After The End

After the bombs there were storms. We were under the ground, but there were ways the grownups were able to know what was happening outside, and they said the storms were bad. Daddy said it was probably because the explosions put so much smoke and dust into the atmosphere.

We were just little kids, and didn't understand what that meant. We didn't understand about bombs or wars or any of the reasons why Mamma was dead and we were living with so many strangers in an underground shelter full of sectioned-off sleep areas and hundreds of beds, and storage rooms full of canned and boxed food and big kegs of water.

We were out in the middle of a forest somewhere far from the city. There had been a lot of talk among the grownups about the bombs and whether it was safe to go outside again, but once we'd done that much, the talk turned to whether it was safe to go to the city.

When they finally decided they would risk it, I threw such a fit that Daddy agreed to take me along, leaving Mae and Dawn with Grandma and some of the other women. Mae didn't want to see, but I couldn't rest until I did.

Daddy and I went along with Morty and some of the soldiers in a big van, and the ride through the woods was a fine one: the sun was shining, birds sang, animals moved through the trees and brush.

Once we got to the main road that would take us back, things got strangely quiet. The further we got from the forest, the dimmer it seemed, even though it was still early in the day. The air seemed tainted and the sky grew increasingly greyer, although I saw no sign of clouds.

"This is a bad idea," Morty said, and one of the soldiers whistled as the city came into view for the first time.

"Radiation?" Daddy asked.

"No." The soldier held an instrument on his lap, watching the needles closely. "Smoke and soot, I reckon."

We drove on, the road now damaged and bumpy and getting worse with every mile, until it wasn't really a road anymore, but just rubble.

Morty stopped the vehicle, and we got out.

Then we just stood, staring. Sometimes we coughed.

When I started to cry, Daddy picked me up and we all piled back into the van.

Morty sat at the wheel for a long time before finally putting the van in gear and turning us around to make our way back to the road.

I turned around in my seat and watched as the cityscape, forever changed, receded from view. We drove up and over the first hill, and as we descended into the first valley, I lost sight of the tallest remaining building. Daddy kept a good hold of me the whole time, not insisting that I sit until the city was hidden by the hills.

As he buckled my seat belt, I looked up at my father and asked, "Are there people there?"

He looked me in they eye. Honesty is the best policy, after all, and why lie? I was only seven, but I was far from innocent and certainly not stupid. "Not anymore," he said.

No one spoke the rest of the way back to camp. For better or worse, we were going home.
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The picture above prompted me to share this snippet from my work in progress, a follow-up to Starting in the Middle of The End. I don't know if it will make the final cut, but here it is, anyway.

April 24, 2019
1:13 p.m.

The house is so quiet! All I can hear is the television and the dishwasher. Mom, Dad and Molly are napping in front of the idiot box. I should be doing laundry, but I'm not. Obviously.

Tomorrow.

Anyway, HELLO!!

I'm presently sort or semi-working on a science fiction piece, and for some reason, it's making me over-think Gilligan's Island!

What is it about that show, anyway? It was fun. It was super dumb, but that made it fun. And at the same time, it was super smart, which also made it fun.

Think about it. Seven people, every week. The occasional guest star, but mostly just those same seven people. How much can you do with that? And yet, in my opinion, there was not a single bad episode. We watched the reruns over and over, and it never got old. There are times, to this day, when I will hum music from the series while doing certain tasks, because it amuses me.

Anyway, the science thing is what I was getting at. If you give the series any serious thought, you have to realize that the writers had to have done a little scientific research into the little experiments and inventions the Professor did on that island. Pennies, seawater and coconuts to recharge batteries for the transistor radio--that's do-able.

Using a stationary bike to generate enough energy to power a drill and give Gilligan a tooth filling--also plausible. I've seen people do that to run their blenders and make their smoothies--exercise and eat right all in the comfort of your own kitchen, while also saving money on your energy bills!

Shoot, he even taught us all the importance of vitamin C in our diets. If not for the Professor, everyone on that island would have died.

Even as a kid, it struck me that the Howells were basically useless, in spite of being so wealthy. In a situation like that, money means nothing. Still, in spite of that, they considered themselves above all the others.

Ginger, too, was useless. Yeah, she was a pretty face, but as I pointed out the other day, unless she was willing to divide her affections between the Professor and Skipper, she didn't contribute much to the group.

Mary Ann at least could cook, and was willing to put in a good day's work. Skipper and Gilligan were also hard workers.

