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 |  "Putting on the Game Face" |
  This blog is a doorway into the mind of Percy Goodfellow. Don't be shocked at the lost boys of Namby-Pamby Land and the women they cavort with. Watch as his caricatures blunder about the space between audacious hope and the wake-up calls of tomorrow. Behold their scrawl on the CRT, like graffitti on a subway wall. Examine it through your own lens...Step up my friends, and separate the pepper from the rat poop. Welcome to my abode...the armpit of yesterday, the blinking of an eye and a plank to the edge of Eternity. Note: This blog is my journal. I've no interest in persuading anyone to adopt my views. What I write is whatever happens to interest me when I start pounding the keys. |
   This is the restaurant where we had most of our meals. Every morning we went here, had the “Petite De’jeune and made plans for what we would do for the day. Sometimes it was a day trip to La Rochelle or Rochefort or a place of interest in the surrounding area. This restaurant was off the beaten path and the rates and food were great. As I was getting ready to take a picture through the big glass window, of Linda, Norman and Judy this nice French girl came up and offered to get the four of us. It was very nice of her even if the picture didn’t turn out too well due to the reflection off the glass. This was taken close to the last day of our trip in fouras and about halfway through our seventeen day visit. We decided to go on to the beaches at Normandy and on the way stop at some other points of interest. After Normandy we would stay at a bed and breakfast outside of Paris and the following morning return to Charles de Gaul airport. |
  We took a day trip to Santis, a nearby French City, that has some awesome Roman Ruins. It was hard to imagine that in about 1000 AD there was a flourishing Roman community in France that had all the facilities one would normally expect to see in Italy. It was the same thing when we were assigned in Germany. There were cities such as this one, where gladiators fought and water was brought in from the Alps via viaducts. It boggles the mind that people once gathered at locations such as this to witness games fought to the death. By comparison our history seems so short. Yesterday I worked the local Township polling place as an inspector. Once again our community, a microcosm of the population at large predicted the outcome in a very close vote. I found the outcome a bit of a downer but it was close and the people have spoken. This morning Linda and I were up at three O’clock (AM) to get her to the Madison Airport by five. She will be spending the week with her parents and might get a chance to see the Grandchildren over the weekend. I have a lot of wood to split before it gets too cold… So if this blog sounds a bit rushed… it is! See you tomorrow. |
  The photo on the left shows the path I used to follow when I walked my dog Benoit into the “Boon Docks.” At the far end of the excursion, which was over a mile away, is the farmhouse shown in the shot on the right. One vivid recollection I have is the smell of freshly spread manure on the fields and walking close to this farm. A French girl my age walked out into the barnyard and stared at me wondering who I was and where I came from. After a moment I waved and she waved back. Often afterwards, I remembered this encounter and wondered what would have happened if I had said something or introduced myself. Often such brief moments pass almost unnoticed in our lives but represent portentous opportunities, which if acted upon might have changed the course of our existence. Perhaps this isn’t a great example but it is one that often flashes back in my dreams. Linda and I walked the path Benoit and I used to walk. It was raining but we walked it anyway. The path turned into the old Roman Road that led to the village. It was sunken into the ground and now only used for bicycles and hikers. Still we could see many of the original stones poking up from the ground. Later, as I drove past the farm, from a road on the other side, I saw the old homestead was for sale. “Wouldn’t it be cool,” I told my wife, "to return some day and restore that old farm?" (Maybe when we hit the lotto…. But I’ve already broached with my readers that fanciful notion.) |
  La Rochelle is a small French city steeped in history. It was here that the Huguenots revolted against the Crown and the setting for one of the greatest romance novels of all time, The Three Musketeers. My father served most of his tour in France here. My mother loved to shop in the city and once bought a Jacque Fath original from the most fashionable and expensive boutique in town. When she concluded the purchase she had cocktails with the owner and went and told my father (slightly looped) what she had done. He was not exactly pleased but I’m sure she made it up to him. It was a great story that she loved to tell and retell in her waning years. As an aside, after the revolt in La Rochelle was put down many of the young Huguenot girls (16-18) were shipped to Canada where history records they had large families. Like the Mayflower descendants, many Canadians trace their genealogy through these young women. The City was a walled fortress as many French towns and cities along the coast are. The Photo on the left shows the main gate into the “Centre Ville.” Since the streets are so narrow behind the walls many visitors park outside and walk in under this type of archway. The photo on the right shows the two walled towers. During the many wars that England and France fought, these served as confinement facilities and many British seamen languished here and left their graffiti on the walls. |
