Not Stupid Today – A True Story And Guest Blog Post by Graeme Cumming @GraemeCumming63

I’m delighted to welcome Graeme Cumming to my blog. Not only is Graeme somebody I class as a friend, but he’s also a very talented author, writer and blogger.

A guest blog post by Graeme Cumming

Graeme’s true story opened up my eyes to something I’d never thought about when it comes to passing on wisdom and mistakes I’ve made in my life to those younger than me. Read his story and let him know how you pass on words of wisdom to the younger generation.


Unlike Bryan Adams, my summer of ’69 had nothing to do with playing guitar. Having struggled to play triangle during a school concert, I think it’s safe to say my musical abilities wouldn’t have stretched that far.

When I chose the wrong moment to hit the triangle, I was even more mortified than I might otherwise have been because my dad was in the audience. He didn’t tend to turn up for school stuff because of work – not many dads did back then. So, when he was able to put in an appearance, I wanted to impress him. Clearly, I was to be disappointed and, at the time, I assumed the same was true for him. It’s funny the perceptions we have of our parents.

That summer, we took a rare holiday. I suppose they were rare because we didn’t have the money for them. In those days, it was common for the husband to go to work and the wife to stay home and look after the house and children. With one wage-earner, a holiday was a luxury. Even better, we had two weeks at Mablethorpe, not just one.

Fifty-one years later, I still have great memories from that holiday. Great, though not all of them filled with joy. Not at the time anyway.

There was an incident where my dad and I were playing football on the beach. Sport had always been his forte. He’d even been signed as a professional footballer back in the fifties – though a foot injury put paid to his sporting career within weeks. Nevertheless, even with the injury, he was a good all-rounder. In his time, he played cricket, tennis and squash to a high standard, and even walked away with a trophy on the one occasion he played golf.

In contrast, my own sporting skills have always bordered on the inept. So there was very little surprise when I kicked the ball in the wrong direction, sending it hurtling out into the sea. The tide was going out and, before long, it became apparent that the ball was going with it. My dad did go after it – inevitably, he was a bloody good swimmer, too!

Like most kids, my dad was my hero. I thought he was capable of anything. So, when he swam back to shore and I could still see the ball in the distance, it’s fair to say I was disappointed. In short, I wanted my ball back.

Standing at the water’s edge, he pointed to where it was, bobbing further and further away. I felt very let down that he’d come back empty-handed. And I let him know it, too.

“You can still get it.”

“Graeme, it’s too far out.”

It didn’t look that far to me, a point I expressed pretty sharply.

“The tide’s taking it,” he tried to explain.

Perhaps the concept of tides was too difficult for a six-year-old. It was another thirteen years before I experienced the terrifying pull of the sea as a Moroccan beach seemed to recede very rapidly from my line of sight. And the overwhelming sense of relief as I somehow managed to scrabble my way back to shallow waters.

To this day, I don’t know whether my dad had ever gone through a similar experience, but he knew what he was talking about. I didn’t.

Hands on hips, I looked up at him and, in the manner befitting a child who isn’t getting their own way, let him know just how disappointed I was in him. After all, this was my hero. He was my Simon Templar, my Robin Hood, my Tarzan.

“Aren’t you brave enough?” It was an idea that was, frankly, shocking to me.

Exhausted from swimming against the tide, and faced with a similarly unreasonable question, I’d like to think I could show the same level of patience he did (I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t).

“Sometimes, Graeme, there’s not much difference between being brave and being stupid.” He glanced out to the ball. “I’m not going to be stupid today.”

Naturally, this quite profound life lesson went straight over my head at the time. And yet, strangely, the incident and the words stuck with me, until one day they made sense.

I’d like to say my dad was not only a great sportsman, but a philosopher too. But I can’t. Like each and every one of us, he was a flawed individual, and over the years I learnt as much from his mistakes as I did his wise words. And I’ve learnt even more from my own mistakes, especially from my youthful certainty that I was right, that I was invincible, that I would be my own hero. But that’s part of growing up.

Now, as a father myself, I see my children making their own mistakes, and hoping they’ll learn from them too. I’ve shared my words of wisdom, and hope they’ll remember some of them when the time is right. Sometimes those words have been dressed up in stories – because sometimes it’s easier to learn when you’re being entertained.

And I do like to tell stories.


Graeme Cumming

Graeme Cumming lives in Robin Hood country.  He has wide and varied tastes when it comes to fiction so he’s conscious that his thrillers can cross into territories including horror, fantasy and science fiction as well as more traditional arenas. 

When not writing, Graeme is an enthusiastic sailor (and, by default, swimmer), and enjoys off-road cycling and walking.  He is currently Education Director at Sheffield Speakers Club.  Oh yes, and he reads (a lot) and loves the cinema.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Connect With Graeme

Blog

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Books

Ravens Gathering

Where To Buy Ravens Gathering:

Amazon UK

Amazon USA

Waterstones

Troubador

Signed copy

Carrion

Where to buy Carrion:

Amazon UK

Amazon USA

My thanks to Graeme for writing this guest post.

If you have any questions or comments for Graeme, please leave them in the comments section. He’d be delighted to hear from you.


For more true stories from my guests, click on the links below

How A Journey Of A Million Miles Showed Me The Value Of Home – A Guest Post by Paul Ariss @PaulAriss1

Today, I’d like to introduce you to Paul Ariss. Paul is a songwriter, screenwriter and has just started blogging.

