April Showers

April 2012 has proven to be quite the interesting month. April is of special annual significance to me because my daughter was born in it. It's also the month that World Book Night is celebrated each year. As you already know if not a first time visitor to this blog, I LOVE BOOKS especially the ink printed on paper variety and with an extra dose of respect for the hustle of INDIE AUTHORS. As a reader I am discriminating without being overly sensitive. Near and dear to my heart as a WRITER are my very own titles PATCHES OF GREY and MATTERS OF CONVENIENCE. And there will be more to come from me for both the adult and children's market. World Book Night comes shortly after the prestigious Pulitzer Prizes are awarded, but this year the star category of Fiction was noteworthy for a lack of selection. Book people have had and will continue to have plenty to say about this snub. There may not be a 2012 Pulitzer Prize winning novel, but that does not mean plenty of great fiction isn’t coming out, from a greater diversity of voices and on more different platforms than ever before. April is National Poetry Month.  I'm not a poet and I know it, but I love reading and/or listening to those who have mastered the art form.  Speaking of which, last but not least, to many hip hop heads April 2012 is a technologically magical one for bringing forth the birth of the Tupac hologram. Perhaps you're at a stage in your life where the verses of Tupac are more appealing than those of Langston Hughes.  That's okay.  Give it time.  Perhaps you will eventually leave space in your realm of appreciation for both. We've certainly been showered with diverse blessings this April. Next up, those beautiful May flowers.


UPDATE: Eight years have passed since I wrote the words above. April of 2020 finds us in a far different world than that of 2012 for a variety of reasons. The two biggest are the Coronavirus pandemic sweeping across the globe and keeping us quarantined in our homes for the time being, and the fact that four years ago the USA elected the worst possible person to be in charge during this period of crisis. COVID-19 and POTUS # 45 present us with considerably more dire situations to deal with than we were given back in 2012. The attacks on civil liberties and our states of health brought about by Donald Trump and a lethal virus are not mere holograms. They are serious issues that need to be managed. I trust that now that we have fully acknowledged what we're dealing with, we will get the spread of Coronavirus under control and eventually find ways to combat it more quickly and pleasantly than is being accomplished by social distancing. As for the mess taking place in the White House, Americans can clean that up at the ballot box in November of 2020. Until then stay safe, be cautiously wise, and as always - happy reading.

RIP Dick Clark - May Heaven be your next bandstand

Stranger Than Fiction - RIP Trayvon Martin

After the night Trayvon Martin died at the hands of George Zimmerman, various pieces of information emerged that are indisputable facts. This is largely due to research by those other than the police department assigned to the case. They seem for some reason to have done the bare minimum, if that. George Zimmerman is the only living person who can reveal the entire truth of what happened. Perhaps he will eventually be pressed to give full disclosure. That is my hope. In an ideal world, or at least a fair one, those details would be revealed before a judge and jury.

As a writer of fiction I am interested not only in the usefulness of facts, but also in the power of imagination. Until Lady Justice puts that blindfold back on that never should have been removed in the first place, allowing George Zimmerman to improbably be free from custody, we are left to connect the dots for ourselves.

When writing a story I often start with the conclusion, then jump to the beginning and try to figure out how to get back to the end. I do not write the stuff of fantasy, so the progression of events I concoct needs to be logical. No matter how fantastic the tale may be, my goal is to make it realistic, plausible.

Knowing what I do about the tragic end of Trayvon Martin’s life, this is my best guess as to how it came about. George Zimmerman is a zealot, looking for trouble and happiest when it’s found. He saw a young black man that he did not recognize. Seeing himself as a sort of Wild West sheriff on account of his involvement in a loosely organized neighborhood watch program, he decided to take matters into his own hands. This was against the instructions of a 911 operator who advised him to stay put. George saw himself as someone who gives orders, not takes them. When you’re carrying a concealed weapon it’s particularly easy to assume the role of bully.

