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Confessions of a Life-Long Bibliophile

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The True Loves of My Life

As an only child, books were important. Fortunately, my mother read to me as a young child such that I could read by the time I went to school. I was reading chapter books by 3rd grade, maybe sooner. My early favorites were animal stories by authors like Paul Gallico, who wrote “The Abandoned,” my favorite book for many years, perhaps for all time. Robert Lawson, author of “The Tough Winter” was another favorite.

I remember going to the Peekskill New York Public Library in my home town and coming home with a huge stack of books, especially in the summer.

While still in elementary school I discovered Nancy Drew Mysteries. I would save my allowance to buy the latest release and had them all, which were usually read more than once. As a teen my favorite was “The Catcher in the Rye” by J.D. Salinger. I remember reading on a city bus and coming to a part that made me laugh out loud, earning odd looks from my fellow passengers.

As a working adult, I had to give up certain authors because they kept me up all night: Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy, John Grisham, to name a few.

Home at Last!

Somewhere along the line I discovered science fiction. The classics by Jules Verne such as “Journey to the Center of the Earth” and H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine” were my first discovery, followed by Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein, the latter my all-time favorite, especially “The Door Into Summer” and “A Stranger in a Strange Land,” where the word “grok” originated, for those of you who didn’t know.

I scratched out my first science fiction story in 6th grade on yellow lined paper about the planet our teacher hailed from.  Not much of a plot, but my classmates found it entertaining. Not surprisingly, an avid reader like myself aspired to be an author when I grew up, more specifically a science fiction author.

One thing that always frustrated me was that science fiction books had very little actual science in them, probably why I favored Heinlein, who was an aeronautical engineer whose fiction started the “hard science fiction” sub-genre.

As a perfectionist, I wanted to learn more about science so that when I wrote my stories they would contain the scientific explanations I craved as a youth. Thus, at 35 I returned to school to earn a bachelor’s degree in physics from Utah State University, followed by a 21 year career at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas.

We’re told to “Write what you know,” right?

If you’re a fan of “The Big Bang Theory” that might look familiar. 😉

My first science fiction novel, “The Capture of Phaethon,” about an asteroid collision with Earth was written while I was in college. It won me a scholarship as well as First Place Honor in a state competition. Maybe someday I’ll get it published. For now, the manuscript is in a box in the basement. Writing Phaethon was when I discovered the mysterious serendipity associated with creating fiction.

That’s all it is, right? Fiction? Something made up in your head?

My fictitious asteroid was named Phaethon, after the son of Apollo who crashed his father’s chariot into the Sun. Imagine my shock when doing research in the USU library’s NASA section that I found an asteroid by that name had recently been discovered! OMG! Later I discovered its usefulness in astrology, where it often indicates a “crash and burn” situation, figuratively or literally.

Heaven on Earth

The first time I set foot inside a library it felt like I was in Heaven. How it feels within the walls of a building lined with thousands upon thousands of books is as unique as it is indescribable. Every cell senses the knowledge and secrets that await, stirring my soul.

That could be why I often spend as much time researching a book as I do writing it, sometimes more. As much as I love my Kindle, for research it has to be a print book. I dog-ear pages, highlight, and leave sticky-notes galore.  When I encounter a used book like that, it tells me someone was really into its content, which is what any author hopes for.

When I wrote the Star Trails Tetralogy I incorporated science and technology problems into the plot. These were books I wanted to read as a youth but couldn’t find. I even created a Compendium with additional information for readers, teachers, and home-schoolers.

Star Trails books were popular in a charter school in Utah among young nerds like I was. I had the privilege of talking to those students a few years ago, which was so much fun. I know of at least one middle school science teacher in Florida who has my books in her classroom for extra credit reading. 

My favorite review for these books is the one where my writing was compared to Robert A. Heinlein. Imagine that! I have no idea how many children may have been inspired by them, but it’s good to know of at least a few.

Shifting Genres

“The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon” saga started as a cozy mystery, but my propensity for research quickly led to a far deeper and darker story. My characters got out of hand, as usual, and suddenly I had a main character who was Cheyenne, a culture about which I knew nothing. My encounters with Native Americans was limited, and primarily with the Navajo. Research and serendipity delivered coauthor, Pete Risingsun, who kept the cultural elements on target, to say nothing of the story itself and additional research we did together.

The Reader’s Favorite review for the second book, “Return to Dead Horse Canyon: Grandfather Spirits” noted, to our delight, that “The depth of ethnology packed into both novels is meticulously researched and beautifully detailed. Fox and Risingsun are a dream team with this saga.”

Serendipity was alive and well writing that saga, especially how beautifully ancient ceremonies dove-tailed with the plot as if I’d known about them all along.

What will be lost?

Besides a book’s creative or intellectual content, to me it’s a physical thing. I love how they feel and smell, whether it’s fresh ink newly off the press or a musty antique over a hundred years old. Ebooks just didn’t feel that satisfying. I was grateful when self-publishing a paperback was an option, making it possible to hold my first print book, “Beyond the Hidden Sky,” in my hands and flip through the pages.

