Losing One’s Self-Identity – Dead Dreams

To suddenly, or over years, to learn that your old self will never return is heartbreaking. Accidents, trauma, Covid, even aging, can destroy a person’s self-identity. Rabbit, Run by Updike is a lament for the long-absent glory days of high school. I went from high-energy to physical and mental feebleness. No vitality, no motivation, no desire to do or accomplish a thing. Retirement was planned as a writer’s heaven: time to write and market my books without distractions from students, colleagues, or horrifying bosses. Fatigue terminated all these dreams. I journeyed a maze of psychiatric then biological competent and incompetent … Continue reading Losing One’s Self-Identity – Dead Dreams

Teaching Insanity in Arabia

All Gulf countries probably share similar or worse problems – this was written in Oman While cleaning my home, papers and computers, I found this about teaching. It shocked me. I am surprised I enjoyed the 11 years in Oman – but it was the culture, weather and people. Not teaching. It’s a sad reminder of reality in education around the world. I thought college degrees in the Gulf/Middle East were equivalent to American high school diplomas. Following is a letter I wrote to the Ministry of Education. My first impression is that basic issues at the colleges have been … Continue reading Teaching Insanity in Arabia

An Alchemist at Work

I stand before my kitchen counter. I’ve opened two dark, plastic almond oil bottles. The dark brown coloring protects the oil from possible sun or light damage. I place a tiny plastic funnel into the older bottle’s mouth and pour some newer oil into it. Just some, to raise its low level a bit. Afterwards, I slowly funnel glycerin into both bottles. Glycerin is a commonly used moisturizing additive to oils, skin and other beauty products. I recap the new almond oil bottle, slightly more than half full, and push it towards the wall. I then recap the now empty … Continue reading An Alchemist at Work

Roman Soldier – 8

Like it’s been said, I’m a man of few words.  I learned early that talking just led to trouble. Now my woman, this one, she knows without needing any words. We’ve made up our own language, her and me.  It’s a cross between her village talk and my old Roman solider talk. Continue reading Roman Soldier – 8

How the Mystery Player Exits – 5

http://www.norwichmedievalmysteryplays.co.uk/2016-blog/archives/07-2016The first image depicts an English pageant wagon – Sharp – A Dissertation on the pageants (1825)​The second image shows a depiction of a mystery play in Metz during the middle ages.(The following is from the group’s archives with minor … Continue reading How the Mystery Player Exits – 5

The Coming of the Stranger – a fairy tale – 4

Once upon a time, in a far away land, lived a young girl who carried the waters from the well in a large jug upon her head. As she walked each day to the village well, she would sing the … Continue reading The Coming of the Stranger – a fairy tale – 4