Friendship

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Lulu and Lala

What is friendship? According to my Wikipedia:

Friendship is a relationship of mutual affection between people.[1] Friendship is a stronger form of interpersonal bond than an association.

Although there are many forms of friendship, some of which may vary from place to place, certain characteristics are present in many types of such bonds. Such characteristics include affection; kindness, love, virtue, sympathy, empathy, honesty, altruism, loyalty, mutual understanding and compassion, enjoyment of each other’s company, trust, and the ability to be oneself, express one’s feelings to others, and make mistakes without fear of judgment from the friend.

I thought that Wikipedia has a wonderful explanation of what friendship is and how it can endure for years. I have friendships that are lasting thirty-forty-fifty years. I have many acquaintances, but few friends. My puppies 🐶 are true friends. I come home they are eager to see me, with their tails wagging and jumping on me to get affection. When we sit and relax, they want to sit on my lap, lick my face and hug me. When I need to reprimand them for doing something they were not supposed to do in order to protect them, they do not hide or hold it against me. They wag their tales and jump on my lap. Maybe it is asking for forgiveness or maybe a natural bond of loving dogs have to give. I talk to them constantly and the dogs follow me where I travel.

I can count on my hand my true friends. Those people who stuck by me when I made mistakes, maybe not treated them as well as they expected, but they forgave me my sins. When I made good money they had fun with me. When I had no money, they stuck by me. When I lost a brother they were there to sympathize with me. When my wife died they held my hand as my family did. I lost friends because when I was young I made terrible decisions that haunted me all my life, but my true friends hung in our relationship until I grew up. Did I hurt them at times? Yes, and I asked them for their forgiveness and they forgave me. I took care never to repeat my poor decisions and returned their loyalty with love.

Friendship is a bond, a kinship, a commaradire that flows through the years. An understanding you will be there in time of need. A sense of goodness, kindness and at times correcting ones behavior if it is doing harm. Going against the many when you see a friend in need. A friend makes mistakes that many may see as unforgivable, because they do not know the whole truth. You do and you go against what others think. You stand by your friend until the truth is revealed.

Charish your close friends and honor them with understanding, kindness and loyalty. Your rewards will be boundless. Like Lala and Lulu you friends will be there.

Pura Vida! Press the link below to my bookstore. My new novel, The Chameleon Returns will be available in a couple of weeks,mid September. Thank you for reading my blog. Timothy M Nugent.

Friends

Lifelong

Chapter Seventeen
You are Not Forty Anymore
This last trip exhausted Lucky and Jack, it took two weeks to recover. The whole story did not come out to their wives. Individual portions of the trip, like
the warfare, fifty millimeters, eight gun bouts, etc.; Only the excitement of the voyage. Jack and Lucky are sitting in lucky’s office contemplating the future.
“You know we’re are not forty anymore,” says Jack.
“I know! I was tired after that voyage and made sure we flew home. I thought the pirate group would be smaller. Who knew the Don had almost thirty men? Maybe we should have called the maritime police first before we went to the cove,” Says Lucky.
“Fortunately, the cruise ship was small and under capacity; only eighty clients instead of two hundred or so. Thank god for off season, maybe that is why the Don took the ship,” Says Jack.
“We need to take on less difficult work or call it quits. It could have gone wrong and our friends hurt,” Says a weary Lucky.

Excerpt from the Chameleon Returns by TM Nugent

 

 

Communication

This picture give me a sense of community, solidarity, and the idea of communication.

Monkey And Frog

She used her tokens in many ways
A brilliant idea on lonely days
She was creative in spicing our lives
she knew how to energize

She had a frog with spring loaded hands
which she would put on my night stand
in it’s hands was a love token
it said good for one hug

And a word need not be spoken
I would get into bed give her a gentle tug
I would give her a kiss and a gentle hug
in the morning when I was a sleep

She would get up and not make peep
Over to the vanity she would go
There was the monkey asking for a toll
In itʼs spring loaded hands was a token

Good for one kiss
No words were ever spoken
If you want a marriage to last
A simple monkey and frog is up for the task

Always freely give your kisses and hugs

Some people will say this is a corny Idea, but does it seem like A method was used to communicate? Communication is the art of expressing ones feelings and voice to another in order to enhance understanding. There was a time in our marriage, Marian and I were like islands far apart. Unable to communicate properly, working long hours, she had weekends off while I worked. Many nights I was home after she was in bed.