However, to me, a real book is a cloth-bound hardback with a dust jacket.

And this past June that dream was finally realized when all three books of the “Dead Horse Canyon” saga were released as hardbacks, laminated covers on Amazon, and real books with a cloth cover and dust jacket available through Ingram which can be found on Barnes and Noble, Books-A-Million (BAM), and numerous other booksellers’ websites.

Everything is being digitized, which is convenient, but I shudder to think that my generation of Baby Boomers may be the last to embrace physical, print books. The expense and storage involved versus the option of digitizing everything leaves no other choice.

Given that, how many will grow up without the joy of holding a brand new release from their favorite author in their hands, much less an autographed copy? Or never know the awe and expectation amid the imposed silence found within a massive library? While the words may be the same, there’s an essence found only from a tome in tangible form. When they’re my age will they miss their first smart phone the way I treasure the memory of those beloved books?

Or maybe that’s just me, an admitted bibliophile, who loves the print medium as much for its physical presence as what lies within. Digital formats that could disappear with a power surge or a few key strokes just aren’t the same. (Probably a thought my children will express loudly when I die and they have to deal with my many bookshelves full, only one of which you see at the top of the page.)

And how much easier might it be to pull the plug on books with content found offensive or declared “wrong” by someone in authority? Where would we be as a civilization without old tablets, scrolls, and other records?

To a bonafide bibliophile like myself digitizing books reeks of sacrilege. If you agree, be sure to buy a physical book once in awhile. Preferably a new one, so the author sees even a few dollars of benefit from it.

Epilogue

When I saw “The Abandoned” and “The Tough Winter“ were still available on Amazon I

literally cried. The book cover for “The Tough Winter” looks exactly like the book I had as a child. I ordered “The Abandoned,” planning to read it again, then leave it as my favorite book from my childhood to whomever wants such an anachronism when I die.  

This trip down memory lane led me to discover my reading list for the remainder of this year. Revisiting those favorites from the perspective of a septuagenarian should be interesting.

What books did you love from the time you could read? What made them special? Would you like to hold them again as you would hug a dear friend you hadn’t seen for years?

And that, no doubt, is why I simply had to order a physical copy of “The Abandoned.”

It arrived a few days later and I cried again, as well as numerous places throughout this sweet story. I wasn’t sure why it hit me so hard until a few days later, as I nursed my way through the worst “Book Hangover” I’d ever had.

Then I stumbled upon a statement on the back cover that I could have written myself: “When I was 9 years old I plucked The Abandoned from my school library’s dusty shelves and fell in love with literature. The adventures that unfolded, reminiscent of The Wind in the Willows and Peter Pan, captured me so thoroughly I knew writing was part of my destiny.” — Naomi Serviss, Newsday

That was it!

This was no ordinary book! It was the very one that made me decide to be a writer! I’d never quite thought of it as my “destiny,” yet it hit me like never before. I don’t know who or what I’d be without those books I’ve had a hand in bringing into the world.

Have they affected any readers out there like The Abandoned did me? I’ll probably never know. But for whatever reason, I suspect I was supposed to put them out there.

Are you a writer? When did you realize it was your calling? Or was it just something that came along at some point in your life when you had something to say? Fiction or nonfiction? Leave your answer in the comments below.

One Determined Bluebird

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You can learn a lot about a person, including yourself, by looking at your thumb. Yes, that side-mounted digit that enables humans and primates to do things other animals can’t. According to palmistry, the upper joint represents will and the lower joint, logic. Ideally, they’re the same size. If so, you’ll have the will to put forth the effort to see your ideas to completion.

If the top joint (will) is larger (which is the case with me), your will/determination is stronger than your ability to see things logically. What does that mean? You’re likely to be inclined to beat a dead horse.

If the lower joint prevails, you may have a plethora of great ideas but lack the will to make them happen.

Obviously, a bird does not have a thumb. However, if the bluebird attacking my window had one, clearly the top joint would prevail.

Why is he attacking my window?

cat inside looking at a bird outside the window

Because I have two indoor cats. Apparently, he and his mate have a nest in the purple martin house in the front yard and he’s concerned.

So let’s think about this.

As I said, the felines in question are “indoor cats.” They do not go outside. Thus, the danger does not exist.

So far, this daddy bird has been attacking my windows since yesterday afternoon. After a few hours of the thumping sound of him hitting the window, I closed the curtains. He still continued until dark. First thing this morning, right around dawn (which comes early this time of year, i.e. 5:30 a.m.) he was at it again.

bird perched on the trunk of a tree

Thump, thump, thump.

The odds are (hopefully) very low that the cat or bird will break the window in their ongoing confrontation. If the barrier between them were removed, the cat is the definite favorite. It’s not that far to the ground, so then he’d have a definite opportunity to pursue the bird. Would the bird retreat? Or attempt to fight?

