Monday, December 13, 2010
On a Wing and a Prayer
The body was found in the cargo hold on Flight 257. The person or persons who murdered this unfortunate soul stuffed it in the cargo hold and in such a way as to suggest that the killer or killers were quite deranged. Intrigued to say the least Homicide Detective Jack Donaldson started his investigation. Would a cheater, jilted lover, or some kind of love triangle be involved? Jack was thinking along these lines because of what he was currently going through with his ex-wife. This was a medium to large airport and cordoning off the crime scene was fairly involved but it needed to be done. When Jack woke up this morning he thought the day was going to be a good one but when he got the call about this case that good feeling completely vanished. First of all the FBI was on the scene and they were trying to take over, second, his ex-wife had just sent him a text about his alimony payment, and the third and final thing was that he hadn’t had has his cup of coffee yet. The day was just going from bad to worse. The Coroner said that from his preliminary diagnosis the victim had been dead for about 36-hours because the body was starting to come out of rigor. Detective Donaldson’s Blackberry suddenly went off. A Sergeant Davis told him that he should get over to Gate 32 on Concourse ‘C’ ASAP. Jack was at Gate 24 on Concourse ‘A’ at the moment. He got into his car and turned on his flashers. When he go to Gate 32 Sergeant Davis informed him another DB or dead body was found in another cargo hold. Like he said earlier, this day was going from bad to worse. The Press was going to have a field day with this. So far the only things that were common to both of these crimes was the fact that both airplanes were Boeing 737-800’s and both dead bodies were found in the aft cargo holds. In the 17-years that Jack has been a Homicide Detective he has seen dead bodies in quite a variety of places but this was the first time he has seen one in the cargo hold of an airliner. Now he has seen two. The aft cargo hold of a Boeing 737-800 has almost 900 square feet of space in it. Who has access to it? Would they have been seen? How would the bodies have been put in them? Questions, questions, so many questions. Jack would need to get access to any and all surveillance cameras. Just then Jack received a radio call from the Airport Manager Steve Billings telling him that the press wants a statement and what should he tell them. Jack told him to wait. As Jack started turn he felt a sharp throbbing pain at the base of his neck, he instantly knew someone had hit him from behind. He went down to the ground. When he was on the ground all he could see, just barely, before he blacked out was a figure running away from him….
Just Another Day
It’s a Thursday – September 9, 2010. I look out the window. A 20-something couple is walking down the street. A man is walking his dog. The local Fire Department horn bellows because it is 12-noon. I can hear a plane off in the distance. I can also hear someone mowing there lawn off in the distance. My wife, the woman that I love dearly, is at work. The plants have been watered. The ones under the front window are blooming nicely. A cool breeze is coming through the window. Katie is studying hard at school. I wonder if she is feeling o.k. I also wonder if Ryan and Matthew are studying hard in school. Austin is probably at work. Eric and his wife Maii are in England – he is in the Air Force. The couple who live out of their van in our neighbor Bob’s backyard are burning stuff again. It doesn’t smell toxic today. My wonderful wife Kelly just sent me a text thanking me for getting her $20 and 2-packs of cigs for cards tonight. The mail-woman just picked up and dropped off the mail. Such a busy road we live on. The traffic goes by so fast! And don’t get me going about the noisy trucks and motorcycles! A farmer just drove by with his tractor and hay baler attached. Then his son went by with a tractor and a trailer to hold the hay bales. They work 7 days-a-week on their farm. A train off in the distance just blew its horn. Fred brought Miss Ab home. Miss Ab is our Chihuahua. Fred and Barbara are Miss Ab’s grandparents (and Katie’s). Katie just got home from school. She goes to New England Tech. Miss Ab was so happy to see her ‘mommy’ and Katie was so happy to see Miss Ab. Kelly works at Regency Heights and she should be home soon. The day is flowing along, meandering. I am thinking about my writing, I am thinking about my writing because I want to be a published writer and/or author. I am 50-years old so I am starting a little late in the game. Some people would say you’re too old to do this. I would disagree. This story itself will be posted to my blog and hopefully someone will read it (and the others I have posted there) and comment on it, negatively or positively. So this is just another day, a day in a small northeastern Connecticut town. Much like many towns all across America. People just doing there normal day-to-day things. There is nothing wrong with normal. Normal isn’t boring. Normal is good. Normal is peaceful. Things don’t have to be wild and crazy or abnormal. Maybe I am naïve. What is the definition of normal? My definition may be different than yours. We are born, we live our lives and pay our bills, and then we die. Yesterday was Wednesday, tomorrow is Friday. What makes today any different? It’s just another day.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Special Day by Sanjay Madhavan
Till date, I have never been timely in meeting my girlfriend. It has lead to battles more collosal than certain civil wars and even a World War. But today was a special day. I could not afford to be late.