Like many kids, Trayvon saw himself as more or less immortal, invincible. The Hispanic/White looking guy who stalked him perhaps made him nervous, but even more so, really pissed him off. What was this guy’s problem? Who did he think he was? Unable to restrain himself, George directly confronts Trayvon who at most had been willing to pick up his pace but for damn sure was not about to run from this clown. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I’m guessing George did not ask very politely. Trayvon could have explained that he was visiting the home of his father’s girlfriend, given her name and address, proven that he was precisely where he belonged. But he didn’t know that George was carrying a concealed weapon, or that he was mentally unstable, which is my personal diagnosis. Trayvon only knew that some jerk was bothering him, making ignorant racist assumptions about him, refusing to mind his own business. An insult no doubt was hurled by one of them, followed by return verbal fire. No major harm in that. But Trayvon was exasperated by having to defend himself when all he was doing was walking down a street with snack food. He didn’t have time for this fool. Possibly he feared that Zimmerman was not actually suspicious of him, but rather, that the large man was going to try to molest or even kidnap him. Perhaps George grabbed at him first or maybe the highly irritated Trayvon just thought to himself “F this nonsense” and got the physical contact started with a quick punch. Sure the guy was bigger and probably stronger than him, but young people are impetuous. They also know that the first punch to land is often the one that finishes matters. Not in this case though. No matter how well Trayvon started off in the tussle he was destined to lose it so long as George was able to get to his gun. Perhaps George honestly feels that he was merely defending himself when he pulled the trigger, especially if he spent a fair portion of the battle on the losing end, ignoring the fact that the fight was needlessly caused by his own provocation.

That’s how I figure it went down, but I’m just a second hand storyteller who was nowhere near the scene of the crime. If things eventually work out the way they are supposed to in the land of the free and home of the brave, George Zimmerman will need to answer for his actions on that fateful night. In the meantime, Trayvon’s family and loved ones along with those of us on the outside are left longing for justice. Many are angry, which is difficult to find blameworthy. I won’t get preachy and advise people not to make blanket accusations, not to blame many for the behavior of just a few. Too early for that. It’s natural to immediately lash out when you’re hurt.

George Zimmerman has some explaining to do, so does the police department, and I’d also toss in those who passed a law that gives people freedom to act out their darkest fantasies and then use a handy get-out-of-jail-free self defense claim. Of course this is infuriating to anyone who has ever been profiled, ever had assumptions made about them on account of their melanin count. This will be the case even if your guess at how that night played out is different than my hypothesis, or your views about race relations or gun control are a far cry from my own.

I trust we can all agree at the very least that the right to walk down a street minding your own business is not one that anyone in the United States of America should ever have to fight for, much less die for. I’ve strolled down my fair share of dark streets alone with my thoughts. So far I’ve lived to tell the tale, but as the saying goes – There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Latest review of Patches of Grey by Marie's Precision Reviews

ADDENDUM

Since I wrote the hypothesis above, the picture has come into much clearer focus. Some of the assumptions made by myself and others were right, some were wrong.

Those who felt that the initial evidence overwhelmingly pointed to George Zimmerman needing to be arrested were right.

Those who felt that the color of Trayvon Martin’s skin played a major part in his death were in all probability right.

Did his hoodie play a part as well? You’d have to ask George Zimmerman. But I think the brown face beneath the hood is what mattered most.

Yet if you felt this was a simple case of blatant racism at work, you were somewhat off base because this case is anything but simple.

For one, Trayvon Martin was black but George Zimmerman is no more white than President Obama, that is, half.

But even if his family tree was 100% white, that’s not why George received preferential treatment, why a cover up took place.

This was not a matter of “since the killer is white & the victim is black, let the killer go”. Some suggested as much but that’s too simple a take.

Zimmerman had connections that resulted in him being protected. I suspected he might be an informant. Turns out his dad’s a former judge.

Orders came down from lead prosecutor to chief of police to officers on the case. Accept Zimmerman’s story. Don’t poke around for confirmation.

It never made sense that the cops felt they lacked sufficient evidence to hold Zimmerman, even if you accepted lies told to us as gospel.

Once again I state my battle cry of ARREST ZIMMERMAN. But at this point I would not be surprised if George is Gone Baby Gone.

If you're one of those who felt Zimmerman remained free because he most likely was innocent, I'd say that you were seeing what you wanted to see, refusing to accept that racism played a major part.

But not just race. This is a story about CORRUPTION. And about a life needlessly lost. And about a fight for justice that Trayvon's parents have bravely fought.