I have two cats who have entirely different views of the situation. My tuxedo cat, who is female and a very good mouser, is also around twelve years old. She found it amusing, but after awhile returned to her napping. However, my ragdoll/Maine coon male, who’s a little over a year old, is thoroughly enjoying the show.

Most the time he just lays there, watching the bird with a bemused expression. Occasionally, he’ll lunge for the window, but no telling what his expectations are.

cat looking out a window

As the assault continues I wondered: Is this bird a spirit animal with a message? While perseverance is usually a virtue, when it becomes an exercise in futility, then what? And at what point do you know it’s a battle you’ll never win? When do you know it’s time to walk away?

There are various quotes and  a couple poems that have encouraged me not to give up. The simplest is, not surprisingly, on my wall: “Never give up! Never surrender!” from the movie Galaxy Quest. Another favorite is: “Aiming for the stars and dragging your feet in the treetops is better than aiming for the treetops and dragging your feet in the mud.” (Anonymous)

Here’s my favorite poem, which has seen me through various challenges:

 Good Timber

by Douglas Malloch.

The tree that never had to fight
     For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
     And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
     But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
     To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
     Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
     But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
     The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
     The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
     In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
     We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
     Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
     This is the common law of life.

Douglas Malloch. “Good Timber.” Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/good-timber-by-douglas-malloch

Here’s another favorite:

Keep Going

By Edgar A. Guest

same bluebird perched in the crotch of a tree

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must—but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow—
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out—
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit—
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

Edgar A. Guest. “Keep Going.” Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/keep-going-by-edgar-guest

same bluebird sitting on the windowsill looking inside.

So, given that, when do you give up?

I’m in the midst of a project that may very well be a little too similar to that determined daddy bird valiantly defending his family.

Should I give up?

If so, when? At what point have I done enough?

I have never been able to figure that out.

Let’s just say I feel better about myself beating a dead horse than quitting. I usually land in the treetops, but I’ve never wound up in the mud.

cat parting curtains with his paw to look outside

How about you?

Take a look at your thumb. Do the joints line up with your natural inclination when confronted with what could be an insurmountable challenge? Are you a tree dweller or confined to the ground?

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Meanwhile, I need to get back to work.

P.S. It’s been quiet outside for quite awhile. I just hope he figured it out and I don’t find a dead bluebird outside my window…

Never mind. He’s back.

The Dark Side of Eclipses: Do the Heavens Still Issue Warnings of Things to Come?

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I thought this book would be around fifty pages and concentrated on the eclipses that were visible in the United States. Was I ever wrong! Once I got started I found this trail of cosmic breadcrumbs that took me down the rabbit hole of over 300 pages worth! Have a peek at the back cover:

You’ve Been Warned. . .

Our ancestors didn’t understand why eclipses happened, but their meaning was clear: The gods were not happy. Ancient Greeks figured out the mechanics sufficiently to predict their occurrence.

Why bother if they were meaningless?

The “Enlightenment” threw anything unproven in a laboratory based on 18th Century science out the window as “myth and superstition,” such as astrology. If so, why did certain elite groups such as the Rosicrucians and Catholic Church continue to practice it? A devious move, perhaps, to keep this powerful tool out of the hands of the common man? Why else do they claim, “Millionaires don’t use astrology but billionaires do?”

Ignoring the truth doesn’t change the truth. The heavens still speak. The Holy Bible states the stars and planets were given “for times and for seasons.” God hasn’t changed and neither has His promise. Sadly, even churches no longer pay attention, but condemn astrology as “of the devil.”

How can God’s creations be from the devil? Who would say that other than the devil himself?

Biblical prophecies are corroborated by similar predictions from other religions and indigenous peoples. They’re coming to pass at an astounding rate, though the dumbed-down masses remain oblivious to their importance.

The Great American Eclipse in 2017 was visible from coast to coast. Its symbolism indicates a country divided. In October 2023 another solar eclipse path crossed the country with another coming in April 2024 that will cross them both.

What did the October 2023 eclipse tell us? Its path paralleled the U.S. Southern Border. Did it implicate the immigration crisis?

What will the total eclipse on April 8, 2024 deliver? The paths of all three form two ominous “Xs” on the United States. Do these figurative crosshairs indicate God has had enough?

Discover how these “signs in the heavens” predict the downfall of the United States as physicist and professional astrologer, Marcha “Whobeda” Fox, interprets their symbolism alongside subsequent events.

Buckle up, America. You ain’t see nothin’ yet.

Obviously, I took a sabbatical from writing fiction to go back to my training and experience as an astrologer to investigate what eclipses have to say. I found witnessing the 2017 total eclipse deeply troubling. I could understand why such events terrified our ancient ancestors. Later, I read that when an eclipse path crosses a country, it divides it.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Now, seven years later, we’re about to have the third eclipse path slash the U.S.A., which has never been in more precarious shape than it is right now. How can you look at this picture illustrating them without feeling in your gut that this can’t be good?