  Norman and I used to walk up into center village and check out this store that sold toys. One of our favorites was the lead cast soldiers and Arabians on horseback. There were other neat things to buy like firecrackers and stink bombs. These were used frequently and sometimes found their way into the school in Rochefort. When this happened the school administrators went ballistic. It struck me as interesting that after the passage of over fifty years the store was still displaying toys in the same window. The owner at the time had a young son who spoke excellent English. The store was closed the day we walked about the square and I wonder if the son took over the store and left many things the way they were. Around the square were many shops and we did some great shopping. At a sidewalk display we bought some carved wood knick-knacks and I found an old bathing beauty key holder at a shop run by this elegant lady. When I started speaking French she replied in perfect English. Happened she had worked twenty years in London for the French State Department. During the late 1940s and early 1950s the French were engaged in Indo-China, in what was later to become Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. We had a friend named Robert Bernard. His father was fighting there. They were struggling and my mother did what she could to help the family out. |
  Rochefort and the Grand Basha This is a photo of the Hotel we stayed in when we first arrived in France. It has since closed but the desk clerk at a nearby hotel told us the location. We walked under it half a dozen times but our vision was focused on the first floor for a hotel. There were a number of stores and boutiques located in town and Linda and Judy had a good time browsing through the “Centre Ville.” Across the street was a bakery where I bought Croissants. They were the kind that has chocolate in the center and are terribly addictive. Then we set off looking for the Office where my father worked. It was in the middle of the city and we finally found it. The next photo shows typical architecture of civil service offices on the grounds of the Arsenal. I love the stone construction and long windows. They don't make buildings like that any more. There was also a great Maritime Museum on the grounds that contained many plank on frame models and showed diagrams and pictures of the early arsenal. |
  This is a photo taken from inside the Armory at Rochefort. You can see progress being made on reconstructing the French frigate Hermione that was Lafayette’s flagship. You can see the archway in the background and along the dry-dock are white tents where work is being done by master craftsmen, to shape the beams and fashion all the accrutraments. Tourists were allowed to go aboard and watch the construction in progress. As a ship modeler this was a wonderful and unexpected experience that we just walked into. Sails were being made, fittings cast, ropes prepared and a myriad of other activities associated with shipbuilding of old. The dry-dock is a fascinating engineering marvel. When the tide comes in the doors are swung open and the dock fills. Then the doors are closed allowing the dock to seal in the water. This is done without recourse to the electric pumps that serve most dry-docks. |
  In Rochefort, where my father was assigned to begin with, we went to school on the grounds of the old French Arsenal. It contained the dry docks used to build and refurbish ships. It was fun going around and seeing the buildings where we attended the local Department of Defense School. This is also where we stayed the first two months in France while Dad was trying to find us a place to live. We searched all over for the Hotel and had about given up when alas! A Hotel clerk showed us the location… duh! We walked right by it half a dozen times without looking up and seeing the old sign. When I think about Rochefort I think about cobblestones. Can you imagine repairing and maintaining a cobblestone road? I sometimes have a weird dream about walking down a cobblestone road in Rochefort. The workmen are on their hands and knees setting the stones and I’m watching in absolute amazement. When we arrived in France my father had bikes for my brother and me. While staying at the hotel we went to the square and practiced riding them. Mine was too big for me but I managed to ride it anyway. My mother gave Dad heck for getting me a full sized bike. On the Weekends, to get us out of the hotel we took day trips. One was to the beaches at Royan and another was to St. Nazaire where we saw the German Submarine Pens. On these beaches was an elaborate network of cement fortifications designed to thwart an allied invasion that the Germans felt was likely at Royan. The beaches are beautiful there and we had great fun playing in the dunes and exploring the bunkers, which were still new and pristine. |
