Miravalles Volcano off in the distance is clear as a sound of a bell as the weather clears. Heavy rain and thunderstorms give way to beautiful skies of gray, white and deep blue. The air is minty fresh as the mint, basil, oregano give a great fragrance after a soaking of rain. San Luis has a mild climate this morning as I woke to Stars and a crescent moon.
It will take three hours to get to Richmond, Virginia from the Cherry Farm. Joe and Beth are staying at the farm; Joe will monitor the computer and help Thomas who will contact him from Thomas’s I Pad. Charlie’s Harley is being pulled by a trailer with Jack, Junior, and Lucky’s Harley’s; they will get around Richmond with the bikes and Thomas will drive the Albatross. Thomas found an RV Park in Pocahontas State Park, thirty-two miles from Richmond and close to the crime scene. Warehouse Company is thirty miles from the park, and the group will meet Paul at the warehouses at eleven a.m., it gives Lucky time to unload the bikes and head over there after some chow. Thomas, Carla, and Jazz will organize the material sent by Phil to learn about this American based cartel. What went wrong at this warehouse? How did the cartel know the FBI was raiding the facility? Lucky, Jack, and Junior will meet Harry and Paul at the warehouses. The motorcycles purr along the curves of the forest. It is a warm, humid day, but the ride is comfortable and relaxing. A light sprinkle in the early morning seemed to freshen the day for a beautiful trip. Too bad it is only a half hour to the warehouses, thinks Lucky as he rides. Harry and Paul are standing in the front of the warehouse with another man. He is John Templeton, the manager of the four large warehouses. Lucky rides to Harry’s Harley and Junior, Charlie, Jack, follows and parks. “My name is John Templeton; these are my warehouses, I am sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, what can you tell about this incident at you warehouses? Are drugs being manufactured here?”
The Chameleon Returns
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It is a work in progress, The Girlfriend supervised the project making changes when needed. It was her way or no way. She was persistent that it was her Pergola. Sometimes she made mistakes as the contractor softly and persistently showed her. Arguments were given until a solution was found. The floor is made Of gravel and sand compacted hard and homemade red bricks are made for the pergola. A BBQ is built of concrete and small red bricks and a steel liner. We made the small red bricks for the BBQ. The cost was a fraction of what we would pay at the hardware stores.
The Girlfriend designed the Planters in the Pergola and the design of the floor from pictures on the Internet. The mason is meticulous and followed the girlfriends instructions as he cut the large bricks weighing approximately ten pounds each. We went through four concrete blades in the process and it took four months to complete this project. The floor took two months alone to accomplish.
Metal tubing, welding, plastic roofing, block, brick, wooden forms for the bricks were used in the project. It took two days for the concrete bricks to cure in our rainy weather. One time we started laying and cutting the bricks after a day of waiting and it was a mistake as the bricks crumbled as they were cut. Some seven hundred -ten pound bricks were fabricated and one hundred small bricks 🧱. The pergola is a labor of love; love between a man and a woman and love of nature and flowers 🌸.
A few little adjustments to satisfy the Girl friend and the project will be completed. A BBQ in November with the builders of the project to celebrate our artistic achievement. It is a picture of beauty and tranquility. I sit on the steps and look at the flowers 💐 and the greenery and I am amazed that the pergola is our piece of paradise. We are blessed! Pura Vida! Search my bookstores below for some good reads:
CHAPTER 10 Mustafa Mohammed Kassab It is a beautiful day; crispy air,. A good start for a Saturday brunch of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and homemade croissants. Lucky is well enough to start running again and get back to his work. The group is at Pierre’s Cafe and are enjoying an early afternoon brunch. In front of Lucky is an investigation report given to him by Charles. A new figure in terrorism has appeared, Mustafa Mohammed Kassab. Mustafa stands six feet-three inches tall. He has long brown hair, brown eyes and a scar across his neck. An enemy attacked him while he was asleep; he killed his attacker before the attacker finished the job. It was an attempt to take over the cell. No one has ever heard of such an action before. A leader is picked by Isis to do a job, and everyone follows his lead. CIA is happy to see this dysfunction in a terrorist cell, but the service is a bit confused because they know the ruthlessness of Mustafa. He is big, powerful and demands loyalty or death. He is a perfect leader for Isis. “I do not want to sound prejudiced, but he looks immaculate for a terrorist.” Says Jack. “It says here he graduated from Harvard with a law degree in international affairs. Mustafa is clean shaven, intelligent and ruthless. He led an Isis group to five towns and massacred the people for not
