The things we didn’t choose

I don’t recall having ever asked for a pony. I remember Dad being angry when my grandmother’s car pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse my parents were renting, followed closely by a truck towing a horse trailer.

It was my 6^th birthday and I remember Dad rushing out the door into the yard shouting, “I told you no!”

There was a big discussion that followed, but my sister and I were sent upstairs and out of earshot of most of the conversation. When I was finally allowed to come downstairs and called into the front yard, the truck and trailer were gone from the driveway and there was a pony tied to a tree.

“Happy birthday! It’s your pony,” Grandmother said, grinning ear-to-ear. “Do you like it?”

“It’s not saddle broken to ride, so you are going to have to break it,” Dad shot back, looking me square in the eyes. “Do you know what that means?”

Of course I had no idea. I just turned 6.

What I wanted for my 6^th birthday was a pair of cowboy boots.

Instead I received a pony.

***

I’ve been playing that memory over in my mind a lot lately — a childhood memory I had repressed for most of my life because of what happened in the weeks that followed the birthday gift I didn’t ask for.

I’m just starting to realize it, but as I replay that memory, I now know it was Dad’s way of teaching me an early lesson on how to handle the things we didn’t choose.

I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way), we are the sum of our cumulative experiences. How you react to any given situation can more times than not be predicted based on how you handled similar situations in the past. We try and repeat our successes, and if we’re lucky, learn from our mistakes.

It’s human nature.

No doubt, I’ve lived a blessed life.

I’ve made mistakes and had my share of disappointments, but thanks to the lessons and values I was taught by my parents, my life has almost always followed a trajectory of my choosing.

During both success and the failure, I’ve been able to hold my head high and accept the outcome because I chose the path I would follow when my journey reached a fork in the trail.

That is, until recently when I found myself nearly overwhelmed by a series of situations and incidents that was not of my choosing.

***

It was the first Sunday afternoon following my 6^th birthday when Dad told me to follow him out to the barn to saddle up the pony and walk her into the pasture. I distinctly remember having a jacket on and the wind blowing beneath an overcast sky as I walked my horse through the gate Dad had unlocked and opened.

I think I gave the pony a name, but I honestly can’t recall it.

I remember Dad putting me on the pony and almost immediately getting bucked off.

He picked me up and put me back on the saddle, and I was immediately bucked off again.

I don’t recall if it was the third time or the fourth time — it may have even been the first time — I began to cry and told Dad I didn’t want to do it anymore.

He kept putting me back on the horse.

I kept getting bucked off. I remember at one point I was sobbing hysterically.

When the pony bucked me off and stepped on me, I demanded to quit.

Dad wouldn’t let me.

At the time, I couldn’t comprehend why Dad was so mean. The more I cried and tried to quit, the more determined Dad became that I was going to break the pony from bucking and he would put me back on the horse.

For the next month or so, we repeated the process every Sunday afternoon.

I came to hate that pony.

As I recall, I wasn’t all that fond of my father, either.

After four or five Sundays, I remember my attitude began changing. Instead of dreading Sunday afternoons when I would have to get on the pony, I made up my mind I was going to stay on her back until she would let me ride around the pasture.

That’s all it took. All I had to do was change my mindset — how I perceived the situation, and in the process, turning what I felt was a miserable, impossible situation into an achievable goal.

If Dad was going to make me go out to the pasture every Sunday until my pony was saddle broken, I was going to do it. Not because I wanted to, but because I knew if I rode her without getting bucked off, Dad would have to stop putting me back in the saddle every time I fell off.

Eventually I broke the pony and she let me ride her around the pasture as I rode tall in the saddle.

I remember Dad had a smile on his face and he told me that he was proud of me.

I’m embarrassed to admit it all these years later, but I didn’t care.

At that point I didn’t want anything to do with that pony and, as best as a 6-year-old boy can convey to his father, told my Dad as much.

He sold the pony shortly after and it was nearly a quarter-century later before I rode a horse again. Not because I was afraid — far from it. It was because at the age of 6, I made up my mind from that point forward if at all possible, I needed to avoid getting into situations that I didn’t choose.

It was decades before I would allow myself to even think about horses. It worked, because it’s been nearly a half-century since I last thought of that experience.

***

For the first time since those Sunday afternoons so long ago, I now find myself in situations where I’m being bucked to the ground every time I get in the saddle, dealing as best I can with things I didn’t choose.

Hardships and crisis are part of the human experience. I’m certainly no different than anyone else when it comes to having to overcoming adversity. Dealing with an isolated moment of misfortune is certainly difficult, but I’ve learned to persevere and get through it — often coming through the other side stronger than I was beforehand.

But this is different.

I thought anyway, I was unfamiliar territory, finding myself overwhelmed while being confronted by adversity in multiple directions — all while walking on a path I didn’t choose.

For me, I find it true what they say about finding strength in your darkest moment. I also find it amazing the unexpected ways in which God answers prayers. In response to my prayers, God reminded me of that long forgotten memory — as well as the lesson my Dad tried to teach me so long ago on how to deal with the adversity I didn't choose.

If you want to change your life, all you have to do is change your mind and find a way to get back on the path of your choosing.

 

To sleep: perchance to dream …

-->

A short story by N.R. White

© 2015 by N.R. White

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first fictional piece I've written since Crosswinds. An idea popped in my head and this is what came out. It's a departure from my normal style of writing, but it felt good watching as an idea evolved into the story below. — NRW

I had the most surreal dream this morning. I say this morning because it’s usually somewhere between 3 and 4 a.m. before I slide beneath the covers and attempt to find rest.

Rest — I don’t know what that’s like anymore.

