So, I had a work gig a few days ago in the uber-rural town of Price, Utah, the political seat and largest town in Carbon County. I left my hotel in Provo, home of Brigham Young University, at 7:30am actually looking forward to 90 minutes of digital downtime. I’d been warned the Highway 6 route through tall-walled Spanish Fork Canyon plays havoc with reliable cell signals, and I was hoping for a quiet respite from my usual endless drone of phone calls and emails.
Before I knew it four paved lanes had narrowed to two, shoulders steepened, side-roads disappeared, and recently-patched asphalt began a serpentine wander through a desolate, rocky landscape straight out of some John Wayne oater. Stratified layers of limestone and shale towered above me on either side, their near vertical cliffs streaked with rosy pink sandstone. The occasional glitter of pyrite and mica flecks sparkled when the morning sunlight caught it just so. And then suddenly the steep walls dropped away and revealed an astonishing vista of ancient mesas more numerous than I could ever imagine.
So, if you haven’t been following this phenom Joshua Ledet on American Idol, you’re missing out. The kid’s got insane pipes, as evidenced this week by his rendition of James Brown’s It’s a Man’s World.
Love this archived photo of the Godfather of Soul showing Johnny Carson what it’s all about.
So, I’m standing in my driveway the other day when the 7-year old neighbor girl four houses around the cul-de-sac comes scurrying down her driveway, tennis shoes a-fly, and banks right on to the sidewalk heading my direction. Her little hand clutched a bright yellow personal walkie-talkie, the kind that all the moms and dads are using these days to stay in touch with their neighborhood-roving kids. I knew she had a couple of BFFs (can 7-year olds have BFF’s?) on the street right behind ours and figured she was heading over there for a visit. As she got closer to me the pattering of her feet abruptly slowed and she screeched to a halt. Seriously. I could swear I heard this little screech sound.
And then this sweet little girl and I had an exchange of words which simply and profoundly altered the next couple of hours of my life.
First off, I’m not a biker. My tender ass doesn’t mesh well with the cushion-less saddles and my aging physique swathed in multi-colored LYCRA would only lead to much chuckling. No, I write suspense thrillers. And that’s exactly why the Tour de France is
some of the best television I’ll ever experience.
J’adore Le Tour de France. And so will you. Here’s why:
The announcement almost slipped by me, a half dozen words splashed in the corner of a news website I visit. And even then it took me a second for the name to register.
Bill Haast . . . wasn’t he the guy with the snakes?
So, I clicked on the link and read about the death of Bill Haast, the self-proclaimed Snakeman, and perhaps the most influential man in my big brother’s life.
Bill Haast passed away in his sleep at age 100 after achieving international renown as one of the greatest snake-handlers who has ever lived. He caught his first garter snake at age 7, and when he was barely 12 years old he was bitten by a timber rattlesnake and spent a week in the hospital recovering. That wouldn’t be the only time.
Thanks for taking the time to visit my new website!
Here you’ll find information about my new suspense thriller, Brother’s Keeper, as well as updates on its sequel in progress, The Ferryman’s Wake.
BK’s been available at the www.amazon.com site for 6 weeks now and I’m walking on air to see how many readers have downloaded it to their Kindles, iPads, iPhones and iTouchs, or have loaded the app on their PC’s and Mac’s to read it there.
Reviews have been nothing but positive, which is certainly humbling, and I even have some fans on the Brother’s Keeper Facebook page — people that I have never even met before. Click on the tab above for more information about the book.
Thanks again for the support, and please spread the word.