It would surely have wicked consequences. However, I woke up to find that I was about an hour late.
It wasn’t difficult visualizing the deadly image of my girl fuming at my punctuality. That resulted in me getting ready in super fast motion. If there was a competition between me and a road runner that day, I would have made mince meat and light work out of it.
I reached her place after hustling and bustling throught the traffic. I had a feeling that most men were late on that day, and were frantically rushing towards their girl’s place. But I was sure that my girl was going to forgive me. She wasn’t the one who would remain moody even after my apology.
I sat close to her, as she slept there peacefully. I was sure that she was mad at me. But her anger wouldn’t last long. She would understand that I was late, not by intention but by accident. For 10 long years, I have greeted her every single day, and on very few occassions have I mistakenly come early.
But today was very special. It is a day where I wanted to tell her how much I love her? How much I care for her? It was a day to express my unconditional love to her.
I took out the bouquet and placed it near her legs. I wanted to wake her up and hug her badly. But I didn’t want to disturb her and make her even more livid.
I just looked at her for 5 long minutes, stood up and moved away. I didn’t want to shed tears and wake her up. The last thing that I wanted is a drop of tear touching her legs.
I walked away, and after moving few metres away from her, glanced back and read the words engraved on her bed.
Jennifer Smith
1972-1999
RIP
I whispered to myself “Happy Valentine’s day sweetheart!. Take care. See you soon”. I would be back tomorrow. Hope I would not be late.
It wasn’t difficult visualizing the deadly image of my girl fuming at my punctuality. That resulted in me getting ready in super fast motion. If there was a competition between me and a road runner that day, I would have made mince meat and light work out of it.
I reached her place after hustling and bustling throught the traffic. I had a feeling that most men were late on that day, and were frantically rushing towards their girl’s place. But I was sure that my girl was going to forgive me. She wasn’t the one who would remain moody even after my apology.
I sat close to her, as she slept there peacefully. I was sure that she was mad at me. But her anger wouldn’t last long. She would understand that I was late, not by intention but by accident. For 10 long years, I have greeted her every single day, and on very few occassions have I mistakenly come early.
But today was very special. It is a day where I wanted to tell her how much I love her? How much I care for her? It was a day to express my unconditional love to her.
I took out the bouquet and placed it near her legs. I wanted to wake her up and hug her badly. But I didn’t want to disturb her and make her even more livid.
I just looked at her for 5 long minutes, stood up and moved away. I didn’t want to shed tears and wake her up. The last thing that I wanted is a drop of tear touching her legs.
I walked away, and after moving few metres away from her, glanced back and read the words engraved on her bed.
Jennifer Smith
1972-1999
RIP
I whispered to myself “Happy Valentine’s day sweetheart!. Take care. See you soon”. I would be back tomorrow. Hope I would not be late.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Monday, December 21, 2009
A Fighter Pilot's Life (Fiction)
By John Beck
He was just a boy of 10. It was 1933. He was sitting on a stone wall looking out at the wheat field of his family farm. All he knew up to this point in his life was living and working on the farm and he didn’t have a problem with that. His name was Tom. His full name was Thomas B. Fuller. The “B” stood for Bennett, his mother’s maiden name. Nobody called him Thomas except his mother and that was only when she wanted his attention or when he was in some kind of trouble, which wasn’t very often. He wasn’t called Tommy either, just Tom. Tom realized the country was in the depths of a depression but his family was getting by. The Fuller Family had lived on and ran this farm in Nebraska for over 80 years. Even though they would have been considered poor Tom didn’t think so. He had a family that loved him, had a roof over his head and clothes on his back. Since he lived on a farm, they had wheat, vegetables, cows, pigs, and chickens so he never wanted for food.
