Good People and Pies

The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, we decided to eat at a local restaurant around the corner from the house rather than cook. Based on the crowd, we weren’t the only ones who had the same thought.

Asheville is, of course, a tourist destination. We are accustomed to the ebbs and flows of visitors as they flock to our city. A holiday weekend like Thanksgiving is one of those peak times. Families book hotel rooms or rent houses, and generations gather to celebrate.

With our meal complete and the bill paid, we worked our way through the crowded tables to the exit. We weaved through the line of people at the door, hordes waiting for a table.

A grandmotherly woman approached from another direction toward the same exit. She didn’t see me because her head was turned as she talked to someone behind the host stand.

We were on a collision course. Worse, she was balancing a stack of pies in her hand, a tower of sweet desserts. A disaster of gastronomic proportions loomed, so I froze.

At the last moment, she sensed my presence. Perhaps, she saw me out of the corner of her eye. Whatever the spark, she turned and immediately apologized. “Sorry.”

I replied. “No problem. I saw you coming and… well, I wanted to avoid knocking those pies out of your hands. I would’ve never heard the end of it.”

“You would’ve been in trouble?” Laughter erupted from deep inside her, a guffaw that made me smile. Her sides shook and the pies teetered. “My family would’ve killed me. Their one request as they planned to come into town was the only thing I couldn’t make—pies from this place.”

The restaurant does a special meal for Thanksgiving Day and offers three desserts—Pecan Pie, Pumpkin Pie, and Chocolate Cake. They also sell those same flavors as whole pies/cakes. I’ve never ordered one, but they are obviously quite popular. Orders had closed off the previous week, so if she dropped them, no replacements would be available.

We worked our way through the crowd, laughing and talking even though we had never met. I held the door for her to avoid a pie catastrophe. Well, I held the door because I was raised that way, so it’s an ingrained habit. I literally can hear my mother’s voice in my head reminding me of such manners.

Once we were outside, she angled left toward her car and I turned right. With the pies still safely balanced in her hand, she called out, “Have a Happy Thanksgiving.”

I responded, “Have a great Thanksgiving,” and left with a smile on my face.

This is such a basic, human story. Two strangers sharing a laugh over something that isn’t really that funny. We merely were friendly and wished each other well.

Despite its simplicity, I thought about the moment over the long weekend as similar encounters occurred. We walked our greenway through the neighborhood and wished neighbors and their visiting guests a Happy Thanksgiving. With my sister and fourteen-year-old Super Nephew visiting from Charlotte, we were out in town and greeted others.

I can pick up a newspaper or read a story on the internet and see horrible things, but I can’t do anything about them. But I can hold a door and share a smile. And a grandmother on a pie run can make others laugh.

Two strangers. An amusing moment. A shared, genuine wish for each other to have a good day. Just being human.

I hope her kids and grandkids enjoyed that pie. I’m sure they were warmed by her company. And I hope she had a great Thanksgiving.

Enjoyed The Story? How About A Novel?

***

Gratuitous Dog Photo: The Royal Entrance

His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey makes a dramatic entrance befitting his self-image. He fully expects trumpets to announce his arrival and for all to bow. This, of course, leads to the Royal Disappointment.

On The Website This Week

I read Michael Connelly’s newest Harry Bosch / Renée Ballard novel, Desert Star, this week. Fans of the series will enjoy it.

Spectacular Vernacular Word of the Week: This week’s vocabulary word, litotes, isn’t bad.

Did you have cranberry sauce with your Thanksgiving meal? If so, read what my readers think about it in last month’s survey.

And don’t miss this this month’s survey on fruitcake. The results will be shared in early December just in time for the next holiday meal.

Until Next Monday

Keep your pies balanced and your spirits cheery.

See you next Monday.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving approaches in the United States making this a perfect time to focus on the benefits of giving thanks every day.

For those of us in the United States, Thursday is Thanksgiving Day—time to focus on our blessings and express our gratitude.

Of course, it’s come to mean so many other things to different people.

It’s the “official” start of the Christmas season, though, unofficially, the beginning was weeks ago. For us, it’s the day we put up Christmas decorations. I don’t care much for the shopping, but I love the festive lights and displays.

It’s a day for families to gather and enjoy a traditional shrimp dinner. Oh, wait, that’s just me. Growing up, I ate many of my Thanksgiving meals on Shem Creek just outside of Charleston, so, yes, shrimp and grits sounds about perfect for the holiday. I’ll leave the turkey and ham for the rest of you.

And it’s certainly a day for the football aficionados. I’m not one of those, but I certainly hope you have a great time if that’s your goal.

However you spend the day, please take at least a few moments and focus on that original meaning—giving thanks.

