A thought for the book, or just in general

I heard a song today and it gave me an idea for a scene in my book, or perhaps not. I am unsure where or how I'll fit this into the story, or if it will even find its way into the final draft. The thought is purely autobiographical in nature, therefore I'm not positive it will work or not. I just wanted to get it out here and see what I want to do with it after reading it again.

"I hopped in the car and meant to blast the stereo, however, when the music poured from the speakers I began to lower the volume. It was “Summer Breeze”, a song which I had hated at one time, but then began to associate it with a very vivid memory of my parent’s home, to a point I now felt compelled to like it in spite of myself. “See the curtains hanging in the window, in the evening on a Friday night, a little light a-shining through the window, lets me know every thing's all right”. I can see myself standing in my childhood room. Brown and white shag carpet underfoot, creamy patterned wallpaper accented by dark paneling and chair rail, and the window on the north wall is open letting in the sweet fragrance of spring and wind that is still a comfortable delight on my skin. The curtains swirl in the breeze and temporarily block my view, but in their own way present a new visual. I am hypnotized by the sights and the smells in this room, so much so that even now as I recall it the memory is palpable. I can almost breathe the scent of freshly cut grass from the yard, see the starting buds of the peonies, and taste the clean, cool air. I am lost in the moment, until the song fades out and is replaced with a commercial for new snow tires at Jake & Jack’s Automotive in historic downtown Franklin. The harsh voice of the announcer is like a needle dragging across the vinyl of my mind, bringing the thoughts to a screeching halt. Back to reality, I guess. "

Terry Whitling

The following is the obituary of a truly kind man. My sister once worked for him, and in my profession as a paralegal I often had dealings with him. To me he seemed to be kind and fair, and more importantly I knew him to be a loving husband and father. It's a shame to lose such a good person, and I wanted to take the time to remember him and let you all know that there once was a man named Terry Whitling, who was more than a lawyer and a hearing officer. He was a father, a husband and a friend to many and should be remembered.

Obituary - Terrance L. Whitling

Terrance L. Whitling, 61, of 209 Woodland Drive, Oil City, died at 12:21 p.m. Saturday, Jan. 31, 2009, at UPMC Northwest in Seneca.

Born Jan. 20, 1948, in Oil City, he was a son of Merrill and Roselyn Gdanitz Whitling.
Mr. Whitling was a graduate of Clarion University and the University of Toledo Law School and was a member of both alumni associations.

A veteran of the Vietnam War, he served as a first lieutenant in the U.S. Army.
Mr. Whitling practiced law in Venango County for 34 years and was a support court hearing officer.

Mr. Whitling was a member of the Venango County Bar Association, Pennsylvania Bar Association and the American Bar Association. He had been a member of the Florida Bar Association since 1995.

He was a member of Masonic Petrolia Lodge No. 363 F&AM, Venango Lodge of Perfection, Coudersport Consistory and the Kiwanis Club. He was a lifetime member of VFW and a member of Izaac Walton.

Mr. Whitling was a member of the Republican Party.

He served on the board of directors for the Salvation Army and was solicitor for the zoning board of the City of Oil City and for Cornplanter, President and Pine Grove townships, Northwest Saving Bank, Franklin Credit Union and Brandon Cemetery. He was also a U.S. Postal Service mediator and previously served on Oil City Council.

He was an Eagle Scout, a certified scuba diver, and a Minor League and Little League baseball coach.

Mr. Whitling was a former member of the Christ Episcopal Church & Vestry and had been a past junior warden. He was also a former member of the DuBois Business College faculty.

He was married on Oct. 23, 1976, to married to Rhesha Whitling, who survives.

Also surviving are his parents, Merrill and Rose Whitling; a son, Nicholas Whitling and his wife, Chelsee, of New Orleans; a daughter, Tracy Whitling and her husband, Trapper Little, of Columbus, Ohio; and a granddaughter, Norah Little.