Wishful Thinking

Can anything replace Linmania, particularly in New York City, as the biggest story in the history of sports (until the next one comes along, that is)? Certainly. I wouldn't be shocked if Jeremy Lin isn't even the Knicks starting point guard a month from now (minimal regression is allowable with teams now having a full scouting report on him, otherwise Baron Davis may still ascend to the throne as originally planned), but if Lin continues to excel he'd still need to compete for headlines if a certain Manning brother decided to sign with a certain New York football team. Can I picture both Mannings playing their home games in the same stadium? Intellectually I cannot. There are just too many impediments. The Jets can't afford Peyton and Peyton possibly cannot afford to take another big hit. As intrigued as I am by the idea of one of the NFL's greatest quarterbacks being under center for my team (just as I was the last time), this time around I think the Jets may be better off sticking with the cards in hand. Mark Sanchez had a rough junior year campaign but that doesn't mean he can't and won't rebound as a senior and go on to have a great career. New York is an impatient place as the Manning brother with the most amount of Super Bowl rings can attest, so there's temptation for the team with less championship banners to make it Peyton's Place. But sometimes the game plan of the tortoise is superior to that of the hare. Regardless of whether this is one of those times or not, medical reports and Peyton's wishlist will probably be the determining factors rather than any sales pitch the Jets make. So I won't spend much time envisioning what the elder Manning brother would look like in a Jets uniform, especially since thanks to photoshop I don't even need to waste any imagination.


Top Quotes from Patches of Grey at Quotations Diary

All He Does Is Lin

Petition by fans to keep Jeremy Lin in NY



Anyone who reads this blog with regularity or follows me on Twitter knows that I frequently discuss the subject of race relations. They also know that I love to talk sports. So when a water cooler topic arises that merges the two, I'm usually all over it with swiftness. In the case of the phenomenon that is Linmania, I've held back from writing extensively about it until now. And although I'm finally caving in and joining the runaway bandwagon, my thoughts will be kept relatively brief. After all, pretty much everyone has written pretty much everything about the sensation that is Jeremy Lin. Those who typically write about race but rarely about sports have chimed in. Those who usually write about sports but rarely about race have added their two cents. Those who rarely write or talk much about either race or sports have been compelled to comment. What more can possibly be left to say?

I probably won't unearth any new ways to play with the guy's name. Jeremy is a real Linderalla story and we're all in the throes of Linsanity. He is Super Lintendo come to save the day, and by that I mean a great deal more than merely the fortunes of his New York Knicks. He has also arrived on the scene to make us examine our prejudices and preconceptions, and this ultimately makes better people of us all. Something like that.

What Lin comparison can I make that has not already been brought to light? At first people made a connection to Tim Tebow primarily because Tim was the latest scorching hot trend just a couple months ago. Other than the meteoric rises of their respective popularity, they don't have very much in common though. In the era of social media all trends are magnified more than ever before because everyone is able to see what is on everyone else's mind on a continuous basis. Tebow inspired Facebook updates and tweets gave way to the same regarding Jeremy Lin. They are two athletes enjoying improbable early success, so there's that too. Of course, the most improbable thing about Tebow's success was that he achieved it with seemingly so little talent. One is tempted to call Tim a very lucky man, but since he wears his religion on his sleeve I suppose the word we're supposed to go with is blessed.

As for Jeremy Lin, also a rather spiritual fellow, most who initially believed he was a flash in the pan have by now conceded that he is talented at basketball. The improbable aspect is that he has succeeded in the NBA while Chinese. No point in tip toeing around this perception. Sure he went undrafted, and yes, Harvard is not a basketball powerhouse. But regardless of those factors, if Lin wasn't Asian I wouldn't be writing this blog posting and you would not have possibly found it because you were googling him.

The truly special thing about Jeremy Lin, the man as well as the growing myth, is that his existence destroys a racial stereotype. And at least from my point of view, that's the very best thing one can do to a racial stereotype. People keep double taking because they find it so difficult to accept that they're watching him pull off what a Chinese guy theoretically should not be able to do. If we go back to the reign of Tiger Woods in golf pre Blonde Ambitions, we'll recall a somewhat similar occurrence. Difference is, there is not much if anything in particular about golf that makes it seem a black person would have any more trouble mastering it than a white person. There are far fewer black golfers than white golfers for a variety of reasons, including the very important one that golf is an expensive sport and you don't find golf courses all over the place, unlike basketball courts. Tennis is another sport featuring black stars few and far between. The Williams sisters came along and took over for a good long while. Like Tiger they were exceptions that proved the rule to be a falsehood, although neither golf nor tennis is much blacker in attendance than it was prior to Tiger, Venus and Serena. There have been many African Americans in football for quite awhile, so although it took longer than it should have, eventually they gained foothold in "thinking man" positions such as quarterback and head coach. Each of these situations were unique and therefore headline grabbing at first, but quite plausible when you thought about them. History was made in a fashion much more fascinating than shocking.

