Smooth As Silk

Stories 2021 book finalSince this platform is called WineSnark, I should point out that, although this tale never actually mentions wine, I did drink several bottles while I was writing it. And the story begins with the protagonist suffering from a hangover that would probably kill a Kodiak bear so I think that qualifies as wine-blogworthy.

Smooth as Silk was recently included in Tulip Tree Publishing’s anthology; Stories That Need to be Told 2021 and received the book’s Merit Award for Humor.

With a year of high school yet to complete, I looked west from the interstate entrance ramp, stuck out my thumb and turned my back on New Jersey. Three days later I woke up in a Racine, Wisconsin hospital. My throat was raw from a stomach pump, my back ached from the impact of a hundred cars plowing into one another, and my head throbbed from the impact of several gallons of Milwaukee beer and a bottle of cheap scotch. I was happy to wake up alive but unfortunately a hundred thousand brain cells had perished during the night.

It was this chain of events that brought me to live with my older brother Doug and paved the way for the tremendous bond that was to develop over the next year. Yes, this is the story about the love between me and my first car.

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WineSnark Gets Physical.

New Book Features WineSnark Memoir

Stories Through The Ages 3D cover copyI’m holding a book in my hands and I love the feel of it. My friend Robin Robinson, author of The Complete Whiskey Course: A Comprehensive Tasting School in Ten Classes¹ explained, “There’s something special about the tactile pleasure of holding your thoughts in your hands.”  Conscious ideas and experiences suddenly have paper and ink to smell, an evocative cover to see, and rustling pages to hear. But it’s the weight in my hands that makes me realize that when it comes to the five senses, nothing gets my heart thumping like the sense of touch. I can’t help myself, I’m a tactile kind of guy (no, no – not tactful – you regular readers know me better than that). What I mean is that when it comes to pure joy, no other sense has been more universally incorporated into my experiences than the sense of touch.

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A Magical Christmas Revisited

“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there …”  

Truck 1I’ve had my ups and downs this past year. First, there was the Lexus that sent me up in the air, and then there was a misstep that sent me down the stairs. That probably explains why I wasn’t buying into the whole “Jolly ol’ St. Nick” routine when the holidays arrived.

Come December I was a man complacently in touch with his inner Scrooge but then – in keeping with the destiny of Dicken’s transformative curmudgeon – something magical happened and I suddenly found that holly-jolly bounce back in my step. What unexpectedly had me caroling, caroling, caroling was a weird (but true) encounter with the Christmas spirit – and I’m not talking about the eggnog.

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WineSnark Memoir Included in Book Anthology

Stories That Need to be Told 2018 is the 4th annual anthology compiled by Tulip Tree Publishing. I’m honored that my brief memoir, Life on the Road Without Any Brakes has been included in this book (available at amazon.com). Following is a repost. Stories award small 2Preservation Foundation Storyhouse finalist

 

 

The story is also a finalist in the 2018 Preservation Foundation’s Storyhouse Writer’s Showcase.

Life on the Road Without Any Brakes

Gloria Steinem wrote, “More reliably than anything else on earth, the road will force you to live in the present.”

Oddly enough, Ms. Steinem’s words inspired me to revisit the past. This is a tale about life on the road – a passion I discovered long before wine but found no less intoxicating.

WineSnark Desert PondIt’s not like I thought I was going to die.

My canteen had run dry the previous day, the last of my granola two days before that. I desperately missed the water, the granola not so much. Sure, I was in a desert without food and water, dehydrated, exhausted, a Barry Manilow tune stuck in my head, but I didn’t think it would kill me. By the tenth chorus I only hoped it would.

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Into the Stormtroopers. Part Two

Today’s post has nothing to do with wine. This is part two of a true story about a presidential assassination attempt, the American Nazi Party and the de-evolution of truth. SPOILER ALERT; please read part one HERE first. All photographs ©1981 Donald Carter.

Living Springs logo with book copy

NOTE: “Into the Stormtroopers Part One and Part Two” was published in Living Springs Publishers anthology, Stories Through The Ages Baby Boomers Plus 2020. 

“This is a must-read story about the tumultuous events that abruptly thrust Don Carter into the international spotlight and an adventure of a lifetime … Don’t miss this gripping, page-turning mystery about events that every baby-boomer will remember. Don won second prize with his story.”

NOTE: “Into the Stormtroopers Part One and Part Two” is the First Prize winner in the 2017 Writer’s Workshop of Asheville “Memoir” competition.

“… writing style is impressive, and the descriptions were vivid. The content is gripping, unusual and page-turning!” The Writer’s Workshop of Asheville.

New Millennium Writings honorable mentionNOTE: The literary journal New Millennium Writings awarded this article Honorable Mention.

The De-Evolution of Truth

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

― George Orwell, 1984

May 1981
New York Post page 1 crop

The phone rang at dawn and as I pulled the receiver close a metallic shout from the caller jolted me upright and awake.

“FEDS SEIZE NAZI PIX!”

“Wha …?”

“The New York Post. Front page. FEDS … SEIZE … NAZI … PIX!”

Five minutes later I stood sockless at the corner newsstand, scrutinizing the front page of the New York Post. Two familiar Nazis stared back. Adolf Hitler’s portrait hung in the background, his stare intense and chilling. A young neo-Nazi with a raised pistol in hand stood in the foreground, his expression unreadable and lifeless – but no less chilling. My eyes went to the photo credit beneath the picture where I found my name.

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Into the Stormtroopers. Part One

Today’s post has nothing to do with wine. This is part one of a true story about a presidential assassination attempt, the American Nazi Party and personal regret. In light of recent events it seemed an appropriate time to tell the tale. All photographs ©1981 Donald Carter.

Living Springs logo with book copy

NOTE: “Into the Stormtroopers Part One and Part Two” was published in Living Springs Publishers anthology, Stories Through The Ages Baby Boomers Plus 2020. 

“This is a must-read story about the tumultuous events that abruptly thrust Don Carter into the international spotlight and an adventure of a lifetime … Don’t miss this gripping, page-turning mystery about events that every baby-boomer will remember. Don won second prize with his story.”

NOTE: “Into the Stormtroopers Part One and Part Two” is the First Prize winner in the 2017 Writer’s Workshop of Asheville “Memoir” competition.

“… writing style is impressive, and the descriptions were vivid. The content is gripping, unusual and page-turning!” The Writer’s Workshop of Asheville.

New Millennium Writings honorable mention

NOTE: The literary journal New Millennium Writings awarded this article Honorable Mention.

Of White Power and White Guilt

Group shot 1As a younger man I seldom gave thought to motivation or consequence. I felt compelled to take risks – to seek out the dark places and walk with the beasts – but the nearest I came to reflection was when I inevitably picked myself up, checked for injuries and wondered, “What the hell was I thinking?”

As an older man I’ve struggled with the emotional fallout that comes from second-guessing one’s actions but despite some feelings of regret, I believe my raison d’être was well intentioned. I like to think I climbed under the bed in the middle of the night, faced the monsters and dragged them into the light so that we might all better understand the hatefulness that grows in the shadows we choose to ignore.

When I was a freshman at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago I set out to expose these darker places. Little did I suspect that the images I captured would one day attract international attention and the FBI, subpoena in hand, would come looking for the monsters I uncovered.

More on that later.

*****

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