But they all would have been dead if not for the Professor.

My conclusion? Science saves lives. Money and beauty, in a survival situation, have no value.

What am I going to do with the marvelous epiphany? Heck if I know. I'm not a scientist!

Just kidding. I'm not a scientist, but I can do a little research and see if I can fit some Professor skills into my story. Why not?

By the way, if you're at all interested, you can see reruns of Gilligan's Island on MEtv.

 Gilligan's Island on MEtv
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Recently I decided to try to get followers on my BookBub site, and this promotion has been helping a lot in building my audience:

Win an Amazon Gift Card

Go visit, follow some new authors--Me, me!!--and be entered to win a $350. Amazon gift card!

If winning doesn't interest you, you can still follow me here:

Paula's BookBub page

I sure hope you'll follow me one way or another. It gets you updates on my tomfoolery, new releases and such. Thanks!
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Well, the day is passing, and I should probably get it in gear and plan some dinner for my parents.

I've eaten real food the last few days, and it hasn't sent me running to the doctor, but I don't feel all that great today, so back to the smoothies and Jell-O and juice. It's funny, I mostly don't even feel hungry these days. I haven't dropped dead, so I guess I'm doing all right on liquids.

I'm so boring.
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Enjoy, enjoy! Until we meet again!

Alice Cooper!!!

April 23, 2019
12:09 p.m.

Me with Alice Cooper, 4-20-2019

If you have known me longer than a minute, you know that this picture is SOOOOO cool for me that I can't even come close to expressing my joy. 

School's Out came out in 1972, but I was already a fan before the age of 12. I felt, at the time, that "School's Out" kind of caught other people I knew up to the group. It was eminently relate-able. Everybody got it. 

1971's "I'm Eighteen" was a bit much for my 11-year-old classmates, I guess, but the album "Love It To Death", the first one I bought at that age, caught my attention with "The Ballad of Dwight Fry". I had no idea who the guy was, but I was intrigued anyway. 

My classmates were caught up with The Osmond Family and The Jackson 5, or maybe the Carpenters. Now, I liked them, but I absolutely loved Alice, and no one got it. I was the odd man out. 

Didn't care. Not a lick. 

In 8th and 9th grade, we had a teacher--Mr. Farnsworth, if you remember--who had his classroom out in a mobile home type outbuilding. He allowed us to play music in homeroom and study hall. He brought in a little record player, and he used to play Loretta Lynn's "Don't Come Home A-drinkin' " all the time. 

I brought in "Muscle of Love". Poor Mr. Farnsworth! I didn't even attempt to explain that a woman singing about not giving her drunk man any and a drunk man singing about his "muscle" probably were equally inappropriate for kids. Hahaha! I brought "Elected" and "School's Out" after that. 

We also got to play records in Mrs. Beverly's art class, and some of the 9th graders in my class didn't appreciate Alice back then--they had to grow into him, I guess, because some of those same people who dissed 7th grade Alice-fan me for my bad taste in music are now big fans. 

Anyway, from the first song, my sister was freaked, my parents were shocked, my classmates were shaking their heads, and I was loving being the weird music pioneer. Because, who cares what anyone else thought about my eclectic musical taste? So what if I played a John Denver song followed by an Alice Cooper song, followed by The Monkees? It was all for ME!! 

Now, it's true that as a kid I cared what others thought of some things: Was my hair wrong? Were the bells on my jeans big enough? Should I NEVER say "Dig it" or "groovy"? But my music, my books, my art and my writing were all about ME, and I never cared about pleasing anyone else. 

There was something so cool about hanging up that poster. Surely, you know the one--naked Alice, strategically draped by a boa constrictor. My mother, God bless her, blanched when she saw it, but didn't insist that I take it off my wall immediately. My Dad, God bless him, laughed, shook his head and told me not to let Grandma see it. I have cool parents--they were never crazy about the music, but they never forbade it, either. (Although, "Turn it down!" was a frequent request, but they said that about all the music!)

It was 2011 before I got to see Alice in concert. Took me 40 years from the time I first decided I just HAD to go. It was awesome! My sister, who was at first freaked out by Alice, went with me. So did my daughter. She knew every song, because I raised my children right--they listened to Alice all the livelong time. 

Finally, three days ago, I shook the hand of my Rock-N-Roll hero. He signed my copy of his book. 