Paul shares a true story about travel which gave me goosebumps when I read it because I know only too well what he was experiencing.

Have you ever experienced what Paul shares with us in his guest post?

Copyright © 2020 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

Supernatural Encounters – True Stories And A Guest Blog Post By Victoria Zigler @VictoriaZigler

I’m delighted to welcome Victoria (Tori) Zigler to my blog today.

After reading an interview with Victoria on the blog of Teri Pollen, I invited her to write a guest post about some of the encounters she has had with the supernatural.

Supernatural Encounters by Victoria Zigler

With it being Halloween week, Victoria’s post had me thinking about a ghostly encounter I once had. However, nothing as strange as the missing bath plug in one of Victoria’s stories.

Perhaps Victoria’s post will encourage you to share your true stories of supernatural encounters?


I see dead people.

Sorry.  I couldn’t resist.  I’ve wanted an excuse to use that line since I first saw “The Sixth Sense” many years ago.  But it is the truth, so I hope you’ll forgive me for indulging myself.

Anyway, it’s not just people.  It’s animals too.

Well, technically, these days I don’t ‘see’ them, because I lost my eyesight more than a decade ago to Congenital Glaucoma.  But I saw them when I still had vision, and I still hear and feel things.

👻 👻 👻 👻

I’ve lived in several places where unexplained shadows, cold spots, and footsteps, were frequent occurrences, and whispered words from unknown speakers could be heard at times.  Things you can dismiss as being other people in the house if you don’t live alone, but aren’t so easily dismissed when you’re home alone.

Like when you’re writing at 3:00am-  again – and realize that couldn’t have been your husband who just walked up behind  you, because you can hear his snoring coming from the bedroom, and it couldn’t have been the dog either, because the dog is that fluffy warm lump on your feet.

Or you’re taking advantage of everyone else still being asleep in the early morning to have a shower, and hear someone telling you to hurry up because the dog needs out.  So you rush to finish – wondering why they can’t take her – only to discover when you emerge from the bathroom that the only living being awake besides you is the dog in question, waiting impatiently by the door to go out.

Yeah.  Those kinds of things.

It would take too long to detail everything, and I doubt I could recall them all anyhow.  But, I’ve had some less subtle experiences, which I’m going to tell you about.

To clarify: the first three experiences that follow happened when I still had my eyesight.

🎃 🎃 🎃 🎃

The first started when I was maybe ten years old, and we had moved in to the house we were in fairly recently.

I woke to find my bedroom colder than usual, and a little girl in red in the room.  She looked about six, with dark hair.  She walked around the room a little, as though examining my stuff, and then disappeared.  Moments later, the temperature in the room returned to normal.

I saw her several times during the years I lived in that house, and tried to talk to her, but – though I called her my friend, and thought of her as ‘Tabitha’ – she never so much as acknowledged me.

When I foolishly mentioned her to some children from my class, they teased me and said she was an imaginary friend.  They did it so much I started to think they were right.

Until I heard my Nan telling someone about the little dark haired girl in red she’d seen several times running through the living room and starting up the stairs before vanishing.  I’d never described the girl I called Tabitha to anyone, but Nan described her perfectly, and I knew it had to be the same little girl.  When I told my Nan, she agreed.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

The second was in the same house, happened a few years after my first ‘Tabitha’ visit, but only happened once.

I walked out of the bathroom one night, and standing in front of me was a little boy in a sailor suit.  He smiled, turned, and started walking away.  He’d only taken a couple of steps when he vanished.

I never saw him again, and to my knowledge nobody else saw him at all.

🧙‍♀️ 🧙‍♀️ 🧙‍♀️ 🧙‍♀️

The third happened in the flat I lived in when I first moved out of my parents’ house.

I put the plug in the bath, leaving the water running, before heading to the bedroom to fetch my pyjamas.  When I got back to the bathroom, the plug was gone.  It had literally disappeared.

The plughole was empty, it wasn’t attached to the chain that usually attaches them to the bath (not surprisingly, since the chain had snapped before this) and it wasn’t on the side of the bath near the tap (which is where I’d kept the plug since its chain snapped, so where it would have been if I hadn’t put it in after all).

After searching the bathroom for several minutes, I gave up and fetched the kitchen sink’s plug for my bath.  It didn’t fit right, so I had to hold it until the water was deep enough that water pressure would keep it there, and had to be careful not to knock it with my foot, but it allowed me to have my bath.

For the next several days I searched for that plug.  My Mam even came to help me look.  We searched the entire flat, but it was nowhere to be found.

Until three weeks later, when it was suddenly back in the bath.

I lived alone in the flat, and nobody could have gotten in without my knowledge.  Plus, why would someone break in to steal my plug? Especially since I had much better things to steal.

👹 👹 👹 👹

I’ve also had visits from two of the petkids I’ve lost – the two I was most closely bonded with when they were alive.

The first was my Oriental cat, Chance.  I felt him jump on my bed one night the Halloween two years after he died… Felt the weight of him beside me on the bed.  Heard his purr.  Felt his silky soft fur rub against my hand.  And then he was gone.

I had a similar visit from my Westie, Kero, two Halloweens after he died.

It’s like my boys wanted to say one final, “Goodbye,” to me before they moved on.


