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Custer’s Last Something

CusterThink you’re having a bad day? It’s nothing compared to the remarkably bad day George Armstrong Custer had on this date in 1876.

Exactly 138 years ago today, he and his 262 men topped a hill in present day Montana, looked down the slope to the Little Big Horn River, and saw thousands upon thousands of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors rushing their way.

June 25th was Custer’s Last Day. Continue reading →

Be Careful! Your Words Can Come Back to Haunt You.

NedRay2

This Tennessee country boy got the last laugh on big time TV reporter Sam Donaldson … and taught him a lesson we all need to remember, too.

In the late 1980s, I was a young TV reporter working in western Kentucky. The station’s coverage area extended into northwest Tennessee, and I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a man who lived there named Ned Ray McWherter. He was a big, burly, friendly guy who physically resembled an old-time politician from the previous century.

That was partly because Ned Ray was a politician. He was elected to the state House in 1968, and was chosen House Speaker in 1973. (He went on to serve as governor from 1989-1997.) I remember the day he told me this story, which carries a lesson for all of us. Continue reading →

The Kite that Got Away

Kite-1

My Pirate Kite didn’t look like this one;
but at least this gives you a general idea.
She was a beauty! A kite that special
deserved its freedom.

Spring is in full swing. Seeing families out and about this time of year always puts me in mind of this story.

I was a third grader in the spring of 1970. The Easter Bunny left something extra for me along with the traditional basket of candy that year. It was a kite. And not just any old dime store kite, either. This one was white with a skull and crossbones emblazoned in black in the center: the Jolly Roger, symbol of swashbuckling adventure.

It was a Pirate Kite! At nine years-old, I felt like I had won the lottery. Continue reading →

Almost a Witness: My Brush with a Presidential Assassination Attempt

“History never looks like history when you are living through it.”

-John W. Gardner

Reagan-1

“March 30, 1981. A chilly day in
Washington, DC with on-again, off-again
drizzle. And history waiting to be made.”

March 30, 1981. A chilly Monday afternoon in Washington, DC with on-again, off-again drizzle. The kind of day that can’t decide whether to be the vanguard of spring or winter’s last hurrah. So it acts like both. I was a 20 year-old college kid from the country’s Heartland back then, in awe of the city’s showy trappings of power and its perpetual love affair with history.

That’s the thing about history – it’s like lightning: you never know when or where it will strike next. Fate had decided to touch that afternoon and make it historic. And it did so in the unlikeliest of places. Fate gets a kick out of doing that; it has selected box seats in a packed theatre, a crowded train station, and even a quiet street in downtown Dallas as venues where American history made abrupt sea-changes. Now Fate’s attention was turning to a hotel.

And I just happened to be staying in it. Continue reading →

Looking at Life: I Was Irish… for a Week

Pat-1

“I was satisfied I could rightfully claim the Luck of the Irish as my own.”

Few people know this, but I was once briefly Irish.  Very briefly, in fact.

With St. Patrick’s Day upon us, it’s a good time to recall how I was Irish for a week.

I was in the third grade and a Cub Scout.  Or maybe a Webelo.  Details blur with time.  Anyway, I was nine years-old, was some type of pre-Boy Scout and was tasked with investigating my family tree.

The timing was particularly good, because my family was planning a visit the coming weekend to my Richardson grandparents, who lived about 200 miles away. Continue reading →

Writer Advice: The Writer’s Beautiful Curse

loneliness1F. Scott Fitzgerald almost got it right.  He wrote, “Writers aren’t people exactly.”  He was just one word off.  He should have said, “Writers aren’t normal people exactly.”

When I worked at CNN, a new manager breezed through the newsroom one day for get-acquainted chats.  When he came to my desk he said, “You’re normally a writer, aren’t you?”  I replied through a smile, “There’s nothing ‘normal’ about writers, believe me.”

There is a reason for that.  Compared to the general population, we writers suffer a disproportionate degree of depression and melancholy.  That’s a cliché, but it’s still true.  A look at the 20th Century’s great American authors is like strolling through the Depression Hall of Fame.  Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and of course that poster boy for the chronically depressed, Hemingway.

I understand where they were coming from.  I call writing, “Crawling into that dark, lonely hole.”  I love writing with all my heart, and have ever since I first learned to put words together as a child.  Writing is not what I do; it’s who I am.

I am also a Melancholic Personality, and the two intertwine perfectly.