Regardless of how tired I may be or how much I pray for sleep to find me, it remains an elusive and unattainable objective. Most nights after work I retire to the patio with a glass of Patron, a pack of Marlboro Lights and my iPod and stare up into the night sky as the music takes me away. The first hour is always the most difficult. Sure, there’s the clearing out the clutter tossed about the mind from the day’s activity. But the big challenge is the mosquitoes. During the first hour you feel the sting followed by the inevitable itch from every bite. I don’t know if it takes the Patron that long to numb the senses of the skin or the mosquitoes are so drunk by that time they just quit biting, but if you can hang on for an hour, it’s usually easy sailing from there.

No doubt, it has been a difficult year. I feel like the past 12 months I’ve been tossed about, drifting aimlessly without a rudder on a small boat at sea riding headlong into a hurricane. The whys and hows are not important — I mention it only to provide prospective into my chronic insomnia. The days seamlessly blend from one to the next with no distinct line of separation or break in momentum. The alarm goes off at 7 a.m. and I promptly turn it off, roll over and drift back to sleep, only to awake abruptly on my own an hour or so later to realize I have less than a half hour to shower, shave, dress and drive to work to begin a new day. The workday ends around 11 p.m., ending with a glass of Patron, a fresh pack of Marlboro Lights and tunes on the iPod sitting on the patio while gazing at the stars and waiting for the Patron to win out in the nightly battle with mosquitoes.

And yes, I’m depressed. I don’t need to pay a psychologist $165 to tell me what I already know. I am proactive about it, too. I think happy thoughts. I practice exercises in which I visualize the positive outcomes I want to achieve. When that doesn’t work, I practice breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, let it go and move on. When that doesn’t work, I sit on the patio with a glass of Patron, a fresh pack of Marlboro Lights, plug the headphones in to my iPod and gaze at the stars.

Most nights, or rather mornings, I usually slide into slumber sometime between 5 and 6 a.m., only to have the alarm go off at 7 — which I promptly turn off before rolling over for a few more minutes of rest — only to jump out of bed an hour or so later in a panic realizing that once again, I’m running late for work.

For the past several months, if I have dreamed at all, I can’t remember a single one.

That in itself makes this morning’s dream so special.

It was surreal, however, in both context and perception.

*****

In describing the setting, it was more of a time than a place. There were no dimensions, no shades of light or hues of gray, no distinguishing landmarks of any kind. In fact, the eyes couldn’t see at all. That’s not to say there wasn’t stimulus that allowed the mind to process information into comprehensible images. Instead of being guided by the eyes, here, only the heart could see.

I wasn’t alarmed or concerned.

In fact, I was overcome with a sensation of comfort and peace. I felt absolutely no pain. I noticed that immediately because it was the first time in years — even in my sleep — I had experienced a truly pain-free moment with full mobility and what felt like a tank full of energy.

I knew exactly where I was. Well, I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I knew my spirit had crossed over into the next phase of my journey.  The smells — oh my goodness. The smells were so vivid. They were all good smells — the smell of the forest after it rains; the smell of Granny’s kitchen when she made Sunday dinner; the smell of Dad’s Aqua-Velva aftershave and the smell of the harbor when your ship docks into port. The smells were so intense, each created an image for the heart to see with bold and beautiful colors that covered me like a down comforter on a cold winter’s night. It was truly amazing. I never knew that smells could be so colorful.

And then I saw Granny. My grandparents were the center of my universe. More than 30 years after their passing, I still grieve as if I lost them yesterday. My heart filled with joy as I approached and the picture it revealed was of a young woman in her early 50s, beautiful and vibrant with a head full of raven hair. Though the image was different — much younger than I had ever known her to be — there was no mistaking the fact she was my Granny. Regardless of what the eyes see (or doesn’t see), the heart always knows. And the smell, oh my. I could smell the smoke from the wood stove she used for cooking mixed with bacon fat, just a hint of pepper and a dash of Martha White flour thrown in for good measure. I had forgotten (or my nose has gotten too old to tell) that flour has its own unique smell. In an instant our spirits merged into what I guess what we call a big old hug. I was overcome with a sense of comfort and peacefulness that I didn’t want to let go and I wished I could have stayed in that embrace forever. So swept with emotions, I wanted to cry as she began to pull away.

“I miss you, Granny,” I said, as the image slowly began to fade just as I sensed another presence standing nearby.

It was my PawPaw, only he, too, was a lot younger than I had ever seen him. He was in his mid-60s when I was born, so I only knew him as an old man with a worn-out body and skin creased with as many wrinkles as the Blue Ridge Mountains had ridges. As the image came into focus, I saw this strapping man who could grow anything, fix anything and what he couldn’t grow and fix, he invent using whatever materials he could find. I never got to speak. He was virile in a rugged sort of way. I had seen old black and white photos that have long since faded to faded to tones of yellow and brown of him in his World War I uniform. The pictures didn’t compare with the picture of the man my heart was feeling.  Then his image was gone as quickly as it appeared.

That’s when I saw Dad. Or rather, I felt his presence. As my heart processed the information into a visual reference, I didn’t see the sick Dad that I remembered during the last few years of his life. Nor was it the Dad during the years after he retired from the Army — the Dad who tried to overcome his anger and bitterness with alcohol. It wasn’t the “Great Santini” Dad, either — the larger than life, honest to God true American hero who in the face of the enemy saved more lives than I’ll ever know about (and the same Dad that kept his combat skills sharp during peace time by declaring war on his son). The face I saw was that of a young man in his early 20s with his entire life waiting to unfold — smart enough to know there was a lot he didn’t know, yet cocky and confident enough to know he could figure it out as he went. As I approached, I could “see” that all of his pain and anger had disappeared. There was a peaceful, content aura surrounding him as I moved in to touch his spirit. That’s when the smell of his Aqua-Velva nearly caused me sensory overload.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

But his image vanished before he had a chance to answer and for the first time, I began to experience a feeling of uneasiness.

