobs; trust me), plus find an apartment, and then somehow be able to afford that apartment’s first and last month’s rent. I’m hanging on to the stuff in storage in the hopes I’ll need it again, but my health has been so very bad, I haven’t checked on the storage since October. (Yes, you read that right.)
Dad used to say that doctors are only practicing medicine, with the emphasis on practicing. I think there’s a certain element of that going on here. I don’t fit the mold, whatever the mold is, and thus they have no idea what’s causing this level of illness beyond a few things I was already treating (and have continued to treat).
I don’t know what the answers are, here. I hope that when I feel better, I’ll be able to live better, have more time to myself, etc.
The question I often think about is this: Would Michael want this, for me? And the answer is, “Of course he wouldn’t.” But he’d want me to do my best, which I am doing, and he’d tell me that slow and steady wins the race (whatever the race is), and that if I can’t do it today, I’ll do twice as much tomorrow. And I if I still can’t do it tomorrow, I’ll do three times as much the day after that, because that’s just how I am.
I miss my husband very, very much. But I try to keep those words in mind, and I do the best I can as I move on.
Oh, one more thing: My three novels are out on submission to a new publisher, which is why they haven’t come back out yet. If the new publisher decides against them, I will let you all know. (The covers are of course not available to the new publisher, but he knows that already.) Then, I will get them back up…and we’ll all go on from there.
I hope everyone else is doing as well as possible, and I also hope that you can find something good about every day no matter how frustrated you are, and no matter how frustrating the world seems to be on any given day. Life is short. We have to do our best, whatever our best is that day.
That’s all.
Still Here, Still Trying
Folks, I realized I hadn’t blogged in a bit, so I figured I should come here and say something — anything — to let you know I’m still here, still trying, still fighting to do whatever I can, as I can, with whatever health and time I’ve got left to me.
I know that sounds like an overly dramatic way to put things. But it feels right, considering all the various things that I’ve dealt with in the past twenty-plus years. Every day is a struggle. I wake up without my husband Michael, and because my timesense is so wonky — I swear, it feels like he was just here yesterday, even though I know realistically it’s been over twenty years — I have to face that before I can get to doing anything else.
Writing without him is different. Living without him is definitely different, and not nearly as much fun.
But I do the best that I can.
The stuff on the agenda this weekend includes talking with my cowriter, Gail Sanders, about a story we’re writing for an upcoming anthology (more details later), hopefully going over the first of the two Elfy books so I can get it back up for sale next week, and then finishing up an edit or two. (I can pretty much guarantee one. Can’t guarantee the second, as that one has proven elusive and slippery throughout. I wish I could explain this better, but…when you listen to music, there are some pieces that just resonate with you, right? That feel absolutely correct for whatever mood you’re in, and that perfectly encapsulate whatever they’re trying to convey? And how some things are much harder to understand, far more difficult even though they seem like they should just fall in line in the same way the music that you gravitate toward? That’s what’s going on with this second edit.)
And if I’m very, very lucky, I’ll be able to do a little fiction writing. I’ve got a story in a friend’s universe — a novel-length story — that’s been stalled now at about 75K. I can almost see the next part, but am not there yet, and it’s been in this place for weeks, probably because my personal life remains a work-in-progress. (My kind way of saying “not what I want it to be.”)
I’ll of course do the regular stuff, like grocery shopping, helping my family member as much as I can, playing with the dog…these things are a given.
I hope to be back soon with some sort of positive progress report (hopefully, one that includes “my book is back out and available for sale”). Until then, thanks for checking in.
Freddy Peralta Got Traded from the Brewers, and I Have Thoughts…
Folks, last week one of my favorite Milwaukee Brewers pitchers, Freddy Peralta, got traded to the New York Mets.
Why is this important to me? Well, he was the de facto ace of the staff, was fifth in the Cy Young Award voting for best pitcher, and had proven to be durable and dependable in his career with the Brewers.
I can hear you now, though. “If he’s so good, Barb, why was he traded to another team?”