On that day sitting on the stone wall Tom heard a sound overhead, looked up and saw an airplane. He had never seen one before. He had heard about airplanes from Pete Smith when he went to town. Pete was known as ‘Ole Pete’ but Tom didn’t know why because Petedidn’t seem that old. Pete had served as a Fighter Pilot in WWI, butdidn’t like to talk about the war. When Tom would ask Pete what it was like to fly an airplane Pete’s eyes would light up. Pete would describe the joy and exhilaration of flying, and what is was like to be free from the bonds of earth. When Tom saw that airplane flying through the sky he started to run, following it, waving his arms wildly. The pilot dipped his wings acknowledging Tom. At that moment Tom vowed that someday he would be a pilot.
Tom’s schooling was uneventful; his math skills could have been a little stronger. He was also a little on the shy side, not a social butterfly, but he was friendly. When he graduated from high school in 1941 he knew that his family didn’t have the money to send him to college but that didn’t matter to Tom. Then on that fateful day, in December when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the whole world and Tom’s life changed. The next day Tom went to town and signed up for the Army. After his basic training Tom was sent to San Antonio, Texas to start his training in the U.S. Army Air Corps. The trainingwasn’t easy. But his instructor told him he was one of the best stick-and-rudder men he had ever seen. Tom was sent to Europe. He flew the P-51 Mustang. It was a fast, stunningly beautiful airplane and he loved flying it. Even though flying provided Tom with much happiness the job he was assigned to do would not be considered a happy one. He was fully aware that Nazi Germany was evil and the allies were fighting on the side of good. He would escort bombers, because the P-51 fighters were known as ‘little friends’. He would shoot at German Fighters to protect the bombers. With the four 50 caliber machine guns, the enemy’s airplanes would sustain very heavy damage. Tom was also tasked with strafing ground positions such as troop trains, aircraft hangars, trucks, tanks, and columns of enemy troops. When they say war is hell, it is true.
After the war Tom went back to the family farm. It was now 1948, Tom was 25, and he decided he would take advantage of the G.I. Bill and go to college. He liked History and decided to major in that. In a very short time history was to take a big part in Tom’s life again. The Korean Conflict started in 1950. Since Tom was a WWII Veteran and had already flown in combat he again found himself in an airplane, this time as an F-86 Sabre pilot. The U.S. Army Air Corps was now the United States Air Force. He flew over the Yalu River in Northwestern North Korea in an area known as MiG Alley. The ‘dogfights’ were a big part of being an F-86 Sabre fighter pilot. He would also strafe ground targets and provide Close Air Support. The war was over in 1953 and Tom went home. He had made a promise to himself that he would finish his college education and get a teaching degree in History. Tom found a job working at the hardware store in town and the owner let him live in the small apartment upstairs. Now he was settled down at home during peacetime with a job and attending college. After completing college he got a history teaching position at a local community college. So instead of participating in history as he had in WWII and the Korean Conflict he was teaching it to young people. That is where Tom met the most beautiful woman in the world – her name was Mary. Mary Ellen Palmer to be exact. They met on a cool autumn day in October of 1955 and they started dating. Before long they had a full-time relationship. They were very much in love. A couple of years went by and Tom and Mary decided to get married. They planned on getting married in 1958 on the 12th of June. Tom was 34 now and Mary was 33. They weren’t a rich couple and didn’t have a lot of material things but they were happy. It was now the 1960’s and it seemed that anything was possible. The country had a young president and human beings were beginning to explore space. Tom and Mary were now thinking of having children as Mary was now 36. They had a 5-1/2 pound baby boy on May 12th 1961 and his name was Charles Daniel Fuller. They called him Charlie.