The ancient Greek physician Hippocrates identified four personality types: Sanguine, Choleric, Phlegmatic and Melancholic.  Consider the traits of that last group.

Melancholics are trapped in an inner struggle between an imperfect world and an intense desire for perfection.  They’re highly creative idealists who hold themselves and others to unrealistically high standards, and become upset when those impossible standards aren’t met.  They want to know the details of every little thing, which makes them over-analytical, neurotic worriers.  They blame themselves for mistakes, because they’re acutely aware of their own imperfection.

Then there’s the sensitivity. Melancholics are emotional. They are thin-skinned and easily hurt. Their moods are like a delicate crystal vase; easily broken and hard to repair once shattered.  They hold onto emotions, both good and bad, for a long time.  They can be very moody and difficult to deal with because they’re so easily hurt. They often wish to flee from things that cause them distress.

TypewriterStop me when you recognize the traits of a writer.

But before you say, “These folks are too weird for me,” consider this: it’s often said Melancholics are “the richest of all temperaments, but at the highest personal cost.”  And that’s where their writing ability intersects the melancholia.

We Melancholics aren’t alone in experiencing sorrow and joy.  It’s just that we experience them more deeply and more intimately than others.  We have the ability to “feel,” ramped up on steroids.  We’re not bipolar; that’s something else entirely.  But I can tell you from personal experience, I have walked in sorrow so deep that many people don’t know it exists that low, and I have also extended my hand to touch the upper limits of sheer joy.  Yet the ability to do that carries a painfully high price-tag.

Most folks never understand what we go through, but our readers reap the benefits of it.  I call the writing experience, “pinching off a piece of my soul.”  That’s because I take my deep, intensely personal feelings and transfer them to my characters.  That may be enjoyable to follow in a book, but the writer had to live through the emotions those characters experience before they were created.

LonelinessPeople realize it takes a lot of effort to sit down at a keyboard for an extended period of time and turn random ideas into a story.  But they don’t know the half of it.

They don’t know the beautiful curse that makes good writing possible, and which writers live with every day.

American History: Git R Done! Why James K. Polk rocked as president

James K PolkJames K. Who? If you’re like most Americans, your knowledge of the presidents ended after you were forced to memorize their names in the fourth grade. And that’s a shame, because some amazing guys are hidden among their ranks. Presidents Day is the ideal opportunity to tell you about one of them.

James K. Polk is one of my all-time favorite presidents. Seriously.

Why, you ask? For starters, I played Little League baseball in Joplin, Missouri back in 1973 with a kid who was a Polk descendant. (Nobody would make that up; if you’re going to lie about having a presidential ancestor, you’d pick Washington or Jefferson or someone whose face made it to a coin or currency.) Anyway, that sparked an interest in Polk, and I discovered he was one of the rare ones who said what he meant and meant what he said.

Git r donePolk had a 160 year head-start on Larry the Cable Guy. The motto for his presidency could easily have been “Git R Done.” (Although I can’t picture Polk’s face on a T-shirt.)

He did the usual pre-presidential stuff: served in Congress, including a stint as Speaker of the House, and was Governor or Tennessee. He was elected president in 1844.

In his inaugural address in 1845, Polk spelled out four specific goals for his presidency:

* reduce tariffs, which he did… a kind of forerunner of the late 20th Century free trade agreements;

* reestablish the Independent Treasury System, which he did… and which lasted until the Internal Revenue Service replaced it nearly 70 years later;

* settle a serious border dispute in the Pacific Northwest with Britain, which he did… and which permanently established our western border with Canada, creating one of the most successful best buddy international friendships in the world;

* win the Southwest territory from Mexico, which he did (thanks to the Mexican War)… giving us California, Nevada, Utah and parts of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah – plus the massive amounts of gold and silver that were later discovered there.

Polk literally made it possible for generations of schoolkids to sing, “From sea to shing sea.”

GraveNow here’s the most amazing part of all: he accomplished everything he set out to do in just one term as president. He didn’t try to hold on to the job forever like so many others. He simply finished his duties, packed up and handed over the reins to Zachary Taylor… without seeking reelection. Imagine that happening today! Upon leaving office, he went home to Tennessee and promptly died 90 days later. (Trivia: Polk is buried on the lawn of Tennessee’s capitol in Nashville, the only U.S. President whose grave is on the grounds of a state capitol.)

Clear goals, all achieved in a single term, then a “mission accomplished” return home. That’s my kind of president!

A hearty salute to you, James Knox Polk, on this Presidents Day!president-day