Musings on the CoronaVirus

My stomping ground, sans people.

We winter in San Diego. Nothing against the grandkids, but everything against snow, cloud cover, and biting cold. This year we got chased home before Easter by something we couldn't even see. A little bugger. For a couple days, I wondered if we did the right thing. Our San Diego condo is walking distance to everything. If fuel became a problem, we could still live there forever.

Now, I'm glad we're ensconced in Omaha, Nebraska. During the Cold War, the Air Force put the Strategic Air Command in Omaha because it was smack-dab in the middle of the country, which made it harder to hit with a big ol' honkin' ICBM. Evidently, that pesky little virus has trouble hitting it as well. At any rate, we have the bug, but not nearly as severely as the rest of the country.

In the meantime, California has gone coconuts. The whole state is in lock down. You can't walk with anyone who doesn't reside in the same house. You can't walk on the beach. You can't walk on the strand. You can't go in the ocean. You can't surf. (By the way, the best surfing is getting a wave to yourself. So, social distancing helps make a great day in the water.) The police can even ask you why you're walking on the sidewalk.  I wish people well and hope this isolation protects the health of Californians.

As for Nebraska, we're under similar guidelines but, for the most part, enforcement is on the honor system and disciplined by peer group pressure. I'm not sure it's any different, but it feels less onerous. I hope it continues along this line, but that will depend on the behavior of people. So far, so good.

As for myself, I haven't left the house and yard for a few weeks. Okay, a few walks around the neighborhood. But that's it. Honest. My daughter keeps calling to see if I'm bored yet. I keep reminding her that I'm a writer. I just sit down at a keyboard and transport myself to another place and time. Without friends, relatives, or the ocean interfering, I'm getting more done than usual.

I am getting nostalgic, however. I pine for the days when I could run out of the house on a whim, hug my grandkids, and have dirty hands.

Ah, for the good ol' days.

By the way, if you're bored, try one of these. They'll take you to another place and time. Unfortunately, when you set them aside, they'll drop you right back in the same world.

Honest stories filled with dishonest characters.

The Weather Outside is Frightful

WTH

Every year, I leave my home in Omaha after Christmas to spend the winter in San Diego. I return each Easter to spend the holiday with family. What’s an egg hunt without grandkids, nieces, and nephews? This schedule has worked out great in past years. I avoid the worst of winter in the Midwest, visit my west coast friends and relatives, bask in the sun, get a little surfing in at Pacific Beach, and return for glorious springtime on the plains. Only not this year. This year, they predict snow three times this week. There’s not a leaf in sight. The prominent color is brown. And polite Midwesterners are a bit grumpy.

I even built a fire the first night to ward off the chill. With the thermostats set at fifty in our absence, the couch cushions made us wrap in blankets. Yeah, “But the fire is so delightful.”

Deluge is still at the editors, but I expect it back soon, which will keep me busy. I also have three more essays to write for this year’s Constituting America’s 90-Day study. Lots of indoor work. Unfortunately, I have a couple problems that need attention in the garage, which is more like an icebox. Oh well, whenever I get lethargic writing, I can get my blood moving again by doing garage chores. 

Or … maybe I’ll check for discount airfares back to San Diego.

"There is no friend as loyal as a book.” Ernest Hemingway

We’re putting the finishing touches on our new home in Omaha. We bought a 1948 ranch style house that needed major updating.  In our last three homes we've had a library. Not this time. Instead we will a wall of bookshelves in our entry and another in a multipurpose basement. I plan on doing most of my writing on the sun porch.

This is a picture of Sting’s library in London as presented in Book Riot’s article “Libraries of the Rich and Famous.” None of our previous libraries ever looked anything like this. Darn. If I had piles of money, my new home would have a dedicated room for our book collection. It would include a very comfortable chair for me to sit in as I read my Kindle.

Return from New York City

We had a great visit to the Big Apple. Father/daughter cruise around Manhattan, grandson playing a double header on Randall's Island, a bowling outing on Chelsea Pier, plus monopoly, XBox Madden Football, and myriad other games. I don't know how many times we made the trip between the West and East side. Whew! I'm tired and happy to be sitting quietly in Omaha. Except, not so quietly. My daughter reminded me we have a formal event this evening and her kids are anxious to see us after school today. If it wasn't so much fun, I'd run for cover.

One of the things I need to figure out is a new writing schedule. Since moving for Arizona to Omaha, my schedule has been erratic. The grandchildren have been the easiest. After all, they go to school during the week. The big problem is that I had forgotten how much work it was to change a legal residence. A new mortgage, cars, licenses, insurance, address changes, utilities, voter registration, etc, etc all demand personal attention. Then we have this new house we intend to wreck, then refurbish and re-skin. This is a big change for someone used to spending five or six hours a day sitting in a chair writing about his friends' adventures.