As the years went buy Charlie grew older and Tom and Mary’s marriage kept growing stronger. It was now 1969 and Tom had become a Professor of History at the University and he was working on writing a book. The year 1969 was a year of wonder with man landing on the moon and it also was a year of trouble and strife with the war in Vietnam and the protests at home. In 1973 Tom turned 50 and his book “Homeward Journey” was published. It was a story about war veterans coming home. Tom himself had close friends from two wars that did not make it home. Tom and Mary now had a little more disposable income and decided to take a vacation to Tahiti. It was now 1978 and they had been married for 20-years so they felt they deserved the vacation. The next year, 1979, when Charlie turned 18, he joined the Air Force. He applied to Officers Candidate School (OCS) and was accepted. After he became a 2nd Lieutenant he applied for Flight School. It wasn’t easy getting accepted even with his father’s service. But he eventually got accepted. The Flight School took a little over a year and it was hard work. Tom was so proud of him when he received his pilot’s wings. Charlie learned how to fly an F-15 Eagle and was stationed at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia. Then in August of 1990 he was deployed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield. Tom thought that things had now come full circle.
On that day sitting on the stone wall Tom heard a sound overhead, looked up and saw an airplane. He had never seen one before. He had heard about airplanes from Pete Smith when he went to town. Pete was known as ‘Ole Pete’ but Tom didn’t know why because Petedidn’t seem that old. Pete had served as a Fighter Pilot in WWI, butdidn’t like to talk about the war. When Tom would ask Pete what it was like to fly an airplane Pete’s eyes would light up. Pete would describe the joy and exhilaration of flying, and what is was like to be free from the bonds of earth. When Tom saw that airplane flying through the sky he started to run, following it, waving his arms wildly. The pilot dipped his wings acknowledging Tom. At that moment Tom vowed that someday he would be a pilot.
Tom’s schooling was uneventful; his math skills could have been a little stronger. He was also a little on the shy side, not a social butterfly, but he was friendly. When he graduated from high school in 1941 he knew that his family didn’t have the money to send him to college but that didn’t matter to Tom. Then on that fateful day, in December when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the whole world and Tom’s life changed. The next day Tom went to town and signed up for the Army. After his basic training Tom was sent to San Antonio, Texas to start his training in the U.S. Army Air Corps. The trainingwasn’t easy. But his instructor told him he was one of the best stick-and-rudder men he had ever seen. Tom was sent to Europe. He flew the P-51 Mustang. It was a fast, stunningly beautiful airplane and he loved flying it. Even though flying provided Tom with much happiness the job he was assigned to do would not be considered a happy one. He was fully aware that Nazi Germany was evil and the allies were fighting on the side of good. He would escort bombers, because the P-51 fighters were known as ‘little friends’. He would shoot at German Fighters to protect the bombers. With the four 50 caliber machine guns, the enemy’s airplanes would sustain very heavy damage. Tom was also tasked with strafing ground positions such as troop trains, aircraft hangars, trucks, tanks, and columns of enemy troops. When they say war is hell, it is true.
After the war Tom went back to the family farm. It was now 1948, Tom was 25, and he decided he would take advantage of the G.I. Bill and go to college. He liked History and decided to major in that. In a very short time history was to take a big part in Tom’s life again. The Korean Conflict started in 1950. Since Tom was a WWII Veteran and had already flown in combat he again found himself in an airplane, this time as an F-86 Sabre pilot. The U.S. Army Air Corps was now the United States Air Force. He flew over the Yalu River in Northwestern North Korea in an area known as MiG Alley. The ‘dogfights’ were a big part of being an F-86 Sabre fighter pilot. He would also strafe ground targets and provide Close Air Support. The war was over in 1953 and Tom went home. He had made a promise to himself that he would finish his college education and get a teaching degree in History. Tom found a job working at the hardware store in town and the owner let him live in the small apartment upstairs. Now he was settled down at home during peacetime with a job and attending college. After completing college he got a history teaching position at a local community college. So instead of participating in history as he had in WWII and the Korean Conflict he was teaching it to young people. That is where Tom met the most beautiful woman in the world – her name was Mary. Mary Ellen Palmer to be exact. They met on a cool autumn day in October of 1955 and they started dating. Before long they had a full-time relationship. They were very much in love. A couple of years went by and Tom and Mary decided to get married. They planned on getting married in 1958 on the 12th of June. Tom was 34 now and Mary was 33. They weren’t a rich couple and didn’t have a lot of material things but they were happy. It was now the 1960’s and it seemed that anything was possible. The country had a young president and human beings were beginning to explore space. Tom and Mary were now thinking of having children as Mary was now 36. They had a 5-1/2 pound baby boy on May 12th 1961 and his name was Charles Daniel Fuller. They called him Charlie.
