Papa Pat Tiny Devotionals

You can find the original post here on According to Hoyt:: Sarah et co. are just down the road a spell from me at the Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshop in Chattanooga. Therefore, Chris did a guest column, and it punched my buttons. This originally was just going to be a comment on his column, but since it addresses some specific points about reviewing that had been on my mind, I found it impossible not to let it blossom into a complementary blog post. So, my comment over at ATH is just the intro; this is the entire beast. I feel celebratory because this column validates most of my practices, gives me a new idea, and provides a forum where I can spit in the eye of one who first attacked, then attempted to sabotage my reviews. First of all, those of you who read my book reviews on Amazon and on my blog have told me that you like my reviews because they are detailed, and show that I have paid attention to the book, not just read the summary and dashed off a line or two.  Validation

I can't believe I EVER tried to do this with a hangover! It's not even the pressure of what has to be done that makes mornings a hassle, it's just…  Mornings.  I am of the age where the following statement is true: if you wake up in the morning, and nothing hurts, it's a sign that you died in the night.  Actually, that's been true for a while.  I can recall making the observation, back in the day when I was still gainfully employed as a school counselor, that now it took me longer to take my morning medications than it used to take to get dressed.  That's only a slight exaggeration, by the way: blood pressure pills, blood sugar pills, prescribed vitamins, fish oil, a combined anti-pain, anti-depressant, ADD medicine, and something to combat hiatal hernia; the only thing that's not prescribed that I take is a vitamin C when I think I might be in danger of getting a cold. And lately, it seems that every morning I have to take 1/2 pain pill, to supplement the p

The joke goes something like this: "Daryle, why haven't you fix that leaking roof yet?" "Haven't found the occasion." "What do you mean?" "Too dangerous to get up on the roof in the middle of rainstorm, and if it ain't raining, it ain't a problem." Well, that pretty much describes the problem I have had writing this post.  When circumstances called for it, it was too painful to write; and, when things were going OK, it wasn't on my mind. I knew I was going to be writing this post about a year ago, when a precious friend of ours suffered the tragic loss of her infant son.  I had just lost an old and dear friend at the same time, and the combined grief had me sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space for a while, imagining this huge mountain of pain and loss, and wondering how I was going to get through.  But then, in my imagination, I found myself holding a shovel; and I looked around, and from every direction here cam

(Why is my computer running so slow?) I've got another post which I should be writing instead, but I'm not gonna do it right now because it's too painful.  I'll try it tomorrow, I promise I'll try it tomorrow.  I've owed it to you for almost a year. This post is about the three rules.  Many years ago, it was suggested to me that every profession has three core rules  (thank you, Kay Burkalter, wherever you are).  Apparently, these were first proposed by a physician; I will relate them to you as they were related to me. The three rules of medicine: Rule one: air goes in and out. Rule two: blood goes round and round. Rules three: oxygen is good. The three rules of emergency medicine: Rule one: all bleeding eventually stops. Rule two: everybody eventually dies. Rules three: if you drop the baby, pick it up. The three rules of counseling: Rule one: everybody needs a hug sometimes. Rule two: everybody needs to forgive sometimes. Rules three: if they can't read yo

It is my considered opinion, based on my own experience and that of others, that civilization is a thin veneer which can easily be scraped off, when we are deprived for any significant period of time of one or more basic utilities.  I'm not really talking about Internet or telephone service here, although the loss of those can be disconcerting.  At my house, the basic utilities include gas for heating, cooking, and hot water, and to date, that service has never been interrupted.  However, the electricity has gone out during ice storms; we've had quite a few problems with the septic tank over the years; and yesterday and the day before, we were without water due to a break in the line between the house and the meter, i.e., my responsibility.  We didn't quite become feral human beings, but it was close. My gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, Georgia, was upset by the water break.  As she is THE MOTH

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I discovered the charging adapter for my telephone and tablet was missing.  As always, when faced with circumstances I do not understand, I knew what to do.  I turned to my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after, trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, Georgia, and said "What did you do with my charger?" "I didn't do anything to your charger. Are you sure it's not there?" I mutely direct her attention to the empty socket. "Nope, it's not there.  One of the kids probably took it." As luck would have it, at that very moment, One Of The Kids (Alicia, the nine year old) was lurking outside the bedroom door, to see if she could hear some juicy Parent Conversation. "Alicia, do you have Papa's phone charger?" "No," she sweetly replies.  "Look in Kenneth's room." Isn't it amazing that the youngest child always knows everything that&

I write two different things for public consumption: Papa Pat Rambles, which you are reading right now, in which I wander all over the place; and my book reviews on Amazon, in which I write about, well, books. Evidently, I sometimes get them confused.  It's not that big of a deal on the occasions in which I include book reviews in my blog, because those are extended and expanded; sort of a Director's Cut of my book reviews.  However, I have been told that when I get particularly chatty on Amazon, it interferes with the book review. I think that's what happened with a book review I did recently for "Cold Hands And Other Stories," by the polymath Jeff Duntemann.  Here's my evidence for that statement: after nearly a month, the review has not received a single " helpful" vote, and I almost always get at least one vote (that single helpful vote might come from the respective authors, but I have no way of knowing that). A couple of times a month, maybe as

This is the first blog post I have attempted since I got the new computer.  Why?  It's simple: I couldn't find the bookmark that all out me to write.  But just a few minutes ago, I got lucky!  It's bookmarked now, you betcha! A fellow reviewer had a bit of an ethical dilemma.  He was given a book to review which was written by the 16 year old son of a friend of his.  He found the book to be better than what he would have written at age 16, but it still wasn't a good book.  So, rather than write a negative review in his column, he provided feedback to the young author, identifying areas that needed work.  His two little was this: never before had he given an author of the option of not publishing the review.  Had he handled this appropriately? The consensus around the campfire was that he had done exactly the right thing.  The point of the spear is that a young, new writer needs every bit of encouragement and support and mentoring they can get.  Everyone agreed on that.