One of the most beneficial habits I’ve developed is taking a few minutes each day to focus on gratitude. It started as a part of my daily journaling, a simple pause in the evening to reflect and highlight something that went well.

It’s human nature to remember the bad. Regret for the mistake made. Anger for the disrespectful person encountered. Frustration over world events. Social media and our fragmented society accentuate the negative. The good things can often get overwhelmed by the negativity.

For me, the antidote has been a purposeful moment of positive reflection. With a little focus, I think of the new song that made my toe tap, the joke that elicited a laugh, the greeting from a stranger that induced a smile, or a dog’s antics that warmed my heart. That purposeful moment to record such a moment in my journal helped me.

We’ve expanded on that daily gratitude tradition. Each evening, as we prepare dinner or sit down in a restaurant or relax with a glass of wine in the backyard, we take a moment to express our gratitude aloud for something that day. It’s turned into a toast, a clinking of glasses to salute each other’s positive thought, a shared moment of thanks.

The habit has become so ingrained that we both insist on it, regardless of what else is happening around us. A bright spot no matter how rough the day.

In that spirit, let me take a moment to say thank you, Dear Reader. When I started posting stories and anecdotes in the pre-Facebook days (UseNet and ListServs), I never expected people to read, comment, or engage. It was never meant to be anything more than a little creative release after a long day in a dreary corporate office.

As those stories attracted more and more readers, I never dared to think of writing and publishing novels. And even if I did, how many people would spend actual money for them?

Yet, here I sit with three published novels, each selling thousands of copies, and a fourth coming soon (cover reveal next month!).

For that opportunity, I am grateful. In the spirit of the approaching holiday, let me say it loudly and clearly.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Take a moment this week to look someone in the eye, call them, or write them a letter and say thank you. Share that gratitude. Yes, it will make them feel good, but it will do the same for you as well.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Enjoyed The Story? How About A Novel?

Gratuitous Dog Photo: Busy Little Prince

His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey must have a hectic calendar today based on his serious look and hectic pace. Siblings to pester. Humans to annoy. Paper to be shredded. Such is the life of a busy Little Prince.

On The Website This Week

I’ve been quite slack in my fiction reading. I’ve devoured a number of craft and technical books the last few months and have started but not finished a number of novels. Thankfully, I finally broke my dry spell, so I added Black Out by Lisa Unger to my Books Read list.

Spectacular Vernacular Word of the Week: Sometimes the etymology of a word makes me laugh. This is one of those moments. Pumpernickel.

U.S. Thanksgiving is this week. Will cranberry sauce be on your table? Read what my readers think about it.

From one holiday “favorite” to another. Take this month’s survey on fruitcake.

Until Next Monday

Have a great week and be thankful for the good things that happen.

See you next Monday.

For Whom The Treat Tolls

I’ve created a monster. Every day, he demands more and more. His insatiable appetite grows.

Our early boundaries, so clear and distinct, blurred as time passed. Now they have little meaning and he knows it. I’m not sure where I went wrong or how to get out of the debt, but I need to confess what I’ve done.

I know for whom the treat tolls. It tolls for me.

To explain how I arrived at this point, you need to understand I can’t imagine not having dogs in my life. We’ve been a multi-dog household for over three decades. That’s a lot of muddy paw tracks and tufts of loose fur.

Most of them have been rescues. Anyone who has ever adopted an adult canine can tell you they come with baggage. They can’t help their past, so they lug their fears and misbehaviors into the house.

We humans have an obligation to help them overcome their obstacles. With lots of love and guidance, we help them become a part of our pack.

Over the years, we’ve had some quite challenging cases. Some had lost faith in humans and were wary of our intentions. Others carried a long list of ill-learned traits that they’d never been taught were wrong.

Roscoe was not one of those tough nuts to crack. He got along well with the other dogs from the first day and quickly learned the house rules. He only has a single challenge—his little furry brain disengages when we meet other dogs on trails.

To be clear, he isn’t aggressive. He doesn’t growl, snap, bark, lunge, or do anything else like that. He does, however, leap into the air, twist and turn, and perform an astonishing display of gymnastics. It’s an athletic tour de force, albeit a socially unacceptable one.

And so, we needed to teach him how to remain calm when encountering others. We were ready to help him.

The trick to training behavior is learning what motivates that particular dog. Whatever that is, he gets more of it when he performs properly, and less of it when he doesn’t. For some dogs, that’s attention, a kind word, an ear scratch. Some require effusive praise. Some need a companion canine to show them the ropes.

For Roscoe, his motivator was simple to spot. Food.

