From your Member at Large
Recent travels took me to a Festival of the Saluki in England. Salukis are slender graceful hounds, originally bred to hunt game in the middle east and now bred to drive obsessive dog feeders nuts. Or so I’m told by friends. Since Salukis have been part of my life since 1972, they seem perfectly normal to me, it’s those other dogs that look entirely too fat.
So, England. For various reasons I’ve never been there before. Judging assignments have taken me to Finland, Australia, and New Zealand, but never England. Due to an eclectic reading appetite, I’ve traveled the narrow lanes of the English countryside in a jog cart, galloped to hounds across the rolling hills, and watched morning workouts in Lambourn. All vicariously, of course. In spite of watching BBC America more than regular television, I had no idea what England is really like.
Mind you, when one’s life has gone to the dogs, a trip anywhere isn’t quite the same. The main purpose of this trip was the gathering of Saluki people from around the world, for a Symposium and a few dog shows. In between, rather than act like a normal tourist, I visited with my hostess and her puppies, and took in day to day life in England. Then again, when your hostess’s house is next door to a pub called Hand and Crown, and you learn this is where Henry VIII stayed while pursuing Anne Boleyn, you realize more than ever how close history is to the here and now.
One of our walks took us through large fields, where my hostess casually announced the area had been an RAF field during WWII. Up near a stand of trees, a small memorial recognized the squadrons who had used that field as a base to take off in the fight against Nazi Germany. The runways are still in place, now lovely green mowed grass, surrounded by higher unmowed fields. A quiet recognition of an effort which has framed how we all live today.
Speaking of fields, as we drove away from Gatwick airport, I noticed fields stretching in all directions. England has the same population explosion as the rest of the world, but it is still, to my eye, a delightfully agricultural country. This trip did not take me into any metropolitan areas, but we did go through many smaller towns and villages. Roads are a method of getting from one place to another, and do not disrupt day to day life. In other words, except for the expressways, roads are narrow and follow the same winding pathway as they have for centuries. Don’t expect street lights, traffic lights, or thoroughfares widened to accommodate traffic plus parking. When people need to stop somewhere, they pull over close to the curb and stop. Too bad if they’re blocking traffic, you can go around.
Notice I said no traffic lights? The country is riddled with roundabouts, where you enter on one side and hope to exit somewhere before you’ve reached your entry point. It brought up memories of science fiction explanations of circling a planet several times gathering momentum before shooting off into the next dimension. Eclectic reading habits, remember, plus a mind drawing far too many parallels between fiction and reality. Which might have something to do with people casting odd looks in my direction when I try to explain my thoughts.
If you’ve never traveled to England, and I know there must be a few people still who have not, don’t go during the high season, which seems to end Labor Day. My ticket would have been half the price had I flown just a few weeks later. You don’t need a visa, but you do need a passport, which you can obtain at most City Halls. Up to date information can be found on the web with very little searching.
Be sure you find an airline with individual viewing screens, plus enough leg and seat room to keep you comfortable for a long flight. Since I am a particularly large member at large, seat size means a lot to me, and I also test the seat belt as soon as I sit down, just in case I need an extender. Expect the food to be awful. The wine is not much better but I usually end up splurging at least once.
Heathrow has acquired a horrible reputation for baggage handling, and it will be even worse if you use British Airways. Fortunately I flew into Gatwick, on US Air, and everything went amazingly well. You will expect to line up (queue in England, pronounced “cue”) several times before you can pick up your baggage and be gone. Do not expect air conditioning, ice in your drinks, or “real” coffee. Do expect delightful people, wonderful venues, and history seeping into your skin to lodge itself in your heart.
Food has to be a discussion for another blog, this one’s already late!
Monica K Stoner
by Rebecca Forster
“We’d like you to blog,†Michelle Thorne said.
“What would I write about?†I asked.
“Anything you want,†she answered.
Okay. That was kind of like bobbing around in the middle of the Ocean of Whatever hoping to spy the Land of Interesting. The choices were endless. My day? My mother? The darn screen that keeps popping out of the upstairs window? Thankfully, choices can always be narrowed. For instance, when the phone rang I was in the middle of a choice: start a new book or stick my head in the oven. Both had valid reasons for being viable. Thinking about that led me to consider point of view.
Was I a half-empty kind of girl or half-full?
Would I really stick my head in the oven or was that simply an expression of boredom.
If I did stick my head in the oven, would I be overcome by the need to clean it before I was overcome by fumes?
Was I emotional, irrational, impulsive or a critical and creative thinker?
Was I too lazy to type?
