Don't Be Too Quick to Welcome 2022

 2021 sucked.

I mean, totally blew, as the kids say, which is the same as sucked in the same way people use flammable and inflammable. On a related note, 2021 was both flammable and inflammable.

And yes, it was worse than 2020. At least it was to me, starting with my brother's death and ending with my wife in physical therapy. The physical therapist people are very nice, by the way, but I'd rather meet them in a social situation.

Not that anyone was allowed to be in social situations.

One of the reasons 2021 was so bad is because everybody thought it would be so good. "I can't wait for 2021! It has to be better than this."

The first time I heard that, sometime around the summer of 2020, I knew we were in trouble. Very few of the things that started then are the kind of problems that disappear when the ball drops. Pandemics, inflation, shortages--read your history, people. At that point I started lecturing everyone to watch out! 2020 was the second Matrix movie, and 2021 would be the third one.

(For those of you who aren't aware, they sucked. And blew.)

Even John Williams can't perk up this story line.

 

I'm a fan of being upbeat, but you have to be a realist, too. The way people thought in 2020 reminded me of what happens on my job whenever someone says "It's quiet" or, while escaping at the end of their shift, "Have a quiet night!" It's the equivalent of that old Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times".

Saying the word "quiet" in a 911 center is the verbal equivalent of pulling the pin on a grenade and rolling it into the room. So all of you, keep your gosh-darn mouths shut.

 

You know, I didn't even get a new book published that year, for the first time since 2011. That's a small thing compared to everything else going on, but it's a symptom of what I'm going to call "Two Thousand Sucky-One", because I can, and it was. By the way, as I write this it's still 2021, and I have another sinus infection.

Yes, it IS related.

"2022 has to be better, right?"

"Yeah, it'll be quiet." *pulls pin* "Fire in the  hole!"

No. No, it doesn't have to be better. Could it be worse? Yes, yes it could. I can picture the old man representing 2021, stumbling toward the exit, broken, bleeding, covered in boils, only to meet the infant 2022 coming in. 2022 takes one look, fills his diapers, and says, "Um, maybe I should go back and gestate for a few more months."

"Forget it, kid. I'm outta here."

 

I'll bet the dinosaurs were fighting a pandemic the year before the asteroid struck. And do you know what survived that extinction event? That's right: the virus.

The murder hornet is still out there. Politicians are proof snakes are mammals, because they're still blowing hot air. All the Kardashians are still alive. But maybe they're all distractions. What's next? Super Volcano in Yellowstone? Earthquake off Washington State? Another election? And that's just this country.

So Happy New Year, and fingers crossed. Fuel your generators, stock up on water and masks, and barricade your doors because, the way things are going, door to door salesmen will come back into vogue.

Which would suck ... and blow.

"Jeez, you're a buzz kill."

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Happy Birthday ... and happy expectancy!

Happy birthday to my youngest daughter, Jill! I tortured her a couple of years ago with some of these photos, so why not again?

She was kinda boring on day one, but she got better.

 

She's getting a late but welcome present, which won't arrive until next year: a new daughter, otherwise known as a sister for little Lilli! Very expensive present.

 

Her sister Charis tried to teach her basketball, but her jump shot was terrible.

 

Four years ago a similar present came a bit early for Christmas or her birthday, but what he heck.

 

Say it with me: Awwwww!!!

Well, I may be a grandfather times four soon, but I'll always be Dad. Many happy returns!

 

Two daughters! Yay!

 

Other photos were okay, but they seemed to lilac something.

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What's Christmas All About?

 So far as I can remember this was last published fourteen years ago, so it's a safe assumption most of my readers don't remember it or have never read it. Now that I think about it, why don't I just shut up and let people think I just wrote it? never mind.

 

I’ve always related to the cartoon character Charlie Brown.

I was the odd shaped kid, naïve, a little strange, unpopular. If I’d dared to manage a baseball team, it would have been the worst team on the planet. The little red haired girl was very nice, but clearly had no interest in me. I even had a white dog, although he slept inside the dog house. 

So it’s not surprising that, like Charlie Brown, I can be a little cynical about Christmas. In today’s society, what’s Christmas all about?

Not long ago, a newspaper gave a “hiss” to people who put huge inflatable Christmas figures in their front yards. I understand (said the guy who had a huge inflatable Santa in his front yard until it died of old age). But can’t you overdo it just as much with more traditional Christmas decorations? If you fire up so many lights around the outside of your house that it sets off NORAD’s missile launch alarm, isn’t that just a bit gaudy? Is it entirely within the realm of good taste to replace the livestock in your nativity scene with reindeer and snowmen?

I love Christmas lights, but we can go way overboard, and start thinking Christmas is all about keeping up with the decorating Jones’s. When your decorations drain the North American power grid; when your electric meter flies off the side of the house and decapitates the courthouse clock tower; when Jennifer Lawrence shows up in a limo, thinking your home is the spotlit premier of her new movie; it’s time to think about cutting back.