He told me he loved my shirt, and that Paranormal was his favorite album to date. We talked a bit about his book, which he says is the REAL story of his addiction and recovery. He declared Big Pharm the most corrupt drug dealers in this nation, more worrisome than any cartels because they have the money to brainwash us all through advertising. 

Of course, we also talked about upcoming albums--four to come! Wow! He's not bust at all, right? 

He's warm, funny and intelligent. It took me over four decades to do it, but I finally met Alice Cooper, and I am so glad I got to mark this goal off my bucket list.

You know, until I get a chance to do it again. I hope I do!

Thanks, Alice!!

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1:15 p.m.

Now, as promised, some other FanX Comic Convention highlights.

The convention ran for two days, but we only attended on Saturday. I didn't get to see Alice Cooper's Friday panel in person, but I naturally went and viewed it on YouTube. 

We started our day with the panel by Zachary Levi. You know him--Chuck! Flynn Rider, aka Eugene from Tangled. Shazam! That guy. 

This is a genuinely nice man with a lot to offer over and above his contributions to movies and television. He has raised money for children with cleft palate malformations, raised awareness about mental illness and really cares about people. 

Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to meet him this time. He was kept quite busy all day, and the lines were so long, forming at his booth even as he was elsewhere doing photos with fans. I do hope to have a chance to meet him someday, but I was very happy just to see his panel live. 

Now, I don't know about anyone else, but I love to "eat street". By this, I mean food trucks, and there were quite a lot of them around the Salt Palace. Last year we chose one that sells Ramen, and they were back, so we became repeat customers. 

I told you before that I couldn't eat much, but let me assure you, it was not the food! The food was delicious, and I enjoyed every bit I was able to consume. Yum!

Back inside, we decided to go see Ricky Schroeder. If you're about my age, you have probably been watching Ricky since he was a little boy. 

He started by informing us that he'd just turned 49. Wow, that made me feel old, considering I was grown up the first time I saw him as a little boy in "The Champ".  Remember that one? Dang, did I cry! 

He had plenty of good stories to tell and we really enjoyed the panel. Then we wandered back down to Celebrity Row to meet him. Nice guy!

Now. for some reason, I have yet to see my sister's photos. What's up with that? Ha ha!

No Con is complete without Cos players, and I have been consistently impressed over the years with how those costumes come together with such perfection! 

That's commitment, folks! 

I'm amazed by this, mostly because I pat myself on the back if I manage to sew a button back on without stabbing myself with the needle. 

The crowds are in constant motion, and I caught a glimpse of Aladdin on his carpet from above, so I'm pleased with how these shots turned out!

Look down now--here he comes!

And there he goes! Clever costume, right?

To end our fun day, we went to an AMC channel screening of Joe Hill's NOS4A2, where we got to see the first episode of the show. It's crazy. It's good. It doesn't start until June 2nd! Aughhhh!

Left us wanting more for sure! 

Here's some info:

NOS4A2

I read the book--good one! I'm definitely going to watch this show. Check it out, see what you think. 

Okay, that was our day. It's a three hour trip each way to Salt Lake City from here, so we decided to try to leave while the sun was still up. 

It was down when we got home, but--hey! So great not having to do the canyon in the dark, anyway. Not that I had to drive, but I am nice enough to think about the driver. 

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Next month is Denver's con, and I am hoping for one day there as well. I usually do the whole three days, but I don't think that's going to happen this year. I will only be home for a long weekend and I want to spend time with my family after dentist, doc, etc. 

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Your nerdy friend is signing off! Have a great evening! 

April 22, 2019
4:21 p.m.

Oh, so much going on, and I would like to add pictures to the stories but I haven't downloaded them yet!

Honestly, things around here have been a mixed bag, and I suppose that's normal for just about everyone. But, can I repeat myself when I say: I'm STILL waiting for that transporter thing to be invented!!!

So, I see that I have been really naughty and haven't posted all April! I posted a story on the 1st, but that is not an official MeThink, now is it?

The problem may very well be that I think TOO much, and my brain will not shut the F up lately.

I admit it--I am an over-thinker. I watched a little mini-marathon of Gilligan's Island with the folks the other day, and you would not believe all the questions that popped into my head.

Mrs. Howell playing matchmaker--what was she thinking? There are four men and three women on the island. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Howell are married, but that still leaves three single men and only two single women. She wants to match up the Professor with Ginger and Gilligan with Mary Ann. Okay. What about the Skipper?

