Wayzgoose: Blog

I’m seventy-five years old today. That gives me pause. Three-quarters of a century living on this earth. I often stop to reflect on my birthday, but somehow it seems more significant this year. I wonder not only where the time has gone, but where the sense of my generation has gone.

Let me explain.

When I was in high school, I was a little strange. I admit it. Too religious for most of my classmates. My hypocrisy was hidden beneath a thin veneer of piety. I planned to be a preacher. They planned a party on Saturday night. I studied to learn all I could from the Bible and from other religious writings. And when it came down to it, I realized when I was around forty that I was more of a pagan than a Christian—not that I was a particularly good pagan either. According to my few Facebook friends from that era, I’ve changed places. I’m headed for the casino on Saturday night and they’re preparing for church.

That’s just one of the many changes. Having abandoned any formal semblance of Christianity, I still maintain some of the basic principles that I’ve found are almost universally held, whether in Christian writings, Moslem writings, Buddhist writings, or Pagan writings. Every major religion has a variation of the “Golden Rule” at its heart: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Or:

“That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the entire Law; all the rest is commentary.” (Judaism)
“No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.” (Islam)
“Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.” (Buddhism)
“This is the sum of duty: do naught unto others which would cause you pain if done to you.” (Hinduism)

In my positive take as a pagan, “Treat others the way they’d like to be treated. It isn’t about you.”

When I was a teen, and in my twenties, I was part of a generation that ended an illegal and unjust war and promised never again to draft teens to fight rich men’s battles. We marched for civil rights. We campaigned for voter rights. When we found the 15th amendment—“The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” 1870—or the 19th amendment—“The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.” 1920—or the 24th amendment banning poll taxes in 1964 to be inadequate, we banded together to push the 26th amendment—“The right of citizens of the United States, who are 18 years of age or older, to vote, shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of age.” 1971.

When all these voter rights amendments still failed, we fought for the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, forbidding discrimination based on race, color, religion, or national origin, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, prohibiting racial discrimination in voting. The latter was subsequently amended five times to expand that prohibition, extending the non-discrimination clauses to other minorities.

We campaigned for women’s rights, including the right to have a personal bank account, to have a credit card, to buy a house, to have access to abortion and sexual healthcare, and to work for a wage comparable to men in similar positions. We fought for gay rights and marriage equality, including the right of interracial marriage. Hell, we even fought for the legalization of marijuana!

And we succeeded! Mostly.

But as we have seen repeatedly in the past few years, the people (mostly the men, but a lot of happy old ladies, too) of my generation have rebelled against the threat of becoming one of those protected minorities. They want to retain their position of power and privilege more than they want to protect the rights of individuals.

In the past ten years, we have seen voter roll purges, discrimination against populations who live remotely, and concentrated efforts to disenfranchise poor voters or voters with different cultural heritages or primary languages. We have seen the systematic destruction of women’s rights and employment anti-discrimination. We have watched idly as whatever party is in power manipulates re-districting to its advantage.

We have sat by as the Supreme Court reversed decisions of courts in our generation and systematized discriminatory practices. We have seen them place the religious rights of so-called Christians (no other religions) above all other rights with the possible exception of the right to bear arms. All so my generation can remain in power and hand that power off to their sons.

I am deeply ashamed.

DO NOT EVEN THINK OF FORGIVING MY GENERATION! Don’t forgive us for dismantling the rights we fought for so we can hang onto the threads of power we wield like reins over an unruly team.

If you will be eighteen years old or older by November 5, 2024, register to vote and make your voice heard! That’s one right we have not succeeded in reversing. Yet. Check to be sure you appear on the voter registration roll in your state.

And then vote, goddamn it!

I don’t care which way you vote. You are voting for your life. If you are happy to see these fundamental rights removed, then vote for those you agree with. If you are unhappy with it, this could be your last chance to vote to change it. Either way, vote to determine the kind of laws and brand of justice you want for your future.

All I ask is that you put aside hatred and prejudice, and vote for the good of humanity. Do unto others (all others) as you would have them do unto you.

And happy birthday to me.

What can I say? I was packing and hit send. Now I'm on my way to the dock and will be at sea tomorrow when the last chapter posts. Brain went on vacation before my body did!

So why am I posting today? Yes, tomorrow the last chapter of The Staircase of Dragon Jerico will post and I'll be silent for a while again. But when it posts, I'll be boarding the Norwegian Sun for Alaska.

In my (and aroslav's) travels over the past eleven years, I've been to 46 states, three Canadian provinces, and sixteen other countries. But one of the four states I haven't been to is Alaska, and I'm checking that off my list this week.

I investigated several possible ways to get up there, including pulling my trailer and driving as far as I could go. But I'm not as young as when I started this adventure. Rough roads and rough camping just aren't high on my list anymore.

As I did when I booked my around-the-world trip in 2016, I got in touch with a reputable agent who found this ship had solo cabins that didn't cost twice the price that booking a normal cabin costs. He found several other discounts to be applied (being old, first time cruiser, etc.) and I got a very reasonable deal that won't cost me much more than what it normally costs to live for a week.

But all that means I won't be able to respond to messages when the last chapter of Staircase posts tomorrow. I'll be eagerly looking forward to your comments and email on the 26th when I should be in a town where I have phone and internet access. (I forget the name.)

It also means that I won't be able to watch the Olympics unless the sports bar on board shows them. Good luck to all the gymnasts and to Team USA women's basketball. And break a record, Sha'Carri Richardson!

Until then, Enjoy!
Wayzgoose

I'm not going to dwell on that. You do or you don't.

But, I'm a bit of a smart aleck and after re-reading last Sunday's aroslav blog post on "Getting to They" and the email received on it, I posted on my Facebook page:

"What're the correct pronouns for a person who's just an asshole?" I thought I was so clever.

A friend kindly but firmly reprimanded me.

"Whatever they choose, because we don't make our approval of someone a condition of respecting their pronouns."

I am glad there are people like him in this world who are willing to correct people like me!

I've never really been gone, but it does seem like a while since I've posted a Wayzgoose story. That other fellow takes up most of my mindshare. And he's so long-winded!

Back in November when my daughter and I were preparing for what we would write during NaNoWriMo, we set up some specific "rules" we would follow. 1) A romance, but not erotica. 2) Stand-alone story. No sequel or series. 3) Planned out in advance. 4) Limited cast of characters. 5) Under 100,000 words.

Then November 1 came and we started writing. I finished my first draft about the 19th at just over 60,000 words. Of course, they weren't all usable words, but they went out to my alpha readers. In January, I started rewriting the story based on reader feedback and my own notes. It ended at a little more than 90,000 words. Still under 100k!

Then, of course, it went through the editing process. I thank Michele for line editing, Rotorhead for first pass proof and commentary. Cie_Mel for proofreading and expertise in certain areas. Pixel the Cat for copy editing and final proof. And, being the way I am, I re-read every word and changed things in the process. So, I can't blame anyone but myself for any mistakes or proofing errors. Mea culpa.

The Staircase of Dragon Jerico is a contemporary romance. Erin is stranded in a new town after a short and bitter divorce and waits tables in a diner where she meets the man of her dreams; but Preston is a socially inept recluse constantly on guard against gold diggers. When Erin's search for a better job leads to becoming his personal assistant, a comedy of errors ensues that throws the two together—and threatens to tear them apart.

Mix in a little board room drama, a sexist company president who is always on the prowl, and a little bowling. Must be a winner.

It begins today as a serial: Wayzgoose, The Staircase of Dragon Jerico. It is also available for immediate download on Bookapy and other eBook vendors.

Enjoy!