As the years went buy Charlie grew older and Tom and Mary’s marriage kept growing stronger. It was now 1969 and Tom had become a Professor of History at the University and he was working on writing a book. The year 1969 was a year of wonder with man landing on the moon and it also was a year of trouble and strife with the war in Vietnam and the protests at home. In 1973 Tom turned 50 and his book “Homeward Journey” was published. It was a story about war veterans coming home. Tom himself had close friends from two wars that did not make it home. Tom and Mary now had a little more disposable income and decided to take a vacation to Tahiti. It was now 1978 and they had been married for 20-years so they felt they deserved the vacation. The next year, 1979, when Charlie turned 18, he joined the Air Force. He applied to Officers Candidate School (OCS) and was accepted. After he became a 2nd Lieutenant he applied for Flight School. It wasn’t easy getting accepted even with his father’s service. But he eventually got accepted. The Flight School took a little over a year and it was hard work. Tom was so proud of him when he received his pilot’s wings. Charlie learned how to fly an F-15 Eagle and was stationed at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia. Then in August of 1990 he was deployed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield. Tom thought that things had now come full circle.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
THE PEOPLE I’VE BEEN IN TOUCH WITH TODAY…AND HOW 9/11/09 by Suzanne Sullivan
Facebook--Dorothy, my college roommate who lives in Brooklyn--whose daughter sang in a chorus at the 9/11 “event” this morning at ground zero. She and her young daughters were walking to school in lower Manhattan when the planes shot across the sky above their heads. They were in front of the firehouse which was a popular stop for the kids. All the friendly firefighters perished that day.
Email--Chris, former co-worker and co-laid off friend--about her friend who won ten mil in a scratch off. Irony? He’s a gambling addict who lost his house and family. Wondering if he’ll get it back. To lose it again?
Facebook--Bobby—an old high school fling with whom I shared excellent sex, once on acid and satin sheets. We kept slipping onto the floor and climbing back up, laughing a “laced with speed” release for hours. I think he’s still incarcerated from some alcoholic-related felony but somehow has access to facebook. He’s an Aries narcissist and posts, “hey girl, i still look good and so do you. what’s the name of that bar across from the summit train station?”
Jdate--Someone by the name of “Etyn”. He’s Sephartic. I’m Irish. We’re both astrologers. He won’t tell me his sign so he must be Scorpio. He wants to “talk” tonight and gave me his number. Don’t know if I can handle this level of intimacy. I may be gradually shrinking from social contact in the traditional sense. To wit…I’m now talking to myself.
LinkedIn--Isabelle PhD chemist and former ESL student from L’Oreal. Both of us have been laid off and connect thru LinkedIn. We’re flirting with actually getting together for lunch. Yikes. I suggested a “ladies who lunch” jaunt at the Short Hills mall. She’s French and has style. Can we sustain two hours? I’d like to think so.
Crackberry--My quasi-boyfriend of late, from 8th grade and now 30 years hence--I was his transitional other this time ‘round and he has no time for me now. He deleted me from bbm (blackberry messenger) since I could tell when he would read the message. My one regular text was answered briefly. “I’ll call you.” That was at 1. It’s now 9. He’s moved on till next his well dries up.
Phone—Jamie, another high school buddy back in my life thanks to facebook--reminded him to update his LinkedIn profile. He’s trying to set me up with a fellow car salesperson who used to be quite the player. Sounds dangerous. Count me in. Who should facebook who?
In-person-- Harry, my 17 yr old son—rapid eye to eye, quick face to face. Privy to his Friday night updates. His plans fell thru and I had none. We’re both home “together”, on different floors. He’s watching a paid per view horror flick which is less than thrilling; I’m about to put on Revolutionary Road. A healthy dose of disfunction to complement mine.
Text--My ex-husband--asked him to help me dispose of an old mattress which hosted years of a child’s incontinence who’s now in college. Ex said, yes, but manana. How yes can feel like no.