The Brewers are a small-market franchise, meaning they do not get as much advertising money as bigger-market teams like New York (either the Yankees or the Mets) or, God forbid, the Los Angeles Dodgers, they who have wrecked competitive balance and have been allowed to do so by MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred. (Don’t get me started on the Dodgers bloated payroll, or I’ll be here all day.) Because of that, they can’t afford to pay many players what they’re worth. They usually choose one or two players to pay, and try to lock others up early with better-than-average contracts for their youth or lack of time in grade as a MLB player, which will buy out their arbitration years (that’s where if they don’t like the contract they’re offered, they can go in front of an arbitrator; the player’s representative gives the figure he wants, MLB team gives the figure they want, and the arbitrator decides).
Also, Peralta was a beneficiary of this, to a degree. They signed him to a long-term contract extension early in his career that, at the time, was worth more than his stats would indicate as they felt he had huge upside. They were right (as the Brewers front office staff often is). Peralta, the last few years, was still making excellent money for a non-sports star, but far, far less than most of his pitching contemporaries.
But this is his “walk year.” Meaning, he has only one year until free agency, where he can negotiate with any team (including the dreaded Dodgers). The Mets may be able to sign Peralta to a long-term contract extension before the end of this year, but the Brewers never would’ve been able to do so. That’s why the Mets made an offer (two prospects, Jett Williams and Brandon Sproat, for Peralta and fellow right-handed pitcher Tobias Myers), and it’s why the Brewers accepted that offer.
I have nothing against either Williams or Sproat, mind you. I hope they’ll do well for the Brewers, as Williams is a utility player with great speed who makes contact, and Sproat is a pitcher with big upside. But the Brewers traded a known quantity in Peralta, a semi-known quantity in Myers (who had a good year in 2024, and split time in 2025 between AAA and the big-league club), to get the two prospects. And while Sproat has pitched a little in the big leagues, the jury is out as to whether or not he’ll eventually be a good replacement for Peralta, as durable starters are rare these days in MLB.
The thing is, as a long-time fan of a small-market team, I know how hard it is for them to compete, year after year, with deeper pocketed clubs (especially the Dodgers; I like some of what the Dodgers do from the front office, they have a great staff, and I like their manager Dave Roberts. But the amount of money they spend on personnel is insane). That’s why it hurts to see good player after good player leaving the team, whether it’s Prince Fielder years ago or Freddy Peralta now.
We’re fortunate, in a way, that we have had some long-term stars to look at, like Hall of Famer Robin Yount (only played for the Brewers), former MVP and Rookie of the Year Ryan Braun (only played for the Brewers), and former MVP Christian Yelich (still active, and who’s only played for two teams in his career, the Miami Marlins where he started and the Brewers ever since he got traded to them). The Brewers have been canny in some of their moves, such as signing stars like Peralta and emerging superstar Jackson Chourio to long-term extensions early, which keeps them in Milwaukee years longer than might’ve been possible otherwise. (Every time they do this, they’re gambling that the player will develop well and won’t get hurt. So far, their gambles have mostly been very good to extremely good.)
That said, it hurts when former Brewers stars like Willy Adames bolt for other teams in free agency, even though as fans we know that players have to go wherever they can get the best deal as their careers are so blessedly short. It hurts when former Cy Young Award winner Corbin Burnes gets traded during his “walk year,” as he was a few years ago, no matter how good the folks are who come back in that trade. (The jury’s still out on pitcher DL Hall, but Joey Ortiz has proven himself a capable and reliable defensive infielder. He does not hit for contact, though, and strikes out way too much for a guy who is not a slugger. I’d grade that trade as something like a C-plus for the Brewers, but it could still go up if Ortiz ever figures out where the strike zone is and learns to stop waving at pitches far outside of it and if Hall ever gets healthy.) It hurts when world-class closers Josh Hader and Devin Williams get traded, and it hurts when someone who didn’t really get much of a chance this last year but proved himself to be a standup guy — Rhys Hoskins — is not re-signed.
And it hurts when Peralta, who, like Adames, was a great clubhouse guy who everyone seemed to love and appreciate (and never called out anyone else for poor play other than his own self, a rarity with contemporary ballplayers in some respects), gets traded during his walk year also.
It doesn’t matter that my head understands the logic. My heart is still kind of bruised, as a fan of these players. (Also, Adames and Peralta, like current Brewers star Christian Yelich, were known for their philanthropy over time and overall unselfish attitudes.)