What seemed most ominous are those intersections, as if God and the Universe as X’ing out the U.S. Particularly, what’s going on in those locations?

The one in Southern Illinois is right on top of the New Madrid Seismic Zone. The one in Southwest Texas is not far from Eagle Pass, where the immigration crisis is hotter than ever.

The number of rare, celestial events between March – April 2024 is unprecedented. What are they telling us?

Find out what eclipses have been telling us all along.

Get your copy in hardback, paperback, or ebook format on Amazon.com at the affiliate links below.

Hardback

Paperback

eBook

Order an autographed copy directly from the author.

Witnessing a Miracle

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There’s nothing more energizing than being a part of something that qualifies as a miracle. Back in October, my son-in-law, Jason Franciamore, took the first steps toward a dream he’d had for nine years. His story is worthy of a movie. Maybe some day we’ll work together on writing his biography, which could inspire so many.

Jason is someone who’s been through a crucible of consequences for foolish actions, yet ultimately came out of it refined. Nothing explains what a miracle this is better than his Facebook post on November 24, 2023, which was a repost of one from 2021:

“Wow now 7 years 7 months and 1 day! Living my dream with this company for sure!“

[post from April 2021]

“5 Years! Thank you to the arresting officer 5 years ago today, that didn’t “let me make it”. I’ll never forget the look on his face after he read me my rights. He said “sir do you understand?” With big ol’ watery eyes I looked into his and said “thank you.” I knew I needed to get clean and knew I needed help. Sure there are other avenues besides multiple felonies to get help, but not for me. I was so broken that I thought everyone would be disappointed in me if I asked for help. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, I’d much rather play the victim one more time and not fully take responsibility again.

“As I was sitting in the back of the police car I just closed my eyes and told myself “today is the day, today I die so I can live again.”

“So from the outside looking in we have Jason that once again got into some trouble, but he wasn’t busted with a bunch of drugs, or needles, or really anything to do with drugs at all. I received a paraphernalia charge only for the drugs. I was always so careful to not get caught with drugs, but everything else had finally caught up to me.

“So back to not taking full responsibility. You see if I’m arrested I can go get clean locked up that’s what I so needed. I couldn’t do it out here, believe me I tried. I didn’t say that to anyone though, I just acted surprised when I didn’t have a bond and was facing 70 years in prison.

“Needless to say it got “real” real quick for me. I was so relieved to put an end to that life, but I didn’t realize that just not doing drugs doesn’t magically fix your life. In fact I felt probably the worst ever shortly afterwards. I mean I had no bond, meaning no matter how much money you had, there was no getting me out of jail. They were tired of messing with me. I’d already had x2 $10,000 cash bonds that had to be paid all in cash upfront and well that wasn’t a problem previously.

“You see, I was a “successful” addict; I mean in the eyes of “society’s success”. I think I made $312,000 at my job the 14 months I worked there. Yes the best I’d ever done, and they even paid my cash bond to get me out previously and didn’t ask any questions. They didn’t care what I did, they just wanted me at work. I ended up losing that job, I didn’t care I had money and I thought that’s all that mattered.

“So Jason was jammed up on some old charges and couldn’t get out. That was my story, it worked for the most part. However, my wife had some time to think, too. She was obviously tired of the “poor Jason” card being played and finally left me. Once again I placed blame everywhere else and played victim. Bottom line I knew 5 years ago today, I needed help. I asked the lord to show me the way. My prayers and I’m sure lots of others were being answered.

“I could have never imagined that my prayers being answered would first take me through hell.

“There is so much more to this story I could share for hours. Today, however, is about 5 years of not living under strain of addiction. Thank you, Lord for this, and thank you to all my family and friends for loving me through this journey.

“So for people that don’t know me personally. I lost everything 5 years ago because of everything I did during my 13 year run of active addiction. My testimony is powerful, I have graciously been blessed with the restoration of everything I had lost. It hasn’t been easy and my life is far from perfect; but I couldn’t ask for a better life than the one I’m living now.”

As a recovering addict, his passion is to help others walking that rough road to being clean. He has a tattoo that helped him, a clock face with the numbers replaced with the 12 letters of the Narcotics Anonymous (NA) motto, “Just For Today.”

His dream was to make a watch like that to help others as it did him–a watch that every time you looked at it, it reminded you to stay clean and on the road to recovery.

Thus, two months ago he applied for a registered trade mark for “Just for Today” in the timepiece category. That process, as most that involve the government, takes months, but its in progress and shows up in the U.S. Patent Office’s database.

He hired a local artist to design a logo and trademark. From that point on, he was off and running to catch his dream.

Since that time his company has grown to include an increasing number of inspirational clocks, “Wartime Hero” dog tags designed for those “fighting a battle that no one else can see,” and a plethora of coffee mugs with original quotes and inspirational phrases.

Jason preparing an acrylic print to be converted to a clock.

