Peter Stanley’s New Novella Is Out…Plus an Additional New Review from Yours Truly
Today is one of those happy occasions, for me at least.
I’ve been a mentor and friend of Piotr Mierzejewski for the past twenty-five years, and my late husband Michael also was a mentor and friend to Piotr. The two of us gave him a great deal of help while Michael was alive, and I continued to do the same after Michael died. I saw promise in his plotting, but at the time, there were some issues he had to straighten out.
Many people, writers included, would’ve given up their dreams of writing something that hits the target dead-on after so many years and so many different attempts, but Piotr is like I am in this. He is relentless. He doesn’t stop until the wall falls down. (Don Quixote has nothing on him.)
Edited to add: Those of you who, like me, sometimes wonder if we’re ever going to make it as writers? You need to do what Piotr has done. He has improved himself year after year as a writer, and now has written something stunningly powerful. That’s the only reason I mentioned how long it took.
In other words, do not stop. As the rock group Hollywood Undead says, “Don’t you ever give up, if you ever get stopped.”
Back to original post, already in progress:
Now, writing as Peter Stanley, Piotr has written such an excellent novella, out today, that I needed to come share it with you right away. (Yes, I edited it, so I’ve been champing at the bit to let you all know for several weeks now.) It’s called “Asset Denied,” and is the first of the Gene Bukowski Files.
Here’s the blurb:
When the Senate demands answers, Gene Bukowski becomes the man in the chair.
A failed operation.
A missing asset.
A cartel leader who should already be dead.
As investigators dig into the past, the story behind the Vargas operation unfolds – revealing a web of intelligence failures, covert deals, and decisions made in the shadows.
But the deeper they dig, the more dangerous the truth becomes.
Because some assets are too valuable to lose.
*** end blurb ***
I’ll try to get you a cover pic later. For now, though, I thought it more important to let you know that a) this ebook is out, b) it’s the first solo effort by any writer for publisher Keith Hedger’s new Defiant House publishing company, and c) it truly is outstanding. It’s available on Kindle Unlimited, so what are you waiting for?
The second bit of news is, I recently reviewed a novel on Amazon by Keith Hedger called MOVING TARGET. (I bought this book over a year ago, long before I knew much about Keith, but only recently got a chance to read it. I was mad at myself after, because of how good this book was.) The review took several days to be posted, and at first I thought it had been disallowed for some weird reason…but it has now been posted, and I’m about to cross-post it here in case it disappears:
It’s called “Good, Fast-Moving Cyberpunk Dystopia That Held My Interest Throughout.”
The main character of Keith Hedger’s intriguing book MOVING TARGET is a young woman named Breeze. She has cyber implants, including ocular implants, has upgraded her muscles and bones as much as she can, and is skillful, determined, and an excellent fighter. But when she and the team she serves with are given a lousy job, she has to try to survive its painful and destructive aftermath.
Breeze is an anti-hero most of the time, but has a genuine decent streak in her that comes out at the oddest times. She refuses to deliberately hurt the innocent. She tries hard to live by her own moral code, and when she can’t, it costs her something. Then, as everything goes to Hell in a handbasket, Breeze must make a deal with some very bad people, one that will upend everything she knows and everyone she’s ever cared about. (I’ll stop there to avoid spoiling your reading.)
There are many reasons to like MOVING TARGET, starting with all the action: it’s believable, fast-moving, and intense. The characterization is vivid and lively. The setting is appropriately dystopian, yet almost instantly recognizable (that’s a neat trick many writers would love to be able to pull off, but can’t, yet Keith Hedger did so seemingly without effort). It’s still the United States, somehow, but darker, moodier, grittier, scarier, and with newer and worse ways for society and those who serve it to fail and keep on failing.
Mind you, Breeze knows that the world is a mess, but she doesn’t really think about it much. (She can’t. It would distract from keeping herself alive.) What she does to try to even the scales (i.e., helping the innocent, going out of her way to leave people alone who are no threat to her) is sensible, logical, and very human.
Despite all the fancy upgrades that extend her strength, her reach, improve her eyesight, etc., Breeze is still a young woman with an old soul, trying to find a way to live life on her own terms. Her journey has some unexpected stops, and the ending seems to come too soon–mostly because we want to know what this interesting woman is going to do next.