Bio – Victoria Zigler

Victoria Zigler is a blind vegan poet and children’s author who was born and raised in the Black Mountains of Wales, UK, and is now living on the South-East coast of England, UK, with her hubby, chinchilla, Westie, Cavapoo, and Hermann’s Tortoise.

Victoria – or Tori, if you prefer – has been writing since she knew how, and describes herself as a combination of Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter books: Hermione’s thirst for knowledge and love of books, combined with Luna’s wandering mind and alternative way of looking at the world. 

Victoria has a wide variety of interests, designed to exercise both the creative and logical sides of her brain, and dabbles in them at random depending on what she feels like doing at any given time.

To date, Victoria has published nine poetry books and 46 children’s books, with more planned for the future.  She makes her books available in multiple eBook formats, as well as in both paperback and audio. She’s also contributed a story to the sci-fi and fantasy anthology Wyrd Worlds II, which is available in eBook only.

Additionally, Tori’s Hermann’s Tortoise, Artemis, was featured in both the Magnificent Pets Colouring Book For Children and the Magnificent Pets Mandala Colouring Book For Adults, which are available via Praise My Pet.

Author, writer and blogger, Victoria (Tori) Zigler

Connect with Victoria

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Blog

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

YouTube

Find Victoria’s books on…

Smashwords

Amazon

My thanks to Victoria for writing this guest post and sharing her true stories with us.

If you have any questions or comments for Victoria, please leave them in the comments section. She’d be delighted to hear from you.

Have you had any supernatural encounters? Get in touch with me if you’d like to share them by way of a guest post here on my blog.

Did you enjoy reading this post? Then you may also enjoy…

Copyright © 2020 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

My Accident: A Life-Changing Experience – A True Story And Guest Blog Post By James M. Lane @jameslanepm

I’m delighted to welcome James M. Lane to my blog today.


James is the writer for Perfect Manifesto, a blog about fatherhood, health and self-improvement.

My Accident: A Life Changing Experience

James shares a true story about an accident that changed his life.

When I read his story, it made me stop and think about some of the accidents I’ve had in my life and whether they changed me. Maybe reading James’s post will make you stop and think?


It was too damn early to be awake on a Saturday morning as I stumbled into the toilets, fatigued and beaten down, taking great care to ensure my flimsy hospital gown did not fly open exposing my nether regions.

One look in the mirror at my battered face was enough, the lacerations altering my soft complexion, the look of innocence stolen away overnight.

The pulsating rips throbbed on my face, with horrible bloody slash across the bridge of my nose being the centrepiece.

There is no going back from this.

As I thought how destroyed my face was, I began to cry.

I’ve looked better…

Earlier…

It was the same Friday routine, a job done 100 times before, trundling away the sentinel-like cages, filled with medical stationery, into storage for the weekend.

The weekend, that unremarkable event where I did much of nothing expect watch DVDs and write commentary for penny review sites.

Each towering cage was pushed into the storeroom with unskilled aggression, ringing out one by one, with a spectacular crashing noise as metal clashed with metal.

The room was crammed, the last bit of space for the prescriptions sat within a tight corner.

Not knowing better, I applied force to get the cage flying over the ramp, where it snapped against a dip in the ramp, falling forward with a deathly clatter.

Expletives came into my head and straight out of my mouth, as the pressure of making a 5 o’clock finish was on, and I was unable to elevate the heavy load alone.

I grabbed my colleague, Umar to assist with battling the weight of the cage.  He helped to steady the burdensome load pulling upwards, as I endured metal digging into my skin as I pulled upwards, getting it back to its upright position.

In a moment of naivety I’ll never forget, I repeated exactly the same action causing the fall in the first place, with the notable exception that I was on the other side attempting to jimmy the wheels over the dip in the ramp as Umar pushed.

Big mistake.

The cage veered towards me from the momentum provided by Umar, a bit too much, plummeting downwards, same as before, expect with myself in the way to slow the fall.

I moved most of my body out the way, so I didn’t end up trapped, shifting the remainder of the cage off with my knees.

My immediate thought was how close I had been to serious injury, but then a dull stinging from the impact rung through my face, but I was okay… or so I thought.

Blood began to seep off my head, I held my hands to stop it, a futile action as it was coming too rapidly to clot with a compression.  I looked down at my hands to see them covered in red.

The storeroom floor was cover with one big bloody puddle, with a few handprints for good measure, in a scene resembling a Tarantino movie.

After…

I lay in a bed that was not my own, with nothing but a few home comforts hastily thrown into a bag in a last-minute panic.

Staring at the ward ceiling, I became lost in my own thoughts in this cold, unfamiliar place.

I wondered what ‘normal’ people my age were doing, the ones with a social life, the types who always scared me as they always seemed so confident and sure of themselves.

Did they really have it all figured out? Or were they just as terrified as me not knowing what they wanted from life?  Did other people fear deep down that they are doomed to spend their life achieving nothing?

Exhaustion eventually caught on, sending me into a deep sleep.

Morning…

Sounds of voices in the bed opposite roused me from needed rest.  I had a pressing desire to pee, but didn’t dare move for feeling like I was interrupting a very personal conversation in a very public place.

Instead, I lay still and listened.

“You make your choices in life, your poor decisions have led you here, if you keep behaving like this, you might not be so lucky next time.”