Too much work, too much parting after work took its toll on our marriage. I was the culprit and had to make changes in my life. Luckily Marian was an extraordinary Individual and changed my way of doing things. She was a proactive individual who saw through my loneliness ( I am sure she was lonely) and began to communicate with the use of those two stuff toys, the monkey and the frog. Soon my excesses slowed down as she asked for more of my time. Partying stopped, no more over drinking excuses like your asleep when I get home after work. I would come home at midnight and my wife would be asleep on our love seat. I would pick her up and take us to bed. Always she would say, “I love You”.

I would find sticky notes everywhere. In my car, on the refrigerator,(her favorite sticky note spot), in my underwear drawer, anywhere she would think I would look. Her skill to communicate in a positive fashion, kept our marriage alive. It made me want to be the same way. We began going out at night on her work days, on my days off; making sure I played golf without getting drunk. We began to enjoy our marriage of thirty-eight years.  Marian passed away at fifty-eight years old. My companion of forty-two years was gone. I thanked God for changing my attitude, or was it Marian who led the class?

If you love someone, you find away to have a better relationship. Pura Vida!

Press the link below for my bookstores:

 

Love

Relationship

Excerpt From
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.

Costa Rica

838233F7-0DF4-4240-B9D8-D5660421408EPura Vida! Goes without saying; it is a way of life, the good life. Last year the man in the cart passed away after a long life. It is a causal life of cattle, chickens, horses and goats that line the Caminó. Any given day you could be driving highway one forty -two with its many curves, and need to stop as the ranchers are changing pastures for the cows and bulls to eat. Cattle are always grazing alongside the road. A car will drive by and flash its lights to warn you of a couple of loose horses or cows are in the middle of the road, beware.

The Man in the picture, in the cart was a neighbor I never met, but I regularly saw his son, a furniture maker of good quality, who  receives good prices for his cabinets, tables or chairs. He will make any kind of furniture with the type of Costa Rican wood you prefer: Laurel,Guanacaste,Cedro,Caobilla,Níspero de montaña; all fabulous madera (wood) that would make exquisite furniture. I am making a bed in cedro, which is a cedar woood. The man in the picture was riding to Nuevo Arenal, ten minute drive to the heart of the small town. Costa Rican’s are big with parades on holidays. Every year the town includes the local horsemen in their parades. One year they road past our house on our dirt road, ten feet from my house. I thought it was awesome the way the dancing horses performed as they would stop and show us their riding skills.

My favorite part of living in Costa Rica is the early morning sounds of the birds and monkeys. At four-thirty in the morning the yellow breasted birds a singing. Six-thirty the monkeys bark as some early morning delivery trucks make a racket the monkeys do not like. The dogs are searching  the garbage for food. We have an abundance of stranded  dogs; You want one?

I like to write in the early morning hours as My girlfriend is sleeping. It is very peaceful as I write and look out at Lake Arenal. It is rainy season and it came early. Major hurricanes in the Caribbean, Atlantic, and Pacific Oceans. We usually get the aftermath of those storms. I was told we are having January type weather in July; very heavy rain , days at a time. Last night it rained all night with high winds knocking fruit off the mango trees and pounding on the roof of our small house. We listen to the weather station for road closures as the hillsides tend to cause landslides that take hours to clear. We wait for clearing skies before we traverse out this time of year. I love the smell of rain after the storms. You can smell the green clean invirionment. I do see progress coming to Quanacaste Province, but I hope the government keeps it under controll. I wake up to freshness, no stale smell of too many cars, trucks and industry.