You know the old saying that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line? Not to Roscoe. Pick any two spots in our house, and he will tell you the only proper route must go through the kitchen. Just in case.

With the effective bounty identified, getting Roscoe to pass other dogs without an Olympic-worthy acrobatic display became a basic exercise. With a treat bag clipped to my waist, I could reward him as soon as we moved down the trail without incident.

We settled into a new routine. As soon as we spotted a dog during our walk, I extracted a treat and made sure Roscoe knew I had it. With his attention on me, we passed the other dog without incident. Once we had achieved enough distance, Roscoe received his reward. Sometimes that worked better than others, but repetition showed constant improvement.

Once we were consistently achieving this behavior, I waited until we passed the other dog before pulling out a treat. Roscoe knew it was coming, so didn’t need to see it in advance. We had achieved the proper behavior, and I was ready to celebrate.

Almost.

I should explain here that Roscoe is a Siberian Husky. That creates a slight challenge.

We’ve had only Siberian Huskies for many years. We’re quite familiar with their quirks—and that list is long. The most important is their innate desire to disobey.

Imagine you were an indigenous person living on the Chukchi peninsula of Siberia. You lived with dogs that could pull your sleds over ice and snow, but you wanted them to be smart enough to avoid thin ice. Thus, you wanted a dog who would obey your commands, except when it was in the best interest of your dog—and, therefore, you—to disobey your command.

You’ve created a thinking dog who rationalizes a human command and decides whether it should be followed.

In the wilds of wintry Siberia, that may have a decided advantage. In middle America, however, they’re basically little furry lawyers continually looking for a loophole.

This manifests itself in amazing feats of logic. In Roscoe’s case, he decided our request meant he had to behave when we passed a dog he knew. He can waltz by a familiar one without batting an eye.

But a new canine? The olympic gymnast emerges.

With patience—and numerous treats—we reinforced the rules. We put ourselves into situations where he would meet others just so he could learn the expected behavior. Over time, he dramatically improved.

And, yes, he still gets a treat whenever we pass a dog. As soon as we have moved down the trail, he’s looking at me. Waiting. Knowing it’s coming.

And, since fair is fair, if Roscoe gets a treat, so does everyone else. Basically, he has become their advocate for a treat. I guess he is a furry class-action lawyer.

And he’s working to expand his legal expertise by suggesting broad interpretations of our agreement.

For example, we pass dogs in backyards that border our greenway. Roscoe pleaded his case that it requires as much canine restraint to pass a dog in a yard as it does on a trail. The judge considered the argument and conceded the point. Treat followed.

Then he claimed that if was pass a backyard where a dog lives, even if said dog isn’t outside and barking, that’s still a legitimate debt. He will argue with the extensive Siberian vocabulary of woos and howls until he’s fed.

With these wins, he’s found the pattern. We pass humans with dogs and he receives payment. We pass dogs in yards and the reward is his. We pass yards where dogs live, but they are snoozing inside on a couch, and the graft still comes his way.

Then he upped the ante further. We passed humans without dogs, and Roscoe suggested this should count. When I said that wasn’t the same, he encouraged the others to join him in protest. I collapsed under the chorus of Siberian woos.

One morning, we walked a hundred yards without incident and without seeing anyone else—human or canine. Roscoe argued that he’d behaved and deserved a treat. I refused, and the deepest sighs followed me as we trudged down the path. But I’d held my ground.

The penultimate came just the other day. We were out for our afternoon stroll on a quiet trail. A rotund squirrel waddled up a tree. Roscoe contemplated the disappearing tail—no doubt thinking through the tastiness of squirrel—and then his eyes lit up.

He had seen a challenging creature. He hadn’t misbehaved. That met all the conditions. He turned plaintive eyes toward me.

“Nope. The rule is passing dogs without incident.”

He wooed his Supreme Court worthy argument.

“Not going to happen.”

He sat down on the trail in front of me. The others, figuring out what he was up to, joined him. The result appears in the gratuitous dog photo below.

So, jury, how would you find?

Yeah, they got treats. I can only imagine where this goes next.

Enjoyed The Story? How About A Novel?

Gratuitous Dog Photo: Pay The Treat Toll

Landon, Frankie, Typhoon, and Roscoe demand a treat

For those of you who scoffed and think I caved too easily, could you resist these faces? Seriously, some of you are trying to give them treats through the screen.

On The Website This Week

Spectacular Vernacular Word of the Week: Bollard—Even if you know the name of these common security devices, do you know where the word comes from?

The October survey is now closed and will be revealed in both the monthly newsletter and here on the Monday Musing. Look next week for a new survey to be posted.

Until Next Monday

If a furry creature demands you pay the treat toll, don’t resist. It’s futile.