Text—Jenny--a friend who’s 28 and doing her Saturn return, a Gemini with Libra rising, multi-tatooed and pierced, my angel tarot new age consort who disappears like vapor and then surfaces to talk about Mercury retrograde. Off to b n noble to “write”. Do I want to come? Since it’ll never happen, I say, “sure”.
Mind-reading--My dog, Maggie–share same space--She looks to me for connection. She reads my moods. I feed her, pet her, walk her. We’re good together. But it’s limited by the cross-species issue.
Silence--Want my quasi-guess-ex-boyfriend to call already. And for what? He’s gone, gone…
BBM--My 21 yr old daughter at school at UVM --Hey Mom. How are you? Hope you haven’t been back in touch with douchebag.
Oh mad, I’m lonely. But thanks for caring. You’re the best person I’ve been in touch with today. Queen of my cyber crowd. Love you. Night. “Talk” tomorrow.
Email--Chris, former co-worker and co-laid off friend--about her friend who won ten mil in a scratch off. Irony? He’s a gambling addict who lost his house and family. Wondering if he’ll get it back. To lose it again?
Facebook--Bobby—an old high school fling with whom I shared excellent sex, once on acid and satin sheets. We kept slipping onto the floor and climbing back up, laughing a “laced with speed” release for hours. I think he’s still incarcerated from some alcoholic-related felony but somehow has access to facebook. He’s an Aries narcissist and posts, “hey girl, i still look good and so do you. what’s the name of that bar across from the summit train station?”
Jdate--Someone by the name of “Etyn”. He’s Sephartic. I’m Irish. We’re both astrologers. He won’t tell me his sign so he must be Scorpio. He wants to “talk” tonight and gave me his number. Don’t know if I can handle this level of intimacy. I may be gradually shrinking from social contact in the traditional sense. To wit…I’m now talking to myself.
LinkedIn--Isabelle PhD chemist and former ESL student from L’Oreal. Both of us have been laid off and connect thru LinkedIn. We’re flirting with actually getting together for lunch. Yikes. I suggested a “ladies who lunch” jaunt at the Short Hills mall. She’s French and has style. Can we sustain two hours? I’d like to think so.
Crackberry--My quasi-boyfriend of late, from 8th grade and now 30 years hence--I was his transitional other this time ‘round and he has no time for me now. He deleted me from bbm (blackberry messenger) since I could tell when he would read the message. My one regular text was answered briefly. “I’ll call you.” That was at 1. It’s now 9. He’s moved on till next his well dries up.
Phone—Jamie, another high school buddy back in my life thanks to facebook--reminded him to update his LinkedIn profile. He’s trying to set me up with a fellow car salesperson who used to be quite the player. Sounds dangerous. Count me in. Who should facebook who?
In-person-- Harry, my 17 yr old son—rapid eye to eye, quick face to face. Privy to his Friday night updates. His plans fell thru and I had none. We’re both home “together”, on different floors. He’s watching a paid per view horror flick which is less than thrilling; I’m about to put on Revolutionary Road. A healthy dose of disfunction to complement mine.
Text--My ex-husband--asked him to help me dispose of an old mattress which hosted years of a child’s incontinence who’s now in college. Ex said, yes, but manana. How yes can feel like no.
Text—Jenny--a friend who’s 28 and doing her Saturn return, a Gemini with Libra rising, multi-tatooed and pierced, my angel tarot new age consort who disappears like vapor and then surfaces to talk about Mercury retrograde. Off to b n noble to “write”. Do I want to come? Since it’ll never happen, I say, “sure”.
Mind-reading--My dog, Maggie–share same space--She looks to me for connection. She reads my moods. I feed her, pet her, walk her. We’re good together. But it’s limited by the cross-species issue.
Silence--Want my quasi-guess-ex-boyfriend to call already. And for what? He’s gone, gone…
BBM--My 21 yr old daughter at school at UVM --Hey Mom. How are you? Hope you haven’t been back in touch with douchebag.
Oh mad, I’m lonely. But thanks for caring. You’re the best person I’ve been in touch with today. Queen of my cyber crowd. Love you. Night. “Talk” tomorrow.
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