barton_fender

Some times when you have a list of things to do and you get them all done that is all you need to have  a good day.

You know I don't mind helping people out even when it is not my job. It is part of being kind and working to make the place you work and live a better place. What I can not stand is when people seem to think that they should have what they want now. As if they are the y ones who matter. Guess what "you are not alone", There are others here who try and help out even after they are treated rudely. When will anyone understand that this should be about "US" not about "ME". I guess we may never know.

OK so when i sit down to write I think why?
The answer is because. Because I should write. I should keep track of what i am doing and things that go on in my life.
First I am very proud of my kids. my oldest, Stormdog to you on LJ takes great photos. I hope he gets around to showing them off more. He is in D.C. right now. I hope he is having a great time.
Middle son James is at Law School. He seems to be doing well there.
My youngest is working on finding a job and making his way in the world.
I do way to much and love it. Directing 4 shows and teaching makes for long 14 hour days.
So for now that's it and hopefully soon there will be more.

What have I been up to lately?

http://bradford.kusd.edu/

the link will take you there.
It should be up until Monday. The show closes Saturday night.

“Mustangs”

By

Bob & Lynn Allen

Prologue

“Unit 5 responding to the call at 12067 MacArthur Blvd.” Ed set the handset back into the cradle with a long, thin arm. His shirtsleeves were stained with sweat despite the air conditioning.

 “--nit 5, acknowl. . .” crackled back over the radio.

 The two paramedics looked at each other. This was their fourth call in the past three hours. So far their night had included a heart attack, an overprotective mom whose son had had a nose bleed, and two senior citizens that had refused to go to the hospital after a jarring fender-bender.

 “Too bad they can’t get us a decent radio. I swear someday we'll miss something important and it'll be our asses that'll be in the sling.”  The larger man shook his head as he put the ambulance in gear without moving his tanned left arm off its perch against the closed window. “Tell me something, Ed. Why is it that when the moon is full we always seem three times as busy?”

 “Well, Ralph, you could always try driving . . .” He was interrupted by Ralph's soft exclamation.

 “What the hell . . .?”

 Ed looked out just in time to glimpse a young woman in a billowing white dress dash headlong across the street a few yards in front of their hood. He blinked and she was gone, swallowed up by an unlit alley. No sound had penetrated the soft hiss of the air conditioning. The speed, the silence, the white dress floating like wings behind her-- it seemed almost surreal. Then the picture solidified itself in his mind; his trained observer's instincts were taking over. The trailing fabric--her dress had been torn. And had that been blood on her back?

 “Holy crap.” Ed grabbed the handset. “This is Unit 5; we have a white female at . . .”

 Once again Ed was interrupted. Ralph swore loudly and twisted the wheel. There was an impact that felt like hitting a wall. The ambulance spun, the world rocked, tires and brakes screeched. Then, almost as suddenly as it had all began, everything was quiet. Even the engine had died.

 Ed clawed the deflating airbag out of the way, trying frantically to see what they had hit, whether anybody in the other vehicle was hurt. It had to have been another vehicle, from the force of the impact. It had to be. So maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, or maybe the airbag had hit him hard enough to scramble his vision, because when he looked out to see what they had struck he saw it and it was looking back at him. And that look was not human. It couldn’t be. Nothing human could get up and run off down an alley after being hit by an ambulance moving 35 mph.

 ***

Act I

 The white was already peeling off the newly painted wall, leaving gray patches that looked like dirt. The ceiling fan turned slowly, casting shadows that reminded Detective Brady of a guillotine. It was bad enough that outside the Dallas sun was beating down on the hard concrete, but with the recent cutbacks in the city budget the temp in the detectives’ room was approaching 90. The stack of case files to his right, the open cases, was showing no signs of shrinking any time soon. They were as much an indicator of the increased crime as the thermometer was of the temperature.

 The room was emptying out as lunch time approached. It was too hot to be hungry, but the thought of a cup of coffee in an air-conditioned restaurant was tempting.

  “Hey, Brady, you coming to eat or are you planning on losing a few more pounds in the sauna?” It was Det. Reynolds, who was demonstrating his mastery of the art of speaking with a toothpick hanging off his lower lip.

 Brady looked over at the toothpick and tapped the stack of files. “Want to try and catch up a bit.”

 “Asskisser, ain't gonna help when the next round of promotions comes.” He laughed softly as he stepped out into the street.