I know that when Peralta’s career ends, he’ll be inducted first to the Walk of Fame (as all past All-Stars representing the Brewers tend to be) and then later the Wall of Honor. He’ll always be a Brewers player in my heart, except when he plays the Brewers (in which case I will hope he gets a no-decision). He’ll always be loved in Milwaukee.
Unfortunately, that’s cold comfort to me right now as a fan. And I do wonder how general managers or front office staff, those who know these players personally far better than I ever could, manage to do this without throwing up and having night sweats.
Introspection City (A Meditation on Life, Minnesota, and Struggles)
Have you ever been in this place I find myself? Looking inward, because looking outward makes no sense?
Over the past six months, I’ve lost so much stuff. Some of it was important to me — favorite books, various small things like dishes and glasses that didn’t make it in the move (not that it would help much if it did, except make me feel better, as it’s all in storage), other things that gave me comfort every day — and some wasn’t. But there’s no denying that much of how my life is lived has changed.
I stand at a crossroads of possibilities, yes. Some are very low-level possibilities (like finding a second guy as good as Michael was); some are higher-level possibilities (such as visiting another country for a while, as I’ve been invited to two different places) that seem impossible due to financial constraints. My health also limits me more than I’d wish, had I my druthers.
The amount of time I have for myself is very low at the moment, which is why my books continue to languish as “out of print” (which is weird, because they were always ebooks anyway, so technically were never print at all). Because of the struggle of the last several months on various fronts, I continue to make strides back to the life I’d thought I knew. It wasn’t always wonderful, but it had enough time in it to write both music and words, for me to think about what I should do next, writing-wise, and I was able to juggle all my various commitments to home, work, and family well enough that I knew I was still in there, fighting.
I’m not sure what fighting looks like right now.
Remember how I said, above, that looking outward makes no sense? I am struggling with what’s happened in Minnesota, as two people who shouldn’t be dead are, and while there’s some dispute about the first tragic death, that of Renee Good, there’s not a whole lot of dispute regarding the death of ICU nurse Alex Pretti. He went to another woman’s aid as he didn’t like it that five or six ICE officers were holding a rather short and slight woman to the ground and beating her. They’d pepper-sprayed her and they pepper-sprayed him, but he managed to help the woman up…only to get tackled himself, and then shot several times. He had a gun tucked into his waistband but did not draw it. (There are multiple angles of view, enough so that AI — artificial intelligence/images — shouldn’t be a problem here. They were posted in real time, too, when it happened, and witnesses confirm what happened along with a doctor — a pediatrician — who attempted to help Pretti stay alive.) He had a legal permit to carry a firearm (I’m not sure why he felt he needed it as a nurse, but it was his right), so all the nonsense about him carrying a lot of ammo and such and supposedly being an agent provocateur or whatnot is ludicrous.
Milwaukee, which is the biggest city in Southeastern Wisconsin (or all of Wisconsin), is the next city that’s going to see more than it wants to of ICE. This worries me.
Before anyone asks, I support ICE’s legitimate mission of going after the “worst of the worst” criminals and putting them in jail where they belong. (I also appreciate a secure border policy.) People who’ve overstayed their visas do not count in that category. American citizens do not count. Folks with green cards do not count. Families should not be split up, and mothers and children should not be going to different places.
In Renee Good’s case, she may have run over an officer’s foot. That is painful. But it does not warrant a killing. It warrants being put in jail and having her day in court. She would be alive that way and justice would perhaps be served at some point.
As for Alex Pretti, I don’t see where even sending him to jail for a few hours until he bonded out was necessary. But if they had wanted to do that, at least he’d be alive. (To see on the various videos — no, I will not link to them — that he rose to his knees despite being shot, only to be shot even more times until he ended up on the ground again, makes me extremely ill.)
The actions of ICE in Minnesota are making me ask this question: Are we still a nation of laws? Or are we only a nation of vigilante justice?
So, as I wrestle with my own issues — finance, health, where am I going to live, am I doing the right thing in the right way, etc. — I’m also watching as my country seems to be imploding.
It’s Introspection City all the way around. And I have to admit, I don’t like it at all.