Expertly paced and plotted, MOVING TARGET should be on your keeper shelf (or favorite ebook icons, take your pick) if you love suspense, cyberpunk narratives, amoral heroines (with a surprisingly decent streak), and/or just plain good reads. It read fast and well, yet I couldn’t help turning back to the beginning once I’d reached the end (far too soon, as I said before), just to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into setting up Breeze’s journey.
In addition, the journey Breeze took toward finding her lover (paired off late in the book) was quite poignant. (I wish I could say more, but that really would spoil your read. I’m trying hard not to do that.)
Five stars, recommended.
Barb Caffrey
*** End of Review ***
I sign my name to reviews partly because I used to review a lot of books over at Shiny Book Review, and partly because it denotes that I take reviewing seriously. Whether I know someone or not, I take each book as I find it. There have been times in the past I’ve been unimpressed by some of my favorite writers and have said so. (I’m sure they didn’t appreciate it, but it was my honest view.)
In other words, I take ownership of my reviews, as I should, and take the time and effort to figure out what I think, why I think it, and what will likely matter to a reader looking for a new book. Then I talk about those things.
One thing I could’ve mentioned in the review, but didn’t think of at the time and am now kicking myself, is that it reminds me, just a little, of Rosemary Edghill’s three cyberpunk novels starting with HELLFLOWER. Her main character, Butterfly, isn’t much like Breeze. But some of the issues are similar. Rosemary’s novels came out before some of the more celebrated cyberpunk novels in the field, were exceptionally good, and remain exceptionally good. I often re-read them, in fact, and bought several copies of them over the years (print and ebook) as I kept wearing them out (plus I wanted to support Rosemary’s career).
The good thing about books is, they live on after the writer has passed. Rosemary, as I’ve said before, was an outstanding writer who could write in any genre, any field, and do exemplary work that I believe will stand the test of time.
Here, in case any of Keith’s readers didn’t know about her yet, I wanted to let you all know that Rosemary’s books are also out there, are wonderful reads, and while not available on Kindle Unlimited, are ones that you will likely read over and over due to the use of language, the skillful plotting, and the winning nature of heroine Butterfly and the young teenage boy from a military culture she helps, starting with Hellflower and ending with Archangel Blues.
So, today I got to talk about not one, not two, but three fine writers, all in their unique ways. (Sometimes I love writing this blog.)
My Favorite Milwaukee Brewers Baseball Player Ever, Charlie Moore, Dies at 72
Folks, this is a hard blog to write.
When I was young, my mother went up to a young catcher, Charlie Moore, and told him how much he’d meant to me and that I just loved his play. I was too shy to go up to tell him myself, you see…I was at that gawky stage, and I just didn’t want to be seen or talked to. (Yes, even me.)
Charlie was classy, and he had a sense of humor. He clearly saw me, hiding behind my mother, but he said, “I hope she’s legal.”
I laughed, but still didn’t come out from behind my mother.
Edited to add: Mom’s remembrance of this is slightly different. She said that yes, Charlie Moore made a joke…but what he said was, “What did I do?” Now back to the remembrance, already in progress…
Anyway, he ended up signing my baseball card, he signed a glove for me, and he signed a t-shirt. I wish I had all three of those things now. (The glove got lost during an early move. The baseball card was inadvertently sold, put in with a bunch of cards into a rummage sale by someone who wasn’t me — not sure which family did this, but I know my mother apologized for it when she realized. The t-shirt, I outgrew, but kept for at least fifteen years. Where it went after that, I don’t know.)
Charlie was the type of guy who would do anything for anyone, and as a player he just exemplified the term “unselfish.” One year, they’d traded for Ted Simmons, a future Hall of Famer, at catcher. Charlie knew he couldn’t compete with Simmons; no one could. While he talked with Simmons about the pitchers and who liked to throw what when (Bob Uecker, announcer extraordinaire and also a former catcher, did this as well), Charlie knew he’d better learn a new position to stay on the team.
He did.
It wasn’t easy for him, but he learned how to play the outfield in spring training (this was either 1980 or 1981). He became one of the best right fielders in baseball, because he knew how to position himself from all the catching he’d done, and his arm was quite strong.
Many people, with their condolences to the Milwaukee Brewers on their Facebook page, have mentioned the most famous play Charlie ever made, that being throwing out Reggie Jackson in Game 5 of the American League Championship Series (ALCS) at third base from right field. (It wasn’t shallow right, either.) Jackson thought he could take an extra base on Charlie, and Charlie wasn’t having it.
