RIP: My dog Whiskey

My sweet girl was suffering from escalating seizures. Yesterday, we had to make that decision we all dread. My heart is broken. I'll miss you. I'll never forget you.

RIP: Donna Royston

Donna was my friend and editor for many of my novels, several anthologies, and other projects. She was an excellent writer, and I credit her for helping me in ,my career. She was born in 1955 and had been fighting cancer for over four years. She will be missed by many. RIP.

There will be no writing today...

 

RIP: James A. Worthington

From The Batavian:

James A. Worthington, 82 of Batavia, passed away peacefully on December 23, 2020 at United Memorial Medical Center. He was born in Silver Creek, NY on January 11, 1938 to the late Charles (Irene Ransom) Worthington. He is preceded in death by a brother Richard Worthington and sister Joyce Kelly.

Mr. Worthington worked for many years at Gerber Products in Fremont, MI. He was also a very talented painter and carpenter. Jim was a longtime member of St. Maximilian Kolbe Parish and in his younger years was very involved in church societies.

Jim loved working on cars, especially with his boys and loved watching his girls play sports. He was a very hands on father that loved being with his family.

He is survived by his wife of 64 years, Harriet (Lang) Worthington whom he married on July 28, 1956; children James C. (Roberta) Worthington of Amherst, Cynthia (James Ponzi) Ward of Jamesville, NY, Jeffery (Grace) Worthington of Durham, NC, Ann Marie DiLaura of Batavia; brothers Ralph of LeRoy, Paul of Buffalo and Wesley Worthington of TN; 8 grandchildren, Charlotte, Clara, Sean, Alexa (Jacob), Cherie, Kimberly, Danielle, T.J. (Hailey); 2 great-grandchildren, Kasen and Jesse; two special nieces Marie DeFreze and Susan Johnson, along with many nieces and nephews.

A private Mass of Christian Burial will be held for the family. He will be laid to rest in St. Joseph’s Cemetery, Batavia.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to St. Maximilian Kolbe Parish, 18 W. Main St., Corfu, NY 14036 or to Crossroads House, PO Box 403, Batavia, NY 14020. For more information please call (585) 343-8260 or to send a message of condolence, please visit www.gilmartinfuneralhome.com. Arrangements completed by Gilmartin Funeral Home & Cremation Company, Inc. 329-333 West Main Street Batavia, NY 14020. 

RIP Rutger Hauer

 Few actors have inspired me as much as Rutger Hauer. Blade Runner, The Blood of Heroes, and Ladyhawk were just the beginning. I own so many of his movies I can't even count them off in my head. I may have to watch Hobo with a Shotgun again tonight. Or maybe Split Second, where he drank a lot of coffee....

 RIP, sir. Thanks for all the entertainment and inspiration you have brought into my life.

The Last Road Trip

This weekend was difficult for me.

When my brother Carl knew he was dying, he and I plotted out all his funeral arrangements. He wanted a Big Lebowski style scattering of his ashes. Folgers can and all. He made me promise to use an old school metal Folgers can. We laughed. I agreed. I eventually found the coffee can. I even made and drank the coffee.

I divided his ashes four ways. I drove one portion all the way to California. My Brother Russ will scatter those in the Pacific. My sister Amy will scatter her portion in the Atlantic. My sister Wanda will scatter her portion in the Gulf of Mexico.

Carl loved the water.

The water he loved the most in the world was in our home town of Indian Falls New York. We grew up on Indian Falls Road. Plus the actual Indian Falls flowed next to his favorite bar in the world. The Log Cabin.

Just above the Falls, there is a bridge.

I had decided that I would scatter his ashes from the center of the bridge. The closer the time came the more difficult I knew it would be for me. I was initially going to invite a pile of people, then just family, then just my wife, and then, in the end, it was just me. My wife Brenda understood. It was a beautiful day. A perfect day. I parked my car and walked onto the bridge. It was quiet and calm and I took the picture you see on the right above.

I had a private conversation with Carl.

I was glad there was no wind blowing. I slowly began to pour the contents from the can, and something magical happened. Half of the ash dove straight for the water. It was like it was eager to ride the waterfalls again. The other half drifted and was more like smoke in the sunshine. It danced on the breeze below the bridge. It swirled gently like a flock of starlings in the sunshine. It even made a rainbow in the sun as the cloud drifted toward the falls.

I leaned on the railing, for physical and emotional support. My tears followed him into the water below, into eternity.

--I love you, bro. Thanks for being part of my life. Thanks for the Road Trip...

RIP: Duncan Long

Duncan Long

While I was on vacation I found out that Duncan Long had passed away. Duncan was an artist that provided the cover art for some of my novels, Including my first novel, Still Falling. Most recently he created the image of Elizabeth Cruze that is in the cover of Virtues of the Vicious.

When it was released I send him an email to let him know so he could add it to his portfolio. I received no reply. While on vacation I was working on my next novel and sent him another email and also checked his Facebook page. That's when I found out.

This is the last post I remember seeing:

"It is odd how we all know good health is not guaranteed in life, and bad health eventually will come our way -- and then are surprised or even angry when health issues appear. Sometimes not only hope but also stupidity spring eternal in the human condition."

It's odd. The Facebook memorial pages. Fresh on the death of my brother. I know too many people that have passed away and they are still on my friends list...

Duncan's obit is here. He was only 67.

Thanks for the support and encouragement you gave to a new Indie Author. You will be missed.