But Jeremy Lin pulls off both feats. We are both enthralled and stunned. Basketball at the most elite level demands a degree of athleticism we're not expecting to see from someone Chinese/Japanese/Vietnamese/Korean/etc. I'm not sure why this is since a Martial Arts expert is about as athletic as they come, and that club certainly doesn't exclude Asians. Generally Asian dominance in American sports is uncommon because participation is low. The typical Tiger Mom that we learned about not too long ago is unlikely to be pushing her son to a basketball court, demanding that he average no less than a triple double. Maybe this is because that son is infrequently over six feet tall. Jeremy Lin does not look like a typical pro basketball player in race/nationality/anything, so he had to prove to us that he has what it takes. Boy, did he ever. Some people are so genuinely befuddled by the rise of Lin that they keep mistaking offensiveness for cleverness. Chink in the armor? Did you really think that would fly?

I doubt the NBA will become dominated by a wave of Asian point guards any time soon, but won't call it impossible because the beauty of Jeremy's accomplishment is that it redefines what we view as possible. Nobody is looking very far ahead though. Trends are not about what was or what will be. They're about what's taking place right here and now, and at the moment nothing and nobody is hotter than Jeremy Lin. Even our trendy First Black President is impressed. Barack Obama knows a thing or two about defying expectations. He realizes just as a point guard does, perhaps because he plays some b-ball himself, that it's quite useful when your opponent believes your skills are limited and predictable. This makes it that much easier to take people by surprise.

I'm happy about what Jeremy Lin is accomplishing and bemused by reactions to it, such as the examples below. The fact that he's doing it for my beloved hometown team makes it all the sweeter. Stereotype smashing is great, but it's basketball season and the Knicks have not done diddly squat for more years than I wish to count. Things are finally looking up (granted, I have been teased by temporary success before only to watch it come crashing down) and I could care less how popular or trailblazing their point guard happens to be. I just want to be able to keep counting wins, and since being made a starter Lin has kept them coming at a steady clip. Other sports analysts and sociological bloggers can examine his effect on our collective consciousness with greater depth if they wish. I'm just enjoying the magic carpet ride. By all appearances, so is Jeremy.

New cut 🔥 pic.twitter.com/junaEMZ0Fl

— Brooklyn Nets (@BrooklynNets) October 3, 2017

IMHO we should all feel free to borrow freely (so long as it's respectfully) from other cultures and wear our hair however we fancy.

Not my first time making this statement btw.

I Love Books

I have nothing much to add beyond the title of this blog posting and the videos presented below. Watch and enjoy if you're as grateful for the existence of books and the wonderful stories to be found within them as I am.  Then as soon as you're done, hop offline and grab a great book to read.




















Sneak peek at PATCHES OF GREY courtesy of Indies Unlimited



Great books I've pinned on Pinterest. Immodestly I threw in my own novel.



Click on the photo directly below to take a virtual tour of my ever expanding bookshelf.

What are some of your favorite books and where are your favorite places to read them?

THE PACT - short story (a really old one)

This is one of the first short stories I ever wrote. I'm posting it here for nostalgia as much as anything. Nostalgia about myself both as a young man and a young writer with much to learn. There's still much to learn about both writing and life. That's part of what makes the journeys so wonderful. Hope you enjoy The Pact, particularly those who vividly recall young love.

The Pact

By Roy L. Pickering Jr.

After three glorious months, it was over. He and Cheryl were history.

She had been perfect for him. If only they didn't argue so often. If only she didn't have such a short temper. They would still be together if she could just consider his point of view on occasion. Other than that, perfect.

Who needed her anyway? Why should he waste his time on a girl who couldn't accept an apology? And to make an apology was a concept unheard of by her. That would mean acknowledging that she was capable of being wrong.

He was better off without her. So what if she was beautiful beyond comparison? What did it matter how great she made him feel? Who cared that he had fallen in love for the first time in his life, and had sincerely believed it would last forever?