[UPDATE: Originally, Jason had a shop on Etsy, but for some literally unknown reason they suspended it and kept the money from his sales! This disreputable sales site has done this to at least 164 other vendors per the Etsy community forum. They won’t even tell you why, just arbitrarily shut you down. They’re just another scam like so many others on the web, victimizing their vendors at will, so beware. It was somewhat reassuring to find out he wasn’t alone in being attacked, yet disheartening to see more corruption disguised as a legitimate business.]

The Just for Today Timepieces official website is now online! There are lots of new products yet to be added that you’re sure to like. Clocks in various sizes and designs, many with “Just For Today” on the clock face. Other clocks have different sayings, such as “Time To Change.” Be sure to visit the website as well as the Just For Today Facebook page, where you’ll also find daily posts and updates. Follows and shares much appreciated!

Here are a few of the mugs currently available along with numerous others you can see soon on the official website.

While the company’s focus is on helping to support and inspire those in recovery, there are several items suitable for anyone. For example, other products include a collage frame that features an inspirational clock in one space with four others vacant for the customer to add his or own 4×6 photos. These have several different themes and sayings on the clock bezel to focus on subjects such as pets, genealogy, family vacations, wedding, your BFF, and missing someone special, to name just a few.

Custom work is welcome, but expect a delay while it’s produced.

Stop by Facebook today to say hello and become part of this amazing journey. His store on eBay will likewise be updated soon.

Kitten on the Keys

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In case you’re not familiar with the song, “Kitten on the Keys,” given it dates back to 1921 and the period’s ragtime craze, here’s a link so you can enjoy it.

I sure wish I could play the piano like that! Amazing what trained fingers can do!

My keyboarding skills are directed toward the one attached to my computer. And I must say, I’m good at it. I learned to touch type when I was around 12 years old on an old manual typewriter. I always wanted to be a writer, so it made sense.

Later, after graduating high school and looking for a job, I did a timed writing on an IBM Selectric typewriter at an employment agency where I clocked 94 words per minutes for ten minutes with only two errors. I can even type while carrying on a conversation, which even amazes me. How can fingers operate independently from the conscious mind? Seriously, I could copy a document while talking to someone.

Maybe it’s my super power, who knows?

But that’s not what this blog is about. As always, I tend to digress.

After I moved from Texas to New York and was getting my computer set up again, I decided my keyboard looked a little grungy, so I should probably clean it. It looked as if there was some debris underneath, so I got out the toothpicks to see what I could dig out. It didn’t take long to discover there was a whole lot more lurking in there than expected.

At a certain point, the toothpicks were inadequate, so I got out a metal shish kabob skewer. I’m not sure how long it took me, but it was well over an hour, maybe two. By the time I was done, here’s what I had.

Okay, I’d had that keyboard for a long time, possibly a decade. My little furbaby, Ophelia, never actually slept on it like some cats do, since my computer hutch has a keyboard tray that tucked it away when I wasn’t using it. However, when I was at work typing away at lightning speed, Ophie would often sit on my lap or walk (or sleep) in front of the monitor, as any cat owner will find familiar.

I had no idea there was that much space under there.

Needless to say, the keyboard functions much better now for some reason.

I don’t know if this is a cautionary tale (cat tail, perhaps?) or a heads-up that you might want to see what’s hidden in yours. Somewhere to direct your next cleaning frenzy, if you’re prone to such things.

No telling what you’ll find.

Maybe the keyboard is that proverbial “safe place” where all those things you’ve secured over the years have disappeared? Unfortunately, all I found in mine was cat hair, though a few things in that “safe place” did show up after the move.

NEVER, I repeat NEVER hire a moving broker!

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Saying goodbye to Texas after 35 years.

It’s hard to believe that over a year has passed since I’ve posted anything out here. It’s been quite a year, to say the least. To cut to the chase, I moved from Texas to New York earlier this year to be closer to family as well as get away from the Texas heat. Triple digit temperatures for most of the summer were just too much. I was born in New York state, so in many respects it was like going home.

Moving is never fun. And this was truly the move from Hell. I’d never hired a moving company before since my previous relocations had been achieved with a U-Haul with the help of family and friends. Moving over 1600 miles, however, was another story. And the people I hired to accomplish that were a complete scam operation that cost me thousands of dollars in items left behind that wouldn’t fit on the truck as well as goods lost somewhere in transit, also to the tune of thousands of dollars.

Being completely naive, I thought I was hiring a mover when in reality I was dealing with a moving broker. While they might provide the transportation, in most cases they’ll consign your move to another carrier. In my case, the ones who arrived to pick up my possessions were what they call Rogue Movers. Unprofessional is hardly adequate to describe them. They are scammers, pure and simple. Other words that come to mind are best left to your imagination.

My first mistake was not reading the booklet provided by the U.S. Government regarding what to expect with a legitimate move until after the fact. If you’re considering moving and doing so with a moving company, be smarter that I was and read it! Here’s a copy so you don’t have to hunt one down.

rightsandresponsibilitiesbooklet_2022updateDownload

Of course the broker promised a litany of services. These included:

Professional Door to Door service.