That’s when I felt my cousin Beverly approaching from what I perceived to be my right. We were the same age with only a few weeks separating our birthdates. Beverly was my hero. She has saved my life, yes, but that isn’t why she’s heroic. For more than a decade she battled cancer. She had undergone multiple surgeries, multiple rounds of chemo treatments, multiple rounds of radiation treatments — just about any indignity that could be done to a human body, she endured. Not once did she complain. Not one single time. When the doctors told her they thought they had gotten all the cancer and she would be in the clear, it came back. Did she complain? Not once. When it came back again after being given a “we think you’re in the clear remission” prognoses, still, not one complaint. She handled it with a dignity and a level of grace that if I live a thousand lifetimes could never achieve. Me, if a tweak a muscle reaching for the television remote I’m bitching and moaning like it’s the onset of the apocalypse.

The last time I saw Beverly she had been in remission for about a year. While there are never guarantees with cancer, her doctors felt confident she was finally in the clear. He strength was returning and her hair was starting to grow back. I would say she was smiling again, but Beverly never stopped smiling.

Then her husband came home one night after work and told her he was leaving her for another woman. In her hurt and her pain, my cousin Beverly took her own life that night. I’ve never accepted it. I’ve never come to terms with it and I can’t understand why, after all that she had gone through during her courageous battle with cancer, could she possible kill herself because her husband wanted a divorce. It never made sense to me. It was a shitty thing for him to do. I just wish that she had called me that night. I would have told her that she’s better off without him and she was getting a “do over,” a second chance to get it right.

I sensed her spirit touch mine and in that second I saw her face again. A beautiful face framed with flaming red hair and a smile that could light up the room. At first, she didn’t say a word. My heart, though, could feel her thoughts and in that silent talk she told me that she was OK, she wasn’t in pain anymore and this is where she belonged. She also told me that she was at peace.

“You need to let it go,” she vocalized, allowing my ears to hear as well as my heart. “I know you’re upset because you feel like you weren’t there for me, but there’s nothing you could have done. Back when we were kids, there was a reason I was in just the right place to save your life on the mountain that day. It’s up to you to find out what that reason is. I know you feel like you let me down, but there’s no reason for you to feel that way. You don’t always get to return a favor. That’s just the way things work.”

I began feeling more than a little uncomfortable as the image of Beverly faded, replaced this time by another familiar face.

“Top!” I said, as his image came into sharp focus. He looked exactly the same as he did when I last saw him — spit-and-polish with a high-and-tight haircut and ready for combat. I had seen pictures of him as a young man and other than a few pounds, his appearance had changed very little since the Army became his life at the age of 17. From the final days of World War II, through the Korean War, Vietnam War and most of the Cold War, Top had seen and done it all. He was gung-ho Army, someone made the joke he was born in BDUs with sergeant stripes tattooed on his forearms. While mean in jest, it was so believable it became a perceived reality.

Top also paid me one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. To this day, I vividly remember each and ever word the day he lowered the gates and allowed me to step inside to one of the outer layers of the many fortresses he had constructed around his true persona.

“You don’t act like a shithead.”

For Top, that was high praise — especially when given to anyone from my generation. Top had no filter between his heart and his mouth. Whatever he felt, that’s what he said. Warm, nurturing and gentle were not part of his vocabulary — nor could were they among his many character traits. While greatly respected and admired in military circles around the world, Top was what most would call one mean son of a bitch. The kind of man everyone wants to go into combat with and the kind of man that scares the hell of you when you’re not in combat. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could (or even want) to buddy up to. However, he was one of the most direct, brutally honest men I’ve ever met in my life. I always respected that about him. It didn’t matter if you were a private or a general or a civilian, if you were doing something stupid (which at any given time included approximately 99.9 percent of the human population), Top felt it was his duty to point out your shortcomings. There were several colorful adjectives and nouns he used to describe your stupidity, but “shithead” was his favorite.

While I’m sure there are others from my generation that has received his highest praise, I’m also certain that number can be counted on one hand. Top always seemed a little too eager to point out that my generation was “too lazy, too stupid, too coddled, too this, too that.” He was equally convinced the future of our species had been entrusted to a bunch of tree hugging, dope smoking morons.

To receive a, “You don’t act like a shithead” compliment from Top was high praise indeed.

As our spirits neared, my natural reaction was to tense and come to full attention — which is usually how everyone greeted Top. It became apparent in this realm, though we were “here,” it was more in spirit form than physical. I sensed he was pissed, but then again, I can’t recall a single time when I sensed Top not being pissed.

“I don’t know what in the hell they taught you in the Navy, but in the Army, a soldier never abandon’s his post until he is relieved!” Top shouted. I can’t really say he shouted, but that’s definitely how my senses received his message.

I was about to respond when I heard the voice.

It wasn’t an electronically distorted voice like the sound effects used in movies to illustrate the communication between this world and the next. It was sharp, pitch perfect and crystal clear as if it were coming through an open door separating two rooms.

“Moonshine, where are you?”

I recognized the voice immediately. I waited for the next image to appear, but there was nothing. All I could see was time without space.

“Moonshine, come back,” the voice called out, as I began moving toward the direction of the sound. It felt like it had been eons since I last heard the voice of my Soulshine. The feeling of warmth and comfort within this realm define by time without space had cast an inviting spell that made it difficult to leave. I wanted to stay in this place where your heart guided your vision and it always smelled like the forest after a rain or Granny’s kitchen during Sunday dinner.

But the voice, well, it pulled me with a force more powerful than anything I’ve experienced.