  This photo shows a shot from South beach looking out into the bay. Note at the bottom a very thin slice of beach in the lower left hand corner. This provides a reference for where the beach ends and the mud flats begin. In the distance is the beginning of the peninsula that leads to Point de Fume. There is a building with an orange stripe. That is the sailing school. Across the street is a beautiful villa. It is awesome. Somehow I don’t have a picture but I have many that are similar. When the tide goes out, as you can see the boats in the harbor are sitting on the mud. The tidal gradient is rather extreme in that part of the world. When I was a boy there was only one old fishing boat laying on the flats. One day I walked out and climbed aboard. It was very exciting to explore the interior of that old wooden sailing ship. I have pictures of the structure of that type of old boat coming up in a later blog. The experience made a vivid impression on me and at one time I built Plank-on-Frame ship models. This might help explain my love for modeling objects in miniature. |
  This is Fort Vauban in Fouras. It is named after the famous French architect responsible for many of the fortresses built during the period. These types of fortifications (or the ruins) are very common in Europe. Inside the fort were several gift shops and the woman who ran one spent her summers in Nevada shopping for semi-precious gems. It rained most of the time we were in France and the first night we got soaked walking home from dinner in town. We had a great dinner…. Fillet de Sole, which is like flounder in the US. It was good but nothing to match the Sole we had on Point de Fume, which is famous for its seafood. My mother used to drive us out onto the point to see the sun set. For some reason she loved sunsets and her favorite watching location was Point de Fume. The Restaurant we ate at there has a special, where they bring out a small boat filled with all the seafood the area is famous for. It looked like half a rowboat piled high with oysters, moules, crabs and every other seafood you could imagine. This shot shows an overcast day and is typical of the weather we experienced while there. However, we did not go back with the intention of soaking up the rays but rather the adventure of returning to our childhood. How many people get to go to a foreign land and do that? Linda and I frequently play the game “How would we spend the money if we hit the lotto.” One of the things we decided (when this happens) is to buy a villa in Fouras. Isn’t it fun to think fanciful thoughts? |
  This is a better shot on how the Villas looked around the seawall of South Beach. It also shows the tree that is still there and which was full grown and commanding when I was a boy. Standing beneath the tree you can look up the hill into the center of town. You can see where the beach ends and the mudflats begin. At high tide the water is well up onto the beach. At low tide the beach ends and the mud is clearly evident for a mile out into the bay. When I was writing the vignettes on my version of the 1001 Arabian Knights, this tree would occupy the edge of my thinking as I visualized Dunezad and the action that unfolded around her. There are many homes in France that look like these. As I mentioned earlier there was a carnival that would set up every year further down the road. A friend of mine, Tommy Thomas, and I spent time there shooting at the arcade. Finally we acquired enough points for a skull we both coveted. I wonder if Tommy still has that skull? Going up the hill from the tree, across the railroad tracks and to the right, lived a family with a big brown French poodle and a one eyed Cocker Spaniel. When it came time for them to return to the United States they gave the Poodle, Benoit, to us. We have had many great dogs since but Benoit will always occupy a deep love in my heart. I used to walk for hours with her down the trails around the Village and found I could jog tirelessly at a slow shuffle. I will be showing some of the vistas I saw in future blogs, then and now. |
  Here is the house we lived in in Fouras over fifty years ago. It is located on Rue Marguerite and was named Villa Phi-Phi. In reality it was never a Villa but rather a seasonal residence that was rented to a vacationing family. After WW2 it was very hard to find a house to rent and my Dad had a hard time finding a place for his family. For the first couple of months we stayed in Rochefort in a Hotel called the Grand Basha. The owner of the “Villa” was Mr. Vernu. He lived next door and was glad to rent it on an annual basis charging the seasonal rate. Since it was not intended for winter habitation there was no insulation or heat. Thus the first challenge was to find some. Dad acquired a big potbelly coal burning stove and we moved in. I remember how cold it was that winter and how we huddled around it in the morning. In the kitchen was a gas range for cooking. It was really primitive however, my mother, raised in poverty during the depression in Northern Wisconsin was right at home. She was delighted with the whole arrangement and unlike many American families took to the adverse conditions like a duck to water. After getting my brother and I fed and off to school a host of her shivering friends would come by to share her warm kitchen and living room where she set up a galvanized tub that was used for washing and weekly baths. All her friends would come by for the hot tub and to wash their clothes in the winter. My mother had one of the only electric washing machines with a ringer and it was in constant use during that winter. Surprisingly, as cold and miserable as it was, my brother and I never had a cold in the three years we lived there. My mother loved the market and the town and soon learned the language. My father was a skilled card player and taught mom how to play bridge. This got them into both American and French card playing circles and as mom became more fluent they played and partied every weekend. It was the high point of my mother’s life and while many of the other wives wrung their hands and couldn’t wait to return to the States, my mother lived in a state of euphoria and dreaded the day when we would be reassigned back to CONUS. (Continental United States) |
