Welcome to Missouriana - 3

As promised, today I want to take you to an unknown little town with one product that's known world-wide. But first, I would be remiss if I didn't add my concern for all those in the path of Irene. She's been a bad girl, raising cain from all those little island paradises all the way to Canada. Saying it could have been worse seems pretty trite, especially if you're one of those whose lives has been impacted by the storm. You have my full sympathy if you've suffered damage.

I debated whether to forego this post for a week, but felt it best to keep on carrying on. I carry on well, too, as my wife will attest if need be. We just returned from our weekend excursion to a nearby state park with our dogs. They look forward to the trip to Knob Noster State Park, where they often get to see deer, rabbits, squirrels, and lots of birds. People, too, mostly with their dogs. Its a great place to experience Missouri outdoors, with lots of walking trails as well as camping sites galore. For a tiny little park, it offers more than its share of outdoor living at its best.

Located a few blocks from Knob Noster, a tiny little town that has only one thing going for it other than the park, Whiteman AFB is the home of the B-2 bomber, the stealth bomber that has gained a world-wide reputation in recent years. You've probably never heard of Knob Noster before today, and I doubt you knew of this neat little park. But I daresay, if you've kept up with any of our war news, you have heard of this one-of-a-kind aircraft. There are other goings on at Whiteman, but if I told you about them, I'd have to hunt you down and kill you. LOL Suffice it to say that what goes on here affects our war efforts on a daily basis.

Hunting is not permitted at KNSP, either. You can fish in the lakes, walk the trails, camp and cook, walk your dogs. But leave your guns at home.

I'm posting some photos of the area for your enjoyment. The last one is not related to the park or the air base, but its that time of year, folks. This is when I cease being a benevolent purveyor of all things good and true, and turn to my 'real' identity. Have a look at my 'Nebras-kat'. Yep, I'm one of those pesky Husker fans who inhabit Husker World. We may not win every game, but we always exhibit the qualities of a winner. Don't ask how my little white kitty got those red eyes, though. I could tell you, but I'd have to hunt you down and kill you. LOL (again)

Missouriana Sunday:Week Two

Welcome back to all of you who were with me last week when we visited Blackwater, Missouri, and a hearty welcome to you who are visiting this site for the first time. This week, we're going to drive a few miles closer to the Missouri River, to a small village that boasted a thousand inhabitants in the middle of the nineteenth century. Now, a modest home of less than a hundred, it is still one of the more famous tourists stops in mid-Missouri. We're going to visit Arrow Rock, originally named Philadelphia but renamed almost immediately for its most famous treasure; a river bluff comprised almost entirely of flint rock that has been used for the making of tools and weapons for a millennium.

Sitting above the Missouri River at a spot where the Arrow Rock Ferry used to carry Santa Fe Trail passengers across the big muddy, today's town is all about bed and breakfast lodging, antique and collectible bartering, and tourist traffic. The entire village has been on the National Registry of Historic Sites since the early nineteen sixties.

Shortly after that, it was used as the setting for the filming of Mark Twain's popular book, Tom Sawyer. The home that sported the white picket fence the protagonist schemed to get whitewashed still stands in the middle of the town, though that fence is now state of the art plastic. I guess nobody is gullible enough to volunteer to whitewash it these days.

Drive further down the main street and, on the left a block away, you'll see the most famous attraction in Arrow Rock; the Lyceum Theater. The Lyceum is the only professional playhouse between St. Louis and Kansas City, giving a five month season of productions by prominent actors and crews every year. The house seats just over four hundred patrons and is booked solid play after play, year after year. Quite an accomplishment for a village of only forty five full time residents, with another thirty three who live there part of the year.

I hope you enjoy the photos we've taken of some of the houses in town. And if you're ever in mid-Missouri, you might want to drive down Highway 41 and spend a little time in Arrow Rock. One word of caution; When you drive down the main street, be careful if you turn off onto a side street. There are rock-lined ditches that make the transition a bumpy one. Maybe that's where some of that flint ended up. LOL

Next week, we're going to take my dogs for a walk in a tiny but scenic State Park. Meanwhile, happy reading, everybody.