“Moonshine, come back. You made a promise.”

And as suddenly as my eyes had closed and the dream began, it was over as I found myself lying in bed, eyes wide open staring at the blades of the ceiling fan above. I don’t know how long I stared at those blades spinning in the early light of the morning. While I was definitely back in a realm of space, I wasn’t so sure about time. I did notice that after a few minutes my normal aches and pains had returned, making it quite apparent that my physical body was back in tact. While bearable, the pain was intense enough that I didn’t need to see to know that all limbs were still there.

*****

I was struck with the realization this wasn’t an ordinary dream — well, I suppose no dream is ordinary. What I mean is, it didn’t feel like a dream. It included all of my sensory perceptions and I felt as if I had actually experienced the beginning of a new journey we all must someday make. What was most overwhelming were the emotions. They were so strong and powerful that mere thoughts and memories are incapable of producing such powerful feelings.

I think surreal is the best word to describe it.

I suppose some might have been shaken at the thought of such a powerful dream. It might have prompted some to begin a quest of exploration to find out the meaning behind the dream, in addition to what message it was suppose to convey.

Me, I never took my eyes of the blades of the ceiling fan spinning overhead. I never felt one ounce of fear or the slightest urge to find out the whys behind the dream. I just stared at the blades of the fan as they spun around in a circle. I don’t know how much time passed. Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? An hour?

All I knew, as I continued to stare at the blades of the fan, is that I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I really don’t know how much time had passed.

I just know the alarm went off and I reached over to turn the damned thing off.

That’s when I started thinking about the dream.

In an instant I was awash with all of the emotional bliss I had experienced in the realm of time without space. I actually felt the warm embrace of Granny’s spirit wrap around me like a down comforter on a cold winter’s night. I could even smell just a hint of the scent of Dad’s aftershave. And when I thought of Beverly’s words, it was like a ton of bricks had suddenly been lifted from my chest.

But it was the voice that haunted me the most.

Whatever sins I may have committed during my lifetime — be they real or perceived — I’ve more than paid the price for during this year I describe as my purgatory on earth.

“I’m ready to come home now,” I said, loud enough to be heard above the whir of the spinning blades from the fan above.

“Could such a complex issue really be that easy to resolve?” I thought to myself as I reached over to check the clock on my phone.

Realizing I still had another 15 minutes before I reached “panic mode” to prepare for work, I put the phone back on the table and began thinking about Dorothy.

“No, it couldn’t be,” I thought to myself, comparing her Land of Oz to my land of purgatory where I remain in exile.”

Then I closed my eyes and clinched them tightly shut.

“I’m ready to come home now,” I said aloud, clicking my heels beneath the covers, repeating the same words and action two more times.

As I got out of bed and headed for the shower, I said a prayer asking that my message get through. If there was anything real or prophetic about the dream, I hope it was that. Soulshine is the only force I know that’s more powerful than an eternity of Granny’s hugs.

It’s time to stop drifting aimlessly into the storm.

I’m ready to come home now.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

To Joe Constancio — Thanks for the bottle of Patron!

A wonderful review from Paul O'Rear

Fellow author Paul O'Rear just posted the following review for "Crosswinds" on his blog. What truly kind words. Please take a moment to visit Paul's blog.http://www.paulorear.com/books/crosswinds/

"The Broadcast" interview

Yeah! The link has been posted from by interview on "The Broadcast." Here it is for all those who didn't get a chance to watch the show live.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_FXe5lZ4gU

A guest on "The Broadcast"

 Thursday morning I was invited to be a guest on KTXD Channel 47’s “The Broadcast” show to talk about my new book, “Crosswinds.”
What a great experience — and an opportunity to represent Waxahachie, which host Dawn Neufeld made sure to point out at the beginning of my interview. I want to thank producer Colleen Horning for all of her assistance, as well as the show’s hosts Dawn, Amy, Lisa, Meghan, and the entire crew of “The Broadcast” for providing such a memorable experience.
And to answer the question that the dozen or so people asked who called me after the show aired, no, it wasn’t my first time in a television studio.
In fact, I began my journalism career in television. Granted, I didn’t work on such an elaborate set — nor did I have the high-tech cameras and switching equipment that I got to see when Colleen gave me a tour of the Channel 47 studio.
My studio was a 10-foot by 8-foot armor-plated room next to the aft five-inch gun. (Believe me, you didn’t want to be in the studio when the guns were being fired. I was usually topside with a video camera). During my broadcasts, the studio pitched and rolled with ship’s movement as we steamed through the waves. I had one portable camera, one studio camera, a switching unit and five auxiliary input devices for my nightly broadcast, which I wrote, produced and directed all by myself as I delivered the nightly news to the 350 crewmen aboard the USS Buchanan, DDG 14. At sea, when I wasn’t delivering the nightly news, I was producing training videos (and videos of anything the Captain wanted a video of), climbing to the top of the mast to take spy photos of Soviet vessels and writing press releases for submission to Stars and Stripes and the Navy news service. In port, I guarded nuclear warheads.
While I was proud of my nightlight newscasts at sea, I admit, there weren't on the same level the KTXD team delivers for "The Broadcast" show. For starters, they didn't have to contend with their chair sliding across the deck when the ship took a heavy roll right when I was delivering a story on President Reagan's new military initiative in War on Drugs. Or the time the ship rolled and I dove to catch the studio camera before it hit the deck — all on live television. Or the time the captain wanted me to video a test launch of the ship's surface to air missile system and told me to stand on the deck outside the bridge, which was 10 meters from the missile launcher. I had no idea to expect. I had never seen a missile being launched up close. So, like a good sailor, I did what I was told. The video turned out great — except for the audio. I had to dub that out. After the explosion from the missile launch, all you could hear on the tape was this long string of profanity as the flames from the launch nearly engulfed me. Although it "startled me," I have always been pretty fearless with a camera in my hand. For what it's worth, all the officers in the wardroom thought thought the raw footage was pretty funny. "Petty Officer White will make sure and take the sound out before we send the tape to the admiral, right?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" I replied before doing an about face and exiting the wardroom briefing.
I admit, Thursday’s experience brought back a lot of memories — and provided the answer to a question I had all those years ago when I sailed the Pacific wondering what it would be like to work in a “real” television studio.
It wasn’t close to what I had imagined.
It was better.
Thanks to everyone at Channel 47 for a great experience and thanks for allowing me to talk about "Crosswinds." I’ll post the YouTube link on Facebook as soon as it’s available for those who didn’t have a chance to watch but would like to see it.