following Isis. He is going to be hard to find and stop.” Says Lucky. Charles Dawson speaks up; “Curt wants me to take the lead In this investigation along with the Captain. We are the experts in finding the cell. We value your advice but wish to keep you from harm’s way. You have developed a consciousness in Paris with the kidnap attempt on your wife, Lucky. No one knows who I am and the Captain is a known terrorist investigator for France. I have a team flying in today and will gather information and ask for your help. We will work from the house here, and you will command the post here. Do you agree?” Jack and Lucky explain they would like to help in any way possible. Carla will remain with Lucky, Jack, and Jazz to form the information as it comes in. Before the group from the States arrive, Carla, Jazz, Lucky and Jack want to visit Paris. The first place is the Eiffel Tower. Dawson sends Patrick with the group to go site seeing. Patrick takes the group to the Eiffel Tower. It is a chilly September night, and because of their status in Paris, the word was given to the tour people to give them first class treatment. A man will be with the group, and they are taken up to the dining room for a dinner. It is seven-thirty and the sun is beginning to set. Late September is beautiful and tonight is no exception. The city is aglow with lights. The Eiffel Tower is so bright you could wear sunglasses. Jazz and Carla are radiant as they shine in the light. Jack goes to order Champagne and Patrick says, “It is on the way, sir. France appreciates what you are doing for them and wishes to take care of the bill.” Jack explains that it is not necessary and Patrick says, “We insist!” The evening is beautiful, and the group walks out to the balcony to look at the grand city. Beautifully lit and gorgeous, it is an unusual sight. As they look over the city, there is a massive explosion. Half the lights of the city go out. A large cloud overcomes the city. Jack and Lucky turn to leave as a large man in a turban stop them. Surrounded by people with hand machine guns they stop. “My name is Mustafa Mohammed Kassab, do you believe you can stop me? Lucky looks up at his face, and he flashes back to Iraq.
I love the fact that I am still breathing and traversing this planet called Earth. There was a time when life felt unfair. I kept making mistakes and living a hard existence. I was on the verge of losing everything I worked so hard to achieve. My quest for my first million dollars came to an abrupt end. Almost losing my house, cars, motorcycles, and filing bankruptcy. I thought this would never happen to me. A hard working individual is always supposed to be in the top five percent of his profession, right?
Has this happened to you? When you are down in the dumps, working for someone else,( which was a hard to change one’s attitude) and struggle to survive? Then the impossible happens and your beautiful wife, the foundation of your being dies of cancer, leaving only memories of a forty-two year relationship. Yes guilt followed, tons of guilt, What did I do Lord to have you take her from me?
My wife was a wonderful human being whose last words to me was, “ Find someone else, do not feel sorry for yourself; I love you!” I lost seven family members in a course of seven years. I began to write poetry, short stories, novels; fourteen books to date and never looked back at the difficulties in life. I stopped my heavy drinking and found a new life partner. I quess the old cliches are true, never give up and be happy.
The sun still rises and sets everyday and my life is good. I live in Costa Rica and take a deep breath every day and recite, “ Thank you Lord! You give me reason to love life. Pura Vida!
Below are links to my books and an except, Thank You!
Lucky walks five miles to a convenience store and hails a cab to his private airstrip where John is patiently waiting. He flies to a friend’s house in Iraq, General Michael Stevenson, who has a secret airstrip. The General is retired and does clandestine work for the US Government. “Hi Mike, how are you?” “I got your fax from Thomas, and I understand what needs to be down. I found out there is a meeting of the Mustafa Family tomorrow night at eight in the evening. How do you want to do this?” Ask the General. “I will walk in the house and kill them all. If I do not succeed, I will be dead. It must be done to save my family. I understand there is a Mother, Father and three boys, correct? Do you know the size of the house and number of rooms?” Ask Lucky. “Yes, it is two floors, Mother and Father live downstairs and the boys upstairs. The boys live elsewhere, but they stay overnight on meeting nights. They are devoted terrorist like Mustafa, and his Sister was,” Says the General. “Nobody knows I arrived today?” Ask Lucky.”