The consultant’s lecturing words carried over as the patient responded muttering incomprehensible words, as family members occasionally interjected trying to justify his actions.

I interpreted the conversation to understand that the youth had been fighting, another young ego getting too drunk and making mistakes.

The words made me think of my own situation, I wasn’t getting into late night brawls on a Friday night, but it was my decisions, or lack of them that had got me here.

If I nearly died yesterday, would you have been happy going out like this?

Not likely!

Laying in a hospital bed for most would ruin their weekend, for me it was the most I had done in months.

My reflections turned to my dead-end job, lack of friendships and prospects.

I knew there was more than this, I knew I could be more than this.

Changing…

The next few weeks I did all the tedious things required to fix up a broken face, while thinking what I wanted.

I dreaded going back to work, not for the job itself but because I knew I would be the centre of attention as it’s hard to stay inconspicuous when you’ve been clobbered with a 200kg industrial cage and left blood stains all over the building.

People talk, they always do, and when they learned my experience had changed me, I was seeking more in my own life, their own insecurities kicked in, belittling my abilities to do anything else.

Apparently, I was too afraid do anything that would better my existence.  This just drove me even more.

With time my face healed up and I felt more optimistic that I would not have to live the rest of my life as a disfigured monster.

This was followed by giving in my resignation to go to University, a decision that shocked the doubters thinking I would never leave.

Did I nearly die?

Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic, maybe my accident wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but I like to think it nearly did take my life, as that feeling has always motivated me to keep striving to be better than yesterday.


James M. Lane is a dad of two, husband, project manager and the writer for Perfect Manifesto a blog about fatherhood, health and self-improvement, founded on the belief that everyone has the potential to be better than yesterday.

Writer and blogger James M. Lane with one of his children

Connect With James

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Twitter

Pintrest

My thanks to James for writing this guest post and sharing his true story with us.

If you have any questions or comments for James, please leave them in the comments section. He’d be delighted to hear from you.

Have you ever had a life-changing moment? Get in touch with me if you’d like to share the details in a guest post.

Did you enjoy reading this post? Then you may also enjoy…

Copyright © 2020 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

Welcome To Vietnam – A True Story And Guest Blog Post by Chuck Jackson @chuck_cljjlk

I’m delighted to welcome Chuck Jackson to my blog today. Chuck is an author, writer and blogger, and lives in Florida.

A Guest Blog Post by Chuck Jackson

Chuck shares his incredible story of life as a Special Forces member of an Air Force Pararescue Team in 1968. Reading his story told me how all these men and women deserve to be remembered for the champions that they were and still are.

* * *

HH-43B (Pedro) in the foreground with a Douglas A-1 (Sandy) in the background

In December 1968, after completing 14 months of Special Forces training to be a member of the Air Force Pararescue team (PJ), I left my wife in tears and joined a hundred plus men from all branches of the military for the dreaded flight to Vietnam. Dressed in our fatigues, we boarded the aircraft at Travis AFB with stops in Alaska, Japan and then on to Vietnam. The closer we got to Da Nang, the more nervous we became.

Upon our arrival, the weather was cold and rainy; the scene was bedlam, with aircrafts of all sorts and sizes parked haphazardly. Military vehicles of various types were running back and forth-carrying men, fuel and cargo. Over to the side, I spotted a haunting site I would never forget. Lined up were many baggage carts, and on them were black bags containing the bodies of men who had given their lives. I saw no honor guard, nor flag covered caskets; only those body bags lying in the freezing rain.

* * *

When I checked into the 38th ARRS (Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Service) Detachment 7 in Da Nang, they assigned me to an Air Force Kaman HH-43B team. The HH-43B “Huskie” or as PJs named it “Pedro” they never designed it for combat because of its slow speed, short range, and it was not armored.

My team included Air Force Major William (Billy) Atkins, First Lieutenant Lawrence (Larry) Riley, Airman Samuel (Sammy) Burkowitz, and me. Our call name was Pedro 7-5. The other three had been together for several months and I was replacing a PJ that had rotated back stateside.

The first week we did nothing but Medevac to get me broken in. Although I was told this was temporary, my ignorance of actual rescue missions left me bored and wanting more. I did not understand what my future held; however, it wasn’t long before they immersed me into the reality of being a PJ.

I was hanging out in Detachment 7’s ready room with Sammy when the alarm sounded. By the time we arrived at our bird, Billy had the engines running and Larry was standing out front watching for us. As soon as I got out of the vehicle, Larry yelled, “Come on Doc. Get your gear on; we need to be in the air.” Sammy and I didn’t have enough time to get anymore than our helmets on and plugged into the communication systems when Billy was lifting off.

I asked, “What’s the scoop?”

Larry said, “We got two Huey medivac birds down. Sandy 2-7 says he is not sure there were survivors. There are hostiles crawling all over the area and command has scrambled a support jet and a second Sandy from Dak To.”

“Are we the only rescue crew?”

Billy said, “No, Pedro 4-4 out of Pleiku will be in support, but we are the primary.” Billy snickered, “Hey Doc, I hope you put on clean skivvies this morning. You wanted a mission, you got one now.”

Within 20 minutes, we were in communication with Sandy 2-7. He all but escorted us over to the crash site. We were circling at 1,000 ft. and it did not look good. Wreckage was spread over a quarter mile, although one cabin seemed to be intact. It took another half-hour of circling in the distance, with the two Sandy’s and an F-100 Super Sabre clearing the area. Pedro 4-4 was in formation with us.