  This photo shows the sea wall and beach that was two blocks from where we lived on Rue Marguerite. The houses are very old, huge and well maintained. It is like walking back in time to the 1700’s except for the automobiles. There is a large tree at the far end of the picture that can be seen from the center of town. This tree is a familiar landmark that often pops up in my dreams. In the summer, this beach is one of the beaches where tourists and seasonal residents sunbathe and while not a “nude” beach, the French are much less inhibited about getting a tan in certain places than Americans. While you can’t see it well here, beyond the sand is a mud flat where the sunbathers would wallow as the tide was coming in. This mud was said to be good for arthritis and have cosmetic properties, good for the skin. In the summer time a carnival would encamp at the far edge of the photo that was put off limits by American authorities. This was because metal flecks from the Bumper Cars had gotten in peoples eyes. Norman and I would dress as “French” as we could and sneak down and ride them anyway. We had our berets and European wool ensemble and would speak French whenever the Military Police (MP’s) came around on compliance checks. We would have never fooled a Gendarme but the MP’s were either not so perceptive or didn’t care…. Anyway it was very exciting and we never got caught. These homes along the sea wall, like I mentioned above are traditional and old with high ceilings and with that architecture we associated with “Haunted Mansions.” Many of our older cities had these stone like villas with the pointed roofs, long windows, shutters and vaulted ceilings. They were the houses of the rich and affluent. I love the style of these homes and if we ever hit the lotto, Linda and I will certainly buy one. As an aside, a house in France costs about twice what a similar sized residence would cost in the United States. In fact you can’t really buy anything similar in the US unless you have several million to invest. In France these old stone homes are scattered everywhere and can be purchased, but again, real estate is double what you would pay here for something similar. |
  Norman and I In this picture, taken along the sea-wall just below the tree to left of center on the previous photo, stand my brother and I. Norman is on the left. He is shorter with a stocky build. I must say he was a good brother and a friend even though he used to sit on top of me and spit on my forehead. He remembered many of the things that I did from our youth. During the period I was about six years old to nine and he was eleven to thirteen. He was beginning to become interested in girls and had inherited the family curse of being a chick magnet. (It bypassed me) Anyway he related to me many of his early experiences with girls during that period. He remembered all their names and insisted that we find the houses where they once lived. This was fairly easy since they are all still standing. One girl was named Judy Banks and he had to kiss her on the school bus in exchange for a railroad emblem he was collecting. At that time the Kellog Corporation was having a promotion on it’s new product “Sugar Crisp.” My mother bought box after box of the product at the Commissary, until the very thought of eating another bowl nauseates me… even to this day. Anyway Judy had the one he was missing and when he kissed her, all her girlfriends squealed with delight, and then laughed hysterically when she told him it was at her house and he had to come over and get it…. That is another story. As we drove around and looked at the houses and streets it all came back to him although I think my recollections are more vivid. Still he remembered many of the stories we have shared in the past as a consequence of our three years living in Fouras. |
  In the early 1950’s, my father was assigned to First Rochefort and later La Rochelle in France. Our family lived in a little resort town called Fouras, nestled along the coast between these two small cities. In Fouras there were some other American families living but mostly we we were immersed in a rural French community. My mother was a natural linguist and I must have inherited the gene because I got pretty good at speaking in the three years we spent there. In the final years of my parent’s lives my brother and I were caregivers and during that time we resolved to return to Fouras and see what had changed. In October of this year we acted on our resolution. Katz, asked me if there were any pictures and I resolved to devote some of my blogs to showing some of the snap-shots that were taken and explain the context in light of a time lapse of over fifty years. This first one shown above is from the hotel in Fouras where we stayed. It’s from the balcony of our room. The hotel was one that caters to tourists providing seasonal condos. October was the beginning of the off-season although the rate didn’t seem to reflect it. Still the room was clean and spartan with a kitchenette designed to attract a family drawn to the beach and sunbathing. When the tide goes out there are mud flats that are said to have medicinal qualities. I often find in my dreams at night events tied to the geography of the village. I will be talking to someone along the seawall, walking in the market, eating French bread or walking along the rural trails with my dog, Benoit. The streets and landscape is forever etched into my memory and I wondered how much had charged in the half-century I had been away. The answer, surprisingly enough was very little. It was the same place and little had changed from how I remembered it. |