The Chameleon Returns
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I love living in San Luis, Costa Rica. I love Google Translate. I have difficult hearing and it is a drawback for learning Spanish. I use that app more than any I have. My tico friends love the fact that I try to speak Spanish with them. Ticos are a proud people; sometimes to the detriment. An example is one worker quit because he did not like the size of our chicken coup. He refused to work on it and because it was the project of the month he did not work .I must admit I wS flabbergasted that it bothered him we spent so much on chicken when Ticos let them roam and have no shelter.
I made the mistake of raising my voice to an architect and he said he did not like the way I treated him. I told him he was listening to me and I got frustrated and said it is because you did not respect me. He wanted to do it one way and would not listen to what I wanted. He went out of his way to make things difficult and I found other ways to get the construction to continue. Was I wrong? Yes and so was he . I told him no one wins in this instance but his pride was damaged and he did not appreciate the exchange, but what about my pride. Am I to let him do what he wanted and listen to him talk down to me? Lesson learned and I moved on to another architect and a promising new year.
I had another worker tell the crew that he was going to take a break and if I said anything he would walkout. He was late for work; he was always-fifteen minutes late. He came in at 7:15 am and was on a break at 7:30 Am as the crew sat with him. I asked everyone why they were not working and no one said a word. I told them to go to work. When I told the instigator to go to work he got angry, grabbed his helmet and walked off making a big scene. I did something the day before that angered him and it rolled over to that particular morning. To this day I do not know what I did, but does it matter if there is no room for discussion. I made it known to the contractor it was not my position to run his crew. You will be here to get them doing their work and supervising them or I will find a new contractor. Things always seemed to work out with this contractor because he became particular about who he hires.
I work at being a good individual and realize I live in a poor country and I do not throw myself around as the rich American; which I am not according to American standards. The Tico sees you as spoiled and rich when they try to live off of five hundred to eight hundred dollars a month, making three dollars an hour. The government makes it easy for them not to work and live the good life (Pura Vida). When an employee works three months and quits; The government doesn’t care who is at fault, you must pay the Tico three months pay for not working and he finds another job. It makes you wonder; why bother?
I have learned to swallow my pride, treat people kindly , no matter what the circumstances are and roll with the punches. I live in an area where there is little or no traffic. No jet planes landing at an airport and a loud truck once or twice a day. I have few American friends and a few Tico friends I associate with. I have a great view and love the wild life and the vegetation. Little or no crime and never hear of a murder. For me it is paradise and I would not change a thing. Slowly I am learning Spanish and have no problem communicating with the workers. I explain to them what I want and if it is not to their liking you can leave. I tell them let’s have fun working together. Pura Vida!
Excerpt from Charlie
Lucky is proud of the new school he built on the airstrip. He wishes to have one hundred students at the school. The parents will run the school with CJ’s guidance. CJ couldn’t make up his mind about college. First, he wanted to do police work, then it was a lawyer; he went back to school at Stanford and came back to Cherry Farm when his father thought of the new school concept. CJ has a master in education and is working on his doctorate and will use the new school concept for his thesis, “Educating the Troubled Genius.” The school receives a government grant of ten million dollars a year to help run the school. The students support the school with a small farm of fruits and vegetables, which they sell in the DC area. It includes a mechanic shop to tune cars and small trucks. It has an art studio for extracurricular activity, which is always full of students. Once a year the students sell their art craft at an autumn fair with music, food, and fun. It is a unique setting for those students who are of low income and brilliant. It is called the Sunrise School of Developing Minds. Lucky is proud of this independent school and the families that work at keeping it cleaned, painted, maintained, and a happy
