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                                           Merry Christmas, everyone!

Christmas Eve at Rosey's Cafe

                                                               
     Working on a book titled, "Broken Glass in a Rear View Mirror." This is an excerpt from Christmas Eve in 1966. Mom and Dad were separated but still loved each other...

                                     
                                                    Christmas Eve at Rosey's Cafe

     Dad's leather jacket filled my nostrils with the aroma of a huge, pork tenderloin sandwich from Rosey's Cafe. Jimmy ran up to get a hug and quickly said, "I'm hungry, Dad!"
     He smiled, looked at Mom and asked, "Honey, would you like to go and get a bite to eat? The boys are hungry," as he stepped around her and gently rubbed her shoulders. Jimmy finished putting on his coat, hat, and mittens that hung on a peg and waited by the door.
     I liked to sit on a bar stool but Mom insisted we sit together as a family. Dad pulled out the red plaid, vinyl chair and waited till Mom was seated. The solid red formica table top greeted us with an eight inch, plastic, rosy-cheeked, smiling Santa, holding a few menus with outstretched arms and black-gloved hands. An emptied ashtray sat to Santa's left. As the waitress took our order, I watched a small puck gently slide over a sandy, wooden surface, tapping a stationary puck into the gutter.
     In approximately ten minutes, I heard a voice, "Hi, Shaney! Merry Christmas!"
     "Hi, Annie. Merry Christmas to you!" She wore a tight, red felt top with small, jeweled, green wreaths that circled each nipple, unaccompanied by a bra.
     "Okay, Sweetie, you had the tenderloin and rings?" Tiny bells on each wreath jingled as she placed the plate of food on the table.
     Mom's eyes drifted toward Dad, who sipped a beer with his face draped in innocence. His eyes watched me devour my first bite of a golden brown onion ring.
     Both seemed ready to burst into laughter.


    

A Writer's Outlook on Life

     I notice people are in a continual search of a fresh view, an inspired hope, an opening line heard somewhere that triggers one to keep going, keep moving, and keep looking for that magical moment when things in life suddenly make sense, but like the flash of a camera, it's only for a moment, and you are left clinging to a photo.

   Writers use an opening line to draw a potential reader, even for ones who don't care about the author's genre or the characters in a story. These readers are listening, listening for a voice, an appealing tone that proves stronger than the writer's crafted skill to come and read. Stephen King once said on reference to opening lines, "An opening line should invite the reader to begin the story. It should say; Listen. Come in here. You want to know about this."

    Some opening lines have become universal, like Charles Dickens, Tale of Two Cities, "It was the
best of times, it was the worst of times,..." or Herman Melville's, Moby Dick, "Call me Ismael."
    Others seem to be eye-opening, like Ralph Ellison's, Invisible Man, "I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquid---and I might even be said to possess a mind."
    Still others attempt an identity, like Zara Neale Hurston's, Their Eyes Were Watching God, "Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board."

     Opening lines come in various shapes and sizes. Here are a few more;

"All children, except me, grows up," Peter Pan, by J.M. Barrie
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen," 1984, George Orwell
"Mother died today," The Stranger, Albert Carrus
"I'm pretty much fucked," The Martian, Andy Weir
"Marley was dead, to begin with," A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
"I was born upside down, the umbilical chord looped twice around my neck," Poppies, Ulrica Hume.
"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they executed the Rosenburgs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York," The Bell Jar, Sylvia Platte

One of my favorite novels during my high school years began with these words,

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all they had before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth,"Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger

So, keep looking, it's gonna come your way. Then, again, maybe it's inside you, ready to come out.