I very seldom travel out of my area; maybe a ride to Liberia for the airport, or electronics. It is an hour and a half away from Aguacate. I never go to San Jose, it is too crowded for me. I left smog and traffic in the States and like the peace and quiet of Costa Rica. Las Vegas, my house had commercial planes flying over it every two minutes. I never hear a plane in Aquacate. A large truck a couple of times a day or a cow mooing. Crime is non existent; a man was found dead in San Jose, the only murder in Costa Rica this year. Las Vegas had murders every night and you wonder why I moved to Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is not for everyone. Good, I do not like a large population, I do not get lonely. There is too much to accomplish here. I am almost done with my little Cabina and hope to move in by September. Pura Vida! Find your good life! Thanks! Press the link below for my bookstores.

Life 

Love

Cambria
i am all alone in our favorite town
i walk the beach trying not to frown
working at being alive is a difficult task
I wear different types of mask

staying at our favorite place
still avoiding the human race
no cell phone or tv
just a book for me to read

I sit outside at the Moonlight Grill
as the sun set it made life feel real
it brought back memories of better days
together we watched the sunset waves

i miss your sunset eyes
the blue and orange of the sunset skies
i want to wake up with the morning dew
feeling i was the best for you

look down on me and smile
know that I will be with you in a little while
I want the world to know
that that you own my soul

i love you”

Excerpt From
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.

Developing a Character

Take us to the bomb area Captain,” says Lucky.
“Has anyone looked at the videos Captain?” asked Jack.
“Yes, we see a young woman dressed in a hijab and an abaya, the
traditional dress of an Iraqi woman. She appears to be a black woman. She walks up to one of the tellers and seems to ask for the President of the bank. We see the cashier walk to the Presidents office. He leaves the office and walks to the glass partition to talk to the woman, and the bomb goes off. The woman disappears in the flash of the explosion, and the President is bounced over a desk and lands unconscious against the wall, twenty feet away from the blast area. The bullet proof wall saved his life; although he is in critical condition.”
“Can you see her trigger the bomb?” Jack ask.
“No, it is not visible from the view of the cameras,” says the Captain. The group arrives at the bomb Center, and Jazz cannot believe her
eyes. The devastation one person can make is overwhelming for her. She weeps seeing the body parts bagged on the bank floor. Human parts: brains, ears, legs, arms and hands; blood splattered on the ceiling, floor and walls mixed with dirt, plastic and metal. Jazz tells Jack she needs to step outside for some fresh air. Friends, relatives have raced to the bank to check on loved ones who work or use the bank. It has been a long day since the bombing, and the clean up is a slow process. Bagging and tagging to figure out what exactly happened at the bank. Jack walks out to check on Jazz,
“Are you, ok Honey?”

img_0001Hello 👋

How are my friends doing today? I would like some feedback on how my readers would like me to portray my main characters. Do the main characters need to be strong men or woman? Does it depend on the storyline, what the character evolves into? Can the hero show moments of weakness, sympathy, or can the person be cold and indifferent 😕?

As a writer of Police type adventure, I like to develop strong characters who show different emotions at different times. Joy, when their first child is born. Anger when his family is threaten. Bravery in time of crisis and an innate instinct for survival. In my book, The Man with a Limp, Lucky has the ability to work with people who is smarter than him. A computer person who solves problems Lucky cannot fathom an answer; he puts his trust in this person to find an answer.

An ex intelligence officer who becomes his best friend, who follows him through hell and back. A woman, beautiful, loving, as tough as Lucky is strong, and an FBI agent he meets during a case. Lucky falls in love and the agent and Lucky start a family. Sometimes Lucky is uncaring and ruthless in order to dispatch the most dangerous killers. Is this what you want in a hero? I am always open to new character development.

In my new book, The Chameleon Returns, Lucky McLaughlin continues to rescue people from evil criminals. He wishes to convict the killers legally; unlike his Father, who was more of an assassin to finish what the legal system would not conclude. Brooks McLaughlin would use any means at his disposal to finish the job. Brooks MacLaughlin was a genius in disguise, and frustrating to police and the FBI, because he left no evidence, no finger prints, shell casing, no skin fragments which the law enforcement could use against him.