environment. After graduation, the students are given scholarships to colleges of their choice. The students’ national test scores are above average. The students have no problem with awards to the school of their choice. The parents have lived at the school for four years and can save a hundred thousand dollars because they have had no expenses, under the watchful eye of Claire, who managed their money. Most parents went back to school with the help of CJ and found jobs when their children graduated. How many high schools can brag about having 100 percent graduation rate? Mark Hanson from the FBI is visiting the school to talk about computer technology and is overwhelmed with the school. “CJ, I would like to come to teach your students. I wish to leave the FBI. I have twenty-five years with the FBI and can retire if I wish. I do not see an extensive program, only a few classes developed by Claire. She is busy, and I believe I can produce a great tech school for this school,” says Mark. Claire walks in the middle of the conversation and adds, “Absolutely! CJ, Mark and I closed many cases together, and he is a genius. How about we bring it to the board meeting tonight? Mark can be there to introduce himself,” says Claire. “That sounds great! Can you and Claire develop a course starting in our freshman class and continue the courses through advanced college courses in their senior year? Maybe include the professor and his team,” suggests CJ. CJ cannot fathom the reach of his father. He is so lucky to run a high school of this caliber. The faculty is amazing: Dr. Michelle Barstow, a physicist, is Professor Lazlow’s assistant and lover. She has an exceptional IQ and was his calming influence. Albert Manning is the mechanic. He helped put the designs into action. His PhD in mechanical and electrical engineering went beyond the norm. It is a great team whose minds meld into great processes. Lucky gave the professor a large lab and Albert a substantial mechanical lab with hydraulics, welding, and electronics. These people could work anywhere for significant money, but instead they teach and invent. All proceeds go to the school, except 30 percent to the scientist. The scientist gets credit for the patents and educates students in the process. They love the school. Because of his father, CJ was able to get the brightest minds in education to teach English, literature, math, science, and economics. The only sports taught are Kenpo Karate and Jujitsu. Meditation is the very first class at five in the morning, and self-defense follows. It is outside, no matter how awful the weather. One hundred students toughen up for a long life as Charlie, Lucky, or Junior instruct the class. No student has ever missed a class, rain or snow; they learn to balance and self-control. Lucky calls the board meeting to order as CJ introduces Mark to the board. He passes out a ten-page summary he and Claire put together. It combines Claire’s classes with his new proposals. The board members are Lucky, Carla, CJ, Jazz, Claire, Charlie, Professor Lazlow, and Sonny, who is the school’s attorney. They approve the new curriculum, and CJ will present it to the state board. Lucky sees that some refinements need to be made to make it challenging to the students. He and Sonny see no barriers to the state board for accepting the new curriculum. The school is the showcase for education. There is a list of potential students but nowhere to put them. Lucky refuses to expand for fear of losing the intimacy of the student-to-teacher ratio. It is a private school and asks for no state money. Lucky built the school near the airstrip on the other side of the hangar. The hangar is an additional classroom for Albert’s mechanics class. Lucky is pleased with the school having one hundred children of intelligence. He tries to keep class size to thirty kids by rotating teachers. School classes end at 6:00 p.m. for a 6:30 p.m. dinner call. It is a regimented day, with breakfast at seven in the morning after showers because of the physical activity first in the morning. At eight o’clock, the classes begin, and they go on for ten hours. It is a long day, but it is exciting for the students. In six months, sunrise will have their first graduating class. The seniors order their gowns and sent out the scholarships packages with the help of the front office. Every student category is possible for job descriptions: scientist, lawyer, writer, teacher, mathematician,
etc. The first class is twenty-five students, the smallest type that will ever graduate.
Samuel Moss is ready for college and wants to study science and get a PhD. He told Professor Lazlow he intends to continue the professor’s work. He wants to go to Stanford and study robotics. The school is getting a lot of attention, especially from the wealthy who wish their kids an opportunity for a better education. Lucky will not accept any affluent students because he began the school for impoverished students, students who work hard but cannot afford a quality education. The school is a mixture of white, black, Latino, Asian. Lawsuits wealthy parents file are thrown out of court. Lucky has a large following of approval for the way he developed the school.
It is five in the morning on Saturday as Lucky is walking the schoolyard. There is no school on Saturday, and Lucky is surprised to see kids in the meditation yard. A van pulls up, asking for directions, when a dart hits Lucky’s neck. Lucky falls immediately; he is dragged into the truck a driven away.
Forgive me for the red skies in the Morning. A phrase from an old poem that may not delight Sailors of the day, but good for the superstitious on Friday the 13 th. The below excerpt was taken from the History .com article for Friday the 13th:
The Fear of 13
Just like walking under a ladder, crossing paths with a black cat or breaking a mirror, many people hold fast to the belief that Friday the 13th brings bad luck. Though it’s uncertain exactly when this particular tradition began, negative superstitions have swirled around the number 13 for centuries.
The ancient Code of Hammurabi, for example, reportedly omitted a 13th law from its list of legal rules. Though this was probably a clerical error, superstitious people sometimes point to this as proof of 13’s longstanding negative associations.
Fear of the number 13 has even earned a psychological term: triskaidekaphobia.
Why is Friday the 13th Unlucky?