Finally, we got the call, “Pedro 7-5, Sandy 2-7; Copy? .”

Larry answered, “This is Pedro 7-5; Go ahead.”

They gave us the green light and Billy made the turn. We heard the Sandy, tell Pedro 4-4 to maintain his pattern. Billy made a wide sweep and then as he lowered to less than 200 ft. Sammy yelled, “We got some hostiles at 7 o’clock.” Billy instantly kicked our bird in the butt and ascended back to 1,000 ft.

“Pedro 7-5, this is Rooster nine-err, two—two. Maintain your altitude.”

Billy replied, “10-4, Rooster 9-2-2; Roger that.”

Out of nowhere, a F-100 swooped in below us and hit the area with an onboard rocket followed by his guns. The target lit up with flames and smoke.

Sandy 2-7 cleared us again for an approach. This time we saw nothing, and Billy brought us in, hovered at six ft., and I jumped. Billy immediately rose and was making tight sweeps. I ran toward the cabin. When I got within 100 yards, I started seeing body parts. While still strapped I found the pilot in the cockpit, the other two were lying outside at various distances. The body parts seemed to come from one individual.

I radioed, “Pedro 7-5, PJ 7-5; Copy?”

Larry responded, PJ 7-5; Go ahead.

“No survivors here. Give me the direction to the other site.”

“PJ 7-5, 3 o’clock and 200 meters.”

“10-4”

I hightailed over toward the other site. I had to break through some thick brush. Once I did, I saw a burned cabin, or what was left of the cabin. I also saw severely burned bodies. I only found what I could identify as two crew members.

“Pedro 7-5, PJ 7-5; Copy?”

“PJ 7-5; Go ahead.”

“No survivors here. Check on the number on board this Huey.”

“PJ 7-5; Roger that.”

While I waited, I searched the area. The stench from the burned bodies was nauseating. I checked in all directions, finding nothing.

“PJ 7-5, Sandy 2-7; Copy?”

“Sandy 2-7; Go ahead.”

“Command says crew of three on each bird. Copy?”

“10-4, Sandy 2-7; thank you.”

Billy instructed me to return to the first site. He said Pedro 4-4 would handle the burned site.

With both Sandy’s, keeping watch over our backsides, Billy landed at the first site. He kept our bird’s engines running. Sammy helped me get the pilot out and put him in a body bag. We gathered as many body parts as we could find and put them in a separate bag. We did not have another bag, so we used a tarp out of our emergency locker and wrapped the third crewmember. Then we loaded all three in our bird.

Pedro 4-4 landed at site two and it took its crew 30 minutes to find the third crewmember. We left before Pedro 4-4 and headed for our base. For the last week, I had hauled body bags when we did Medevac. However, this seemed more dismal. Perhaps it was because these were flight crews and not Army grunts. No one spoke on the return to base.

As I helped unload our formidable cargo, I must have had a melancholy appearance. Billy walked over, put his arm around me, and said, “I’m sorry to tell you Doc, it doesn’t get any easier.” Then, cynically, he added, “Oh yeah, Welcome to Vietnam.”

Thoughts of a Pararescueman

I am that which others do not want to be. I chose to go where others fear and excel where they have failed.

I ask for nothing from those that will not give… and reluctantly accept the thought of eternal loneliness, …should I fail.

I have seen the face of death, felt the stinging cold of fear; I have realized the harsh reality of just what this job is all about. I enjoyed the sweet taste of victory and love; but those were just fleeting moments.

I have cried, pained and hoped, most of all, I have lived times others would say are best forgotten…But,

At least I will be able to say that I was proud of who and what I am and that in my heart and soul I will always be a “PJ”

<Unknown author>

“These Things We Do, That Others May Live,”


Author and writer Chuck Jackson

Chuck Jackson is a retired accountant living in Southeast Florida. He was an ‘Air Force Brat’ and followed his dad’s 33-year military career by also serving four years in the Air Force.

He is an extensive reader and since retirement; he has spent much of his time studying and enhancing his love for writing. This story is taken in part from his published memoir. He is a two-time cancer survivor and draws his strength from his faith and church activity.

For years, he spoke little of his Vietnam experience, suffering similarly as many Vietnam Veterans anguished in silence. With this writing, he wants to help return the honor and dignity of those that served with him. He dedicates this story to those men that proudly served as PJs.

Connect with Chuck

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Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Chuck’s story appears in the Anthology – Stories Through The Ages – Baby Boomers Plus 2020.

Stories Through The Ages – Baby Boomers Plus 2020

Click here to order your copy.

My thanks to Chuck for writing this guest post.

If you have any questions or comments for Chuck, please leave them in the comments section. He’d be delighted to hear from you.

Copyright © 2020 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

How A Journey Of A Million Miles Showed Me The Value Of Home – A Guest Post by Paul Ariss @PaulAriss1

I’m delighted to introduce Paul Ariss to my blog. Paul is a songwriter, screenwriter and new to blogging.

Guest blog post by Paul Ariss

Paul shares a true story about travel which gave me goosebumps when I read it because I knew exactly what he was experiencing.

Over to you, Paul.