Lucky worked at bringing law enforcement into each case and got to know the most important people in charge of each case. Lucky would ensure law enforcement is accredited for each solved case. He never asked for notoriety; He preferred to be on the sideline looking in. Is this the kind of hero you like to have an adventure with?

If you would like to read about Luck McLaughlin, click the link below:

Lucky

 

“Take us to the bomb area Captain,” says Lucky.
“Has anyone looked at the videos Captain?” asked Jack.
“Yes, we see a young woman dressed in a hijab and an abaya, the
traditional dress of an Iraqi woman. She appears to be a black woman. She walks up to one of the tellers and seems to ask for the President of the bank. We see the cashier walk to the Presidents office. He leaves the office and walks to the glass partition to talk to the woman, and the bomb goes off. The woman disappears in the flash of the explosion, and the President is bounced over a desk and lands unconscious against the wall, twenty feet away from the blast area. The bullet proof wall saved his life; although he is in critical condition.”
“Can you see her trigger the bomb?” Jack ask.
“No, it is not visible from the view of the cameras,” says the Captain. The group arrives at the bomb Center, and Jazz cannot believe her
eyes. The devastation one person can make is overwhelming for her. She weeps seeing the body parts bagged on the bank floor. Human parts: brains, ears, legs, arms and hands; blood splattered on the ceiling, floor and walls mixed with dirt, plastic and metal. Jazz tells Jack she needs to step outside for some fresh air. Friends, relatives have raced to the bank to check on loved ones who work or use the bank. It has been a long day since the bombing, and the clean up is a slow process. Bagging and tagging to figure out what exactly happened at the bank. Jack walks out to check on Jazz,
“Are you, ok Honey?”

 

 

Polítics: A Pita!

IMG_3904I needed to look at a rainbow this morning; a little depressed because I lost a Tico friend today because of our divergent views on American politics. My ex friend, let’s call him Tom. An American sounding name to ease my distress. He began talking about our American President Donald Trump. Tom disparaged the President greatly and I must say caught me off guard. The more he talked the angrier he became. Calling the President a gangster, a crook, a President that made up crimes by other countries to fill the President’s political agenda.

Of course I did not help any as I feed him criticism of himself to enflame the conversation, because I could not believe what he was saying. Tom did not like the way the President was treating his Latin American friends, the illegal aliens that stream into our country. When I confronted him with the facts that Costa Rica would send me packing if I over stayed my ninety day welcome, he became angrier.

How is it knows more about how it is in America if he has never lived in the USA, visited the USA, or have relatives or friends who live in the USA? When I asked him where he found his information that made him form his hostile attitude towards the USA became more hostile and angry 😡 and began to get personal. You know the examples when someone has a tough time believing in his virtuosity. He began calling me stupid, ignorant and you Americans  believe everything that gangster tells you.

I told him I love my country and I love my new Country of Costa Rica 🇨🇷 and I would never say the things about his government the way he did the USA. He did not seem to me to be a person I wish to call a friend. When his opinion became more important and his view was the only one that mattered; friendship seemed to fall to the wayside. I am sorry about this situation because I thought I was developing a life time friendship. Politics is a pain in the ass; when are we going to learn to live in this world as a unified source of kindness, humanity, and happiness? There is no room for hatred. The sad fact is he never asked for my point of view. Like the twelve step says; God grant me the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, give me the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Pura Vida! ❣️

Press the link below for the bookstore for my new novel: The Man With a Limp.

Thank you!