If she didn't realize what she was throwing away, she deserved to lose him. Eventually the folly of her choice would sink in. But by then it would be too late. There was no way he would go back to her, even if she begged.

As for the incredible aching in his heart, that would go away in time. He gave it an hour. In the meantime, he would hang out with his buddies in the student lounge.

There they were sitting in their usual spot, Ron's best friends in the world, met during freshman orientation but they may as well have been friends from childhood, so fast and tight was their bond. He would lay bare his soul to Mark, Ira and Denis. They would understand.

"You look like your dog just died," said Ira.

"Cheryl and I just broke up."

"That's too bad," said Mark.

"Sorry to hear it," Denis said.

"Hey, at least your dog is all right," said Ira, who believed humor was the remedy for all ailments.

"What happened?" asked Mark, after giving Ira a whack to the back of his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ron answered, which was a cue to start a forum on the matter.

"Were you the dumper or the dumpee?" asked Denis.

"The dumpee, I guess."

"Man that sucks," Mark said.

"She catch you with another girl or something?" asked Ira.

"Nah, nothing like that. I hardly know what happened. One minute we're arguing about the environment, the next minute I'm being offered my walking papers."

"Ain't that always the way," Ira said.

"What do you mean by that?" Mark asked. "How many girls have broken up with you because you didn't recycle?"

"I'm just saying that women come up with the weakest excuses to end a relationship for."

"I'll give you that one," said Denis.

"No doubt about it," agreed Ron.

"Amen", said Mark. "Take me and Cathleen for example. Everything was cool with us. Then one day out of the blue - BAM! She dumps me. She said we were getting too serious. What she didn't say, but didn't need to, was that she broke up with me because she was afraid to tell her parents she was dating a black guy."

"Well you are black," said Ron.

"No kidding. So are you, fool."

"No, what I am is brown. I'm caramel colored. You on the other hand, have a tan and a half."

"Haaaaa haaa haaaa!" came the high nasal sound that emanated from Ira's throat. Mark, Ron and Denis could not help but join in the laughter. Ira's laugh was extremely infectious, indescribable by words.

"You sound like a hyena with a flag pole stuck up its ass," said Mark.

Perhaps it could be described.

"You never said that was why you two broke up," said Denis.

"I didn't want to talk about it. It really hurt that she wasn’t willing to fight for me. I would have fought an army for her."

"Girls are messed up," professed Ira.

"Don’t I know it," Denis said. “Maria really threw me for a loop.”

"I thought you dumped her for Casey,” Ron said.

"Not exactly. You see, Maria and I had this ongoing argument. I wanted to have sex and she refused."

"No way," said Mark incredulously. "You weren't hitting that? I guess I didn’t have to be nearly as jealous as I was. That girl sure is fine."

"She's also one serious Catholic,” Denis said. “I tried my best to convince her that it would be worth the Hail Mary’s, but she wasn’t having it. She said she would feel too guilty to enjoy it. Guess it wasn’t important enough to her that I would have enjoyed it a whole helluva lot. We did just about everything else we could think up. But no sex. I tell you, it was driving me crazy. Every night I ended up standing under a cold shower. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. So I say to her if she really loved me like she said, she would show me. Otherwise, I didn't need to waste any more time."

"This story is a real heart breaker," said Ira with trademark sarcasm.

"I was just bluffing. I figured she was too crazy about me to let it end over something she was going to get around to eventually. But I was wrong."

"Somebody hand me a Kleenex. You pretty boys sure do have it rough."

Denis continued to ignore Ira. "Two weeks after we break up, she starts seeing a friend of mine. He even asked me if it was okay. I said sure. I know the guy pretty well. I figured he wouldn't put up with her Virgin Mary routine nearly as long as I did. But a couple months later they're still together. So I ask him how he can stand her Catholic virtue act for so long, and he says he didn't have to because they'd been doing it for awhile."

"No way," said Ron.

"Maybe he was lying," Mark offered.

"I know bull when I hear it. He was telling the truth."

"Ain't that always the way," said Ira. "Remember Sheri? I treated her like a goddess. Everything she wanted, I gave her. I made that girl the center of my universe. Every day I bought her a gift. Flowers, candy, teddy bears, jewelry, you name it."

"Let me guess the end of this," said Ron. "Your credit card reached its limit and she said bye-bye."

