Meanwhile in San Clemente, California ...
It was not planned that way. Perhaps it was inevitable. But it does seem appropriate that the first two copies of Gepetka, Prince of Gypsies made it to both coasts of the US.
Of the Lifelong Civilians Who Have Driven An Active Duty Aircraft Carrier Club, or LCWHDAADAC Club for short, I am a member.
Yes, that means I have driven an aircraft carrier. The USS Enterprise, the first nuclear powered aircraft carrier, was the vessel. Yes, that is probably one of the coolest things I've ever done.
There was only one problem. I could not stop grinning like a monkey in a banana grove long enough for my daughter to get a picture of me looking cool. Oh, I wanted to be cool. I just could not get over that I was at the helm of a carrier!
You see, I am a boat builder in my other life, my day-job life. I build luxury sport fishing yachts, for the rich and famous, for money. I build rugged work boats, for missionaries working in Haiti, for love. And as a boat builder, to be at the helm of a 95,000 ton warship was akin to holding the Holy Grail. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
These seemingly random dots connect at my daughter, Irene's, Navy service. I have this vivid memory of being on my daughter's ship for three days. They call it a Tiger Cruise. I think that is Navy lingo for “bring your parents to work for a few days.”
Irene has just finished her tour of duty, or contract as they call it, with the Navy, and Gepetka, Prince of Gypsies is dedicated to her.
Really, I am just having a moment of reminiscence here. I hope that all made sense. I also hope you all enjoy the book.
Why I write. Does this need any further description?
Gepetka, Prince of Gypsies, written in honor of daughter Irene.
Why I Write
Am I excited? Yes!
In honor of daughter Irene's service in the US Navy, and on the day which she has officially become a civilian again, I present to you Book 3 in the Kingdom of the Falcon series.
They are short on tact:
Subconsciously she touched the cut on her forehead and asked, “Is it that bad?”
His trance was abruptly broken.“Oh, no,” he waffled, “Well, it is sort of … yeah, it looks pretty bad.”
Long on humor:
She gave him a sidelong look and, leaning toward him, whispered, “An old woman, smelling of liquor, asked if you beat me.”
… “I said I hit you twice as hard as you hit me.”
Completely unpredictable:
The razor-sharp belt dagger was drawn deftly and the frightened Gypsy pricked his thumb deeply. The family of the warlord jumped at the sudden move and the blood welled up deep red and convincing.
And primed for adventure:
The crack across his nose sent him sprawling and, in an instant, Lord Nolridge possessed the sword. …
Gepetka found his voice first and asked what everyone was thinking. “How did you learn that?”
As Lord Nolridge climbed onto Gepetka's cart, he gave the young man a pained look, then slowly replied, “I suppose the same way you learned to be a Gypsy.”
In my career as a facebook stalker, I have discovered that virtually everyone thinks they have the best mother in the world. While the statistical improbability of multi-million simultaneous mutually-exclusive claims being true seems lost on most of the rest of the world, I am skeptical of those claims. They simply can't all be true.
Maybe the first one was the true one and everyone else is a copycat. Or, maybe the one who meant it most was the true one. Could there be a rotating best mom based on some logarithm? I'm not buying any of those theories.
I love my mom and I think she's awesome. That said, it seems absurd to make a completely unsubstantiatable claim of bestness.
First, assuming that one in seven residents of Planet Earth is a mother, that leaves one billion mothers to poll! At one per minute, it would take about 1900 years to do the interviews. Even people who are really bad at math can tell that is not possible.
See. My skepticism is not just me being a wet blanket, it is based on science.
Next, I wonder, are some of those people compensating for past misdeeds from their childhood? In other words, are they trying to bribe their mom out of telling the world what brats they were as kids? My mom is a writer. That cat is already out of the bag for me.
Then it occurs to me! Of course! It is all an elaborate conspiracy. Some of, maybe even most of, my friends on facebook, along with most everyone else, are cyborgs that don't actually have a mother. They are refugees, or worse, invaders from a planet where they are grown in a laboratory run by nefarious minds with no bodies. The "Best Mother" post is an alibi cover! What if they are trying to take over the world?
Only, I know the mothers of a lot of those people.
Maybe, just maybe, my friends are trying to express what they cannot touch with words. I get that, it's called writer's block. Some things just don't convey into language all that well. At least not into English. Maybe what they need is a prompter on facebook. Perhaps a form of adjective suggester would be helpful to broaden people's expressive horizons.
Since facebook isn't cooperating, I offer here a few modest examples:
My mom is so persistent, she got an interview with Governor Jesse Ventura.
My mom is so descriptive, she can elaborate about an escaped horse with at least seventy-five superlatives.
My mom is so directionally challenged, she can find uncharted territory in the middle of a town.
My mom is so first aid savvy, she can field treat most wounds in seconds.
My mom is so good at Taekwondo, she has a black belt! Ha!
My mom is so patient, she can make the best pot of beans ever.
My mom is so tough she raised six kids like me!
So there you have it. Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there, and to everyone who has a mom.