Image Credit – Paul Ariss

In the early evening of Wednesday, 28th October 1987 I walked into a bar in rain-sodden Flagstaff, Arizona with Randy Jones, a two-tour Vietnam vet.

I’d met Randy hours earlier that day, just minutes after midnight in Albuquerque bus station.

Randy was a mad-eyed but good-hearted individual who happened to be stopping off in Flagstaff himself on the way west to an altogether different destination. Randy and I were polar opposites.

Probably fifteen years older but with a lifetime more living, Randy had fought the Vietnamese in the Mekong Delta and had spent the last two months in a cave in the Rocky Mountains killing animals for his supper.

I was a pasty-faced young English office-worker whose closest shave with conflict was with a drunk in an airport who’d subsequently fallen over his own suitcase.

Yet somehow, me and Randy hit it off immediately.

After getting off our Greyhound bus and booking into our motels we decided to find a local bar, and there we laughed about the cultural differences between the US and the UK, and I let him tell as little as he felt able to share about his time as marine.

Mostly however he was fascinated about my overwhelming desire to see the country that had demanded of him as a young man to go and fight but had largely abandoned him since he returned home.

We were joined after a short time by a huge bear of a Native American man who largely just smiled and kept his own council.

But it’s true to say this night I was restless and struggled to stay convivial. After a couple of beers, I made my excuses and headed back to my motel. I had an inexplicable need to be alone.

By now the late afternoon had given way to early evening and the darkness through my motel window matched my state of mind.

Keeping Hold Of The Promise To Myself

Just ten years earlier I had made a vow to myself that I was now just hours away from fulfilling. At the time of the promise I was unemployed, and giving £5 of the £7 per week Social Security to my recently widowed father for board and keep.

Contrary to the punk counter-culture so many youths of my age were immersed in at the time, I was spending my days listening to the Eagles and dreaming of the open highways of America.

But I was a dreamer without substance. On the day I signed on for social security benefits, I was two-thirds of the way through an 18-months stint of unemployment.

Drenched by a steady drizzling rain, I needed something to aim for, something so far removed from my current situation to be almost too ludicrous to consider.

And then it came to me. I made the decision that one day I would get to The Grand Canyon.

Geographically it was over five thousand miles away from my small town in north-west England, though metaphorically it felt closer to a million. But right at that moment the thought of eventually getting there made the day feel that little bit more bearable.  

And so it was, with a decade of steady employment behind me and a modest but committed savings plan I had enough for the journey and sufficient fire in my belly to make the trip.

My anticipation had remained unquenchable and here I was finally about to satisfy that first.

So why was I so downbeat on the eve of seeing one of the most stunning areas of natural beauty on earth?

When The Final Step Is The Hardest

I was lonely. Not for company, but for home.

I had been travelling on buses for nearly three weeks criss-crossing from one exciting destination to another on a plan of my own volition taking in New York City, Niagara Falls, Philadelphia, Nashville, Gracelands, Dallas, Denver; almost every day a new adventure, a new place I’d always heard about but never thought I’d visit.

Yet now, the day before reaching the destination I had planned and saved for over a decade, was the time I most wanted to be home.

The irony was crushing. I sat on the floor of my motel room and wept. Just a little. This feeling wasn’t what I had planned for.

I turned on the TV, a recording of Billy Joel live in Russia from two months earlier, the first rock star to play there post-Glasnost. Though not a massive Billy Joel fan, his energised demeanour helped fire me up.

“Don’t take shit off no-one”, Joel told an ecstatic crowd, each one no doubt loving the feeling of finally being able to let loose after a lifetime of social repression.

Oddly, a spark re-lit within me, enough to pick my emotions up off the floor and settle them enough to sleep after my long day of travelling.

I awoke the next day and pulled back the curtains to a welcoming early sunrise.

A slightly worse-for-wear Randy joined me for breakfast, telling me how the Native American had carried him back to his motel room at 2am. It seems I was right to have left early!

Randy saw me get on the shuttle bus that left for the Canyon.

Image Credit: Paul Ariss

Less than two hours later with a barely controllable anticipation I walked through a huge double door to finally see the most incredible, majestic wonder I’ve ever witnessed.

I smiled broadly and said hello to the Grand Canyon. We had finally met. I had travelled the millionth mile.

Image Credit: Paul Ariss

It had been a long, long journey but worth every step.

Later I thought about Billy Joel, performing so far from home yet feeling a kindred bond with strangers who had lived a life so culturally at odds with everything he knew. And I thought of my new friend Randy who had met someone in me who had expressed a feeling for his own country he had maybe lost something of over the years.

I thought of the Native American whose forefathers had their land ripped from them by Randy’s ancestors, yet felt the simple human instinct to carry him back to where was safe.

And as I turned away from the Grand Canyon at the end of that day my mind went back to where this had all begun and where for me the greatest riches still lay.

Home.


Writer and Blogger Paul Ariss

Paul started off as a lyricist in a song-writing partnership, before branching out into writing scripts. He’s now back to music, writing and recording solo material.

As a songwriter Paul has had songs published as part of a partnership, and as a solo writer has reached the semi-final of the UK Songwriting Contest and had a track chosen as Pick of The Week on a New York based online radio station.

As a script writer Paul has had material used on BBC radio shows on Radio 2, 4 and 5, and has been short-listed in two major script-writing contests as well as working as a Shadow Writer on Channel 4 comedy-drama Shameless, where he also contributed to its online platform.