 “Fuck you, loser,” Brady replied to the closing door. He hated having unfinished work, unfiled papers, even loose paperclips, on his desk. He liked his workspace neat and clean. But even as he reached for the top of the stack, he hesitated. Instead, he pulled open a desk drawer, the bottom right-hand one whose warped wood always stuck a bit. The file inside had grown quite a bit in the last week. It wasn't an official case; it was more like a collection of supposedly unrelated events--but the more he looked for things to add to it, the more he found. He opened it up and flipped through, glancing at dates. Jan 20, Feb 19, Mar 19, Apr 18, May 18, Jun 16, Jul 16. People going missing on and around those dates. Not so unusual until you notice that they all lived on MacArthur Boulevard in Irving. Connect that to the fact that the dates are all full moons and you have some very weird shit happening.

 He glanced at the desk calendar. Today was the 13th of August already. The next full moon was coming up fast. “Irving, Texas, here I come. Hmm. I wonder if there's any place around here I can buy silver bullets.” He chuckled to himself as he stepped out into the furnace of the Dallas streets.

 ***

 One of the things Brady loved about living in the south was no road salt. Most of the cars sitting in the garage could almost have just been driven off the lot. That included his own little indulgence. Sure, it was almost 30 years old now. And just as lovely as the day she was made. ’66 Ford Mustang. V8. 5 speed, of course.

 Brady backed out of the stall, pointed her nose down the ramp, and let her float down in first gear. The V-8's power vibrated gently through the leather-wrapped steering wheel, but no sound penetrated the interior of the car. He relaxed into the silence. By the time he reached the street three levels below, there was a faint but definite smile on his face that he probably would have sincerely denied.

 He pulled out into the street, winced, and hastily put his forgotten sunglasses on. The A/C was already roaring. Okay, so there were some bad things about living in the south, as well as good. Sunglasses, broad-brimmed hat on the seat, filled water bottle next to it--these were the perpetual armor and weapons one carried to fight the heat. A little different than Don Quixote's sword and shield, but just as important. And, Brady liked to think, he was fighting the same good fight.

 The car settled onto the highway and Brady's mind settled into business. The drive to Irving was short, not more than 20 minutes, but it gave him enough time to think the facts of the case through one more time.

 1)      In the last seven months, seven people with addresses on or near McArthur Boulevard had been reported missing.

2)      MacArthur Blvd. started, on the north, at the Vista Ridge Mall and ran about 17 miles ending just north of Mountain Creek Lake.

3)       In that 17 miles were 3 county clubs, 3 large lakes and about 4 small ones. Also there were a number parks, homes and strip malls. To top it off, the Dallas airport was just west of the road.

4)      The missing people were both male and female and ranged in age from 16 to 26. Besides their relative youth, they didn't seem to have anything else in common. Unless you wanted to consider it a commonality that they were all, at this point, presumed missing, not dead. No bodies had turned up. Yet.

 The cases hadn't piqued his interest until after reading the report from those two paramedics, from July 16th. They said they had hit something and the front of the ambulance confirmed it. Just what it was, no one was sure. The brown fibers pulled from the grill were short and soft. Fur, not hair. No one was going to pay for a DNA test on a dog or coyote that had the lack of brains to run across the street in front of an ambulance and the luck to survive. Even if the paramedics swore it was a person, not a dog. Even if the woman it was apparently chasing was nowhere to be found. Even if that woman matched the description of someone later reported missing.

 Brady had been putting his own profile together on this. It seemed likely to him that the perpetrator was running on the latest designer drug and pumped full of adrenalin; 98-pound-mom-lifts-car-off-baby type of strength. Drugs did funny things; he'd seen skinny teenage kids have to be held down by four officers with donut-enhanced physiques. This guy was probably taking purses and wallets to keep up his habit and bringing his dog along with him to keep the victim quiet. The paramedics had hit the dog, seen the perp, and gotten the two confused. Hell, he thought, he won’t need silver bullets for this one; his standard clip would do just fine. And if not, he always carried a second clip. And a third.

**

5205 N. O'Connor Drive, Williams Square, was his destination. Brady had gotten a hold of one of the paramedics who had written that report. Could they meet and talk about the July 16th incident? Ed didn’t want any part of it at first. “Ralph and I get enough Honeymooner jokes; I don’t need nut case added to the list.” The detective had persisted and Ed had finally agreed to meet Brady alone, some place where they could talk without the rest of his crew knowing.