Expert advice and guidance throughout the course of your move.

Disassembly of all standard furniture required for safe transportation.

Reassembly for all items disassembled by the movers on the day of pick-up.

Wrapping of all furniture with quilted moving blankets.

Itemized inventory indicating condition at the origin.

Loading & unloading of all goods.

All transportation, taxes, tolls, mileage, and fuel surcharges.

Standard cargo protection up to $10,000 based on 0.60 cents per lb per article; if selected at the time the estimate is prepared, the estimated cost of the full value protection option at varying deductible levels (these are only estimates and the actual cost is determined by your selection on the carriers bill of lading according to carriers tariff).

No charge for packing tape and moving pads.

No date change penalties if your request is made more than 7 business days before your originally scheduled pick-up date.

Sounds all well and good, right?

Yeah. Not exactly how it played out.

Until this trio of yahoos arrived on a Saturday at 4:30 pm, some 36 hours late, in an unmarked truck with no evidence of representing a legitimate moving company. They didn’t even have on T-shirts with the name of a company.

I was already a day late vacating my house to its new owner and everything was packed up. As sketchy as they were, I was between the proverbial rock and hard place. Furthermore, it was Saturday and by the time things started to fall apart the broker’s office in Ohio was closed.

There were no quilted blankets. They used a huge roll of plastic to cover most my furniture, until it ran out. That meant that many items, including my piano, were not protected at all.

An inventory of every piece, noting its condition, was supposed to be conducted. This didn’t happen. This was no doubt the most grievous of omissions. They said they’d do one when they got to the warehouse and I was stupid enough to believe them!

The cubic feet estimate from the broker was way off. If I’d read that booklet from the Feds I would have known right then something was wrong. They’re supposed to conduct a physical walk-through of your house to assess how much you have! A “virtual” survey is acceptable, which I assume would be going through every room, closet, garage, and shed with a video camera. That, of course, didn’t happen, either.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but at a certain point before the move I was certain the original estimate was too low, so I called. They increased it by some and assured me it would be fine.

It wasn’t.

Numerous items, such as everything in the garage including a wheelbarrow, lawnmower, fencing, and a plethora of other items wouldn’t fit in the 26-foot truck along with several furniture items such as my kitchen table and chairs, flat screen TV, framed artwork, a rollaway bed, small appliances galore, a metal firewood rack, ladders, furniture and piano dollies, and numerous other items too numerous to mention.

Artwork left behind for lack of room in the truck.

Some items were irreplaceable, such as genealogy research material and memorabilia from my 21 years working for NASA, which was removed from the shed, then abandoned on the garage floor, as well as a 36 x 48 hand-carved wooden sign from a business I had in Utah back in the 70s, to name a few.

Looking back, my only choice would have been to refuse to let these idiots touch my stuff and hunker down in a packed up house that I no longer owned until Monday, at which time I would contact the broker and rip him a new one for sending such a seedy, unprofessional bunch. Obviously, I didn’t. I was too stressed out by that point, and just wanted to get going.

Note that delays in arrival and placing you in this very situation is exactly what Rogue Mover/scammers do.

They finished loading around midnight and drove off with the majority of my earthly possessions. My daughter and I spent the night at a neighbors, then loaded up my two cats in the car and headed for New York. (The cross-country trip with the cats is worthy of a blog as well, which I’ll get to later.)

The drama I’d been through finding a house in New York was another debacle. I’d never bought a house sight-unseen before, but trusted my daughter and son-in-laws judgement. The sellers were more pieces of work who kept delaying closing since they were in the middle of divorce and one of them was living out of state. We heard that these sellers had backed out of a deal before, so you can bet that caused plenty of anxiety as well. We got to move in early, but what if they changed their mind? Fortunately, that all resolved, but this contributed substantially to my stress level. Another facet of many related to this move from hell.

As I had time to think about those insidious movers and read about cases of just such scams where people lost everything they owned, I was again in a panic. The broker deferred me to the pick up carrier, who didn’t answer their phone and eventually blocked us from even attempting to reach them.

Just under two weeks later I heard from the delivery driver who was due to arrive the next day with my goods. To explain, the idiots in Texas dumped my stuff in a warehouse where someone else (or maybe them, who knows?) loaded it up and drove it to a warehouse in Chicago where the delivery driver picked it up.

This is how using a moving broker works. You possessions are moved in stages by a variety of drivers/moving companies. You can imagine what a debacle this is when the items are not inventoried or identified with you in a proper manner. The only thing I found that had my name on it with my shipment was a hand-scribbled, barely legible note with my misspelled name and new address which was taped to the back of a chair.

The delivery driver was a decent guy, albeit Russian who spoke little English. Thank heaven for Google translate. He picked up my items in Chicago, worked alone, and was amazing how he wrestled things like my piano and numerous huge items off another 26-foot truck alone. (Even more interesting, on a personal note, he was actually a former Russian rocket scientist.)