Television interview Thursday, Dec. 11, 2014

My television interview has been rescheduled. It will now take place tomorrow on KTXD Dallas Channel 47's The Broadcast. The show is broadcast live from 10 - 11 a.m. I won't know until tomorrow morning what time I'll be on — but please tune in! The show is also simulcast on the Internet at ktxd.com and will be rebroadcast again at 4 p.m. I'm looking forward to talking about Crosswinds. I have know idea what questions I'll be asked, but I know it will be a great show.

Latest review for Crosswinds

I just received notice of another review for Crosswinds posted on Amazon.
Here's the review:

"I love it when a book surprises me with unexpected insights and wisdom about the human condition. When a book also makes me look at my own life, then...it's a keeper.

"Crosswinds is a story about two men stranded in an airport because of circumstances beyond their control. The time together generates enough thoughtful energy that they eventually turn inward and recognize the only thing that they could ever control - their reaction to the events and people in their lives. And that shift in perspective makes all the difference.

"There are stories within stories that will leave you wondering about life. There are many anecdotes that seem as if they were written just for you. And there is a message of hope that will leave you smiling long after you have turned the last page.

"As a side note - this book makes a great gift to anyone who has ever served in the military. They will resonate with the stories, the images and the descriptions of military life. And they may just peek behind a door to self-awareness at the same time.

"Well done!"

Wow, what a great compliment.

TV interview and book-signing event scheduled

With much appreciation to Colleen Horning for her assistance, I'll be doing an interview on KTXD - Channel 47 on Dec. 10 to talk about Crosswinds.
I've also been booked for a signing event at the DeSoto Library from 1-3 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 10.
Please tune into the broadcast on Dec. 10 (or set your DVR) and I look forward to seeing everyone at the DeSoto Library on Jan. 10.

My Lincoln Crosswind

http://youtu.be/VVizTRm36MU

As part of my day job, I write a syndicated auto column that's picked up in several hundred newspapers throughout the U.S. Last week I was assigned to evaluate the new Lincoln MKC and Ford Motor Company challenged me to come up with a video based on their current ad campaign starring Matthew McConaughey. With much appreciation to my videographer Scott Dorsett, here's what we came up with. I tried to work in a few subtle plugs for Crosswind as well.

Commendation from a fellow Admiral

Yesterday Jim Barnhill sent me a note that have to share. What an honor from a fellow newspaper colleague and Admiral in the Texas Navy. Below is Jim's letter:

Hello  Admiral Neal

My phone call several weeks ago to offer you my congratulations on being named
an Admiral in the Texas Navy was no doubt a "crosswinds" moment in our lives.

Had I not made that phone call, I would not have become acquainted with you,
 nor would I learned about your soon to be published novel: CROSSWINDS.

Twenty four hours after we received it in Saturday's US Mail, I just completed the book
....except for a couple of time outs going to bed late, .....a two hour six mile walk along
the Yakima River  Greenway, and watching Wall Street Journal Report....then the final
twenty pages! For a 34 year Army guy, I really enjoyed the young Navy recruit and
and the older sea dog and their story line. Gripping...compelling....a real grabber that
you don't want to put down!

Neal, it was a superb novel.....it exceeded my wildest expectations. Great story lines!
 Now I want to be first in line to buy your second book in the series. Please keep me posted.

I also want to extend a congratulatory message that I handed out to staff members who
produced exemplary work for the Yakima Herald Republic. When great things I happened,
I usually scribbled D.W.D! on the published story or the correspondence.

CROSSWINDS has to be one of the best novels I've read in years. By the way I was
5 year term Library Board Trustee. with three years as  President of the Yakima Valley Libraries.
The Library quit counting my books after reading  1000 books in just over three years.

So today Admiral Neal White, aka N.R.White, here's your  well deserved D.W.D!

Jim Barnhill

Admiral in Texas Navy
Commissioned: 8 July 1965
by Governor John Connolly

Admiral, there be books!

The books are here!!! The first shipment of Crosswinds was delivered today. Everyone in the office couldn't wait to take a look.
The books arrived just in time for Saturday's book signing events. Hope to see everyone there.
• Noon – 2 –p.m. at the Ginger Bread Station Book Store, 4450 FM 1387 in Midlothian
• 3-5 p.m. at Hastings Entertainment in Waxahachie.

When sleep won't find me

I haven’t slept much the past two weeks. Insomnia is a frustrating condition. The body craves rest but the mind just won’t slow down long enough to cross the border into slumber. There are too many thoughts — various scenarios being played out in my head trying to anticipate the next move knowing full well the outcome is beyond my control. That realization only sends my mind into overdrive.

Most nights I sit out on the patio and gaze into the sky, hoping to find serenity in the moon’s glow. But for the past two weeks there has been no moonshine to bask in, nor the opportunity to reflect in its illuminating glow. Instead, I tilt my head back in the chair and gaze at the stars the filled the night sky praying that soulshine will find me somewhere down the line.