According to biblical tradition, 13 guests attended the Last Supper, held on Maundy Thursday, including Jesus and his 12 apostles (one of whom, Judas, betrayed him). The next day, of course, was Good Friday, the day of Jesus’ crucifixion.
The seating arrangement at the Last Supper is believed to have given rise to a longstanding Christian superstition that having 13 guests at a table was a bad omen—specifically, that it was courting death.
Though Friday’s negative associations are weaker, some have suggested they also have roots in Christian tradition: Just as Jesus was crucified on a Friday, Friday was also said to be the day Eve gave Adam the fateful apple from the Tree of Knowledge, as well as the day Cain killed his brother, Abel. *
It is an interesting article and tells about fallen aircraft, the sinking of a cruise ship, and the death of Tupac Shakur and many other circumstances that has occurred. I always thought it was about death on Friday the 13th because I grew up in the age of Jason the hockey mask murderer movie that scared the pants off of me. I always thought of this day being a lucky omen for me. I never worry about superstitions as I throw salt over my right shoulder. I do not walk under ladders and let black cats walk away from me instead of infront of me. Me superstitious? Nah.
I waited to publish my blog to see if nobody will read it today. Here Goes nothing! Pura Vida!
I love the twilight after a heavy rain as the sun sets in the West. The Bahama’s are being ravaged by nature’s wrath and show the fragile human being who is the most savage of beast how fragile they really are. Here in Costa Rica we are quiet from the rain storms. Soon the rains will pick up again.
People with fragile minds are shooting up cities like the wild, Wild West. Odessa, Texas is the latest victims of a mind gone loco 😜 Since When is getting terminated an excuse to kill people? I have been fired, angry with a boss, but would never think, for an instant to want to kill innocence. All fired employees wish to get even, but is murder on the agenda? No.
I left America the land I love because I thought I needed to protect myself from those idiots who wish to cause harm. I sold my weapons: a twelve gauge automatic shot gun, a thirty-eight Ruger revolver, a forty-five automatic pistol and never looked back.
There is violence in the cities, but here in San Luis it is peaceful other than load music once in a while and construction trucks working on new homes.
With a view like this you can feel the quiet serenity of the area away from the crazy people of the world. Costa Rica has stringent laws about guns and you need to go through a program for a year before you can bring in a gun. No one should be allowed a gun if they have had mental problems or a felony. Costa Rica has no Army, but a well trained police force.
The fragile human being, the most feared animal on earth. Is there any hope for us or are we destined to annihilate this fabulous species? How about we start with banning games that show extreme violence to young children who become addicted to their formats and believe it is ok to shoot up schools or persons who bully and torment them. How about parents monitoring their children and making sure they get outside and enjoy life instead of staying in their bedrooms all day playing those stupid violent senseless games.
Ahhhh! Life is good in San Luis,Costa Rica. Pura Vida!
The Costa Rican Mountains The weather is cool and the clouds hang low The mountains cast a shadow on the western slopes Through the haze the birds sing and chirp Once in a while you can hear a frog burp
The gardener is trimming the plants We lounge and take in the mountain pass No vehicles or planes can be heard Only the Turkey Vultures can be seen chasing small birds
It is quiet time to watch the birds flicker from tree to tree My girl taking pictures of beauty with relative ease Butterflies and humming birds fluttering about
From purple to orange flowers in a continuos route
We drove a rocky summit to find this lair High in the mountains to take in some fresh air Vista Valverde Pacific View B&B y Cabinas Calle Valverde
High in the Costa Rican Mountains
The Forest Behind the B&B A forest you must see Chalet Nicholas is beautiful with natures design It has a forest which is Devine
Howler Monkeys and exotic birds Cicada beetles hold you speechless, no words Screeching their melody louder than the monkeys The birds singing their own melody
Up the trail climbing over roots Thank God we have walking sticks to keep us afoot The owner John leading the trail Seventy two years young, he is not frail
We get to the final hill; A difficult climb
Our legs are wobbly but our feet are fine John says a little further to the summit,it is sublime Or you can turn back and do it another time
We decide to head to the barn So we can do it again and tell a different yarn John continued upward and down to the river Headed back home like the adventurer McGiver
Having a great time at Chalet Nicholas B&B Able to achieve a personal Qi Come to Lake Arenal, Costa Rica to rest or play Maybe you may want to stay
Poems from Costa Rica
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I look back at the good times and wonder if they felt they were good times. I am retired and work at making every day count for something. I never want to let a day go by without saying thanks 🙏 to the all mighty for letting me have great health and energy. My wife drank very little and lived a good life. She died of cancer at fifty-eight years of age. Why am I outliving my younger friends and family members? Am I lucky or getting paid back for my mistakes? Do you ever feel this way? I am nobody special, an average guy who is seldom sick. I raised hell as a kid, but have calmed down in my old age.