See you next Monday.

I canceled Netflix. No, I'm not mad at them. This isn't some political protest. I've simply grown bored with TV and movies.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

I Canceled Netflix

I canceled Netflix. No, I'm not mad at them. This isn't some political protest. I've simply grown bored with TV and movies.

I Miss You!

My posting service canceled support for Tumblr, so my Monday Musings, Books Read, Photographs, and more no longer appear here.

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So many weird experiences in a very strange year, and the parking lot gourmet is just the latest.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

Parking Lot Gourmet

So many weird experiences in a very strange year, and the parking lot gourmet is just the latest.

The Great Blue Heron—striking in color and size with wing spans over six feet—hunting for a meal.

To see more photos, visit https://dkwall.com/photos/

Dear Tumblr subscriber—IMPORTANT—I've been informed that my posting service is dropping Tumblr support effective March 16. I encourage you to follow me on one my other social media channels or subscribe to my newsletter. Visit my website at https://dkwall.com to find other options. Thank you.

Mother Nature simultaneously reminds me of her beauty and her gritty reality in a Majestic Indelicacy.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

Dear Tumblr subscriber—IMPORTANT—I've been informed that my posting service is dropping Tumblr support. I encourage you to follow me on one my other social media channels or subscribe to my newsletter. Visit my website at https://dkwall.com to find other options. Thank you.

Majestic Indelicacy

Mother Nature simultaneously reminds me of her beauty and her gritty reality in a Majestic Indelicacy.

A gorgeous sunrise over the salt marsh seen through a tree for your Friday photography treat.

To see more photos, visit https://dkwall.com/photos/

Dear Tumblr subscriber—IMPORTANT—I've been informed that my posting service is dropping Tumblr support effective March 16. I encourage you to follow me on one my other social media channels or subscribe to my newsletter. Visit my website at https://dkwall.com to find other options. Thank you.

Reading 100 books per year—A Land More Kind Than Home by Wiley Cash

A family living and working a small tobacco farm in the Western North Carolina mountains struggles to deal with their hard life, made more difficult by the wife’s involvement with a fundamentalist church and its domineering minister. What the younger brother witnesses peering through a small hole in the wall of the church rends at the heart and soul of the family. A complex tale told from the points-of-view of the young boy, an elderly midwife who shepherds the children of the church and protects them from the minister, and the sheriff with his own dark past.

To see the best of the 100 books I read each year, visit https://dkwall.com/books-read/

An unusual request during a package delivery to the house has left me puzzled. Maybe someone else can explain this.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

Package Delivery

An unusual request during a package delivery to the house has left me puzzled. Maybe someone else can explain this.

A great blue heron cheering on the sunrise from his perch on the tree just off my deck.

To see more photos, visit https://dkwall.com/photos/

Reading 100 books per year: The Gray Man by Mark Greaney

The Gray Man is part of the genre of highly-trained assassins who become a target of their own government and then must fight against impossible odds to save some innocent (think Jason Bourne or Jack Reacher). Former CIA operative Court Gentry becomes the target of an evil corporation who hires the best assassins from a dozen different countries (really) and must fight his way across Europe to save two little girls, the granddaughters of his handler (who also double-crosses him—until he helps him). He gets wounded in spectacular ways and still keeps going. Yep, totally improbable, but that's the point of this genre—keep the action moving so fast you never have a chance to ask "But..." Greaney does a great job of never letting off the gas. To see the best of the 100 books I read each year, visit https://dkwall.com/books-read/

Finally, I had my second vaccination day and know my health is better protected. Unfortunately, not the vaccination you think.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

Vaccination Day

Finally, I had my second vaccination day and know my health is better protected. Unfortunately, not the vaccination you think.

Every morning's sunrise amazes me, but some sparkle. This glow over Huntington Beach State Park mesmerized me. To see more photos, visit https://dkwall.com/photos/

Reading 100 Books Per Year—Iron House by John Hart

Two young brothers escape a tough orphanage, Iron House, located deep in the North Carolina mountains. One lives a life of crime as an enforcer for a mob boss. The other becomes a successful author and part of a wealthy and influential family headed by a U.S. Senator. Decades later, their lives collide as murder victims, all former orphans, are uncovered. What secrets are buried in their pasts?

To see the best of the 100 books I read each year, visit https://dkwall.com/books-read/

We all need a break from work sometimes, so we took off on a quick vacation down to Charleston SC last week.

This week's Monday Musing PLUS the books I'm reading, some interesting links, and a gratuitous dog photo.

Quick Vacation

We all need a break from work sometimes, so we took off on a quick vacation down to Charleston SC last week.