Pat Dale

A New Direction

I'm all smiles. The heat has finally broken here, and the weather the last few days is more than welcome. Sorry, for those of you who are still suffering from the summer blahs. While taking our dogs for their customary weekend treks to some of our state parks, it hit me how very fortunate I am to live in the midst of scenic beauty that has withstood the test of time.
While contemplating my good fortune, I recalled an idea I had several years ago. There are many little spots here that draw tourists year after year, but also some that are not on the beaten trail. A few, known mostly by those who live nearby, deserve a bit of attention.
So, in the days and weeks ahead, I'm dedicating this blog to a combination of photos and narrative that will introduce you to my world. I ask you to bear with me, as this is my first attempt to mix photos and text on this blog; an adventure in progress. LOL
My first trek is to a town by a seldom used railroad, a meandering river, and the ghosts of glory days past; Blackwater, Missouri. There are buildings left there that echo those ghosts, but also a few hardy souls remain to handle the constant influx of wanderers, who mostly arrive (and leave) in the summer. The old Iron Horse Hotel still accomodates folks, operating as a bed and breakfast these days. It's called Iron Horse because it sits beside the train station at the edge of town. Once an establishment where my wife and I dined on fine cuisine, it is another reminder of days past.

Speaking of my wife, Patricia's dad once was Blackwater's town marshall. The fact that he was six feet six, and weighed a hefty three hundred pounds of pure muscle probably factored in the town's decision to let him ride herd on the rowdy crowd that filled the town night after night. I'm told things quieted down a lot after Red Stoecker laid the law down; and I have it on good authority that he laid a few of those rowdies right on their skinny bottoms, too. (good thing he and I got along well, huh?)

Oh, yeah. That meandering river is the Blackwater, and it still gives the locals fits when it floods. Good thing Blackwater (the town) is on the high side of Blackwater (the river). So, if you're ever coming down I-70 in western Missouri, look for the Blackwater turnoff. It's a few miles west of Pilot Grove, and an easy three miles north. For those of you who fancy antiques, that is the major industry of quaint, colorful, but almost left behind Blackwater, Missouri.

That's it for this time around. Next week, a visit to a town that has been the setting for a movie, and not just any movie, but a film recreation of Missouri's most famous author. Stay tuned. PD

RISK GETTING BURNED

There are many ways of getting burned; stick your hand into a fire, buy a piece of inferior merchandise without guarantee, commit to a relationship with an unstable partner. But the one I reference has nothing to do with those kinds of activities. My book, DANCE WITH THE DEVIL, tells the story of how a good man finds himself at odds with devilish forces. Buddy Wilson contends with evil men and evil spirits as he tries valiantly to save the young woman who's captured his heart. Robin Blaik is the woman, and she has her own moment where she faces eternity, helpless to do anything about it.
One of the visitors to our author roast and toast yesterday, urged me to submit a second excerpt of the book. It was not possible to do that, but I promised I would release one today, and what follows should give the reader a sense of why I named the book as I did. DANCE has moments of fun and gaiety, but in its heart, is a deeply troubling vignette of what happens when kids dabble in Satanism. Based in part on true facts from a quarter century ago, the story deepens to the point where some die, some are maimed, and none escape unscathed.
One caution: the excerpt is graphic and violent and not suitable for youngsters to read. Or, if you are easily frightened.