I very seldom drink and never too excess. I eat moderately and wish to live at least twenty more years and have a lot of gusto for living. It is a tranquil life in Costa Rica and enjoy listening to the monkeys and birds 🐦. I write everyday and enjoy nature’s best. Why have I been so lucky? I hope you are as lucky as I am. Have a great life! Pura Vida!
I was in hiding for four days when the enemy came searching for a pilot. Twenty terrorists are climbing the mountain firing at me. I get shot in my shoulder and could not move my right arm. Luckily, I have a great spot to defend. It was a hard climb for the terrorist and left them vulnerable as they climb. I was down to five bullets when the Blackhawk helicopter with Jerry peak over the edge of the mountain. I hear the machine guns and watch as my pursuers die or run away. I was too injured to move up the rope ladder, and the helicopter couldn’t land. Jerry lowers the ladder and climbs down to me. He throws me over his shoulder and begins to climb up the ladder.You know how difficult it is to climb a rope ladder with a hundred and eighty-pound man dangling on your shoulder? Almost impossible for a big strong man and Jerry only weighs a hundred and sixty-five pounds. Jerry holds me on the ladder until the pilot arrives at a mesa on the mountaintop and sets us down feet first. Then he lands the helicopter to help Jerry bring me to the helicopter. Did you know my friend got a silver star for his heroic effort in saving one Airman’s life?
Excerpt From The Chameleon Returns T.M. Nugent This material may be protected by copyright.
How do you get visible to the reading public? Beats the hell out of me, but if you have money there is someone out there who can show you how to do it. I have spent thousands of dollars in advertising to get my fourteen books be seen and I am lucky if I sold fifty books. I put that flower picture that is part of my garden on this page because It has no trouble getting people to comment on it. Do you have to be controversial to be seen in the book community? Join all the book websites and forums? Maybe.
I joined Goodreads and had a book reviewed and received four out of five stars, but no physical movements of my books.I advertise in Facebook and have my website, understanding-online .com, but it cannot be seen on google. I follow the rules of using keywords, but cannot seem to find the catch. I put three books in a book show in Canada and the publisher wants me to do a book signing in Toronto. Only problem is money 💰,bring sixty books with you and find a hotel room and fly out here in September. Let’s see: air flight six hundred dollars, hotel, one hundred dollars, books I need to bring, nine hundred dollars, book show is twenty-nine hundred dollars, renta car etc. And the cost keep piling up. Guess 😮, no book signing for me who is on a retirement pension.
I am not complaining; these are plain facts, to be visible you must have money. Love of writing is not enough, you must have dollars. Self publishing companies are great for publishing, but do nothing to help you sell. You spend a thousand dollars to get printable and it ends there unless you have dollars. They get you to buy books at one hundred books at a time and yes, do you have the bucks? You have fifteen hundred bucks to purchase and promote your books? My publisher will help me push my book for five thousand dollars. Get the picture?
This is truism of being a writer. Smart writers have found out how to crack the invisible wall of getting known. One, you need to be good at writing, you must find a publisher who wants to take a Chance on your personality and your ability, and of course it takes cold hard cash. What a ride writing is for me. I love to write and since I live on Someday Isle, maybe I can be seen. Pura Vida! Book store below, just push the link.