Also surviving are a brother, Thomas Whitling and his wife, Anna Marie, of Laurel, Md.; a sister, Rose Potts and her husband, Jack, of Seneca; seven nieces and nephews, Ed “Mike,” Chrissy, Melanie, Jack Ernest, Jenny, Abigail and Diana and their families.

Mr. Whitling was preceded in death by a brother, Edward M. Whitling.

Friends will be received from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m. Tuesday at the Morrison Funeral Home.

Funeral services will be held at 11 a.m. Wednesday the Christ Episcopal Church.
Interment will be in Brandon Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, the family suggests memorials be made to a charity of one’s choice.

Blackbird

I’ve been revisiting my Beatle’s collection over the past few days after a conversation with a friend about the brilliance of this group. I find their music tends to move and inspire me to write, and hopefully to write well.

One fact I learned about this song that I found interesting is the song was supposedly inspired by a piece by J.S. Bach and that the musical intro is a variation of the song that inspired this piece. Oddly enough, Bach is by far and away one of my favorite classical composers, and I find it funny I never noticed the similarity in “Blackbird” to Bach’s Bourrée in E minor. The mind is a mysterious thing. How unusual that I would be particularly drawn to song, inspired by another favorite artist, and never realize the connection. Of course, I could just be dense.

Paul McCartney has said on different occasions that this is a song that was written about racial inequality in the United States in the 60’s. And yet, as moving and important as that all is I think the part I identify with most is the section of lyrics that follow:

“Take these broken wings’ and learn to fly”

There is much happening in my life and the life of my family these days. Some of which I’m not terribly eager to speak of, particularly here. However, I find that this one line sums up what I am trying to do now with my life. Trying to rediscover who I once was and trying make my way towards who I want to be . . . or something along those lines. Not just personally, but professionally. Revisiting a dream and hoping to make it a reality this time around.

Ah, look what I found

I wrote like a fiend today. Lots of research as well, but then I found myself in need of a break, and found something I didn't even realize I had missed or was looking for, which was a book of poetry I had kept since college. I don't believe I've written in it in more than seven years. It was as if I had found an old friend. I was thrilled. So I'd like to share a small piece of it with all of you and please feel free to offer comments. That's what this blog is for.

Grass

Warm and soft,
Under my feet
Slender blades swim madly
Bathed in the sunlight
Tender and green
Dancing in the lofty breeze of Summer.

Time fades
As do the blades
Frigid and callous
The sweetness turns solid.

Spring calls your name
Yet the summons is not quite the same.
On whistling winds forgiving rays sweep by.
A plush carpet
Or patchwork quilt
Ribbons of dandelions sprinkle the field
Is the grass a tickle on your toes?

Strange dream

I had one of those dreams or nightmares rather, where even when you wake you cannot shake the heaviness off, as if the dream is reality. In my dream I am planning on going out for the evening, where isn't really important I just know in my mind that I am going out without my children and a sitter is coming (this should have been my first clue it was a dream - ha!). There are spasmodic jumps in the dream. I see myself out having fun, at a bar or a club, not sure. There are lights, and music I cannot identify in the dream or now for that matter, and then for some odd reason I'm at the house of my great aunt who passed away a year and a half ago. It's dark and I hear her voice saying "where are the children? who's taking care of them?" It is then that wild panic races through me. I cannot recall meeting the sitter at the door. I cannot remember if anyone is with the boys and I'm crazed to get home to them, but I can't seem to find the door to get out of my aunt's house. Again, another blip in the dream and I'm home. The panic settles when I see the boys sleeping in their beds, but again, no one is with them. In my dream I had abandoned my children for a night out, and I'm overwrought with guilt.

When I wake from the dream it's like pulling cobwebs from my face. Thick and sticky and I can't get the sensation off of me. Even as I write this the guilt hangs in my heart.

I think I'm glad I woke at 6:00 a.m. At least the dream ended.

In the beginning

I am starting this blog as a way to sort out thoughts, ideas and the general ramblings in my mind as I am working through the writing process of my first book, if it should ever happen to become a living, breathing thing.