Paul is new to blogging after getting the blogging bug in May 2020. He plans to increase his output very soon! His blog is called Songs and Scripts and Dunking Biscuits and can be followed by clicking here.

Songs from Paul are now on Spotify and all major streaming platforms have music videos to accompany them on YouTube, all of which can be accessed via his song-writing Facebook page.

Click here to follow Paul on Facebook

Click here to follow Paul on Instagram

Click here to follow Paul on Twitter

Click here to follow Paul’s blog


Have you ever encountered the feelings Paul shared in his guest post?

My thanks to Paul for writing this guest post. If you have any questions or comments for Paul, please leave them in the comments section. He’d be delighted to hear from you.

Copyright © 2020 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

5 Important Points To Consider When It Comes To Writing A Guest Blog Post

Writing a guest blog post is one of the most rewarding and credible things a blogger will ever get the chance to do.

Thinking of writing a guest blog post?

It can help propel you and your blog in front of thousands of new readers and followers. In some cases, it can also get you noticed by other publications which might be willing to pay you for your work.

As somebody who has had the honour of writing guest posts, there are some essential guidelines I follow before accepting an invitation to write for another blog.

Likewise, these points also act as a reminder when thinking about inviting other writers to write a post for my blog.

Am I being put in front of the right audience?

If you’re invited to write a guest post for another blog (and are not familiar with it), check out their blog posts and ask yourself if you are putting yourself in front of the right audience. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

For example, a guest post about cake decorating is probably not going to be appreciated by an audience who is used to reading blog posts about science-fiction or horror.

Likewise, if the blogger asking you to write a guest post writes about a subject you’re not interested in, then you’re likely to struggle to come up with something they will accept, or something that will go down well with their audience.

Don’t waste your time writing for blogs that you know won’t work for you or your writing. Never be afraid to turn down an invitation to write a guest blog post that you have any doubts about writing.   

Ask your host if they have any requirements for guest posts.

Great! You’ve just accepted an invitation to write a guest post. However, don’t go off and write it before asking your host if they have any rules or guidelines about what they will and won’t accept. 

Don’t forget these –

For example –

  • They may have a word count limit or may require you to write about a particular subject. 
  • Is the word count limit too high or too low for what you have in mind? 
  • Do you really want to write a guest post about embarrassing, personal, health issues or the history of lampposts in your neighbourhood?
  • Do they want you to respond to any comments left on the post?
  • Do they allow pingbacks in guest posts to any of your other blog posts or those of other bloggers?
  • Do they allow affiliate links in guest posts? 
  • Is there a deadline to get your post to your host, and can you meet it?  
  • Do they expect you to return the favour and ask them to write a guest post for publication on your blog? 
  • What about the sharing of your guest post? Do they expect you to share it on your social media accounts or your blog?
  • Do they expect you to supply images/photos with your post, or will they be providing them? If so, who has the copyright for those images/photos when the post is published?

Check all the requirements first, even before accepting the offer to write a guest post. And don’t be afraid to turn down offers that you know will not work for you.   

Responding to comments.

For me, even if my host did not require me to respond to any or all comments left on my guest blog post, I’d still respond to all of them.

Why on earth would anyone want to ignore the audience of another blogger/writer? 

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Like many others, I enjoy reading and leaving comments and questions on guest posts. These posts can not only be an entertaining read but often teach me something new.  

I’ve recently left some comments and questions on guest posts and got no responses back. Not only did it make me feel like I was being ignored, but I thought how bad it made the host blogger look because his/her guest was ignoring his/her audience.

It doesn’t look good and can easily backfire on the host blogger.

If you’re a guest blogger, my recommendation is that you respond to all comments left on your guest posts. And this includes any questions or comments that come in months or even years later. 

Don’t ignore them just because your guest post was written and published several weeks/months/years ago. That’s like closing the door on readers who may be interested in buying your books or following your blog.  

If you’re hosting a guest blogger/writer, make it a requirement that your guest responds to all comments and questions left on the post. Why? Because time and time again, not responding to comments is the main reason why somebody may unfollow a blog or why a reader may not return.   

I’ve gone as far as to take down the guest post of somebody who, despite me repeatedly asking them, refused to respond to any of the comments or questions left on their guest post.

Don’t be afraid to take down a post.           

How to treat your host.

Regardless of whether or not you accept an invitation to write a guest post, always thank the person who approached you.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

You do not need to go into full details as to why you are not accepting an invitation, but it may help the host if you give them some information as to why you’ve decided not to write a guest post.

For example, you may be too busy or have already reached your quota of guest posts. 

However, don’t be afraid of giving them a reason so they do not keep sending you invitations. It’s better to be upfront with somebody than to keep turning them down again and again.    

Never feel under any obligation to return the favour and believe that you must ask your host to write a guest post for your blog.

Although I’ve never had anyone be upset with me for not asking them to write a guest post, I have heard of incidents where a host turns into a troll because they were not asked to write a guest post in return. 

And we all know how to deal with trolls, don’t we?

Sharing is caring

One way that I always find helps both my host and me when I’ve had a guest post published is to share the details on my social media sites. 

Image by Pixaline from Pixabay

When it comes to Twitter, I’ll pin the tweet to the top of my Twitter feed, so it does not slip down as I tweet more. It remains there for at least a week. 