It is a cloudy day at County line beach. All the overnighters had bonfires and began to awaken after a night of drinking, smoking pot and love making. It is seven A.M., and I jump into the cold ocean to body surf. The water was about fifty- eight degrees and the goose bumps popped up all over my body. When the water is chili, you need to get in quickly. Otherwise, you may give up and walk away. I love the cold water. It makes your heart skip a beat or two and makes you feel alive. I played in the water for an hour and swam towards the beach. I do not know why I noticed the man, but two hundred yards from the water I see a senior man asleep in a red vintage Mercedes convertible. Bright red, circa the nineteen forties, give or take a year. It is so prestige and elegant. I decided to be nosy and walk up to highway one. I dried myself off and went to the car. I approached from the back. He had silver colored hair and was meticulously dressed. A pinstriped suit with silver stripes and black material. A beautiful suit was wrinkled like it has slept in the last couple of days. He was unshaven quietly snoring way. Suddenly he snapped upright. I accidentally stepped on an aluminum can and startled him. He turned slightly and pointed a forty-five pistol at me. “Whoa!” as I took a step back. “I did not mean to startle you.” “At my age, you must be ready” he responded. “What the hell are you doing?” “I saw you from the water, and I thought you needed some help. I thought you were ill”. “I guess my curiosity got the better of me, I’m sorry.” With that, I turned to walk away. “Wait a minute! Have you had breakfast yet?” “No I haven’t” “Hop in, I know of a nice place down the road.” After a short drive, we stopped at The Paradise Cove, an outdoor diner for breakfast. It was seventy degrees, and the clouds had disappeared. We sat and had breakfast at a table on the sand and talked for hours. The time went quickly. He talked about his family. He was ninety- two years old and was retired. His family was overly protective of him. He told me he made millions from inventing computer parts in the late fifties. He said he spoiled his wife and kids and they try to run his life.
To escape the smothering; he leaves them a note and disappears for a couple of days. The ocean curls over the sand and the sun tans my face as we listen to Beach Boy music. Not once did he tell me his name. I found that a little strange. We had talked for hours before he felt comfortable enough to tell me his name. “Friends call me Junior. My father John was a war hero. In nineteen – eighteen he stormed a bunker and knocked out a couple of machine guns. The Germans were decimating his squad. He saw a minute opening and ran up and threw a pair of hand grenades. He was a hard man to follow. They gave him the Congressional Medal of Honor. He saved hundreds of people that day. My father became a college professor of chemistry and an inventor. He is why I am such a driven young man. He expected a lot from me”. “Was he proud of you?” I said. “Yes, he was the kindest man I ever met.” “He is gone now. Lived to be eighty-four years old. I miss him dearly”. We left the restaurant, and he drove me to my car. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to visit again. He pulled a U-turn and went towards Malibu. His silver hair is glistening in the morning sun. I looked at my car. A red Oldsmobile convertible with white interior, a nineteen sixty-three, Dynamic eighty- eight. My parents let me drive the car on occasion. It will be the last time I drive “my car.” I will be heading to military service. I lost my school deferment. It is the Vietnam war and if you did not have a disability you were leading to war. I was sixty- nine in the draft and came from a middle-class family, so I was doomed. I was lucky. I scored high on my Air Force test. I was accepted, two weeks later I was off to Lackland Air Force Base. I would not make it through basic training. I was standing next to a fellow recruit, and he accidentally discharged his M sixteen on the firing line. He ruptured my ear drum, and there was blood all over the place. I would get a disability discharge. I lose the hearing in my right ear. No Vietnam for me. I was happy. I did not believe in the war and was glad to be home. Three months had passed since I last saw Junior. I get a phone call on Saturday night. “Bill, what are you doing tomorrow?” “No plans Junior, what’s up?” “Can you meet me at Paradise Cove” “Sure, what time.” He asked me to meet him at eight A.M. I hang up the phone, and my Dad asked me who that was. I told him it was a friend of mine who told me to meet him in Malibu for breakfast.
I am tired tonight, but it is worth the early morning before the sun begins to shine. Darkness is beginning to wain and the blue skies begin to fight through the early rain. Orange , blue, and gray has a beautiful tone this morning. A few minutes ago it was pouring rain and God seemed to exclaim with a clap of thunder, “ Let the sunrise this glorious morning.”
A cool sixty-eight degrees and a slight breeze makes it glorious. My writing has been unimaginative lately. Words pop in my head but it is a different story line. Twenty eight thousand words and I do not get enthralled with this chapter so I stopped writing for a day. Does this happen to you writers? How about you artist? You have been working on a water color and you step back and look at it and think there is something unbalanced with this picture of a lake and a snowcapped mountain. I must step away and think about today and you walk out of the room.