--Sigh...

RIP: Carl Wilsey

Tony Adams took this at Woodstock Fire Tower

My Brother died yesterday.

He took his final breath while I held his hand.

His final whispered words to me were, "I love you too."

We knew it was coming. I sat up with him for two all-nighters in a row, watching cheesy action films, Godzilla and the Antique Road Show. Mini strokes had taken the left side of his body, but his channel surfing finger was fit until the end.

Carl moved to Virginia about six years ago after he almost died from another health crisis. I flew to Pensacola Florida to get him and Roadtrip back in his car, packed with all his stuff. Carl wasn’t a guy that had a lot of stuff. He traveled light.

He said many times that all he needed was, “somewhere to sleep that will keep the rain off.” He lived for many years on boats. He made living in an RV seem like a waste of too much space. He had built a 300 square foot tiny house before they were cool.

For the last six years, he lived near me, here in Manassas Virginia with my sister’s family. Amy has one of those big, wonderful, houses, always full of children and grandchildren and friends and family and chaos. It more than just kept the rain off.

On Carl's Boat in the 80's

He had a few other small requirements for life: A comfy chair, coffee, “good tuneage,” wheels, movies, and a nice place to sit outside.  

Every week he spent a couple nights at my house. We have a couple guest rooms, but he loved sleeping on the sofa in front of a big HDTV watching chick flicks or Pawn Stars after we had all gone to bed. We had watched over a thousand movies together in those years. Most of them were crap, we knew it, but it wasn’t about the movies. It was about being there.

He liked to cook for us once a week. He’d spend the day shopping, then usually roasting meat in my smoker. Some meals were complete disasters, worthy of sitcom comedy. Some were the best meals of my life. Some were tragic within the last year as his alcoholism got the better of him. But we were together.

Camping at Elizabeth Furnace in 2015

I will miss our camping trips. I will miss sitting outside on lovely days, playing music and telling stories of how the music reminded us of past loves or adventures. I will miss driving out to the airport to talk while we watched the planes and choppers come and go. I will miss what Carl liked to call, “exploring.” We’d wander to placed that were off the beaten path, like the Woodstock fire tower, abandoned factories, cemeteries, creeks, or under bridges to check out the graffiti. Bonus points if the place was restricted in some way. But mostly I will miss our talks. He was there for the publication of every one of my books. He was always encouraging, and interested. Even though he never read a single one of them. Until they were released as audio editions that is. He’s made it easy to decide who the next novel will be dedicated to. I will miss the coffee stops with him. He wasn’t a Starbucks coffee guy, more like McDonald's, Waffle House or better yet a mom and pop diner in the middle of nowhere. I will miss his dreams of winning the lotto and buying a big boat and sailing it from the Chesapeake to Pensacola. He never bought a ticket as far as I know. But he owned that dream.

My coffee went cold as I wrote this. It seems fitting. Carl was the self-proclaimed, “King of Cold Coffee.” Hail to the King.

He didn't want a big funeral service. What he wanted was a quick cremation and his ashes placed in a Folgers coffee can like in the movie The Big Lebowski. We will scatter his ashes in one of his favorite places in all the world. The last roadtrip.

I still have not written his Obit. It will be impossible to boil his life down into a few column inches. So it will be just the facts. Sigh.

--I love you, bro. It has been a pleasure, a privilege and an honor to have you in my life.

RIP - Richard Adams

Hazel: Yes, my lord. I know you.

Black Rabbit: I've come to ask if you'd like to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you, and I know you'd like it. You've been feeling tired, haven't you? If you're ready, we might go along now.

[Hazel looks at all the younger rabbits of Watership Down]
 
Black Rabbit: You needn't worry about them. They'll be all right, and thousands like them. If you come along now, I'll show you what I mean.”

― Richard Adams, Watership Down

RIP Alan Rickman

--Alan Rickman has brought a lot of pleasure into my life. Rest in Peace.

Motivation

Saturday mornings are usually my favorite time to write. I usually wake up at about 5:30am and sneak out of bed (makes my wife love me more).

I usually make coffee while wearing my nightshirt, robe and slippers and in the quiet I crank out a chapter or two in my next novel.

Not today.

I heard last night that one of my friends from school had died. He was 57. Kevin was my brother Eric's best friend. We were a pack of knuckleheads back in the day. We all learned about girls, smoking, drinking, cars, music, movies, work and life together.

I had not seen Kevin in a decade. We emailed infrequently. His health had been failing for year so he didn't travel much anymore. He never seemed to get over my brothers death.

In my short story, The Outer Ring, there is a character based on him. The deep space survey ship The Ventura had a bar on it called Peck's Halfway. Peck was the owner and operator of the place.

I regret not stopping in to visit him my last time visiting home. You always think there will be more time.

Today, I am going to visit a friend. I'm going to hold a baby. I am going to skip ahead and write a sad chapter about loss of a friend, but mostly I'm going to think about Peck. Think about his stupid laugh and his enormous capacity for whiskey and bacon. Think about his face on the other side of the campfire. Think about how scared he was of ghost stories. Think about sitting with him and my brother waiting for trains to just watch them go by.

-- Rest in Peace, Peck. Say hi to Eric for me.

Long Busy Week

My father-in-law, Grandfather to my children, Bert Miller, died last weekend.

He was a day short of his 90th birthday.

He was the last parent of that generation left.

I will miss his smile and the sound of his laugh.

--RIP, Bert.