  For those who noticed I was… “out of the net,” be advised that my brother and our wives were in France the past two weeks. What a trip it was! I could write a book about just the ”Lessons Learned.” I will be talking about these in future blogs for the benefit of everyone in my… “army of readers,” who might consider embarking on a similar adventure. I’ll try and hit on some of the many things we did right, but it’s an amazing quirk of human nature to take for granted what goes smoothly and remember most… the things that didn’t. Lessons Learned: 1. Euros: Do not carry Euro notes in denominations greater than fifty. Twenties are the easiest to exchange. Even McDonalds rejected a fifty denomination. 2. Credit Cards: Put everything you can on a credit card. (Hotels, Car Rental, purchases, gasoline, meals and anything else you can get a service to accept.) I was amazed at how many places had machines that took them. There was a longer lapse in the validation window and sometimes it didn't take on the first try... but overall, they worked amazingly well in France and I suspect this holds true for the rest of Europe. Use your Euros as a back-up and have them ready every time you go to buy something. Notify your card company that you will be in Europe. If you have Life-Lock tell them you will be abroad. 3. ATM Machines: If you use a credit card at an ATM machine you are charged a significant interest penalty in Europe. Do not use ATMs to get your Euros. The machine will ask for your PIN. You will be charged a daily interest penalty until the transaction clears. Do all your money changing at your bank in the US. (1 percent service charge although some banks try and charge two) not at the airport or anywhere else… It’s a rip-off. Have your Euros in a secure money carrier on your person. If it is a wallet carry it in your front pocket. 4. Rental Cars: Go over the car carefully and make sure all dings and scratches are noted… Get a GPS and learn how to program it at the airport. If traveling with a significant other designate one the driver and the other the navigator. When pointing the navigator makes sure not to obstruct the side mirror while pointing. The navigator rides, “shotgun” with a map on their lap and confirms out loud what the GPS “Voice” says even though the driver can hear it. Get a book on European road signs and become very familiar with what they are, particularly the one way and do not enter ones. If you can get a car with an automatic transmission do so. I don’t care how cool you think your are on a standard transmission, be advised that a six speed is common place and if your screw up a shift in the lower gears the engine has a habit of stalling. GASOIL means diesel in Europe…. Many cars are diesel. Having a car gives the traveler enormous flexibility, however the driving tempo is much more intense than in the US. There is an adjustment curve. Stay in the right hand lane as much as possible while keeping up with the traffic. The middle lane is considered a fast lane in Europe just like the outside one. Again… keep to the inside on the freeways. 5. Toll Roads: ("Peage") The most traumatic moment of the trip came when I drove into a slot for prepaid cards only. I had to back out with traffic behind me and no visibility out of the rear view mirror at six-oclock in the morning and pitch dark… It was an ugly moment… Here the navigator is vital to make sure you go to a stall that either has a pay attendant or a Euro-Machine. When you get to a Euro-machine it will tell you how much to feed in. On the edge of a Euro bill is a silver strip. Feed the silver strip in first. When the transaction is complete the gate arm will flip up. 6. Paying for Gas: My credit card did not work at the pump. The normal procedure thus was…. Fill the tank with “GasOil” (Know what your car drinks and use the appropriate hose.) Next, drive over to the attendant in the pay booth and hand them your credit card. This always worked, however we always had the euros ready as back-up in case it didn’t. 7. The French use traffic circles to a much greater extent than we do. The GPS will refer to them as Turn-Arounds (TOs). It will tell you which egress to exit on. Often the TOs will have several lanes. This gets “hairy” because the suitcases piled in the back can obstruct vision in a serious way. If this is the case make sure your mirrors are adjusted and learn to rely on them. Practice in the United States before doing it in Europe. Head twisting might work in the US but it will get you in trouble on a turn around with the suitcases in the way. I tried to stay to the outside on a TO, otherwise someone would invariably try to slip in and you risked a collision exiting from the inside lane. Again, use the eyes of the “Shotgun” and learn to work together. Keep the conversation active at driving points that represent a transition from the norm. A mute navigator is worthless and don't assume for a moment that all wisdom resides in the driver's mind. Operating a motor vehicle in France will require your undivided attention at all times and it is no place for fatigue, day dreaming or auto-pilot. 