The stars in the Southern sky really are quite beautiful. With my headphones on and the iPod set to shuffle, a gentle breeze pulled back the quilt of humidity that covered the lawn as I leaned back in the chair and hit play. As soon as the music began to play my mind switched gears faster than a racecar driver at Road America. The scenarios that had been playing out in my head were instantly replaced with memories with the music serving as the soundtrack to my life. The images were so real and vivid it was almost as if I could extend my hand into the starlit sky and touch them. As Huey Lewis began singing in my ears I was catapulted back to the night my oldest son was born. I left the hospital in La Jolla around 2 a.m., took the top off my Pontiac Fierro and cranked up the volume on the radio. That song was playing as I cruised down Pacific Coast Highway to the apartment in Carlsbad. At the first red light, I stood up, poked my head through the open sunroof and shouted, “I have a son!” at the top of my lungs.  I remember being overwhelmed with the feeling of absolute jubilation and stark terror at the realization I knew nothing about being a father. Looking up at the moonless sky, those feelings came rushing back as my mind began thinking about the past three decades and my journey through fatherhood.  James Taylor’s “Carolina in My Mind” starts playing and thoughts of home come to mind — so strong I can almost smell the pines that permeate the air near the home where I grew up. I remember the days of my youth sitting on the side porch with my friends on summer nights talking about baseball and argued over which one of us would be the first to make it to the Big Leagues. Summer nights in the heart of Carolina, the air is so thick with humidity you wear it like a winter coat. I’ve never complained about the heat, or growing up without air conditioning. To this day, I miss it. When I was in the Navy, that song brought me comfort my ship sailed across the Pacific, sometimes for months on end. There were many nights at sea I’d pop in the cassette into my tape deck, put on my headphones and let Taylor sing me back home as the ship’s movement rocked me to sleep. Song after song, each one refreshes a memory of my past that plays out in my mind as I stare into the night sky. I remember every detail, every word that was spoken, even how I felt at that exact moment in time. Good times and bad, they all are replayed, and with each memory, another opportunity for self-reflection on what I did, and what I didn’t. At time, the music made the memories a little to real, especially during a Jackson Browne song as he sings “… don’t confront me with my failures. I had not forgotten them." Thank God there is a skip button on the iPod, which made me wish that life came with a rewind button.

With each passing hour, I can feel my eyelids wanting to close. I so want sleep to come, but rest keeps passing me by. Through the music in my eyes I can still hear the internal clock ticking in my head, only the ticking becomes louder as I realize there’s not much time left before the alarm sounds. I try to make the clock stop ticking, but that only makes the sound louder.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Why can’t I sleep? Instead of a light bulb going off above my head from some great epiphany, instead I hear Robert Frost whisper through the headphones, “But you have promises to keep, and miles to go before you sleep. And miles to go before you sleep.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I know that time is running out before the alarm sounds. There’s lots of time to sleep after that, I tell myself. There’s so much to do – so much I want to do.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

My eyelids are starting to get heavy and I can feel my mind slowly beginning to ease into that state between fully awake and the place where dreams are allowed to take form and take shape.

I hear my mom’s voice. “You’re no spring chicken anymore.” My eyes pop open and once again I’m fully awake.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

John Denver’s “Annie Song” plays in the headphones, followed by a tune from Keb Mo. More memories play out in my head, more emotions, more reminders of things I could have done but missed the moment. Again I hear Frost whisper in my ears through the headphones. “I told you to take the road less traveled. But no, you had to do it your way. You’re no risk-taker, I’ll give you that. But where has that gotten you? Tell me. Have you gotten everything you wanted in life by staying on the main road with everyone else? Go on, tell me, I can’t wait all night. My horses are waiting by the snowy woods and they are anxious to get back to the barn.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I just want to sleep. Where is the moonshine that fills my spirit and serves as a beacon to light my way through life’s dark moments? In the dark, moonless night, how can I find soulshine without it?

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Fully awake, I had to laugh aloud when chorus began for one of my favorite songs by the Rolling Stones. I laughed because, while my dad despised rock music, he was constantly praising the wisdom and sage advice imparted in the song’s title. I could also find humor in the irony as Sir Mick sang, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.” Again, I starred up at the stars as the song played in my headphones. I conceded to myself that the stars really are quite beautiful as I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to find me — or the alarm to sound, whichever comes first.

Glowing review from Books & Fandom

I don't know if it's common for author's to check the sales ranking of their book on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, but after yesterday' release I was curious. It's very heady (at least it is for me) to see my book jacket listed on these two major book sites. And then I noticed the sales ranking and quickly came crashing back down to earth. It's difficult to have a swelled head when seeing there's more than a half-million books selling better than yours. In a matter of just a few seconds my dream of being on a best seller list shifted to just being on a list period.

And then I saw this review posted on the Books & Fandom website. Please visit the site and check it out:

http://www.booksandfandom.com/2014/08/blog-tour-review-crosswinds-by-nr-white_29.html

Here's just a few of the comments:

"The author's writing was flawless. Every story Jack told about himself easily was a segue way back in to the conversation leaving you thinking and wondering"

"I completely enjoyed this story. All the stories within the story had me intrigued and curious."

"Crosswinds is why I love to read and why it is one of my 2014 favorite reads."

Thank you Books & Fandom for reviewing "Crosswinds" and letting your readers know about the book. I know you could have selected thousands of other books to review. Again, thank you!

Blog Tour Schedule

I want to thank The Next Chapter Publishing and all of the wonderful, wonderful sites below for posting reviews and/or interviews and guest blogs during the national release of  "Crosswinds." The release date is only three days away!!!