“I can meet you at the Mustangs,” Brady had suggested without thinking twice. "Tomorrow at one."

“Fine, but not for long, and one joke out of you and I’m out of there!” was the reply. And now here Brady was. Hopefully Ed would be, too. He glanced at his watch as he pulled into a space by the square. Five minutes early. Good. He liked to be early.

The heat blasted him again as he settled his hat on his head and left the car. As he approached the Mustangs, a light breeze carried a little spray into his face. If you squinted at the water a little, it was a damn good illusion. Nine bronze mustangs, one-and-a-half times life size, forever frozen as they galloped across an artificial stream. The horses were beautifully done, but it was the fountains playing at their feet, the water being kicked up by splashing hooves that never really moved, that created such a feeling of energy and life. Brady found himself reminded of the time he had played the role of the gentleman caller in Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. He had spent long hours taking that great piece and breathing life into it--and in the end, of course, what he had done was splash through the waters of someone else's life without truly being in it.

 Brady suddenly realized he had been standing and staring at the Mustangs for several minutes. He felt a little silly, letting a few tons of metal and a pool of water distract him like that. He turned his mind firmly back to the business of checking out the area. There wasn't much going on; the heat was keeping most people indoors. His watch told him it was five after one. Ed was late, or maybe not showing. It figured.

 The only other person in the square was a young girl, maybe 14, sitting on the opposite side of the pond. She was pale for a Texan in summer, so pale that her yellow sundress seemed almost dark against her skin. Her reddish-blond hair was bobbing as she moved her head to some rhythm he couldn't hear. Probably she had a walkman in her lap, under that big sketchpad she was so busily drawing on. She never seemed to actually look at the paper, though; her eyes never left the Mustangs. Brady couldn't imagine the picture being very good.

 He walked around the pool toward her, stepping over the stream where it narrowed. As he approached she put her pencil down and sat motionless, still staring at the sculpture. Her drawing, to Brady's surprise, was lovely. Beautifully detailed and proportioned, the mustangs on the paper seemed far more alive than the bronzes in front of her.

  “Hello?” said a small soft voice that drew his attention back to the girl. “Can I help you, sir?”

 One thing about most kids in Texas--they still said "sir" and "ma’am" when talking to an older person. Some kids did it with an obvious mocking tone, but Brady could tell this girl meant the respect the words were supposed to demonstrate.

 “Good afternoon, young lady. Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

 “They told me I could talk to policemen. You are a policeman, aren’t you?” She had turned and was looking toward him, but not really at him. More like straight through him.

 

 

 

At times I wonder what I did with things I can not find. Some times it’s my phone, or my wallet. This time I am trying to find out what I did with a hard drive in my computer. I know what you’re thinking “how hard can it be to find a hard drive?” Well the answer is very hard when the hard drive doesn’t want to be found. I not sure what I did to it to hurt its feelings but it seems to be sulking somewhere beyond my reach.

With Valentines Day just around the corner it seems that perhaps if I tried to make up to it somehow. But just what kind of flowers does a hard drive like? Does it like chocolate, and if the answer is yes I’m not sure if I should get white or dark chocolate for it. The only thing I know for sure is that it's favorite color is electric blue.

So I guess I’ll just be nice to my computer in hopes that my hard drive will forgive me, come out of hiding and give me a second chance.

P.S.

If you’re having trouble finding the internet, I really didn’t mean to misplace that as well. I’ll try not to lose it again.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

Today is one of those days in which everything seems to rush up on me.

I am sure thats never happened to you.. Everyone else plans out their days and never changes plans.

Today I was looking forward to being at home and putzing around the house. Now I going over to a freinds to spend the day and most of the night. Thats why I writing now. I told myself that I would do a blog a day, and so i am try to do it.

I am looking forward to seeing my friends. Its been a while and I am sure that by the time the day is over I will have had a great time. I always do. At some point I will have to write about things that happen when plan change.

I just remember a quote I once heard. "Life is what happens when your planning to do other things."

I look forward to that.

Friday, December 28, 2007

OK. I still look forward to a good snow storm. Theres something about the white snow softly falling and giving everything a crisp clean look.

Theres the thought of the school closing and getting a day off you didn't expect. The dream of snowball fights and sledding, ending in a cup of hot chocolate.