Thank You

Lucky is tired and is ready to go home. Lucky wishes to initiate the book and because of Mr. Hines, he knows how it is going to begin; Is freedom of speech gone? Lucky thought. Lucky arrives home, and there is a package on his doorstep. Lucky picks it up and opens it as he walks to his kitchen. It is a garage opener and a note that reads; you have seventy-two hours to find this bomb. It is in a house in San Diego. It has enough explosive power to blow the city into shambles. I will give you three clues to find it in the San Diego Cryer; Starting in tomorrow’s addition of the online paper, one clue a day for three days. Maybe the government can try to spy on me. Retribution! P.S. The garage door opener will open the garage to the bomb. Lucky calls his former boss at Homeland Security and says,
“I guess I am back on the Job, Tom.”
Tom says he will contact the FBI and have them communicate with the online newspaper and check the ads to work at figuring out who is sending them and where the ads are coming.
April 22 is a dismal, rainy day. Lucky asked me to drive to San Diego with him and help him stay focused. Jack grumbles,
“I have no experience with your kind of work.”
“I know Jack, but we seem to be a good team. Use your I pad and check that online newspaper. What was it? The San Diego Cryer? The clues will be in the early morning.”
Jack looks up the Cryer and on the front page is a paragraph from the terrorist Retribution: big black letters, RETRIBUTION! CATCH ME IF U CAN!

The Art of Impression

img_3198How do you convey an idea to your readers? How do you imprint an Idea in the minds of your reader in order to keep them interested with your copy? I like to call it impression of thought. How many descriptive words, adjectives is necessary to convey a sunset, for example. Is the picture above  out of focus or is nature out of focus? Is the sun fading into the darkness?

I work at making an imprint in your mind, such as the water, crystal blue, cascading against the  green moss on the river rock causing an emerald effect on the rainbow waters as the sun glitters on the river’s flow. Is it too much or do you feel the mist of the river water splashing on the moss covered river rock? Are you present on the rivers edge with your toes covered in cool river water?

My goal in writing poetry is to have the reader think of a message I wish to convey or an Idea the reader wishes to Express or interpret. In my short Stories and Novels; I hope the reader is actively involved in the story, even if it is a “You got to be kidding me”. When you read, do you feel you are part of the saga?

In my novel, The Man with a Limp; I want the reader to see a compassionate, giving warrior with a passion for justice. I hope 🤞 I convey this message as you read the book. I hope you do not want to put the book down until You finish reading the entire book. Pura Vida and happy reading 📖.

 Reading

Suddenly there is a massive explosion out on the street. A young boy exploded himself by accident. He walked into a trash bin in an alley and accidentally killed himself and his partner as they tried to exit the alley. What is happening here? Lucky thinks to himself. This terrorism is not Isis; then who is it? Who would want to cause domestic violence? Lucky calls the interrogation building and gives them a heads up that he believes it is domestic terrorism. Homeland does a great job and foils plots in Capitola and Santa Cruz. The event goes on without a hitch, but it will take a few days to identify the terrorist. No one is talking, but background checks are beginning. The Federal Bureau of Investigation and Homeland Security in a team effort raid the homes of Albert Conrad, Stephen Imes, and Mathew Hines. Respected students from well to do families and find bomb-making supplies and equipment. They formed a new group called LACE. LIBERATION AGAINST COUNTER-ESPIONAGE, their parents were arrested and jailed for crimes against the Government. They were arrested because of the monitoring on their Facebook page by the FBI. The Patriot Act allows the government to spy on their people. The parents found that the government wanted to spy on Facebook and random emails and they voiced vehemently about the intrusion of their privacy. They were arrested for using words such as uprising, force, change in government and violent overthrow of the government if necessary to protect our way of life. Reading the constitution and their patriotic rights was a mistake because the parents are in jail for two years now. Their bank accounts were frozen and their children forced out of their parent’s homes. Now in desperation, they fought back. Lucky closes out this chapter in Homeland Security wondering if in the future we can prevent this kind of terrorism. Because of the actions he took to save lives, Lucky is given a Medal of Honor by the Governor of California; the President of the United States gives him the Medal of Honor: the Congressional Medal of Honor for his work. He is on Time Magazine’s cover. He decides to walk away from Homeland Security because he is saddened by the events of the World Triathlon of 2017. His quote is on the front cover: ” I believe great care must be shown in the administration of the Patriot Act. So undue harm is not inflicted on the American people.” Lucky and Max frequent my restaurant. He would become a, best selling author and travel the world doing seminars on counter-terrorism.

Excerpt from The Man With A Limp.