Excerpt:
Late at night the bad bunch came back into the barn. She could tell by their slurred speech they’d been drinking a lot. This could be a good thing or it could turn out very bad. If they passed out, it would give Buddy time to find her. If they didn’t, there was no way to know what this gang would do next.
Several of them disappeared for a few minutes, and then came back carrying a live goat. She could do nothing but watch as they tethered it to the table in front of her; then moved back when Greg took the sword and stood over the hapless animal.
He grinned at Robin and brought the sword down sharply. The goat’s head bounced off the table and landed by the altar rail with the hapless animal’s blood spurting everywhere. This time he took the bowl and shared it with all the others.
While they were drinking from the bowl, Greg came over and placed the bloody blade to her throat. “What do you think now, bitch?”
“I think you’re sick and need serious help. You going to kill me or will you let me go?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m going to let you go for sure. You’re getting a one way trip to hell.” He turned to the others. “Okay, my brothers. It’s time for our special offering.”
His words froze her heart. What did he mean? Surely not what it seemed. Even crazed as he was, he wouldn’t do that, would he? She fought to avoid passing out. Several pairs of rough hands freed her from the rope and straps, groping her as they did.
She’d been restrained so long her muscles wouldn’t respond when she tried to resist. After thoroughly feeling her up, they lifted her and laid her on her back in the pool of goat’s blood. Before she could cry out, someone slapped a strip of tape over her mouth. Within seconds, she was tied down, spread-eagled, and staring up into Greg’s wild eyes. He stood over her with the sword held high just as he’d done with the goat. Terror squeezed the breath from her body as she watched him poised and ready to strike.

The story doesn't end here, but it gets worse before it gets better, if you can decipher that. I hope you'll have a chance to read DANCE WITH THE DEVIL for yourself. You can see how the story comes out, and hopefully enjoy a saga that reminds us that even in modern times, we are not that much removed from the pioneers who settled the land where the story takes place. Life, indeed, does repeat itself. Viva life!

DANCE WITH THE DEVIL is available at: http://www.museituppublishing.com
Or you can find it at Barnes and Noble, and at Amazon.com and other fine booksellers.

A Devil of a Dance

DANCE WITH THE DEVIL is available now at: http://www.museituppublishing.com
A romantic family saga, the story is set in scenic but remote northern Nebraska, where the natural beauty belies an ugly underbelly where infidelity, incest, and illegitimacy are the local norm.
Rather than give you the typical blurb and excerpt, I want to talk about a time in our recent history when Satanism reared its evil head in our public schools. My tale stems from a couple of decades ago around the time several school shootings occurred, done by seemingly normal kids without motive or logic. The events were shocking and deadly, and left us wondering what had taken over those kids' minds. I can answer that with one word--devil worship. Well, I guess that is two words.
As a teacher in a small community, I witnessed similar events in my school, though our kids did not kill anyone. Rumors spread for months about strange cattle mutilations and small animal sacrifices. Then one day, the rumor mill gave out the word that a baby was to be kidnapped and sacrificed. The child was from a family who feuded regularly with another, and that one had a teen boy who turned out to be the leader of all the evil stuff that had been going on.
Unlike many towns where nobody acted until too late, the leaders of our town acted swiftly, if not wisely, and made such a stink it destroyed the supposed kidnapper-to-be's reputation. And his family's, as well. But it was the end of an ugly little game those kids had been playing; one that almost gave the devil victory.
My book is a work of fiction and absolutely nobody in it actually lived through the pages of the book in real life. Some of the deeds in the book did, in fact, happen, and I'd unwittingly walked my two 'virgin' daughters into the midst of this crowd. We escaped unharmed, though shaken by the events that unfolded.
If you find this chilling, my effort has not been in vain. In an era when self-indulgence has gone amuck, and when children are allowed and encouraged to feel that they are the 'center of the universe', casual acceptance of cute tendencies is a formula for disaster. Be not deceived; all it takes for evil to abound is for good people to do nothing to prevent it. If DANCE WITH THE DEVIL gets that message out, it will have been worth the effort and the twenty year wait to release this story.
I can't close this blog without encouraging you to read my book for reasons other than what I've just revealed about it. It tells the tale of modern times in a wonderful part of America, and how its inhabitants face some of the same uncertainty that their pioneer ancenstors did a century earlier.

I also want to invite you to visit the Muse website listed above, where you can now get your copy of my earlier mid-life romance, SLEEPING WITH HER ENEMY, at a 20% discount. Read about Ana Henry and her struggle to find love after it seemed she had nothing left to live for. Meanwhile, happy reading!
Pat Dale

Character Chat and Contest

ATTENTION ALL READERS: Who wants to join in some scavenger hunt mayhem and fun for the month of May? Learn more about your favorite authors, their work and their wonderful characters in our Character Interview Blog Bash! Great prizes to be won, as well!