And who's to say the Skipper wouldn't get Ginger in the end? Then what about the poor Professor?

Don't even say it. Of COURSE Gilligan gets Mary Ann.

Yeah, Ginger is a movie star and a horrible flirt, but... nah. She's not going to go for both the Skipper and the Professor.

Or... is she?

Bwahahaha!

Okay, so that's my brain just lately.

I don't even know how that came about. What I was originally thinking about was energy sources in a dystopian world, because I think I need to keep going with my book Starting in the Middle of The End. They spend a lot of time scavenging, and one of the items they kind of consider treasures are batteries. Because, of course, they want to watch a movie or listen to music, right?

So, on Gilligan's Island, they recharged their batteries using seawater and coconuts. Remember that? It's also possible to recharge batteries with potatoes. I have actually seen that on other shows and have read about it.

Research time.

I am tres amused that this train of thought started with Gilligan, though.

I am weird.
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5:52 p.m.

Guess what I did? Nah, you will never guess. I downloaded pictures!

So, yesterday was Easter Sunday. We went to dinner at my sisters, and it was very nice!

My sister-in-law made these super-cute chicks with her deviled eggs!

Generally speaking, I am the documentarian of these get-togethers, but these are the only pictures I took yesterday. I don't know what's wrong with me lately!

I will excuse myself by saying that there was a lot of good food and conversation going on and I was more interested in listening to that and enjoying family.

Ah, family! I have a great one. I am blessed.

I sure hope you all had a wonderful Easter!
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6:36 p.m.

April has brought snow showers and rain showers. The lawn is getting green. We can see the beginnings of flower growth and I imagine it won't be too much longer before we see some blooms. So ready for nice weather!

Four of my nine grandchildren have their birthdays in April, and two have birthdays in March. Then one in January, one in May and one in July. I have been super lax about posting those, and part of the reason is I really love to post newborn pictures along with their most recent snapshots, and all my archived photos are on my computer in Colorado. It's frustrating not to have access to things I know I have.

I am thinking of getting one of those photo-stick flash drives that grab all the pictures and saves them. Has anyone done that yet? What do you think?
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I have been fussing and fuming about my inability to "fix" things. So many issues, and I can't really help. I can listen. I can pray, or put out positive vibes. But, doggone it, I can't fix a dang thing.

I often wish I could really just vent about things, but to tell the truth, I don't know who does or doesn't read MeThinks, and I really don't feel free to share things that are not solely about ME. You know, unless they are good things, happy things, I'm-so-proud things. Not everything that affects me, either directly or peripherally fit those categories. I'm sure not everything in anyone's lives do, because we are human, and life very often just sucks.

I will vent a little about this, because it is just about me. I am sick and tired of gastroparesis. I have been living on mostly liquids and cottage cheese most of this month. Blah.

We went to FanX Comic Convention on Saturday, (more about that tomorrow--I promise!) and I did eat a little. Delicious pork Ramon, but not one bite of meat for me. Just broth, a few noodles and half a boiled egg. All the walking around helped, I believe, and I did not throw up. Hurray! Several hours later, we stopped on the way home at a restaurant, and I made it through most of my French onion soup. Delicious.

Easter Sunday. Funeral potatoes (don't ask me, I don't know why they're called that!!) macaroni salad, a little fruit and cream. No ham. (BOO!) I didn't have much of anything, but it was yummy, and later it hurt, but it stayed down.

Today I managed half an egg salad sandwich and a little macaroni.

I feel swollen and blech, and so, I am going back to liquids AGAIN.

Here's the worst part, though, and I am totally serious. No weight loss. Zilch. Zip. Nada.

How fair is that???

When I spend a month drinking my meals, I should at least get some positive payback, right? Am I right??

Holy smokes, what a lousy deal.

Maybe the scale is faulty.

Yeah, sure. Right.

Crazy body of mine.

I used to know this guy who told me, after I got a ruptured disc in a car accident, that I needed to go to the body parts store. Sure wish there was one, sometimes!
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Okay, I am off to edit some photos so we can all have a look at FanX Comic Convention tomorrow. I was a little disappointed in myself--I don't think I have ever taken fewer pictures at an event! But the ones I got look great.

Until tomorrow!

Cheers!

Monday, April 1, 2019

12:29 p.m.

April's prompt for "Write the Story" is the photo you see here. 