The holidays have become make or break time for almost all of America’s retail establishments. If they don’t do well at Christmastime, you can forget the rest of the year. Is this the economic model we want to follow? Is this what Christmas is all about?

When the National Guard tries to break up a riot over the new X-Box, but is driven off by a rabid crowd; when the first Christmas displays of the year melt in the August heat; when the after-Thanksgiving sales begin at 4 a.m. the Friday before Thanksgiving; it’s time to rethink our priorities.

Meanwhile, we've become totally disconnected from what Christmas is supposed to be about. Naysayers will tell you many Christmas traditions have nothing to do with Christ, and they're right: The trappings aren't the point at all. It's about faith, something that can be appreciated just as well by non-Christians. But when your definition of faith means you’re confident you’ll get the new “Blood Splatter 3” game in your stocking, you could be in a very lonely place, indeed--maybe even if you don't realize it.

But so many people are in that place. Thinking about who has the better stuff, worried about nothing more than today, believing in nothing. Today’s cynicism eats into my feeble attempts at optimism, this cold, gray time of year. I wonder what it’s all about. Can anyone tell me what Christmas is really all about?

Of course, the little boy Linus walks up with his blanket, as he has in that Charlie Brown special for fifty-five years. Kids are honest; that’s both their blessing and their curse. They may not have the maturity or education of adults, but they also don’t have all that baggage that keeps some things from being black and white.

“Sure, Mark,” he says. “I can tell you what Christmas is all about:”

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not, for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born in the City of Bethlehem, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.”

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Mark.”

Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense than lights, toys, and shopping.

And then Linus goes off, to abide for another year in the hopes that, this time, we’ll take that Christmas spirit with us all year long.

Me? Like Charlie Brown, I may kill my little tree, or screw up directing the play. But, no matter what bad thing happens, I can’t help having an innate sense of optimism. When I hear a baby laugh, or smell a flower, or see a sunset, I can't imagine they weren't created by something greater than ourselves. But this world can be a better place if the good people of every religion, and who lack one, refuse to give up. We can still have peace and good will toward men, someday. We just have to keep the faith ... and the love, with is in many ways the same thing.

That’s what Christmas is all about.

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Free Christmas Short Story ... because hey, Christmas

I have a new (and free) short story up on the newsletter:

https://mailchi.mp/1a341fafb2bb/free-christmas-short-story

Because we all deserve a little free entertainment ... but especially this year. So here's the story of a man with a morally questionable past adjusting to a new life, and the extended family that welcomes him. (The characters are from the Storm Chaser stories, but beyond revealing the books have happy endings, there are no spoilers here.)

 

And don't forget the rest of our books--Merry Christmas!

 

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Happy Birthday, Emily!

 

Happy birthday to Emily, who was born on what’s usually the first day of winter—which I prefer to think of as the time when the days start getting longer. So--she's the harbinger of better days ahead. See what I did, there?

I still sometimes wonder why Emily said yes when I proposed. I was all the bad things: Old(er), poor, and lived in the north, where we could actually get snow tornadoes. I had the weird hours of a third shifter who’s also a struggling writer, and my hours have only gotten weirder since then.

Unknown to either of us, she signed on to become my editor, book designer, nurse, dog wrangler, traveling partner, photographer, best friend, and the love of my life, not at all in that order. She's the one who explained to me what Dad Jokes are, and that I tell them. What do I do in return? The dishes. That's not a fair trade, but she still loves me.

She pushes me in my writing career, and often out of my occasional (and mostly winter) funks. She's my inspiration. I could never have done our self-published books alone, which is why they're "our", and I'm not convinced I'd be published at all if she hadn't been there.

 

She's quite definitely my rock, my inspiration, the person who can best thump me on the back of the head when I'm acting up, and all that other mushy stuff.

 Oh, and she's great with the grandkids ... but of course, she would be.

 

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Another Christmas Parody Song

 Last year I was inspired to write a parody holiday season song, and this year it appears I still haven't learned my lesson. Here's last year's effort:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2020/12/tis-911-season.html  

Again, I can't imagine anyone who's not in the emergency services will fully appreciate this, but that never stopped me before. I wrote new lyrics to the Christmas song "Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season”, dedicated to emergency telecommunicators out there--including those who, like me, still call themselves 911 dispatchers.

I'm 30 years on the job, so it's possible it's starting to get to me.

I am, too: see?

Crappy Holiday/The Dispatcher Season

 

(Sung to the tune of “Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season” … in Andy Williams’ voice.)