Please visit the following book site to check out the "Crosswinds" Blog Tour 2014. Again, thank you to all the sites below for reviewing the book, hosting interviews and allowing me the opportunity to talk about the book.

Blog Tour Schedule


8/27/2014    Romantic Reading Escapes – Review, Book Spotlight

8/28/2014    Sherry Gomes Blog – Review, Book Spotlight

8/29/2014    Fandom Fanatic – Review, Book Spotlight

8/30/2014    The Pen Muse – Interview, Book Spotlight

8/31/2014    Multi-tasking Momma – Review, Book Spotlight

9/1/2014      My Fiction Nook – Guest Post, Book Spotlight

9/2/2014      Ashley Nemer Blog – Book Spotlight

9/3/2014      First Page to the Last – Book Spotlight

9/4/2014      The Next Chapter Publishing – N.R. White Interview

9/5/2014      The Next Chapter Publishing – Review Highlight

9/8/2014      My Reading Lounge – Guest Post, Book Spotlight

9/9/2014      Miss Ivy's Book Nook – Guest Post

9/10/2014    Miss Ivy's Book Nook – Book Spotlight

9/10/2014    Insatiable Readers – Book Spotlight

9/11/2014    The Next Chapter Publishing – Review Highlight

9/12/2014    Manic Readers – Interview, Book Spotlight

9/13/2014    The Next Chapter Publishing – Review Highlight

9/14/2014    Ashley Nemer Blog -- Review

Texas Author's Association Interview

My interview on "Crosswinds" made during the Texas Author's Association convention has been posted on YouTube.

I thought it turned out a lot better than I thought it would. It was my first interview on that side of the camera and I was more than a little nervous.

Please check out the video at

 http://youtu.be/g6THg6YmXAc

Starting somewhere

THE GOOD NEWS: My book is now being sold on the Barnes & Noble website.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crosswinds-nr-white/1120111407?ean=9781941398043

THE BAD NEWS: It's ranked 446,238 in sales.
 
Everyone has to start somewhere. 

Release date cometh

This is really a weird time for me. In a couple of days my first book will be released. On one hand, it's a day that I've been dreaming about since I began writing stories as a teenager. I've often thought about what that day would be like. I have imagined sitting at a table in a book store, signing copies and carrying on conversations with folks who wanted a personalized copy of my book. For so long those images have been nothing more than a fantasy -- an escape from the real world to a place I'd like to be. Now it's almost here.

The past few weeks have been a blur. I have promotional blogs and interviews (which I still have yet to complete). Then there is the scheduling for the first two book signings. I've been working with the publishing house in coordinating all those events. There has also been the promotion for the pre-orders of the book and this week, Nook, Amazon and Kindle launched advanced sales for the e-edition on their respective sites. It was a surreal experience when I opened the Amazon link and saw my book available for purchase from the largest bookseller in the world. While thrilled, I realized that folks still have to want to buy it.

While all of this is going on (plus by day job that pays the bills, which keeps me busy about 80 hours a week), I'm actively working on the second novel in the series, entitled "Wind Speaker." I truly love this book. Earlier this week I had a meeting with one of the partners at the publishing house. I had asked for some guidance on how to handle one of the chapters. Wind Speaker is a fictional character. In the chapter, I wanted Wind Speaker to tell the story of an actual event that I spent two years covering as a reporter. In the chapter, Wind Speaker tells Bobby (from Crosswinds) and DeWayne (one of the main characters in Wind Speaker) the legend of the White Buffalo Calf Woman and the prophesy that foretold her return to mark the beginning of what the Lakota Sioux call the "cleansing," which will proceed the reunification of the four tribes of man beneath the tree of life -- who will then restore the balance and harmony of Mother Earth. It's a key element of the story line and helps set up the third and final book of the series, "Wind Shear." As we were talking, I filled her in on the ending of the book, which has Bobby trying to get in touch with Jack to enlist his help. So I'm explaining the ending, with Willie telling Bobby where Jack has been the past four years and my publisher literally shouts, "Neal,  SPOILER ALERT! Why did you do that! That's such a great ending but I can't believe you told me! Now I won't have the chance to be knocked off my feet when I read it because I know what's coming." Bottom line, she loved it, although she's a little peeved that I spoiled the surprise by telling her in advance.

The thing is, I'm really getting into the writing process for Wind Speaker. I don't know if any other authors have experienced this, but it is certainly weird for me. I'm very proud of Crosswinds and as I mentioned earlier, I've been waiting my entire adult life for this moment to become reality. At the same time, I'm moving full speed ahead on the next book, yet I feel like I have to stop and move backwards before I can advance because the success of Crosswinds will play a key role in whether or not Wind Speaker sees publication. It's a business. A very, very tough business. As I'm learning, there's a lot more to becoming a published author than just creative writing.

Without question, I want Crosswinds to do well. I suppose I'm like most (if not all) authors who receive a contract and imagine their book becoming a best-seller. I know I have. And then reality hits and I remember the publisher telling me their "best case" expectation for a first-time, unknown author was selling 10,000 copies for their first book. It didn't sound like very many copies to me, but using a baseball analogy to help me understand, said for a first-time author, 10,000 copies is like hitting a walk-off grand slam homerun in the seventh game of the World Series. While I would truly love for the book to sell well enough that I could get of debt, being realistic, my primary goal is for Crosswinds to do well enough that it will guarantee the publication of Wind Speaker. This is a story that I feel with all my being will be well received with readers from all walks of life. It's also a story that needs to be told.