8. When you park in a public parking, the procedure is that you get a ticket when you come through the enter flip arm gate. When you get ready to leave you take the ticket and put it in a pay machine somewhere on the edge of the lot. The pay machine takes your entry ticket, tells you what the parking fee is, you put in the Euros and it gives you a paid ticket... which you use at the flip-up gate to exit the lot. 9. Returning the rental car at the airport. For some reason plugging the airport address into our rental GPS didn't work. Make sure you get this address straight when you pick up the car. Returning the car to the airport at De Gaul with three terminals, early in the morning was stressful without the GPS working. Remember, try and arrange for a car with automatic transmission. If traveling as a foursome you’ll need a van. The GPS is more than a "nice to have" option! It is a necessity and will let you find addresses of Hotels with amazing ease not to mention getting around in the cities. 10. The back streets (Alleys) are extremely narrow. There is a button in the middle of the mirror adjustment controls that turns both the mirrors in fully against the windows on the driver and passenger sides. This is not a "bell and whistle." You will need to use this feature to keep from busting them off while getting around and parking in some places.... this is how narrow things sometimes are. If you have forgotten how to parallel park practice up before you go. One final note. Don’t drive in Paris. Find a place to park the car (somewhere secure) and take the train. |
| Going Back to Fouras Well…, (as my 5th grade teacher used to say… “The WELL’S getting deeper”)…the class is up and running.  The vignettes are coming in and the reviews are going out. It is beginning to look like we will have four students. Two have dropped out and a third is a “No Show”.When I wrote the course I tried to make it as “Stand Alone” as I could. In the military we did Self Paced Instruction (Correspondence Courses) and the challenge was to make a subject as comprehensive and self contained as possible. Still, not having the personal rapport with the teacher was one of the down sides. New Horizons Academy makes it possible to have the best of both worlds. I'll be in France during week three and four of the term. My brother and I will be going back to our past. Some say a person shouldn't to that because of all the changes... but what the heck... we decided when we were caring for our parents to make the return trip some day. Growing up my brother (Norman) and I lived in a small village, named Fouras, while my father was assigned at La Rochelle. It was a great and formative experience that I still have many pleasant flashbacks on the surroundings. One is Norman letting me tag alone as he checked out the girls sunbathing on the beach. Anyway…. (I wonder if any of those beautiful babes will still be there….?)  |
Yawn, Well I stayed up and saw the Greenbay/Seattle game. Something wasn’t quite right about that last call. Still the Seattle Defense showed its mettle and handed the Packers a whipping in the first half. The Packer Defense, not to be outdone, opened a can of “Whoop Ass” and served it to the Seattle offense throughout the game. Yes, the last call was the worst I have ever seen and will be talked about for years in the football Hall of Infamy… and I was there and saw it all. (As writers try and be a little less abrupt and show more finesse in your transitions than I have shown here.) Usually I spend the early part of the first week of a workshop going to my student’s ports and trying to get a sense for where they are as writers. All my students are not the same and I don’t treat them as the same. Each one is at a different stage in their development and has a different skill set of talent, experience and know-how. The approach I take is that they are the only student in the class and try and point out the things that will help them improve. When I begin reading the vignettes the first look I take is the “Art Look.” I call it that but it also includes a good bit of the grammar basics mixed in. The approach I take is an editorial one and I start at the beginning of the vignette and go paragraph to paragraph looking for issues worthy of comment. When I get to five or six I stop… enough is enough. There is only so much criticism a student psyche can absorb. Sometimes, I actually get to the end of the vignette, not having found anything grammatical to point out before turning to word choice. My goodness gracious! Does word choice ever get a student’s hackles up. What right does Percy have telling me to use his words instead of mine…. My words are part of my unique and personal style! Actually there is plenty to say about word choice…. The two biggies are repetitive use of words and overuse of modifiers… (adverbs and adjectives). These two are red flags showing a writer’s maturity and professional development. In my opinion the best type of editorial review is the “Rewrite.” This allows the student to go line by line and compare what he/she wrote with how I would have rewritten it… had it been in a draft of mine that I was cleaning up for publication. I know! I know…. If you want to get somebody spun up here at WDC do a review that involves a rewrite of their work… How dare he put my writing into his own words… who does he think I am anyway… I think I’ll go to his port and do a retaliatory review and ruin his day just like he has mine. Now please, before becoming too indignant…. A student shouldn’t take any review to heart…. Just keep in mind that what better way can a reviewer express what they see in a work, than to rewrite it like they would have written it? I have never gotten such a review and would welcome one. It would show in the most unmistakable way, exactly what the reviewer has in mind rather than beating around the bush, trying to balance criticism with praise. So in the first part of a vignette review, the “Art Part,” I try and address the grammar, modifiers, repetitive words and offer some rewrites to illustrate what I’m trying to say. |