Was I a tough guy or a quitter?
And all that got me thinking again! This time the word that popped into my head was angles – which point of view invariably becomes. Like in the old movies when someone asks “what’s your angle, buddy?†What they’re really asking is “whaddaya want? What’s in it for me?â€
Okay, so what did I want? I wanted to do something concrete and didn’t feel like doing it. From my point of view, the day was a bust until Michelle presented me with another choice. Write a blog.
Cool. Different. Manageable.
If stuck my head in the oven the payoff was lousy. If I started a new project I might actually hit the jackpot and write a bestseller. Still, that was a tall order and it wasn’t a tall order kind of day. A blog, however. That I could do. It sparked my imagination. What would be my angle? Whatever it was, it had to be right. Write Angle (don’t you just love it when the road leads somewhere?)
Engineers and architects use angles to create solid foundations, strong walls, perfectly peaked roofs and expansive bridges. Artists use angles to form new shapes that please the eye and fire the imagination. Think of a dancer, body laid flat in space, feet planted firmly on the ground. Writers use angles to keep the story interesting.
We’re all angling for something. Mostly we’re angling to feel productive and happy and creative. We’ll have days where we’re bored stiff and others where we’re revved up. We’ll have ideas that go nowhere and others that we have waited for all our lives. Me, I’m just angling to keep things interesting. Sticking my head in the oven is out. Blogging is in. And that bestseller? That looks good from any angle.
Rebecca Forster
Rebecca Forster
http://www.rebeccaforster.com/
HOSTILE WITNESS
SILENT WITNESS
PRIVILEGED WITNESS
Enjoy a video clip of the Book Buyers Best Awards!
by
Geralyn Ruane
In High School Musical 2, (mmmruh!) blonde teen queen Sharpay tells Troy, “We can all hold hands around the campfire later! Right now we have a show to do!†But Troy chooses decency to his friends over fame and fortune with her.
Gosh, I wish everyone were like Troy Bolton!
Because I don’t think we can wait until later to be nice. The world is going to hell in a friggin’ huge shopping cart NOW. Know what I mean? Can you feel it? A bloody quest for nothing noble. An election with no hero on the horizon. A bridge that collapsed because nobody bothered. Sports records broken by cheaters. Animal cruelty defended as status quo. Another year another size. That rejection letter in the mailbox. Everything is so messed up, and I can’t fix it all! Neither can you.
But I can help. And so can you.
All we have to do is be nice. Seriously. Just because living history throbs with the cadence of “Screw or be screwed, screw or be screwed,†doesn’t mean I have to march to it. And neither do you.
Help whenever you can. However you can. Some people look at the big picture and drive hybrid cars or picket on behalf of neglected Katrina survivors. But it doesn’t even take that much energy. Be friendly to the waiter even after he forgets the garlic bread AND the ketchup. Let the over-processed diva who thinks the world revolves around her go before you in the checkout line just so she doesn’t bite off the cashier’s head. Get out of the handicapped stall right quick when somebody disabled comes into the restroom. Don’t flip off the jerk who nearly side-swipes you. Give the one-armed guy offering to wash your windshield a buck or two. After all, how can he shoot heroin with only one arm?
A homeless guy I met last February refused the soup and sandwiches I’d brought him saying he had food already. He told me to go to the park and give the food to the homeless folks there. Gotta say, there’s a wrenching kind of clarity in a man with no shoes telling me to go help others.
A few weeks ago, as my guy and I were changing the tire to our twenty year-old tank of a car, the jack slipped.
Rrrrrr!
A truck screeched to a halt, two men jumped out to help us catch the car. Thanks to them, the whole shebang didn’t crash to the ground in a tireless crunch of sparking metal.
Mmmruh! They saved us! For no other reason than that they were THERE and they COULD! Do I think these two guys helping us was some sort of karmic payback for the blankets we’ve given homeless people or for stray cats we’ve fed? Does what goes around, come around?
Doubt it. I don’t think the cosmos is that fair. But at least each one of us can make the world GO around. Even if it never swings back our way, at least we can tilt it in the direction we want.
So go ahead. Give it a push.
Geralyn Ruane’s favorite Hardy Boy is whichever one Parker Stevenson played, and these days she writes romance, chick lit and women’s fiction. Last year her short story “Jane Austen Meets the New York Giants†was published in the New York Times Bestselling anthology The Right Words at the Right Time Volume 2.
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CJ has returned from war. But she has not left the war behind.
More info →The Pacific breezes blow many things in from the ocean, this time its power, greed, and murder.
More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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