Cyber Camping at the Border of Reality

In my life, the summer months bring anniversaries filled with memories of lessons learned, loved ones who have passed or chosen to move away. I celebrate the lessons learned by remembering a friend who taught me that you have to take a chance and savor the moment because you don’t know if or when the opportunity may come again. I celebrate my Mom, who will forever be a part of me. I send a virtual package of loving vibes to family far away in celebration of life.

This month, I’ve enjoyed getting into my fantasy fiction piece and taking a break. I’m totally appreciating the fact that it’s not an actual event or a true story. I feel it gives me a bit more license to explore other themes or enter other realms. The story that I’m working on had been floating in my head for years, and I wondered how I would bring it to life. As is true to much of my other writing, this story started with a snapshot of a memory. A seemingly insignificant incident has blossomed into a fantastic account of what could be if we were to believe in alternative truths. In our current society, we cringe at the words “alternative truths.” There is a dark side to an “alternative truth,” but I want to make this one fun, positive and thoughtful.

I have been encouraged to put extra energy into this project after a writer friend from work, reserved a small virtual cabin at CampNaNoWriMo 2019. Three of us share this cabin, which I believe, sits next to a beautiful, clear lake in the woods where there are no mosquitos or snakes, and the temperature is never above 75 degrees – even during a Florida summer. The virtual campground seems endless, and along with countless other campers, we each pick out a time and a place that best suits our creativity.

At registration, we were asked to identify our favorite camp activity. My first inclination was to respond that what I like most about cyber camping is sleeping in my own bed and not in a sleeping bag on the ground. I won’t have to worry that night critters are trying to get in my tent. I conceded, however, that I enjoy singing campy songs around the fire and walking on trails to take in all the sights and sounds of the forest. To get inspiration, I sit out on the imaginary porch with a glass of iced tea or climb into my hammock and start swinging to get into the rhythm of my story – all in my head, of course, just a warm-up.

I’ve written before that I like letting my imagination explore beyond the edge of reality. I’m looking forward to discovering where this story will take me. So far, it’s been fun, gathering unusual individuals who coincidently have some characteristics of people who have crossed my path or shared valuable lessons in different stages of my life. I’m working on telling the story in a way that has a message while still being amusing, sensational, and unpredictable.

Next installment coming soon.

Photos are my own; taken with my phone on recent walks. I find them a bit odd or surreal but inspirational for my story.

First Critique Group

If you’ve read my posts before, you may remember that I started taking writing seriously in March 2018. I’ve been working on my craft just about every day. If I’m not posting here, I’m reviewing and editing or digging deeper to get to the real story. I recently joined a local writer’s association and today I had my first meeting with a critique group that meets once a month. This particular group regularly has five to six members attending, which is nice to allow everyone a chance to voice their opinions.

As it happens the group just started changing the format and the focus is on flash fiction. That suits me fine because I tend to be wordy. I can use the help. I like to give as much detail as possible to that a person can get the full effect and feel as if they are sharing in the experience.

This week’s topic was to write about an embarrassing moment and the lesson learned. We were to bring six copies for folks to read along. Of course, on my first day, I left the folder with my copies on the kitchen counter as I headed out the door. I’ve Emailed to the group and I’m including my entry below. Let me know what you think.

Critique Group: Embarrassing Moment

In the year before my retirement, “Knee Deep” by The Zac Brown Band was my theme song. That last winter, as I ran away from a New England blizzard, I prayed that tune would carry me through my golden years. I packed a truck, drove south and arrived at my daughter’s doorstep in Florida. My ultimate goal, was for “the only worry in the world” to be “Is the tide gonna reach my chair?” That plan gets complicated in the middle of the Sunshine State, and in a few months I packed another truck and drove further south.

Shortly after arriving in Aguas Claras, Florida, I realized that early retirement is not all it’s cracked up to be. My permanent vacation would have to wait. I became a Realtor, and after a few months, a busy team hired me as an assistant. A significant part of his business was at least thirty minutes away, but I agreed to take the job. It was a no-brainer. It was a great opportunity, and with my handy GPS, I already felt I conquered the South. I became familiar with the new area; clients were starting to refer their friends, I was on my way.

One day, I took a particularly chatty group of snowbirds to search for a piece of paradise that would fit their budget. They brought friends for second opinions, and half the contingency followed my car in caravan style. The first couple of houses were in the general vicinity where our team regularly conducted business, but they wanted to check out condos near the next county to the north. It would be another 15-20 minutes away, no problem. I had taken clients before. I knew how to get there.

We visited a couple of units on the other side of town, and when we finished there, the passengers in the other car needed to stop for gas. While waiting, I remembered that the route I found the last time was not the best to showcase the community. It was Old Florida, but not the charming, sweet-tea–on-the-veranda scenes from the brochures. There were old houses that needed maintenance and broken down cars or tractors were the lawn ornaments out front. I wanted to reprogram my GPS to avoid that route. All I needed to do was go back to the main road and not take the first right. The GPS would automatically “recalculate” and we would be all set.