 

Crappy holiday,

crappy holiday

As the relatives keep drinking

Crappy holiday to you

 

It’s the family fight season

And Uncle Ted is coming ‘round

He gets so drunk that he falls to the ground

When old Teddy gets into town

He’ll be going to the jailhouse now

(He’ll be going to the jailhouse now)

 

It’s the drunken fight season

Your cousin Roy got into the booze

Wonder  how many fights he will lose

He may show up on the evening news

He’ll be sleeping in the jailhouse now

(He’ll be sleeping in the jailhouse now)

 

Your nephew Jack is flat on his back

The football game didn’t go quite his way

So your old gram, a big Bears fan

put him underneath the Christmas tree

 

It’s the drunk driving season

An SUV, instead of a sleigh

Is hung up on your outside display

The guy inside thinks he’s in his driveway

He’ll be going to the jailhouse now

(He’ll be going to the jailhouse now)

 

Crappy holiday

(drunken holiday) Crappy holiday

Till the hangover takes over

Crappy holiday … to you!

 

 

 

Remember, every time you don't buy a book, the Grinch steals a tree.

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30 Years In the Headphones

 Hey, I almost forgot: December 13th marked my thirtieth anniversary working in Noble County Government!

It's complicated, because I spent the first few years working in the Noble County Jail, and thus can honestly say I spent time in jail. After that I moved to dispatch, which is now it's own department: Noble County Communications.

I was disappointed that there was no cake ... but then, I'm always disappointed when there's no cake.

Sometimes the job gets ... rough. I used to go home and scream into a pillow from time to time, but it upsets the dog. And I'll be the first to admit that I thought all along I'd be writing full time by now. But we have an important job, and I work with good people, and we have heat and air conditioning. Also my vacation days have reset, and there's something comforting about knowing if things get really stressful, I can take some time off to eat ... well, chocolate cake. Or brownies. With chocolate frosting.

Anyway, while I could have retired last year, I can only afford it if I supplement my retirement pay by selling, according to my estimation, a thousand books a week. Right now a good week is double digits.

But I'm working on it.

And, hey--dispatch gets a tree.

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Coming Attractions price drop for Christmas: low, low, low

 Yeah, I'm into cheap Christmas jokes to sell books. Santa's a big reader. Well, he's a big everything.

But seriously, we really have dropped the price of both the e-book and print versions of Coming Attractions. In print it's down a dollar, to $6.99--any lower than that, and we'd have to pay you to take it. Not that I haven't considered that in past down times ...

For Kindle, Coming Attractions has been slashed in half! Not literally: It's a romantic comedy, not a horror novel. That makes it just 99 cents, a drop of more than half of what it was before. Or .... less than half? By one cent, anyway. Check it out:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KM6JWQC

Ahem. The photo and fun filled Hoosier Hysterical remains at its already low $2.99/$10.00. It's just that this is the only graphic I have with "sale" on it.

Due to various ailments, injuries and a gosh darn pandemic, this is the first year we haven't put a book out since 2011. (There will be a short story in the next newsletter.) I just felt this was the next best thing--and there will be a release or two in 2022.

I still maintain reading is the most fun thing you can do by yourself with your clothes on, unless you're Batman. Check out all our books:

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Dog tested--dog approved, doggone it.

 

Seven Reasons Why Books Are the Best Christmas Gift

I suppose this would be a good time to remind all of you that books are, by far, the best Christmas gifts. Yes, even for non-readers: In fact, books owned by people who don’t read are not only great re-gifts, but when not re-gifted they’re among the books in the best condition. No dog-ears, no food stains, no bent pages … pristine. Two hundred years from now, you can resell books in such good condition for enough money to make up for inflation, if you should happen to still be alive.

In addition to that, books:

Require no batteries. (Except e-books, and those don't kill trees. That I know of.)

Almost never rot your brains.

In hardcover editions can be used for self-defense.

Can be hollowed out to hide all sorts of contraband and/or listening devices.

Make bookcases much more useful.

Never go offline during power outages, assuming you have backup lighting. If you don’t have that in case of power outages, are you really smart enough to read?

Also, should you buy our books, you’re shopping locally. This makes me happy, and don’t you want to see me happy? I thought so.

Don't make me send the Santa Mafia after you. They're always present.

 

But if you’ve heard horror stories about going out shopping this time of year, you could always go to our website at http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html. This gives you a choice of several books in five or six different genres (because I just can’t seem to keep my mind on one thing), with prices ranging all the way down to free (for Strange Portals, anyway. Did you know you can send e-books as gifts?) It’s like Black Friday somehow turned into bright December.

So that’s my pitch, and if you spread the word I promise I’ll continue to be funny and entertaining. 

Okay, I’ll try.

 

 

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House Fire Photos and Video

 Just a few photos and video of a house fire we fought late on Saturday, November 20th. (You may have already seen some of these on Facebook.) Albion and Churubusco fire units were initially dispatched, and fire was through the roof within minutes of the first report. Several other departments were brought in for water and manpower--the home was about five miles from the nearest hydrant. No one was injured; the house was under renovation and unoccupied.