| Enjoying life’s Passions I realize that this is a writing site and most readers here don’t give “rat grits” about my interests in RC modeling. Having said that I find that most of what I find myself interested in, cycles back into my writing. By this I mean my muse is trying to help me understand how to become a better writer by using analogies in different fields of interest that relate to my writing. For example when I go to the flying field there are some interesting characters that I can template for my novels. Many are well into middle age but enough remains of their character to tell what they must have been like in earlier stages of their lives. As I listen to them I wonder what they would have been like in their younger days and take what they tell me about themselves (directly and indirectly) and put it into the context of thoughts about things I might be interested in writing about. I like to let a story come to me rather than trying to conjure it up in this pea brain of mine. People love to talk and it doesn’t take much to get them going on things that once happened in their lives. What I like about the flying field is that the RC hobby is a demanding one and the acid test of what a flyer is trying to accomplish is repeated every time they take to the air. If something is wrong with the model it is likely to crash and even if it is flying perfectly the mistakes made in operating technique soon catch up with the unwary with dramatic and catastrophic consequences...(If you call a plastic bag full of balsa splinters “catastrophic.”) The point is that those that are out there flying are still active in the game of life. They haven’t given up. One of my friends drags his oxygen bottle around and crashes half a dozen models a season. Yet he keeps coming back with a new airplane and on Thursday showed up with a new model preparation table… (Looks sort of like a picnic table, but it is for the pre-flight of model aircraft.) He will probably die on the flying field and that might not be such a bad way to go. For my part I would rather be with my wife under circumstances that I won’t describe… but what the heck. Crashing a model plane and having a heart attack wouldn’t be such a bad way to take the jump to light speed. |
| Playing Games I went to my favorite Hobby Shop and purchased an Eflite, 60A (Amp) ESC (Electronic Speed Control). If you know nothing about the Radio Control Hobby or are from the “Old School” where they only used “Glow Engines” be advised the hobby has been revolutionized by electric motors. Now if you decide to install an electric, rather than a gas motor, there is a whole different technology involved. In a nutshell there is an electric motor, powered by two batteries and the speed of the motor is controlled by the ESC. When you move a little lever on the transmitter the motor accelerates or decelerates (brightens or fades) like a dimmer switch on an automobile dashboard. Anyway I bought this motor, batteries and ESC from my local hobby shop, got home, installed them in the model and the motor wouldn’t work. In the instructions was an elaborate programming sequence for setting all kinds of internal switches in the ESC to conditions in the operating environment. The ESC gave off little chimes to tell “programmer” how to set the switches. My ESC was beeping five (5) times and the motor was locked up. So I called the support center and they couldn’t help me and told me to send the ESC to the distributors technical support facility. I did this and this is what they told me when they sent the ESC back to me. Inspected your Eflite 60A ESC sent in for service. Tested the ESC unit out with a Spectrum AR6115e, (Transmitter) Eflite Power 32, (Electric Motor) and Eflite 4s 33 30C 2800mAh battery. Plugged in the battery and the ESC did indicate that it was in 5 Cell power cutoff and the motor would not arm. Managed to program the ESC to a 4 Cell with no problem, but the motor would still not arm. At this point I just went through the programming and made sure it was in normal mode, standard timing advance, throttle rate was at .25 seconds, and selected 1.2ms-1.8ms for throttle input range. Unplugged the batter and plugged it back in and the motor armed. Everything seemed to be working normally again. Not sure what you had it set on but it is straightened out now. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to give our product support team a call and we can try to help as best we can…. This tells me “…Not sure what you had it set on…” that somebody (A prior customer) fooled around with the programming, messed things up, put it back in the package, returned it and said it didn’t work. The store then gave him a new ESC. I wound up with the “unset” one he fiddled around with. I wasted a lot of hours getting to the bottom of the matter and rectifying the situation. UGH! I wrote it off to another “lesson learned.” Next time I will make the Hobby Shop demonstrate that the three components work together before walking out of the store! |
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Love it! Especially the safety measures for us homo sapiens...