For some reason, as we drove away from the gas station, I turned West instead of East, and it was downhill from there. The traffic had picked up by now, and I lost my bearings. I drove a little further to where I thought there was a road that would connect to back, but the GPS kept yelling at me to make a U-turn. There were “NO U-TURN” signs posted all along that road. I was flustered, I could feel my face burning, but I kept going following new the directions on the GPS.

I kept driving hoping the GPS was going to turn to the main road that ran parallel, but the GPS has a mind of its own, and it didn’t. The caravan kept heading north, which was fine but instead of moving toward the East, the road curved out toward the West. We drove through what could have been a picturesque fishing town with water from the bayous overstepping their boundaries and reaching the edge of the road. It wasn’t.

After a while, we reached the State Road where I could finally turn east and get to the condo community. When we got there, and as soon as the passengers in the other car got out I was reprimanded for taking a long way around. A drive that should have taken 15 mins took 45. I played it off as if I was showing my out-of-town clients the scenic route, but no one was amused. Needless to say, they didn’t buy anything, and I never heard from them again.

Lesson Learned: Don’t trust the GPS and map out your destination the old-fashioned way if you have no idea where you are going.

Letter R – Reality and beyond

There is a fun side to an alternative reality. I like to live on the edge of it sometimes. That’s why I write. I like to look down a narrow dirt trail and wonder how many people walked there before me. How many footsteps and how many years did it take to carve out this path? Who were they? Where were they going? Did they carry hollowed canoes to the river? Was it a shortcut to town? Was it a path to freedom?

Depending on who my companion is, I can elaborate a life story for these imaginary people – joys and sorrows included. My friend would say, “yes, and…” to complete my narrative. One of my siblings would say, can’t we just walk without you making things up? Peaceful walks in quiet reflection, engrossed in the sights and sounds are one of my favorite things to do. However, there is a time for everything under the sun, and sometimes, I want to go beyond what we can see with our eyes. As a side note, remember it’s important to choose travel companions wisely to enjoy the moment fully.

When my sisters were young, and the mood was right, they could spend hours “talking” to our mutt, Victor. The girls at about five or six years old, obviously knew it was me talking for Victor. I never pretended to be a skilled ventriloquist to throw my voice in his direction. I was almost ten years older, and yet, we managed to entertain each other regardless as Victor sat between us loving all the attention.

Victor was some kind of a shepherd mix and quite a storyteller. He would tell them how his day went – who stopped by the house, what he saw each time he went out to “do his business,” what extra treats he got, what he thought Mom was cooking for dinner that made his mouth water. Sometimes he would complain that Fred, the stray cat, had come into through the kitchen window to brag about his adventures in the alley and the mouse that got away.

Sometimes I would live vicariously through Fred, the stray. I learned to love cats with Fred, despite my dad’s superstitious apprehensions. Fred was big for a cat, furry, gray and quite independent. He would roam the back alleys of our city freely with a swagger and without fear. I would wonder how far his cat feet could carry him. Where did he go and what did he see? Did he stop at other homes? What did other families name him? Most days he would only stop in for a short while to eat. In the winter or hot summer days, he would stay longer to keep warm or cool off. Those days before he took off again, he would rub against us one by one as if to say “thanks”. One time he came back with cuts and scrapes. We tried to keep him in the house and off the streets, but as soon as he was strong enough, he was wailing at the window to be let out. At times he was gone for days, and one day he never returned. Unfortunately, there was never a shortage of alley cats in our neighborhood, and soon Fred was replaced by Snagglepus and then Mister Magoo.

Not too long ago I was at one of those Brews, Jazz and Funk Festivals at the park by the river. As the tribute band played well-known favorites, a small, lone figure of a dancer rocked and rolled her way to the front of the stage. With her ripped shorts, bracelets, and tattoos up her arm, she personified the saying “dance as if no one was watching.” She was easily in her 70s, but she had obviously transcended time, and everything else around her didn’t exist. She was definitely in the zone and inspired others to step out. Soon she was surrounded by people of all ages letting the music take control. When the music stopped, she was visibly exhausted, but I caught that big smile that slipped across her face. She had a cosmic air about her. Who was she? How many concerts in the park had she attended? Was she a musician herself? In my mind her name was Carole, and she sang and played with a band a lifetime ago.

I like to stretch my mind beyond what my eyes can see. It’s great for problem-solving and relationship building because it helps me to have an open mind to see alternative beginnings and endings. As I continue to blog, I’ll share some of the stories of my alternate reality. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I have making them up and perhaps together we’ll learn a few things about us along the way.

R is for Reality, the alternative kind.

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