I walked outside, look at beautiful Lake Arenal, the beautiful sky and give thanks to God for allowing me to live here at this exact moment and time. That sunrise is beautiful, don’t you think? I walk down to the pergola and I am careful with my steps because the dirt is wet on the slope. I pick up a shovel and begin digging level ground to lay homemade brick for the floor. He needs to get back to the ship; I think to myself as I shovel more dirt. Working at getting my main character alive and entertaining so the book is not boring I think. The outline in my head is turning fast and precise.
The clouds begin to comeback in as the lightning lights up the sky and I turn and walk up the hill to my sidewalk to walk into the cabin. Boom says the thunder as lightning strikes again. One, two, three as I count the seconds to the sound of thunder. Boom! Twenty seconds, twenty miles away I think. As I sit on my chair and grab my I Pad. It will work I think to myself as I tape rapidly and the words flow out of my mind. The rain pummels the earth at the rate of my thoughts pop out of my head. Life is good. Pura Vida.
Chapter One Revenge of the President Lucky is not surprised the President arrived safely at the Cherry Farm. A plan was put into place the day Marc and Thomas intercepted the email from Cornel Saunders, Vice President of the United States; it showed the time and date of the Presidents departure. No one else was privy to that appointment. The email to Congressman Thomas Swanson did not say where the President and his wife was going, only when he was leaving for a day to relax. Why was it important for the Congressman to know? Why did the Vice President send the email? The only explanation is a conspiracy to murder the President. How many other people are involved in the conspiracy? Why did the Vice President need to eliminate Lucky and Jack? The President had been uncomfortable with his administration. He felt uneasy with his people, especially with his close friend, Cornel Saunders, who seems to be fighting against the President’s agenda; Curtailing the power of the Drug Manufacturers in the United States of America. President Alexander wished to control the cost of prescription medicine. The President felt a profit of five billion dollars a quarter was ridiculous. The President wanted to stop what he called the extortion of the American people.
The Chameleon Returns
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The air is fresh, you can smell the green vegetation; The licorice, Oregano, basil, and the rosemary in the herb garden. The flowers perk up in the early morning as I take a deep breath through my nostrils and feel the resilience restored in my aching bones. The pain seems to diminish as I walk admiring God’s nature in front of me.
Another storm is on the way; yesterday was a glorious day as I took advantage of working my property and enjoying the cool breeze. I forgot to put on sunscreen and became quite red. I remembered and headed for some shade to rest and add the sunscreen to my ears and arms. My ear lobes are a little tender and need to remember the sun is closer to the earth in Central America.
This weekend is the Celebration of the Blessed Virgin Mary as the Catholic Costa Rican’s walk to Los Angeles Costa Rican from various locations: Nuevo Arenal, Rio Piedras, Tilaran, and other townships, walking some thirty kilometers or more with a gold statue of the Virgin Mother. The people will follow road 142 and pray as they show respect to the Blessed Virgin Mary. I do not know where there destination is in Los Angeles, Costa Rica; If it is a Church, or a park where the statue will been seen and prayed. It is amazing to see the solid gold statue in the back of an open car trunk on a pedestal adorned with flowers and silk. Slowly the car travels at a walking pace for the procession.
Ticos of all ages march down highway 142 as guides show traffic around the procession. Rain or sun, the people walk on to their destination. People will take time off from work this weekend and take part in the walk and worship of the Virgin Mother culminating in worship on Sunday in the small hamlet of Los Angeles. Amen!
It is raining as I write and I think of the paraders and pray they are safe. I hope you partake in reading of my books and enjoy the weekend ahead. Check out my website at Understanding-online.com and check out my bookstore below.
Bangles she wore six bangles on each of her wrists the first was self love for without it can love of others truly exist the second was love of her family which she held very dear the third and most expensive was for her man
she gave him life and her humanity for him to understand the fourth was to remind her of her very close friends whom she knew would be by her side at the very end the fifth was humility and honor she carried like a sword
holding her head high like a chairman of the board the sixth gave her peace and hope the world she thought was on a perilous slope she gave to charities to ease its pain and hoped someday racism could be slain she did her best to the very end
she was my wife and my friend
Walk we walk the prickly path daring to defy naturesʼ wrath we walk together with a fighting spirit daring life to stop and hear it
until such time when one is gone the spirit becomes more forlorn loss, sadness and despair walks are slower with a heavier air
in time walks get better sometimes you notice the weather sometimes you look for better days sometimes you remember the fight
you remember how she made the best of life you remember how to fight naturesʼ wrath you continue to walk that prickly path never forget
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
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