So if it takes me a little longer to finish Wind Speaker than I had anticipated, it's because I'm doing everything I can to ensure the success of Crosswinds. So far the reviews for Crosswinds have all been glowing tributes.  I have been corresponding with Carol Toberny, the owner of the book store where I will hold my first book signing on Sept. 6. In all of the correspondences, she stated how much she was looking forward to reading Crosswinds. Because she was so gracious to host the book signing, earlier this week I sent her the galley for the book that had been sent to the printer. This is the email she sent yesterday morning:

"Neal - I finished the book last night!  I LOVED it!!!  Wish I could have read it in one sitting - it was that captivating - but I had to do it over several nights which may have been better, now that I think about it, because it gave me a chance to reflect on it between readings.  I just loved it.  It resonated with me on many levels.  And on the areas I'm not as familiar with, it really opened my mind so that I want to learn more.  Great job!  I can't wait for Wind Speaker!!!

"Thank you so much for sending me the galley.  I was excited before, but I'm over-the-top excited now!!! Neal - I'm having a hard time selecting just one favorite part.  I loved how you jumped feet first into the story with Jack asking Bobby "Do you believe in God?"  And Jack's explanation of crosswinds to Bobby and his experiences with Marco on the Baja Peninsula and with Willie in the Navy and beyond.  And Bobby's gleaning from Jack the story of his lost love.  And, of course, the ending. . .

"If I had to narrow it down further (on my favorite part of the book), I guess I was particularly moved by the lessons Jack learned from Marco's happiness with his simple life.

"But it's really tough to choose.  As I said, it resonated with me in so many areas.  And I'm dying to know what happened when Bobby called Donna."

Best regards,
Carol

I was tempted to respond and let her know what happens between Bobby and Donna, but I remembered the publisher's reaction about SPOILER ALERT, so all I can say is that you can find out in the second chapter of Wind Speaker.

I'm proud of Crosswinds, but the story really starts taking shape in Wind Speaker. Based on the feedback from the 50 or so Advance Copies for Review that were sent out, I know there is a large audience for Crosswinds. I just hope it is able to rise about the sea of titles that it is competing against for recognition. For those who have, or plan to purchase Crosswinds, thank you. If you enjoy it, please tell your family and friends about it and help me be able to earn the opportunity to have Wind Speaker published. It has the same flow as Crosswinds, with about ten times the goosebumps -- and lots of twists you didn't see coming.

Although it won't be released until Aug. 29, pre-orders for the book version of Crosswinds is currently being sold by The Next Chapter Publishing
http://www.thenextchapterpublishing.com/books-shop/

Pre-orders for the e-book version are also being sold on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MQAI96Y

My mom also sent me a text this week letting me know it was also being sold on the Nook book store website.

From 12-2 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 6, I will hold my first book reading during a book signing event at Ginger Bread Station Books, 4450 FM 1387 in Midlothian, Texas.

I will also be holding a book signing event from 3-5 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 6 at Hastings Entertainment on Highway 77 in Waxahachie.

I look forward to visiting with everyone and sharing more about the Crosswinds series -- although I've been told I'm not allowed to divulge any key information about what's happening to the characters in Wind Speaker and the final book, Wind Shear. That's going to be really difficult for me because I love talking about it. 

In the meantime, I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to drop me a line, ask me a question or just visit. You can reach me at nrwwax@gmail.com.

"Crosswinds" reading on Saturday, July 12

I will be doing a reading from "Crosswinds" followed by an interview at the Lexicon Writers Conference on Saturday (July 12). A video of the interview will be posted on the Texas Writers Association's page. While I've done a lot of volunteer reading for kids, this will be my first official reading of my work. I've been scheduled for a 10-minute reading and I still haven't narrowed down what part of the book I'm going to read. For those that have seen the advance copy, any suggestions?

Summary: Stranded in an airport during a storm, a random act of kindness and an unexpected encounter leads to a life-changing experience for a young sailor on his way to his first duty station overseas. When Bobby walked into the airports only smoking lounge and asked to bum a smoke, Jack knew there was a reason a crosswind had unexpectedly blown the sailor into his path. It wasn't until several hours later that Jack realized the exact purpose of their chance encounter.

And NOW... Your first look at

Release Date - August 28, 2014

Join the Giveaway for your chance to win a $10.00 Amazon card and a digital ARC of Crosswinds. 

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About the Author:

“Crosswinds” author N.R. White is a U.S. Navy veteran and an award-winning newspaper journalists. Born in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina, his family moved to Columbia, S.C. at the age of 10 when his father returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam — at the same time South Carolina was in the process of integrating its public school system. The son of a career soldier, he graduated high school in West Germany before attending the University of South Carolina where he majored in journalism.
Having covered assignments around the world, those experiences are captured in the characters and settings of his manuscripts.
“Crosswinds” is the first of a three-book series. He is currently working on the second novel in the series entitled “Wind Speaker,” which he anticipates being released in 2015. The inspiration for the series originated during the two years he covered the birth of the white buffalo in Janesville, Wisconsin in the mid-1990s, and the Native American prophecy that foretold not only the calf’s birth, but its significance to people of all races across the world.

Visit N.R. White on these pages.

Blog - /http://nealwhite.blogspot.com/
Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/pages/NR-White/587102578055574 

Promoted to Flag Rank

I am now an Admiral in the Texas Navy. Today (June 26, 2014), Texas State Rep. Jim Pitts, on behalf of Texas Gov. Rick Perry and the Texas Legislature, presented me with the honorary title of Admiral in the Texas Navy during the Waxahachie Rotary Club's weekly meeting. What a tremendous honor from my adopted state. I am indeed humbled and greatly honored. Thank you Rep. Pitts, Gov. Perry and to everyone involved for making this honor possible. As U.S. Navy Capt. Pat Merrill said before presenting me with my first salute, it's rare that a Petty Officer becomes an Admiral, even an honorary one.