Not only did he have a 26 foot truck just like the one that picked up my things, there were other items on it besides my own. It was obvious that if those idiots in Texas knew what they were doing that all my stuff should have fit!

My shipment is behind the driver, the items on the right not mine along with a bunch of things he offloaded shown below. So why didn’t all my stuff fit on the same size truck in Texas? Or was that much missing?
Yes, the Russian driver unloaded all that stuff by himself!

It didn’t take long to notice some major items were missing. Like a solar generator worth approximately $3000. The side rails to my queen-size bed, which cost well over $300 to replace since they had to be custom made. Upon unpacking, more and more things that I know got loaded in Texas were missing. My 27″ computer monitor, my antique typewriter on which I wrote my first novel, an antique chair identical to the one the note was taped to, many awards I received during my 21 years working for NASA, and all sorts of other items.

Between what was left behind and lost in transit, losses amount to around $16,000. When I tried to file a claim with the Texas carrier’s insurance company, it was obvious beyond a doubt I’d been scammed when the insurance company said they never heard of them.

I have filed complaints with the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Association (FMCSA), attorneys general for both Texas and Ohio (where the broker is located), the Texas Department of Transportation, trucking organizations, and have yet to leave more reviews to warn people what is going on out there in the moving world. If you’ve had a similar experience, go to the FMCSA website, which has reporting information for them as well as various other agencies.

Fortunately, we love the house. For those of you who know I am single, you probably wonder what constitutes “we.” In another major change, I decided it was time due to my age and some mobility issues I’ve been having with a bad knee, that it was time to become a three-generation family with my youngest daughter, her husband, and three teenagers. Our house is an 1898 farmhouse on 2.7 acres in the Finger Lakes region of Western New York State.

Rural is an understatement. Our little town is adorable and tourist oriented with a few wineries. It doesn’t even have a traffic light anywhere, it’s so small. How cool is that? It does have a small grocery store, hardware store, and lots of restaurants with big stores about 25 miles away.

The house was empty for two years and required quite a bit of work to get it good to go. I’m still in the process of trying to get a garage built that the local building inspector will approve and various other projects, which will take us years to complete. But we love it, especially our wrap-around porch on which we spend a lot of time relaxing. I look forward to seeing fall colors again for the first time in years.

Our front yard facing a winding, mountain road.

I’m loving the cooler temperatures, so much green, regular rain, and the laid-back lifestyle. I don’t know if anything further will happen as far as compensation for my losses in the move, but I plan to pursue it as far as I can. I plan to hold the broker accountable for not vetting the rogue carrier he sent to orchestrate my move, which is likely to involve arbitration, so wish me luck.

This winter I plan to get back to writing and work with my coauthor, Pete Risingsun, to complete the Dead Horse Canyon trilogy, which was obviously delayed by this crazy year I’ve had.

So, if you’ve wondered where I’ve been, that’s at least part of my story and I’m sticking to it. If you plan to move anytime soon, please learn from my huge mistake. A legitimate moving company is definitely recommended. I think that the Pod concept is a good one, where you load up your stuff in one of them, lock it up, and it’s transported to your new digs.

Whatever you do, avoid brokers. The one I had, U.S. Interstate and Rail, somehow garnered lots of positive reviews. I suspect they’re fake, like all those jerks who want to be your friend on Facebook who reside in a cell phone in a bot farm. The one I’ll be leaving will certainly not be good.

EPILOGUE

As noted, I reported the broker and carrier to a plethora of places including FMCSA, Attorneys General, DMVs, and various professional trucking organizations. I received a report from the Texas DMV today which was satisfying, at least. Here’s what it said:

“I am an investigator with the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles (TxDMV), Enforcement Division.  We are charged with administrative regulatory enforcement of rules and regulations for household goods carriers, motor carriers and size/weight laws in Texas.   We received your complaint, 100237573, filed with the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration (FMCSA) concerning your move from Burnet, Texas to Naples, New York, which saw your belongings loaded on April 29, 2023 and delivered on May 23, 2023 with numerous items missing, damaged items, left in Burnet, no inventory, and no moving documentation provided to you.  Based on numerous complaints received prior to your complaint I went to the carrier’s location in Waco, Texas on August 24, 2023 and found it for lease.  I witnessed a dumpster at the Waco location full of bags, carts, etc.  I did confirm, through an obituary, that the owner, Tyler Thomas Ross, passed away on July 11, 2023, see attached PDF (https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/mcgregor-tx/tyler-ross-11367322).

“At this point, the TxDMV is unable to contact any individuals associated with the carrier that can assist with your complaint and appears the carrier is no longer in operation after the death of the owner.  Unfortunately, there is nothing more the TxDMV can do to assist with the complaint.  We will update your complaint with FMCSA letting them know of our findings.”

