A better word than hope?

Soon after I began writing my third novel, I realized that it was going to center around the theme of hope. I’d already gone with such lofty themes as peace and joy in my first two novels, so when it came to the big words in life, I felt like I was on a roll. It helped that my protagonist was an aging athlete, and I wanted to him to find the one thing that I’d noticed aging robbed humans of most often.

But hope wasn’t quite the word I meant, any more than peace and joy had been with the first two books. I was trying to talk about refusing to let go of fears and animosity from the past, and refusing to give others a chance based on old experiences. And I was talking about the belief that humans cannot change, that they cannot learn to be, or choose to be, better.

Having already written two stories that took place on opposite sides of the globe, I decided to place this third tale more or less halfway in between. That took to me to the southern reaches of North America; to Belize, Guatemala and Southern Mexico. It also to took me to my own home in Houston. “Hope” looked to be a perfect theme as my research led me to the history of the civilizations and their clashes in this heated part of the globe.

By now, I knew I was doing a rainbow with my books. This was fueled by my love of physics and my fascination with light (or more correctly the electromagnetic spectrum) and I was already planning to give light waves a starring role in this third story. The fact that rainbows had been used over the years to symbolize racial harmony, and LGBT acceptance, was an added plus.

The rainbow thing meant that this book had to be yellow, which was perfect. Yellow is for bright sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day. Yellow is for the first flowers poking through the winter snow. My book was bright yellow for a word that means

the belief that the ills of the past are not an inevitable part of the future, and the knowledge that life can be better, and will be better, if we do our best to make it so.

We do need a word for that.

 

(For more thought on words we need, see A better word than loyalty?, A better word than peace?, A better word than joy? and A better word than courage?)

 

Missing the Eclipse: There is Always Another?

I’ve wanted to see a total eclipse of the sun for as long as I can remember. I was a child who was fascinated by astronomy. By sixth grade I’d read every book that Jefferson West Elementary School had on the subject and I’d moved on to the Hays public library and was making pretty good progress there.

But it takes money, often a lot of money, to get the the remote locations in which that thin strip of totality seems to always lie. So, imagine my excitement when I read last February that a swatch of total eclipse was going to reach from Oregon to my home state of North Carolina.

Then, imagine my reaction when I realized that I would not be here for the big event. Days earlier I had booked non-refundable airline tickets for four to Kenya for the safari trip of a lifetime. No, the eclipse would not be visible in Kenya. No, the tickets could not be changed. Maybe I should have checked, but seriously, who looks at a schedule of eclipses before they plan a trip?

I cut my losses, focused on the excitement of my upcoming journey, and tried to ignore the ever-increasing hype about the eclipse as mid-August approached.

I had a great time in Kenya. And, the good old reliable sun provided me with a lot of beautiful photos, so I didn’t feel completely cheated out of celestial beauty.

Meanwhile, some of those closest to me headed over to nearby Charleston SC for nature’s big show. Our home near Asheville wasn’t in the path of totality. But, we have kin in Charleston, and it seemed like  a terrific place to view an eclipse: all that wide expanse of ocean, all those great restaurants and things to do, and a relative’s condo that was available for free.

Only the total eclipse didn’t happen quite as expected. Yes, the moon passed in front of the sun for a couple of minutes, but it never got dark, like in the NASA photo shown at the top of this post. It was more dusky, like part way through a sunset. According to some theories, light from outside the totality band was reflected off of the ocean, preventing complete darkness. Whatever the cause, an iPhone captured totality like this. It was a cool experience, according to those who were there, but not quite the extreme event they were lead to expect.

I’m in Charleston today, thinking about the eclipse that I missed. That was about 28 days ago and we are back to the new moon. This time, the moon won’t pass directly in front of the sun, at least from where I am sitting. But it will from somewhere, even if that somewhere is out in space.

Sooner or later, I hope to find a way to put myself directly in that shadow. Will the experience live up to all of my expectations? Maybe. Maybe not.

Meanwhile, here is how the sun, and that invisible new moon, are looking today in the Charleston area, just one full cycle of the moon later.

Not too shabby. If this is the best solar event I get to see for awhile, I’m not going to feel so bad about it.

 

Seasons in the Sun

There is something special about this time of year, when daylight is at its shortest. Any time we get to spend in the sunlight becomes precious, or maybe we are just more inclined to realize how precious it is.

sunset (3)My post about it today is poignant. Over the past couple of days. I’ve learned that three people I knew have died. The first I knew as a high school boy who was my partner in chemistry lab. He passed away suddenly at his home a few days ago, according to the online obituary I learned about on Facebook. I remember him for singing the Doors classic “Light my Fire” every time we got the Bunsen Burners out. His memory always makes me smile.

The second, a co-worker of mine for decades, was one of those people with whom one has continual clashes in the office. He wasn’t a bad guy, we just never resonated well. He retired and I just learned via social media that he died peacefully at home in September. Now I wish I had said something kind to him before he left the company, to wish him well.

The third was Brian Rush, a more experienced online writing buddy who was in part responsible for my diving into the self-publishing world like I did. He was kind and helpful to me, and I enjoyed his books. The best I can do to thank him now is to provide a link to his work.

In spite of the odd news that came in threes, the last couple of days here have been unseasonably warm and sunny with a bright blue sky. I can’t say whether it was the news of the deaths or the season’s relative lack of sunshine that kept me sitting on my porch, feeling the warmth on my face while a host of Christmas-related chores went undone.

Because the winter solstice is part of the plot in z2, when I went searching for bubblegum music for my hero Alex to enjoy, “Seasons in the Sun,” made famous in 1974 by Canadian singer Terry Jacks, was an easy choice to include. I though of it as a schmaltzy fun song, and I suppose that it is. But today I played the video that I link to in z2, and let myself shed a tear or two in spite of Terry Jacks 70’s hair and background props.

We do all realize that our seasons in the sun are short and to be savored. We really do. We just forget it sometimes. So please, enjoy the video, and find yourself some sunlight to appreciate over the next few days.