"You got the bye-bye part right. She said she didn't want to see me anymore, but it had nothing to do with me. She said she needed space. She needed to find herself. Will somebody please tell me what that means? Where do women come up with this stuff? Have any of you ever had to go looking for yourself?"

"A girl gave me that need for space crap once," said Mark. "It's their way of saying they're through with you. When a girl asks you for space, she intends to take the whole galaxy."

"If Sheri wanted to split, she should have said so in plain English. She’ll never find another guy who will treat her half as good as I did. It was her loss."

"And Maria's."

"And Cathleen's."

"And Cheryl's."

"They wait for you to fall head over heels, then walk all over you,” Ron said. “And like fools we keep coming back for more.”

"Yep."

"You got that right."

"Amen."

"But what choice do we have?" asked Denis. "They have what we want, what we can’t live without.”

"Maybe not indefinitely,” said Ron. “But we could, for how about, let's say a month."

"A month of what?" asked Mark.

"Of no sex?" asked Ira.

"How much sex did you have last month, Ira?” asked Denis. “Yeah, that's what I thought."

"But you never know what next month might bring."

"Maybe Ron is onto something," said Mark. I could handle a month of not having to deal with their nonsense. I’ve got five fingers to get me through the rough patches."

"It would be pretty rough going a whole month with no dates,” Denis admitted. “I wouldn’t mind saving the cash though. And with all the free time I’ll have, I could learn how to play guitar or something."

"I’m not just talking about taking girls to Red Lobster and hoping it gets you somewhere good,” said Ron, his idea taking shape in his mind, ready to be unveiled. "A total boycott. We don't talk to them except when absolutely necessary. And absolutely necessary doesn’t mean what it usually means, like to get a phone number. We ignore them completely. We focus on our needs and desires that come from north of the belt. For one month, women won't exist to us. And I’m betting we become better men because of it."

"How so?" asked Ira.

"The second we were born with something between our legs to grab hold of when bored, we became destined to do stupid things over women. But I say it’s possible, and more than that, imperative that we experience one brief period, just 30 days or so when we’re in full control of our destinies. One month of nobody nagging us into doing things we don’t want to do. Nobody controlling us with the threat of withholding sex. Nobody leading us blindly into ruin because we allow our senses to overwhelm our brains. Instead of selling our souls and pride for a pretty smile and a nice body, we'll hold on as misers do to money. Like priests and monks, we’ll aspire to something greater than ourselves. In order to do that, we need to keep ourselves pure. Remove what is most distracting to us and maybe we’ll be able to see the universe clearly, the way God intended. Not a lifetime. Not a year. We know our weaknesses and limitations. There’s no point in trying to deny them because they make us who we are. They make us men. But for just one month maybe we can be something better than men. What do you guys think?"

There was no doubt that Ron was a great persuader. He had demonstrated this ability on numerous occasions. But this was as passionate a plea as he had ever made due to the magnitude of the sacrifice he was asking for.

For a moment there was silence. Ron had set his bait and now waited to see if he would get a bite.

"I'm game."

"What can it hurt?"

"What the hell. Chicks get turned on when you ignore them."

"All right!" Ron exclaimed. The war against the fairer sex was on.

"The Knicks are looking pretty good so far," said Mark, bringing about an ardent discussion on sports. The four friends traded opinions and lighthearted insults with the ease that only young men can. As college students less than halfway through the collegiate journey they had received tastes of independence, yet their lives were still basically free of responsibility. They were at a point where everything was before them, the glass always half full, their grandest dreams still possibilities. Their solidarity was impenetrable. Past and future heartbreaks were a million miles away.

"Hi guys." The sweet sound floated through the air like a feather on a spring breeze that could have been directed anywhere but was improbably transported straight to them. A group of curvy coeds were seated across the room. They had room at their table and a wish for company.

Ron, Mark, Denis, and Ira looked at the temptresses. Then they looked at each other. The words of the agreement so recently made hung heavy in the air between them. The pact had united them in a single cause. They believed in what they had agreed to. They knew it would not be easy, that temptation would be waiting at every turn. They also realized that the first turn would be the trickiest to maneuver.

"Sorry, fellas," said Denis as he got up and headed over to the girls' table. He was trailed directly by Mark and Ira. Beauty has devastating effects on the most powerful of bonds.