Hi gang, I've got an exciting new contest to introduce to you today! Whimsical Publications is putting on a scavenger hunt, with some great prizes for all who enter the contest. To participate, please send an email to: promorobyn@gmail.com
Robyn White will give each entrant a list of questions you must try to answer. The contest is fot the month of May and you'll have plenty of time to find the answers. At the end of the month, a drawing will be held from all correct entries for several prize baskets.
As for my part of the hunt, I'm sharing a recent chat I had with one of my main characters from my first Whimsical Publication; A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND. Somewhere in the chat, you'll find the answer to my question that will win you a point on Robyn's scorecard.

Character Chat

Hi, folks. I’ve got a man here with me today who’s been there and done that, wherever and whatever. As a former deep cover spy, he’s led a double and sometimes triple life few people experience, much less imagine. For purposes of security, I’ll call him Laz. His cover name was Hayward Lazarus and he’d been traveling around the world as a diplomat representing a philanthropic foundation, Hands Round the Globe. I doubt he’ll kill me for revealing that HRTG was really a CIA front (similar to Air America) that did good work for children in need all over the world. Anyway, thanks for coming by. I hope you enjoy the session.
Pat Dale

PD: Good day, Laz, and welcome. Thanks for dropping by for a chat.
LZ: My pleasure, Pat. Especially since you ended my tale the way you did.
PD: Uh, wait! That’s classified.
LZ: (laughs sarcastically) Isn’t that ironic? I’m the spy but you pull that classified material stunt on me. Pretty funny.
PD: (blushes) Well, I guess I can see the irony in that. I just didn’t want you giving the end away in case our audience hasn’t read A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND yet. I mean, as a man who decided he had to die to save his agency and maybe his country; you gave your all in the cause.
LZ: Yeah. I gave at the office, you could say. Including giving up the most glamorous woman I’d ever met in the bargain. How in the world did you come up with an amazing character like Laura?
PD: Oh that? It was easy, my man. A member of my family was involved in the TV jewelry industry, so that gave me an idea for what she’d be doing. Also, how she’d ever cross paths with a man as elusive as you. The rest was basically simple benign lust.
LZ: Lust? Come on, Pat, how can you lust for a character in a book?
PD: (chuckles) Hey, pal! Readers do that all the time. You mean, you’ve never picked up a book and found a character in it that you dreamed about for days or weeks?
LZ: (nods head) Oh. Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.
PD: Not really. I’m just putting you on, Laz. Actually, I had a friend who resembled the lady I created to appear with you in the book.
LZ: You mean you knew a real life Laura?
PD: Yep. Oh, I changed some of her features to protect my friend. You can do that kind of thing if you’re a writer, you know.
LZ: Lucky you. Really, lucky me! I-
PD: Watch it! You almost did it again. I thought you were a master spy. Surely, you know how to keep a secret.
LZ: (blushes) Yeah, I do. It’s just that being around a gorgeous babe like Laura kind of ties your tongue in knots. You dig?
PD: (laughs) I do indeed. Okay, I’ve got a question for you. Looking back on your adventure, is there anything you’d have done differently if you’d been the one writing the book?
LZ: Hmm. That’s a serious question that deserves a serious answer. Let me think about it for a moment. (pauses, closes eyes)
LZ: (scowls at Pat, smiling ruefully) I’m not sure I could have put Laura through the sexually charged ordeal you got her into in Amsterdam.
PD: Come on, man. You’re a man of the world, experienced and well traveled. No doubt, before you met Laura, you’d had lots of incidents with gorgeous sexy women. Maybe even some events similar to her entanglement.
LZ: (eyes blazing) You implying something about Flame and me?
PD: Hey, my friend, don’t get in a huff. I realize you had no idea at the time what a conniving bitch she turned out to be. Anyway, I got Laura out of it didn’t I?
LZ: Yeah, you did. Good thing, too, or I’d have searched you out and done what I did with my old pal Jeffrey. I’ve got to hand it to you, you created a real bastard there.
PD: If Jeff was a bastard, what would you call Heiny?
LZ: (looks around the room for a sign) Is this show PG rated?
PD: Yes. So?
LZ: So, I can’t use the words in my mind to describe him. You know, looking back on it, I’m not sure but what Laura had a tougher time in your novel than I did.
PD: (bows gracefully) That must mean I was successful in writing a double helix. I wanted to develop two separate storylines moving in parallel, gently twisting them together into one. Hence my tagline; glamour gal and slippery spy ratchet between agony and ecstasy as they search for a way to be together. I think we’d best stop now and let our audience learn for itself if Laz and Laura found a happy ever after.
LZ: (big grin) Yeah! Hey, Pat, it’s been fun. I’d hoped I would have a chance to meet you in ‘real’ life someday. You sure gave me hell in A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND, but what the heck. It makes for a fantastic read. No wonder it’s been highly rated. Stay well, my author friend.
PD: And you, too, my favorite spy! (high fives and fist butts with Laz)
PD: (turns to audience) Thanks to all of you for coming by our chat.