Maybe your mind wanders to sitting in front of a fireplace reading a book.

Or even more to being with the person you love, snuggling up against the wind and snow.

So I ask myself then why, today when the snow is falling and it is piling up on the window pane outside, am I cleaning cabinets and rearranging my kitchen? Shouldn't I be outside in the brisk, cold, late December air? Wouldn't I be better served by enjoying a book that I have been longing to read and sipping on hot chocolate? Shouldn't I at least sleep in a little late?

It is then that the ugly head of adulthood raises up and reminds me that I have certain responsibilities that I must deal with. I now have a house to maintain, children still living under my roof, and of course a wife to keep happy. The dreams of running in the snow, dodging snowballs, or reading a book take a backseat to the things that adults have to do.

Maybe its a sign of growing up that I take pleasure in seeing my cabinets clean with all the spice bottles in a row, not in alphabetical order, I haven't gone that far in to the realm of adulthood. Throwing out the old things that were half used or would never be used. Finding things I had put away and forgotten and now look forward to making them.

Maybe its that my clean cabinets remind me of the fresh snow sitting outside on my window pane. Right now they have a crisp clean look to them. It seems as if there is an unlimited number of things that can be done with or to them.

In truth I think that my clean cabinets are like the fresh snow. They are both clean, they are both in a state of newness, and they are both waiting for me to come and play in them.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

So today I sat down and worked on the stamp book I got for Christmas. It was a wonderful gift from my family. One that I will enjoy for years.

I enjoy stamps, back in June I bought myself a World stamp book. I thought to myself "Self, get the world book for stamps. The stamps from around the wold are colorful and show you different things from around the world." I agreed with myself and bought it. When I got home I started to go through a bag of world stamps. Starting my exploration of the world though beautiful yet small pictures in living color. It was only then that I discovered the mistake, the flaw in my postage plan to travel the world.

Yes you guessed it . . . I'm an American.

Like many of my fellow Americans out there I never learned another language, and like the current President I to had a C average in high school. I found that try as I might I would have had to go page by page, looking over thousands of pictures of thousands of stamps to find where the one stamp I had in my hands went. After a day or two of trying and finding the resting spots for only 6 stamps , I gave up on the world tour. Sure every so often I go back and try to place another stamp. I wander the world on those sections of paper. I gaze longingly at the black and white pictures hoping that someday I will find the stamp that rest there and see what that place in the world looks like in color.

Until then I will find places for my American stamps to call home. I know many of the stamps that are in the book. Many I have used and enjoyed over the years. I will be happy searching for stamps in out of the way place to give homes to, but deep down there will always be a part of me that wishes I had learned more at a younger age. That I had understood the value of other language's. So that perhaps I could have explored more than just colorful pictures on shiny pieces of paper with stick'em on the back. I might have been able to explore more of the real world, the world beyond the page.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

As the Christmas season is drawing to a close I start to really think about the questions "Will any else I don't know ever read my blog?" comes to mind.

I decided to title each blog entry with a quote. Not a real quote but, one that I create, This is a tip of the hat to Robert Asprin. One of my best loved writers. His Myth books have them starting each chapter. They are a fun way to start each entry and will hopefully bring people back, even if its only to read the quote.

This is my sixth entry in as many days, far better than I have ever done before when it comes to blogging, and only my son and wife have read it.

I know what your going to say "My God man give it time, someone will find it."

So I come to my question. How do people find a blog? Are they mousing around the internet one day and their mouse trips over my blog that is laying about somewhere in the vast electronic internet sidewalk? They look down and say " oh my, whats this laying about? Why its a blog from some theater teacher. I wonder if it worth my time?" Then comes the fateful decision. Will he click it up and read it? Will he click it in his pocket to look at later? Or will he mouse over it unclicked and leave it sitting lonely, waiting for some other mouse to come along and trip over it?
Perhaps there is some internet being who knows all and reads all that is on the internet. This blog being could find what I write worthy of being read and mysteriously point others to my blog. "Hey Ed look what I found in my e-mail! NO not another are you lonely tonight e-mail. Its some blog from a theater teacher. What do you think I should do?" Will they look at it? Will they delete it? Will it sit in their inbox until their account ends?
Or is it just a matter of hoping that some one will put in a word search that matches one of my labels. They follow it and read my entry. If they like it they may read others and maybe, just maybe even subscribe.

