It Takes A Pillage

If you have been following this blog, and wanted to know if I’d disappeared.  Well, kinda.  I apologize.

There’s a couple of reasons for this:  One, I’ve been very involved in writing screenplays.  As of late I’ve done well in two major contests.  As screenwriting pays very well and contests are one way of breaking in it was a good use of time.

And, quite honestly, there is no joy in writing about corruption, people being used, thrown away in their golden years.  Who wants to hear it?  And, especially in the small world of Reno, Nevada, is it a good thing to talk about.

Yes, it is.  A visit with my eighty-one year old mother recently convicted me of this.

Mom lives with my sister in Las Vegas, and I took some time to drive down and make repairs on their house.  Seems that Vegas has very hard water that makes for interesting pipes.  They haven’t had the best luck finding a good handyman.

After the repairs were done, I hung out with my mother in the kitchen.  Make no doubt, I’m checking for her fire awareness, how she gets around.  Do I need to worry about fire extinguishers?  Is there any possible danger that I can help circumvent?  That day will come, but as of yet, it isn’t here.  Relieved, we settled into a conversation.

“How’s that neighbor of yours doing?” I asked her.  “You know, the one with leukemia.”

“Dee?  She passed away.”

“That’s too bad.  How’s her husband doing?”  Much of my own life and outlook changed after losing my wife to cancer.

“Her husband?”  Mom shook her head; her teeth flashed from laughter.  “Oh he’s gonna be fine.  He was a Mormon, you know.  Gave it up, but he’ll probably go back.”


“Oh,” she said.  “You never heard that story.”






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