The first things I thought of, though, were when he hit for the cycle in 1980 (that’s when you hit a single, double, triple, and homer, all in the same game) and also stole two bases, and when he broke up a no-hit bid by Nolan Ryan, hitting a triple.
See, Charlie was just a lot faster than most catchers. (He hadn’t taken up the outfield, then.)
With his characteristic wit, Charlie said once that he’d not have been able to learn the outfield in today’s day and age, not with YouTube. He’d have been too embarrassed to try.
I find that hard to believe, because Charlie was just the type of guy who’d do whatever was needed. You needed him to catch? He caught. You needed him to play right field? He played right field. Whatever he needed to do, he did.
Ted Simmons once said of Charlie that Charlie was “the best guess hitter I ever saw. Others might hit a single. He’d hit a homer.”
All in all, Charlie Moore was the full package. He could run, hit, throw, take an extra base, used his intelligence to keep him relevant in the baseball world by changing positions, and was a kind-hearted man to boot.
Other tributes that came in on the Milwaukee Brewers official Facebook page pointed out times Charlie helped someone, either by staying extra time to sign autographs, by bringing them something that the fan had won in a contest (bringing it to their home, mind you, without fanfare and without attitude), and so on.
All I can say is this: When I was young, if I could have had a boyfriend, Charlie Moore would’ve been it. I’m proud that I have always seen Charlie Moore as the best Brewers unsung hero, as my absolute all-time favorite player because of his grittiness and heart, and I still remember the banners my mother and I made to put in the bleachers once:
They said, “We want Moore of Charlie.”
Amen.
Tales of the E4 Mafia 2 Is Out…Including a New Atlantean Union Universe story!
Folks, I’m very happy to let you all know that Tales of the E4 Mafia 2 is out, via writer/editor Keith Hedger’s new Defiant House publishing company. He’ll also have Tales of the E4 Mafia (the original) available through Defiant House soon, if you haven’t already read it.
Of course, Tales of the E4 Mafia 2 is available via Kindle Unlimited (how not?), but what’s probably the most important part to anyone who reads my blog is the story I and my friend and co-writer Gail Sanders wrote called “A Decent Cup of Coffee.” It is yet another story set in my late husband Michael B. Caffrey’s Atlantean Union universe, and features Peter Welmsley, of course, along with Marc MacGruder (a Lance Corporal). It tells the story of what happened when Welmsley and MacGruder took Tech Sergeant Lana Mathews home to Lemuria for convalescent leave (she was the person who needed the restricted tree bark for medicinal purposes in the last story).
You want a cover photo, you say? Well, here’s a cover…
And I’m sure you want a snippet as well, so here we go:
***
“Did you hear me, Lance Corporal?” the Master Sergeant growled. “What is wrong with this coffee?”
When Welmsley called me “Lance Corporal,” it was time to give him an answer. Either that, or wait for some unusual punishment…and as I was hoping for a few days of leave with Lana Mathews as we would be moored in Lemuria orbit for a few days, and I was too low-ranking to have any sort of transitory duties, I definitely didn’t want to get punished now.
“I don’t know, Master Sergeant,” I told him. “I know it’s not that great. It never is. But the traditional roast seemed a bit better than the rest of it. I take it that it’s not working for you?”
Welmsley looked at me, rolled his eyes, and went back to studying his piloting board.
“It is the Marine blend, you know,” I told him.
“It tastes foul,” Welmsley spat out. “Like the very end of a bunch of ashes. I wish I had some Lemurian light-roast coffee. That’s really good stuff. Especially if they’ve aged it in spiced rum for a year before roasting.”
I’d heard that but had never tasted it myself. But rather than discuss that, I went to get myself a cup of the Marine blend. After one sip, I could tell that Welmsley was right. We’d gotten a particularly bad batch, and it did indeed taste like ashes. Maybe after they’d been rolled in manure, even. “That truly is terrible coffee,” I told him, hoping I sounded as compassionate as I felt. Coffee was sacred to Royal Marines.
***
So, how do they find a decent cup of coffee after all that? You’ll have to read the rest of the story to find out, but I hope you will want to read it. (It’s a fast, funny story, and I hope it’s one that you’ll truly enjoy.)