http://www.patdalesblog.blogspot.com
http://www.whimsicalpublications.com

Well, that's it for now. Be sure to contact Robyn to get your scoresheet and good luck. By the way, there are eighteen authors who are participating in the contest and Robyn's scorsheet will supply all the blog addresses you'll need to win. Good luck!

Three Prayers

In honor of this poetry month of April, I'd originally planned to offer my opening and closing poems from one of my novels. Today, after witnessing the recurrent rath of our natural planet, I'm moved to offer three prayers. Also, I'm reminded once again that we're all stowaways on a rogue spaceship, helpless to plot a course much less determine our personal or collective destinies.
My first prayer is one of thanks for those souls who met their own destiny in the horrendous storms that have swept across the land. No matter how short their span was in human terms, one and all had a life and made an impact on those who knew and loved them.
My second prayer is for the survivors who've been left behind to pick up the pieces of their lives and strive for something approaching normalcy once the shock of loss has diminished somewhat.
My third prayer is for the rest of us to do whatever we can to reach out to those victims. Some of us have physical strength and tools that will help clear away the debris and restore a modicum of order. Some of us have money, and that will surely be needed in massive amounts even to begin to replace what's been lost. Some of us have neither strength nor money, but we can pray to whatever supreme being we ascribe to. We've witnessed enormous natural disasters recently that have taken, not hundreds, but hundreds of thousands of lives, leaving the survivors destitute in goods and in spirit. I beseach you to avoid placing the blame for our misfortunes on your personal God or on any God. Bad things happen to good people just as good things happen to bad people. It's how we deal with the hand we're dealt that counts in the end.
And now for those poems. The first is an expression of my take on the flow of life on this planet.

SPRINGFLOW

Bubbling burbliing brook,
The sound of wishing, swishing water
Rounding, bounding over boulders and pebbles,
The tremolo of ever present, already gone droplets of time.
Now joyful, then wistfull; finally mournful.
Opportunity coming-here-lost.
More promised; always coming,
Blink and they're gone.
The sound, the ripple,
The rhytym of life.

The second is an expression of my take on our journey through the universe, the final couplet being my requested epitaph.

THE ETERNAL ELLIPSE

As rise the lofty mountain peaks, seeming eternal in granite reality,
Upward too we mortals stretch, miming creation in stubborn certainty.

Man presumes too much from far too little,
Living but a jot as he spans the portal.

We expand within our rigid cage, bursting with pride in our endeavor
To break free of this self-made prison, seeking instead the great forever.

Eve, rib of Adam, ever Genesis of man's future soul,
Incomplete in herself, needing him to fulfill her role.

If we could watch from distant skies, earth's clocklike ebb and flow,
Mountains melt before our eyes, Eve reborn in the plains below.

Rain-delivered to earthly womb, form devolved but guaranteed,
The eternal ellipse at last is run, ever changing; forever indeed.

In our desire to stay the same, we miss the meaning of our claim.
Dust to dust, our earthly core; released to fly, our spirits soar!

May the God each of you prays to comfort and strengthen you to endure, to comprehend, and ultimately to triumph over your personal trials. Until we meet again...