 

As the safety officer a large part of my job is to just watch, which allows me to take photos every now and then of what I'm watching, anyway.

 

 

The roof and attic were built with lightweight wood construction and metal gusset plates, which are notorious for failing early in a fire. That allowed the fire to quickly spread through the whole attic area, and made operating inside dangerous.

 

 

I'm not sure how many times I went around the building; in most cases the safety officer, unlike many other fireground incident command positions, has to stay mobile. But hey, it kept me warm.
 

 On cold nights we often run into the problem of (comparatively) warm water from our hose lines mixing with the smoke from still-hidden fire, making it hard to tell if we're looking at smoke or steam. That's when thermal imaging technology comes in handy, to find those embers in hidden spaces and insulation.

 Here are a few quick videos I took, too:

https://youtu.be/Vni4kYuP5JU  

https://youtu.be/mXEr7cK8OVE

https://youtu.be/_-0grLdxFq0   

 

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Thanksgiving Food Can Be a Real Turkey

Thanksgiving in America continues to be one of the most traditional holidays. It still features the original four hundred year old activities of overeating, football, and complaining about Black Friday.

In the Hunter household, as in all of Indiana and much of the world that’s not outside this country, we battle the overeating. How? By serving food that, the rest of the year, we hate. Stuffing stuff. Cranberry things. Pumpkin anything. It was good enough for the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag Indians, who the Pilgrims politely invited to share a meal in their new home, which they’d just stolen from the Wampanoag. The natives brought a housewarming gift of deer, mostly because they didn’t want to eat cranberries or pumpkin.

But what was actually served at that original celebration? And did they really all sit down at long tables outside, in New England, in November? That’s a recipe for a nice heaping helping of frostbite.

The first Thanksgiving was a three day event, leaving one day each for the meal, football, and Black Friday shopping. The Pilgrims were naturally dismayed to discover no mall or Wal-Mart in sight. Rumor had it there was a Target down the road, but both the trip and the name were a bit more dangerous at the time. They compensated by throwing another feast that third day, during which they discussed, of course, football.

Governor William Bradford sent four men on a fowling mission beforehand. We don’t know for sure what they brought back, but it might have been turkey. It also might have been ducks, geese, or swans, which explains the song they invented about the meal and the entertainment. If it hadn’t taken so much time to memorize it, the song would have been “The Twelve Days of Thanksgiving”. That would have turned our holiday world upside down.

 

 

Why are game birds called “fowl”? Because they had no refrigeration. It was a warning: “Eat it fast, before it’s fowl!”

On a related note, this has carried over into football, which during the first Thanksgiving was so primitive they had to watch it on a black and white TV, with no remote control, or a blimp. Whenever a player gets caught doing something that stinks, it’s called a foul. The spelling was changed during the Great Depression, when a letter shortage caused double U’s to be cut in half.

             

There was indeed an abundance of cranberries at the First Thanksgiving, mostly because the Natives used them as dye. (Good dye, although it tended to run in the washing machine.) By then the Pilgrims had run out of sugar, so there was no cranberry sauce or relish or anything cranberry to actually eat. That’s one of the things they were thankful for.

Potatoes were … absent. The Spanish had discovered them in South America, but they weren’t popular with the English yet. Instead they probably had seafood—lobster, clams, oysters, all that stuff you find on the Thanksgiving menu today. Actually, these days the closest we get to that is either oyster dressing or “see? Food!”

Pumpkin? Absolutely: in their pie, their coffee, donuts, milkshakes … kidding! Starbucks didn’t deliver. Actually they did have pumpkins, but no butter or flour for any kind of crust. They may have hollowed out the pumpkins, filled the shell with milk, honey, and spices, and roasted them in hot ashes.

I’m not making this up. I used to get paid to do this research.

I’m sure you’re all wondering what kind of beer they washed this all down with. I mean, Sam Adams, right? That’s the state beverage of Massachusetts. But no, it turns out they hadn’t had time to make beer, and didn’t yet have apples for cider, so they drank water. This helps explain all those Pilgrim paintings with dour expressions.

Add this to native foods like plums, grapes, leeks, and squash, and you get … *gasp* … a meal that’s good for you! It turns out health food nuts aren’t a new thing; it’s just that back then it was involuntary.

Interestingly, I found no reference from historical records about stuffing being served at the first Thanksgiving. I suspect the Pilgrims planned it, until the Wampanoag heard about the idea:

“So, once we get the birds ready, we’ll mix old bread crumbs and tasteless vegetables together, throw a bunch of spices on them, and stuff them up the fowl butt. Instant side dish!”

“Um … we’ll just take our smallpox blankets and go.” 

 

Imagine how they reacted to fruitcake.

 

"You dress funny, but we'll be peaceful friends forever. Right?"