At any rate, I’m thrilled that the story is finally out and available to read, along with the other great stories in the anthology.
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.
Grace Under Pressure as Skater Ilia Malinin Stumbles, Then Immediately Congratulates Winner
The tough moments are the ones that often define us. Figure skater Ilia Malinin, United States men’s champion (multiple years), is finding that out today.
There has only rarely been a bigger favorite to win a gold medal than this year’s hopeful, Malinin. He’d not lost a competition in a few years, he’s only twenty-one, he has an arsenal of seven quadruple jumps (including the quad Axel, a jump only he can do), and he mostly skates cleanly with fine edges, great footwork and competent spins. (I’m kind of with the late Dick Button on spins these days. It’s not Malinin’s fault or any other competitor’s fault as they have to go for multiple positions in each spin to get the best amount of points plus grade of execution and such, but a straight line and tight rotation in a spin are a lot easier to see if you’re doing the same spin for twenty seconds rather than five or six different positions in that same amount of seconds.)
Here’s the thing, though. Everyone has off nights. You can be sick, you can be worn to flinders with nerves, you can feel great walking out there to compete (I know this as a former competitive musician) and then, for whatever reason, nothing works right…and we all know this is possible. We’ve had bad competitions before. Rarely, if we’re exceptionally good — and Malinin is that, without a doubt — but it does happen because we’re human. Human equals fallible, mortal, and capable of both the highest highs and lowest lows (along with everything in between).
When Malinin stepped onto the ice, he looked calm and ready to go. But within a minute, he’d “popped” a jump (meaning his body didn’t let him rotate properly; it’s an involuntary thing), then took a hard fall. He got up and did his best thereafter, but he looked shaky and he knew it. To his credit, he gave it his all (not that I’d expect anything less of the U.S.’s pre-eminent skater), but when the judging panel was done, he’d fallen from first place into eighth place, and way out of medal contention.
This was unexpected, to put it mildly.
Most people, when facing the ashes of their immediate hopes and dreams, are not able to do what Malinin did next, though. After his scores, he immediately congratulated the winner, Mikhail Shaidorov of Kazakhstan, gave him a hug, talked for a moment…and only then walked away to face the hard questions from the media.
What Malinin did showed grace under pressure. It showed sportsmanship. It showed class.
What I know from past competitions is, the worst day I’ve ever had as a musician is not what defines me. The best day, as wonderful as it was, also does not define me. It’s all the work I’ve put in to get to the point to be in that position that defines me, and being able to go on when your hopes have been dashed and your life has become something you didn’t want it to be is the name of the game.
So, while I’ve battled numerous health issues, I’m still standing. While I am not currently playing in any bands or orchestras, I continue to compose music. While my three novels are still out of print (I really am working on getting them back out there, but so many other things are going on it’s hard to focus), I continue to write. And while my pace slowed a lot last year, I didn’t stop.
I say all this because Malinin is only twenty-one, as I said before. This may be the first really big defeat he’s ever had. He’s shown class, grace, and sportsmanship, which is more important than just about anything in defeat. But now he has to show himself some of that class, grace, and sportsmanship, too.
I hope he has a good sports psychologist or counselor to talk with, too. I know counseling, over time, has helped me greatly.
You see, you can’t always do everything you want with your gifts. Life gets in the way. Health gets in the way. In Malinin’s case, perhaps the condition of the ice got in the way, or the skate blades got in the way (as the team medal podium Malinin and Team USA stood on messed with a lot of their skates, and those are hard to break in; this also affected the other team medal winners), or his nerves got in the way (as he said he thought he had mental errors, also a very good thing to say right off the bat). He didn’t need to say those were the things, if they were, but these are all considerations for him — just as the condition of my reeds, how well the keys were working, whether or not I’d pulled a muscle so standing while soloing was hard, etc. — as they were considerations for me.
All you can do, as a human being as well as a competitor, is to give yourself the best chance to win. After that, it’s up to things beyond our control.
And after that, it’s up to us as to what we do about it. Will we let it fuel us and keep us going, even if it’s not in the way we wanted? Or will we let it bother us so much that we start looking at ourselves as failures?
I hope in Malinin’s case that he can look at it as a learning experience. Then let it go. This one competition, as important as it was, does not define him. And cannot define him.
Only what he does, what he continues to do, and what he has done overall will define him. And the rest of that book has yet to be written.
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.