I guess in the long run, I like many other not to internet savvy bloggers, will just take time and search the experience's of others in hope of finding the key to getting people to click it and read the blog. If I only get a smile from my quotes it will be well worth it

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

First Merry Christmas to all.

Second I have to say that this morning I got the present I look forward to very year. Making breakfast for all my kids and their wife and girlfriend.

We never have a normal conversation at any of our meals when everyone gets together.

Today my two oldest sons got into a "not serious" discussion about politics. When all was said and done we determined that water boarding is torture no matter who does it and that it all stems from Chris throwing sand in James eyes when James was about 6.

Everyone liked their gifts and I will start putting together my stamp books in a few days. My wife did a wonderful job of finding things I had talks about wanting during the year. although I was not ready for the bath towels, I came to the realization that she has gotten so much better at remembering things I had talked about and coming up with gift ideas for me that the towels mean more to me than other thing i could have gotten. I am very lucky to have her in my life.

I am also thankful for having three sons who have grown into good, decent young men. It would seem that my wife and I did a good job in raising them.

So as an other Christmas comes to an end I can only say that I wish as much joy and happiness to you and yours as I feel about my own. and remember . . .

"God Bless Us Everyone!" - T Tim

Monday, December 24, 2007

For so long now Christmas has been a family time. From when I was growing up All the aunts and uncles would come over with their kids to see Grandma and Grandpa at the house in Libertyville.

I would lay in bed on Christmas eve waiting for Santa to come to the house. I would also be waiting for the rest of the family.

Christmas was more than the presents under the tree. It was a time when I got to see many of my cousins. Trust me there were a lot of them. The house was filled with the sound of talk and laughter. Smells of Christmas cooking fill every inch of the house.

In the end everyone would go home and it would be just my mom, grandma, grandpa and me. But the Christmas feeling was still there. The memories lingered far longer then the smells of cookies and ham.

Now I don't see them like I use to. My mom side of the family all have their own Christmas traditions that they follow. I am sure that many of their grand children wait to see them and their aunts and uncles. With the smells of Christmas in the air. Laying awake after words with the feeling of wonder in their minds at what a wonderful time they have had. Looking forward to next year.

I have my own family now. We go to my wifes side of the family for holidays. I love them all and they have filled me with new memories of Christmas and love. In ways that are different and yet the same as when I grew up.

In the truest sense they don't need to get me anything for Christmas. They have given me a gift that goes far beyond anything money can buy. They have given me a family with love and hope. People to share with.

When I go home the memories will be with me long after the smells and sounds of Christmas day are gone.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

I know everyone thinks teaching is so easy, or so hard, but you get all this time off!
Well in the last two days I have put 14 hours into a project, ( sure its a Christmas present for my in laws, who are great. I don't have to say that they don't read blogs that I know of.) but also spent the last 3 1/2 hours on the kitchen really cleaning the frig. Most of the main household people, be they women or men, are now saying "Now you know what it like!"
Well I was a house husband for 16 years and the primary care giver for my 3 sons and I don't remember it being this hard.
As a great man once said when told he was getting old . . .
" its not the age, its the mileage" I. Jones
Only 9 more days and I can go back to doing the easy things. Working with high school students.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Ok, so i am going to try and keep a blog going. This may not be a good thing. In early times, meaning up thru the middle ages and a bit farther, The person who would stand in the town square, or walking around town, and talk to himself was looked on as a "special" person ( in modern terms they rode the short bus). Today we just figure there on a cell phone. Now we are given the chance to talk to ourself all we want and people can choose to listen to us or read us to be more precise.
This is much more along the lines of people standing in the town square and talking about things that are important to them and to the community as a whole while standing on a soapbox. The questions is with more people talking about things that are personal and less community based will history look back and say that this was a good thing?
In the long run I think it is. It is the chance for people to connect on a level that means more than just a superficial glance.
How important will be left up to the individual.

Ok this may be a tacky way to start out a online log. I am looking for people to sign up and complete one offer. This is for a free ipod. You then are ask to refer 5 friends who need to complete the form and one offer. With any luck this might work and some of us may get a free ipod. Is it free if you need to complete a offer??
Here the link for the ipod. Good luck and thanks. Please feel free to post my link to others places so more people can get a free (?? The question still lingers) ipod.

http://www.freeiPods.com/?r=15682495