(Please note: the images we will use as prompts are free-use images and do not require attribution.)

April Showers

For Shane, there was never a question of if the spring storms would come. They would come; they always came.

The only questions was: when?

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The other question was whether he'd have enough advance notice to batten down the hatches--so to speak. 

Year after year, it was the same: Summer, Fall and Winter devoted to repair and replace; Spring, watch it all be beaten, battered and destroyed. 

Start over. 

Every. Single. Year.

It seemed his every penny earned went into putting back together what Spring storms tore apart. Time after time, he'd have to try to explain his thinking to parents, lovers, children.

Why? Why did he stay?

He'd stand on the shoreline, looking at his house, and ask himself that question every year. He'd resolve to repair quickly, sell the place and move inland--far enough from the shores to avoid this annual mess, but still close enough to come to the beach on a regular basis.

But--"Look at that view!" he'd exclaim. The house and deck, by this time intact and looking good again, fairly sparkled in the sun. Autumn, year after year, brought him a sense of accomplishment. The roof looked great, the siding was new, the deck was stained and sealed. Sitting outdoors, with whomever had posed the, "Why not get out now?" question, Shane would look out at the ocean, ever changing as the water rolled in to meet the white sand, and marvel. 

There was nothing to marvel at today, however. You could only repair a house if enough of it was left standing to work with. 

Shane stood with his back to the ocean, tears obscured by pelting rain, and stared at the remains of his home--a home that had been through over a decade's worth of devastating storms, new roofing, new siding, new windows, new decks, sometimes new interior walls and twice entire new rooms. 

Flattened. A bedroom wall here, a bathroom door there; the refrigerator on its side; the stove upside-down on top of what looked to be the remains of the kitchen island. A lone door--perhaps the one to the master bedroom--stood in its frame, as if a sentry looking over its fallen comrades. 

A search of the beach and surrounding areas would probably turn up beds, televisions and the like. There were no signs of those things here. Shane supposed they might also be buried under wood and aluminum. 

Oddly enough, the deck was almost entirely intact. "The mighty oak," Shane whispered, then snorted a bitter laugh. 

Hearing the "slap, slap" of running feet hitting saturated sand, Shane turned and saw his son approaching. "Landon," he said, his voice rough with grief.

Landon stopped running when he reached his father, bent at the waist to grasp his knees and coughed. "Jesus, Dad," he choked. "What are you doing still out in this shit?"

Shane sighed deeply, staring at the deck. "Lan," he said, "I think I'll buy a motor home and park it right there along the deck."

"Dad--!"

"And when the storms are coming, I'll just drive away..." Shane's voiced hitched, and he tried to stifle the sob in his throat before his son could tell he was crying.

Landon, who was nothing if not a good son, ignored the obvious. His father had a right to his grief, even if they had all begged and pleaded with him for years to "Move, for God's sake, move away!"

He draped an arm around Shane's shoulder and turned him away. "It's past time you learned to come in from the rain," he joked lightly. "Come on, Dad, there's a hot coffee in the car with your name on it."

Shane sighed again. "April showers," he said.  "No May flowers this time, I reckon."

"You'll get your flowers," Landon told him. "We'll put 'em on the deck in soda cans. You can drive them around in your motor home."

Shane grunted in surprise. "Really?"

Landon grinned, pushing his father along to the car. "Why not?" he said. "We'd all feel better knowing you could just drive off before the next storm hits. Melissa will love helping you shop for it. And think of the money you'll save next year when you only have to rebuild a deck."

"I was kidding," Shane protested.

"Too late." Landon opened the car door and gave Shane an encouraging shove. Shane got in, and Landon shut the door. 

As promised, there was coffee. Shane grabbed up the cup and sipped the steaming brew. 

Landon got into the driver's seat, shut the door and started the engine. "Listen, Dad. If you do that--buy a motor home--you'll still have that same great view."

True.

Shane smiled gratefully at his son. "Still," he said, "there's a lot of work to do."

"After the storm, Pop."

And Shane nodded. "Yes. After the April shower."

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4:31 p.m.

People go through a lot for their beautiful views. It's worth it to them, even if others can't understand why they do what they do. 

I knew a Shane who never gave up his view. I miss that guy. He was a good one. 

***For Shane Thompson

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If you want to read the stories others are prompted to write, and maybe write one of your own, check out this link:

Write the Story

Until next time--Have a good evening!