I also ensure the Twitter username of the host is included in the tweet so that they are made aware that I’ve tweeted the post and how many times it gets retweeted.

Although I don’t always feel obliged to share my guest post on my blog, I always leave links to them on one of the pages of my blog (such as ‘My Books’ page). 

If I do share the guest post via ‘Press This’ (I no longer reblog posts), I always give it at least a week after publication before I share it on my blog.

This helps give the post a second boost after its original publication and stops duplication on the WordPress Reader and in the email boxes of readers.

Too much duplication of a post on the same day doesn’t look good, especially if it’s being seen by the same readers. Plus, SEOs such as Google rank duplicated posts lower.      

Final thoughts    

Last week, I updated and published a guest blog post I had initially been invited to write for Donna Connolly, who blogs at Retirement Reflections.

Although the post was originally published in April 2018, it went down well with my readers, some of whom had never read it before. 

Republishing guest posts (after updating them) not only put them in front of a new audience who may have followed you since the first publication, but it can also help fill a gap you have in your blogging schedule. 

If like me, you’ve written many guest posts, then you may have an archive full of hidden gems worth republishing. 

Do you have any guidelines you follow when asked to write a guest post or when asking another blogger to write a guest post for your blog? Share them in the comments section. 

Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.

5 Tips for Blogging Emergencies.

I’ve returned with a bit of news. Blogging news. For one, Hugh is a bit absent for a time and I thought I would mosey on over here and snoop around a bit.

With Hugh being otherwise occupied it got me to think about blog tips. Imagine that, right? But this is a bit of an odd one.

Have you ever had an emergency and had to leave your blog for an extended period of time and been worried about it? I know it sounds odd to worry about your blog that way, but once you’ve put time into it, it is part of your life. You have friends you communicate with through your blog. You feel a piece of you is being neglected although there is nothing you can do about it.

There are ways to get around this problem.

5 Tips For Blogging Emergencies

#1 Build up a Post Backlog.

We have this weird habit of when we write a post we think it MUST be published then and there. That can hurt for a few reasons.

  • Your post may need to sit a bit so you can come back and see if it is actually good and well written.
  • You post too many things in one time span and people end up not reading everything you post.
  • You don’t have go-to posts for when you are away, sick, or just tired one day.

You’re away but you normally can at least get into your blog for a few minutes. If you have some posts in your drafts, labelled, tagged and ready to go, then all you have to do is schedule them.

#2 Get Help

Not everyone likes to have someone in their blogs and able to post. If you set them up with Author privileges then all they can do is post. They can’t actually do any damage to the inner workings of the blog. And if you’ve given them access then you most likely trust what they post.

Today is a perfect example. I’ve been part of Hugh’s blog for so long I can’t remember whey I was added. But as many of you who are here regularly know, I’ve stepped in on a couple of occasions and posted when Hugh has been away. Now, Hugh and I have known each other for quite a bit now so we have that trust. Hugh’s blog is not the only one I am part of for just in case reasons or helping in the background. It’s always nice to have a go-to person handy.

#3 The Email Option

Did you know you can do a post by email to your blog? If not, well now you do. You simply go to the Dashboard of your blog and click My Blogs. You’ll see a list of blogs that you are part of AND there is one option there called Post by Email. Click Enable and an email address will show up. That’s the email address for you to send to and have a post show up on your blog.

You can use this option in a couple of ways:

  • Post an article or two. You may be wondering that if you can get to email why can’t you get to a blog. Well sometimes it just isn’t possible from whatever location you are in. Some places block blogs from being accessed, like some school systems. But email is usually fine to go to.
  • You can send an email post that you are going to be away for a period of time. This might be a could thing to consider so people won’t worry. You know those regular people who blog but then disappear, we worry about them. Hugh is healthy and safe so no reason to worry there. That is just in case anyone was beginning to get a little concerned.

#4 The Phone Call Option or Post by Voice

I haven’t tried this method but it’s in the same place as the Email Option and would be used for the same reasons. I’ll need to give it a try for fun one day soon. Instead of an email address, you get a phone number and a code or extension to enter.

#5 Schedule Posts in Advance for Several Days or Weeks Out.

I used to do this a lot. I would have two weeks worth of posts scheduled, Not posts for every day, but if I had certain things I came up with, I would go ahead and put them in for maybe every Monday or Friday, depending on what the material was. This is done on my LitWorldInterviews.WordPress.Com site a lot. One of the Teams, which Hugh is a part of, will have a Review and an Interview with an author and schedule one for one Monday and the other for the following Monday.

There you have it. 5 ways to cover your blog in case of emergencies. I’m sure at least one will help you out.

And now for a BONUS Emergency Tip, I had avoided it because I had not tried it yet and that is the WordPress App. I am mentioning it now because Elle Knowles suggested it in the comments here. So I bit the bullet and downloaded it on my tablet. So far it is awesome. I may do a future post here to let you know if it is exactly like the usual WP or not. So far…so good. Oh yeah.

Have you ever read my interview with Hugh? I interviewed Hugh back in August of 2014 and it was an entertaining adventure. You can even see how I made him dance, to his favourite girl band. Click here to check it out.

Much Respect

Ronovan



Ron_LWI

Ronovan is an author and blogger who shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.WordPress.com.