 

Do you play words with friends?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERADo you play words with friends?  I use to play Scrabble with my wife quite often. We bought a travel scrabble game and we took it on every weekend getaway. We would sit at the Borg Hotel across from the Pacific Ocean on Ocean Avenue in Monterey  and play Scrabble after our walk on the walk and bike lanes that follows the shoreline. We would talk endlessly about everything while we played the word game. She always outscored me, but I enjoyed being with her and never felt stupid as I worked at beating her at the game. After all, she was an office manager who corrected the bosses correspondence.When she passed away in two thousand and eight I was an angry man. Angry at my failings and angry at not being able to enjoy a simple pleasure in life, playing Scrabble on the beach in Monterey with my wife. I was angry the Lord who took my precious soulmate away from me in the prime of her life. All my past transgressions seemed to haunt me and one day I had enough with my self pity and hit the road to travel the USA and write poetry. On this road of discovery, I rode to places my wife and I had never been and I felt her presence. I found myself talking to her as I rode; Brandon , Oregon, Lincoln, Oregon, Seattle Washington in a down pour of rain. The rain isn’t bad when you have the right gear, is it Honey? I began to think I was losing my faculties and I began to write poetry. It was as if she told me to go to a hotel in Seattle and begin.

On that trip I accidentally found Words With Friends. I was searching for a dictionary I could use on my I Pad and It popped up on my google search and I pushed it. I down loaded the game and became addicted to it. I like the game because you can converse to people as you play. You talk in text format,chat. That game brought back found memories and slowly washed away a great deal of guilt as I began to remember the great times with Marian, my wife and the great friends I have. Like the group in the picture who never left me when my wife passed away. Always inviting me for weekend rides. Never asking me why I am quiet at some particular moment. Always glad to see me and helped me through a difficult time.

I wish to thank my friends, Gary and Debbie Shannon, Sam and Melody Baugh, Steve Merys, and Kim and Kathy Steiner. We all keep in touch with each other even though I live in Costa Rica, following a dream. They helped me through a long grieving process that takes years to lessen the pain of loss. Words With Friends helped to bring me joy and peace into my life. I develop new friends and bring back Grand memories.

I write constantly, I do not worry if my writing is great, only that it is enjoyed. I will never be a Hemingway, Fitzgerald, or Poe; I hope to be enjoyed and make my readers think and hopefully help along the way to peacefulness. For me peace is a way of enjoying life, unencumbered with guilt, fear, or resentment. Life is too short, open your heart for it is the gateway to your soul. Pura Vida.

Take a chance! Read one of my books; the bookstore is the link below:

✌️ Peacehttp://www.xlibris.com/Bookstore/BookSearchResults.aspx?Search=timothy%20m%20nugent

Excerpt from, The Man With a Limp, coming out on December. My first novel, I hope

You will enjoy it, Thank you.

Lucky is a quiet man and does not speak about the war in Iraq; it was a terrible experience and he is working at forgetting his experience. Lucky enters the restaurant with Max. He goes to the counter and chooses an end sit and Max lays down beside him.

“Can I get you some coffee,? I ask.

“Hi Jack, a cup of coffee would be great.”

I turn around and get a cup of coffee, a menu, and hand it to Lucky.

“Thanks.”

He orders his usual breakfast,

“Joe’s Special’; garlic, hamburger, spinach mixed into scrambled eggs with Monterey Jack cheese over some spicy potatoes.”

Lucky is enjoying his breakfast;

“Youknow Jack, I love this breakfast. If I have bad breath, the garlic definitely mask it.”

Lucky laughs as I smile and thank him for coming in.

“Glad you enjoy the breakfast,” I say.

“Too early for the servers to come in Jack?”

“Yes, the next person comes in an hour,” I say.

I excuse myself and turn to talk to my cooks to plan our day. Fifteen minutes later I hear a ruckus. I see a transient laying on the ground and Lucky has his walking stick pressed on the man’s chest.

”Why did you kick my dog asshole?”

As Lucky pushes harder on his stick.

“He was growling at me!” The man bellows out.

“Of course, because you were acting menacingly towards me and he is taught to protect me at all times. If I let you up will you leave peacefully?”

“Yeah, let me up.”