I must be a bad person because I have to admit that I laughed, especially since I literally prayed that the perpetrators would burn in hell. Karma is, indeed, a bitch. Apparently I wasn’t the only person that was scammed since the investigation took place before I even filed my report. I found out from the TX DMV investigator that there were 16 complaints against the company, which had only been in business since October 2022. No telling how many people didn’t bother to report them.

The owner was in his early 20s so this begs the question of how he died? I wonder if there is someone out there that I should thank. I guess I’m more vindictive than I care to admit, but it’s satisfying to know they won’t be scamming anyone else anytime soon. My curiosity got the better of me and a subsequent internet search indicated that Tyler Thomas Ross hanged himself in jail after being arrested on July 3, 2023, then died July 11 as a result of his injuries. His family apparently attempted to make it look as if he died from a motorcycle accident since someone with the same name did so a year before. My next task is to find out why he was in the slammer. It’s pretty likely it was for theft and multiple moving scams.

Meanwhile, I still have the broker, U.S. Interstate and Rail, in my sights for not properly vetting those crooks. The more evidence I find showing Ross’s criminal activity, the better my chances at winning something through arbitration. Wish me luck.

UPDATE JUNE 4, 2024: I was never able to recover a thing. The broker had his butt sufficiently covered in the contract making it pointless to try to go after him. Besides, by then I was emotionally spent on the entire bad experience and just wanted to move on.

However, there is good news. Today I came upon this bipartisan bill been introduced by Congress to protect consumers. You can find more information here. Hooray for them for actually doing something for the people for a change!

Review of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s “Braiding Sweetgrass”

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Originally published on Dead-Horse-Canyon.com.

Marcha's Two-Cents Worth's avatarThe Curse of Dead Horse Canyon

Robin Wall Kemmerer is uniquely qualified to pen this tome. Not only is she a member of the Potawatomi tribe, she also earned a PhD in botany. Her insights from both perspectives are priceless. These pages are filled with thoughts and wisdom entirely different from the white man’s view of life. Rather than being the superior being, Indigenous people see themselves as part of a greater whole.

Everything is alive in some way, whether vegetable, animal, or mineral. When Indigenous people speak of “all my relations” they are not just referring to other humans. The concept of land ownership was incomprehensible to them, making it easy to fall prey to it being virtually stolen. The Creator had given it to the people millennia before. It belonged to everyone.

She recounted the tragic story often told of Indigenous peoples being driven from their land to desolate places no one else wanted…

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Reciprocity

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I’m usually not so generous sharing my garden with insects, but this one will pay me back.

Marcha's Two-Cents Worth's avatarThe Curse of Dead Horse Canyon

Dill is one of my favorite herbs. When a friend of mine saw this caterpillar munching on it, he was surprised I didn’t have a problem with it. Why? Because that little guy or girl (sorry, it didn’t tell me how s/he identifies) will eventually become an absolutely beautiful black swallowtail butterfly!

And better yet, it will be a pollinator! Which is something I need in my garden, since there aren’t many bees these days.

This one is far from alone. At last count, I saw about 9 of them on that same plant. I’ll pick some dill and put it in the freezer for now, then plant more after these hungry caterpillars metamorphose to their final winged stage.

I must admit, I was not as compassionate toward the harlequin beetles devastating my broccoli, pretty though they may be. But they were not going to give anything back, either!

It’s…

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Did Ancient Hopi Elders see Our Day?

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Originally posted on Dead-Horse-Canyon.com.

Marcha's Two-Cents Worth's avatarThe Curse of Dead Horse Canyon

Not everyone believes in prophecy. Of course, the test of a true prophet versus someone with a vivid imagination is whether or not their predictions come true. In many cases, the speaker does not live long enough to see whether it does or not, but if others recorded what they said, in due time the truth will be known.

Native Americans have run the gamut of emotions from outrage to grief toward the white man’s life style and attitude toward Mother Earth. According to the Holy Bible, man was given “dominion” over the Earth. A word that suggests he could do as he pleased with all it contains and justifies exploiting it for his own gain.

However, in view of the current state of the planet, was that an accurate translation of the Creator’s intent?

Much was edited out of that sacred tome because it didn’t fit the understanding of…

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The Power of Words

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Originally posted on Dead-Horse-Canyon.com.

Marcha's Two-Cents Worth's avatarThe Curse of Dead Horse Canyon

The purpose of words is to convey meaning. How they’re spelled, how they sound differs tremendously. Sometimes they convey the same meaning, such as for a cat or dog. Others are unique and can’t be translated into another language, especially if they’re based on cultural context.

When immigrants come to a country, they assimilate better if they learn the host language. This is not simply a matter of getting along better in society. It integrates them into the culture. America became a “melting pot” as immigrants came from a multitude of foreign nations, then were united in a common language, i.e. English, even if they maintained their ethnic traditions.

When Europeans came to the American continent they encountered indigenous peoples whose languages were entirely foreign. While there’s a similarity in etymology and syntax among Latin-based languages (English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, etc.), those spoken by Native Americans (which were several)…

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