Inspiration is an imaginative leap of faith.
Inspiration is an imaginative leap of faith.
Ideas come from idle hands.
Perfection is something to aspire to, not brag about.
If today the world is your oyster, tomorrow check for a pearl.
Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.
Another Blast from my Past. It made me smile when I reread it. I hope it makes you smile and remember fondly those in your past.
When I was a child the world was my oyster and I was always shucking for pearls. I had a wonderful childhood. Unfortunately I have noticed that some of my memories are starting to fade. That is a very sad thing. But you have to understand not everything I did as a child or youth deserves to be remembered. Trust me there are quite a few things I would prefer to forget. I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t.
We have reached that time of year when we celebrate our parents. (Something we should do every day kids!) I find that I’m forgetting things. I forget the way it felt when my father used to pick me up when I fell asleep in the car. I was a small child and I would inevitably snooze in the back seat. I would be half awake when he picked me up and I can remember nuzzling against his chin. He smelled so safe, so warm. But I can’t remember how his arms felt. It was more than 50 years ago and we are not computers. Some things will fade.
As I was growing up my mother always made me my favourite meal on my birthday. It was seafood crepes with a pecan pie for dessert. I’ve forgotten what the crepes tasted like. I’ve had other crepes since but I haven’t had hers in probably 25 or 30 years. Probably haven’t thought about them in that amount of time either.
But on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day I remember. I remember them every day. And I miss them. We all have had people in our lives that we miss when they are gone. I believe that my mother is sitting on my shoulder with a grin on her face saying: “tsk tsk tsk, do you really want that second cookie?” I can see my father out of the corner of my eye: hands in his pockets, wearing a knit vest, smiling and shaking his head “damn kids”. We were loved. I have not stopped loving my parents since I lost them. And I haven’t really lost them as they are a part of me. They made me, they helped me become the person I am today. Thanks Mom, thanks Dad. I love you.
A little agitation today could mean a pearl of great price tomorrow.
The first step can be terrifying but the next one can be exhilarating!
Circumstances of Childhood.
By John W. Howell
Shipping on October 1st. Priced at $0.99 for the introduction.
This is a different story for John. It is in the Family Life genre and tells the story of brotherly love, riches to rags, redemption and a little paranormal thrown in. Normally John writes thrillers but this time he has stepped into a different place. This book was written with love for the story and the hope it will be an enjoyable read.
Here is the blurb:
When a former pro football star and broadcaster, now a Wall Street maven is accused of insider trading, will he be able to prove his innocence and expose those who are guilty?
Greg and his boyhood pal dreamed of big success in professional football and then later in business. Greg was the only one to live the dream. Now the founder of an investment fund Greg is faced with a routine audit finding by the SEC. The audit points to irregularities and all the tracks lead to Greg. The justice department hits him with an indictment of 23 counts of fraud, money laundering, and insider trading. His firm goes bust, and Greg is on his own.
His best friend knows he is innocent but has been ordered under penalty of eternal damnation not to help.
If you enjoy stories of inspiration, riches to rags, redemption, brotherly love, and a little of the paranormal, Circumstance of Childhood will keep you riveted.
Here is an excerpt.
I look down at my drink and wonder what will happen tomorrow. My daughter Constance wants to come and visit. She lives in New York, and before all hell broke loose, we didn’t see each other often. I missed her so much, and it seemed as if I had to beg her even to talk on the phone. Now, it’s like she wants to be here every weekend. It’s only an hour’s flight by the shuttle or three by train, so she can come when she wants. I just can’t figure out why she got so clingy. I have my troubles, but it doesn’t have anything to do with her. No use in asking her husband either. Though a nice enough guy, I always wonder if he has someplace important to go when I visit. He never sits still and stays busy on the phone or at the computer. He makes a good living, but it seems a person could take an hour to sit and talk. I’d looked forward to some kind of relationship when he and Constance got married. It’ll never happen with him.
When I take another pull at my drink, I notice the burn feels less. It happens every time. First sip initiation, I call it. It’s like the first puff of a cigarette, hits hard then, after, nothing. I decide to let Constance pretty much have the agenda tomorrow. She and I have not had a chance to talk about anything deep for a while. It could just be that she blames me for her mother running off with that guy with the house on the Hudson. He has a title, and the old gal couldn’t resist, but I think the daughter always felt I should have done something. Her mother’s sleeping with another guy and what the hell can I do about that?
I’ll just go with the flow. If she wants to go out, we will. If she wants to stay in, we can do that too. I better think about getting some food in the house. Of course, we can always order take out. I need to move on to my drink and let this go. Tomorrow will be what it is. I remember the day she was born. I looked down at her in my arms and promised I would do anything for her. I love her more than life itself, and I hope we can somehow get to the root of whatever’s wrong. She sounded strange on the phone this morning, and I feel helpless to do anything about it. I hope she opens up when she gets here.
For some reason, I feel tired. Perhaps I’ll go ahead and finish my drink. Maybe I’ll just go home and forget the burger. First, though, I’ll just shut my eyes for a minute. My hands feel good when I put my head down.
“Hey, Greg,” Jerry says. I barely hear him. “What’s the matter? You taking a nap? Greg?” I can feel him shake me, but I have no interest in waking up. His voice gets further away, and I think he says, “Oh, my God, Sophie, call 911, quick.” Now the room goes silent.
John began his writing as a full-time occupation after an extensive business career. His specialty is thriller fiction novels, but John also writes poetry and short stories. His first book, My GRL, introduces the exciting adventures of the book’s central character, John J. Cannon. The second Cannon novel, His Revenge, continues the adventure, while the final book in the trilogy, Our Justice, launched in September 2016. The latest Circumstances of Childhood a family life story is available as of October 1st, 2017. All books are available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle editions.
John lives in Port Aransas, Texas with his wife and their spoiled rescue pets.
John’s other books:
My GRL, His Revenge and Our Justice
Available on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/author/johnwhowell
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