That's what my characters are: friends. I miss them. Besides, it takes nearly a year to get a book written and published. I've begun the research, which means I’m reading about the historical location and plot points. It’s all good prep work, but it’s also an easy way to procrastinate. I need to get seriously committed to writing. That’s when I get excited and can’t wait to get back to the keyboard.

Until now, I wrote an entirely different book between each of the Steve Dancy Tales. I wanted my approach to Steve and his friends to remain fresh, and I thought regular breaks from the series would do the trick. I believe the tactic has helped, but also has hurt building a stronger following. Two years between books causes some readers to wander off to another place and time. Besides, the Dancy books sell very well and the series has built an ardent fan base. So … my next book will be the fifth in the series.

Where I go from there, I’ll decide next year.

Steve Dancy Tales

Turning a house into a home

Yesterday we walked our new house with a contractor. Whew, do we have a lot of work to do. Just about everything we own is in storage awaiting re-engineered heating, new flooring, scrapped ceilings, updated plumbing, and lots of paint. Guess our stuff will be hidden away in a dark warehouse awhile. In the meantime, we’ll stay in an apartment and make frequent visits to our renovation project. I already warned the contractor to expect to see us daily, so he should bid accordingly.

Our house may not be ready, but family and Omaha friends have already made us feel welcome. We were even welcomed by the Department of Motor Vehicles and the Douglas County Treasurer. The people in Omaha sure are friendly.

I’m hoping the temporary quarters will give me plenty of time to write. I already started researching the next Steve Dancy Tale. That means I’m reading books about the places Steve and his friends might visit. Reading about the Old West is fun, but I’m getting anxious to start writing. Especially, since I’ve come up with a tentative title. I hesitate to share it because it may change, but for now it will be called, Jenny’s Revenge.

A Surfer in Nebraska?

We arrived Friday evening in Omaha. It was late and we were very tired. Eight hundred and sixty miles of driving in a single day tends to do that to a worn out old body. I can’t imagine the hardships the pioneers endured. Brave souls.

Omaha, Nebraska is the geographic center of the nation. In the early days of the Cold War, the Pentagon put the Strategic Air Command headquarters outside Omaha to make it harder to hit. This means you can’t live in the United States and be further from a breaking wave.  So why would a lifelong surfer head for Nebraska? To be close to my grandkids who live in Omaha and closer to the ones who live in NYC. Besides, we still have a small condo in Pacific Beach to escape harsh winters on the Great Plains. Ironically, we bought our San Diego place to escape the scorching Arizona summers. (Arizona has two seasons: winter and hell.) I just need to convert from a summer surfer to a winter surfer. Thank goodness for wetsuits.

I’m going to enjoy writing Westerns from Nebraska. Omaha and the surrounding territory have a great Western heritage. In some respects, pockets of Arizona remain the Wild West, but Omaha nurtured the move west for many of the pioneers. Besides, it will be a great take-off point for trips to South Dakota, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. These are all states I’ve visited several times, but want to spend more time exploring. It all ought to be great fun.

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Rolling, rolling, rolling

It is time to move on. We've sold our Arizona house and start our trek to Nebraska today. Actually, the house closed a week ago and we have been catching our breath in our condo in San Diego. I got in a couple of days of fun surfing on both ends of the Labor Day holiday weekend. (I avoid the water on holidays … it’s just tooo crowded.)

We lived in Arizona for 22 years, so this is a big change, but we have five reasons to move to Nebraska— all of them live at my daughter’s house.  Here are three of them.

By the way, I’m bringing Steve Dancy with me. I've started the research on the fifth book in the series and it will be out sometime next year. Happy reading.

Good vittels, lovin', kissin' 
Are waiting at the end of my ride 

Move 'em on, head' em up 
Head 'em up, move' em on

Move 'em on, head' em up 
Rawhide 

Off to Omaha

In the morning, I'll catch a flight to Omaha. Some of you may have read that I am moving from Arizona to Omaha. Not this trip. I'm going to Nebraska to close on our new house, but unfortunately our home in Arizona has not yet sold. Soon ... we hope.

We have gotten ready to move. The Salvation Army truck driver knows our address by heart, the trash barrel is jam packed every pick-up, and our stuff has never been so neat. All we need is a solid offer and we are gone.

There is one thing I need to take care of before we can go. In a prior life, I ran corporate data centers. For novelty, I had an IBM 083 Card Sorter in my office. It worked perfectly and everyone who came in felt compelled to run a deck of cards through this ancient machine.

It still works. And it is in my garage. When I moved on to another career, my staff gave it to me as a going-away present. That was kinda cool. Except movers charge by the pound, and this baby weights a ton. It is 1950s construction and appears to be solid steel. Anyway, I threw it up on Graig's List. No bites yet, but sooner or later someone will spot it and say, hell, I always wanted one of those. I've got a Fortan program on a stack of cards around here some place. It'd be fun to watch those cards fly through that sorter. Yep, someone will lust after this miracle of early computing technology ... or maybe not.

I wonder how much it would bring at a Goodwill store.