Only Ron stood his ground. He was a man of principle, a man of his word, especially when the promise was one made to himself. He knew he would end up a better person if he stuck to his vow and refused to stumble as easily as his impetuous friends.

Ron walked out of the lounge. He was on his own now, a solitary traveler on a long and winding road.

"Hi, Ron."

He knew better than to turn around. His resolve needed time to cement. The thing to do was keep walking as if the siren song had not been heard. If he looked back into those eyes of hers, he was doomed.

Then again, only by facing Cheryl would he learn if he was strong enough to resist her, to go on without her. So he turned.

"I'm sorry," they said simultaneously.

No more words were needed. They sealed their apologies with a ravenous kiss. Amnesia of the past hour set instantly in Ron’s brain. The only thing that mattered was now.

After all, the flesh is weak and boys will always be boys.

My Book Reads of 2011

Follow this link for reviews of the following books: Play Like You Mean It (Rex Ryan); Freedom (Jonathan Franzen), Silver Sparrow (Tayari Jones); The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey (Walter Mosley); Hunting in Harlem (Mat Johnson)

Follow this link for reviews of the following books: Sag Harbor (Colson Whitehead), The Picture of Dorian Grey(Oscar Wilde); The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Stieg Larsson); Middle Passage (Charles Johnson)

For reviews of my final two book reads of 2011, The Templar Salvation and John Henry Days, see below.

John Henry Days by Colson Whitehead - John Henry Days is written in an interesting narrative style. It shows us events through the lens of multiple characters, some repeatedly visited, others glimpsed just once or twice. A man named J. Sutter is the one most frequently observed, so I suppose he is technically the main character. But the true MC is a particular weekend in a particular town where an event possibly took place many years earlier, featuring a person who possibly existed. The event was a man defeating a machine at the feat of drilling a tunnel through mountain to allow the continuation of train tracks. The man of course, is John Henry. He is the stuff of legend regardless of whether he was ever one of flesh and blood, so a stamp has been created to commemorate him and a festival is taking place to mark the occasion. Colson Whitehead approaches this weekend from a wide variety of angles. Among the people involved in the build-up is a man researching the origins of a song written about John Henry, a man who collects railroad stamps, a woman who owns a hotel in the town where the festival is taking place, a man so obsessed with John Henry that he turned his home into a museum dedicated to him, that man's daughter, a journalist covering the events of the weekend, and John Henry himself. Hints are given throughout the book that just as the famous race ended in foretold tragedy, so will the commemoration. Whitehead has a beautiful way with words. If you're looking for a character driven novel where you'll deeply identify with and care for the protagonist, look elsewhere. If you're looking for a traditional beginning, middle, end style story rather than one which jumps back and forth in time and place, go find another book. But if you're interested in a distinctive approach to examination of a symbolic event, one that will be timely so long as people either resist, embrace, take advantage of, or become victims to the changes brought about by the march of progress, then I point you in the direction of John Henry Days. John took a last stand for human determination before it was replaced by mindless but more efficient machinery. Win or lose, his effort was in vain. He may as well have been battling death. We can postpone arrival of the Grim Reaper, but inevitably his date of arrival will be reached.

The Templar Salvation by Raymond Khoury - I love Knights Templar related historical fiction and enjoyed Raymond Khoury's prequel to this book. The Templar Salvation was entertaining as well, but I can't quite give it a ringing endorsement. It reads fast enough as the narrative is essentially one long chase scene. Technically it's two long chase scene, one taking place in the present and the other in the distant past. The smaller portion of this novel that takes place hundreds and hundreds of years ago is the "hide" portion of the plot. The more substantial modern portion is the "seek". What's being sought? Something biblical/mythical that will shatter the Christian faith and thus humanity, of course. I'm pretty sure that's what was being sought in the first book as well, not to mention some Dan Brown novels. Brown is the superior writer, or so I recall. Much of the prose in The Templar Salvation is borderline amateurish. Forget about exploration of emotions and character development, not that Khoury leaves this entirely out, but it's certainly not his strength. No, his strengths are deluging readers with ancient information in easily digestible fashion and writing action scenes with good guys pitted against bad guys in a deadly struggle, no less than the fate of the world riding on the outcome. I rounded down rather than up from 2-1/2 stars because perhaps I've read one too many novels in this genre. Or maybe I simply craved a better one.