Clive Cussler, author of over 85 books with sales of 100 million copies, passed away in Scottsdale, AZ at age 88.   I had the pleasure of meeting him in 1994 when he did a book signing at my bookstore, Pages, in Ahwatukee.  He certainly made that event a fun time for many.  

First of all, I should say that when I learned that such a successful author lived nearby in Scottsdale, I called his publisher to see if he would book a signing. I did not have much success with that effort. Perhaps we were too small a fish in the big book pond.  

About a month after that I attended some type of author luncheon where he was the guest speaker. After the meeting we were both standing outside the restaurant waiting for a valet to bring our cars and I asked him if he would come sign at my store. He replied, “Yes of course” so quickly and graciously, I immediately liked this man for the person he was. I was already in awe of his success (me an aspiring writing) and his visit further proved his kindness. 

During the signing (there was a long line waiting for him) he did not appear rushed. He spoke for several minutes with each person and wrote things like, “We’ll always have Paris” in some of the ladies’ books.  J

I had arranged with him ahead of time that I would like to offer a “ win a lunch with Mr. Cussler”.  Anyone who bought any of his hard cover books (versus the many small paperbacks he already had in print) would be put into a drawing for lunch with him.  

We had a wonderful  Chinese restaurant next door to the book store and his wife joined us.  It was during this lunch that he told us the story of how he got his first book published through a hoax.  

Clive grew up in Alhambra, Calif., a poor student but an avid reader of adventure stories.

“I detested school,” he told Publishers Weekly in 1994. “I was always the kid who was staring out the window. While the teacher was lecturing on algebra, I was on the deck of a pirate ship or in an airplane shooting down the Red Baron.”

He attended Pasadena City College briefly, but left to join the Air Force when the Korean War began in 1950. He became a mechanic, flew supply missions in the Pacific but never saw combat. While stationed in Hawaii, he learned scuba diving and explored underwater wrecks. 

He began writing fiction at home in the late 60s, but his first two books, “Pacific Vortex” and “The Mediterranean Caper,” were repeatedly rejected. Unable even to get an agent, he staged a hoax. Using the letterhead of a fictitious writers’ agency, he wrote to the agent Peter Lampack, posing as an old colleague about to retire and overloaded with work. He enclosed copies of his manuscripts, citing their potential.

It worked. “Where can I sign Clive Cussler?” Mr. Lampack wrote back. In 1973, “The Mediterranean Caper” was published.  

Despite an improbable plot and negative reviews, “Raise the Titanic!” sold 150,000 copies, was a Times best seller for six months and became a 1980 film starring Richard Jordan and Jason Robards Jr.

Mr. Cussler, who named his franchise hero after his son Dirk, acknowledged that Dirk Pitt’s character was his own alter ego. His later novels, many co-written by his son or others, often included himself as a character who saves the day. His son, a daughter and friends were also used as characters in his books.

“I’ve been doing Dirk Pitt for 30 years,” Mr. Cussler told The Times in 2000. “Maybe I can find another writer down the line to take him over. It’s not the money; it’s the fans.

“I’d like to retire,” he continued. “I’m toying with the idea of Pitt having a son who shows up. He’s getting a little long in the tooth. When we started out, we were both 36 years old. Now he’s a little over 40, and I’m pushing 70.”

His “hoax” story should be an inspiration to any author  to be creative and believe in yourself.  (In fact, why haven’t I tried that?” )

RIP Mr. Cussler and thank you for your stories and mostly for your kindness.

We Are All Connected.

Years ago my daughter Berta traveled to China occasionally for her work. On one trip she brought home a few souvenirs for me.  A beautiful miniature Mahjongg set since I was just learning the game, and a set of these coasters pictured here in a variety of beautiful colors.  

These coasters are probably 13 years old and yet their colors are as vivid as the day I received them. I like them so much that I take them back and forth with me each summer when I go to Munds Park for three months. They lay perfectly flat and can also serve as a cover to a coffee cup to keep it warm, especially useful in Munds Park where the morning chill can often be in the high 30’s for the entire month of June.

This morning I was doing just that…. using one of the coasters as a lid to my coffee cup. I examined the beautiful stitching more closely and marveled at how intricate it was.  With the Corona virus raging in China now I thought of the hands that made this coaster and wonder if that person is still there.  Is she (I’m assuming it’s a she—and probably bent over a sewing machine rather than hand-stitching) or one of her family members affected by the virus?

Her hands touched this coaster at one point and now here am I, thousands of miles away, touching it also. In fact, I was drinking my coffee in bed while I did my morning readings. How much more intimate could it get?

It made me realize how connected we all are in this big wide world.   Of course that leads me to Disneyland and It’s a Small World After All. Okay, I apologize for putting that song in your head.  I hope it doesn’t twirl around there all day as it will in mine now,  but I do hope I also don’t forget how people we don’t even know often touch our lives.  We are all going about our daily lives so earnestly on this planet that is at once so large, yet so small in the vast universe.  Time to read Ecclesiastes again.

                                        LOCKSMITHS COME IN ALL SIZES

Yesterday I witnessed something special that I wish I had photographed.

It would have been the picture of 11-year old Logan wearing a tool-belt, standing beside his father when I opened my front door. 

His father is a locksmith and I was having my doors re-keyed…a benefit that came with the home warranty. The re-keying was done not so much as a security measure as my home had only one owner for 22 years and the seller’s daughter did not indicate that keys had been distributed to housekeepers, handymen, etc. 

I did it because there were so many locks on the door with different keys for each lock. I thought it would be nice to have one key for all.  (No comments here on how often I lose things or confuse keys). Just sayin….an effort to simplify my life.)

So back to Logan with the tool belt that actually held tools. Real tools, not playschool wooden ones.  I said, “Well, hello, and I see you bought your little helper today.”

The father smiled and said “Yes.”  

I thought maybe this was one of those “bring your child to work days” so I said, 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Shy smile from Logan. “Yes, but it’s my birthday.”

“How old are you today?”

“Eleven.”

“I have a granddaughter who will  be 11 in a few months. Are you in 5^th grade?”

“4^th”

Then Logan and his father proceeded to examine the locks in the storm door, front door, and door leading from garage to laundry room.  They discussed the locks between themselves and and Logan had quite a bit to say in the discussion, identifying which type of lock was required. They determined that I couldn’t have one key because the storm and garage door were one kind and the front door with 2 locks was another kind.  But they were able to eliminate a few keys so I only had 2 instead of 4.

While the father worked on the storm door, Logan worked on the laundry room door.  

He removed the thing a ma chig that the key goes into and went to the truck where evidently they had the equipment to change it and make new keys.

While they both worked, I could hear bits of their conversation which sounded like two co-workers of equal rank rather than a man and a child.

When they were done with both doors, they showed me which keys went where and Logan once again was quite verbal and involved.  He took my old keys to recycle.   It was obvious he had done this many times with his Dad.

I found out that Logan was one of six children, in the middle of the pack. The fact that on his birthday he was probably made to feel like an only child…a very special only child…made me smile.  

It seems many kids today are overly absorbed with technology, their heads often bent over an I-Pad in pursuit of a villain in a video game or their thumbs rapidly texting.  How refreshing to see  a child learning a hands-on trade.

It speaks volumes that Logan wanted to spend his birthday working with his Dad and spoke volumes for a Dad who had taught his young son valuable skills. An apprentice of sorts.

I wish I had taken his photo so you too could see the real-life tool belt around his waist.

Logan re-keyed my door, but he also opened my heart a bit.  

Chasing Fed-Ex 

Sometimes I read symbolism into daily circumstances in my search for the meaning of events in my life. Yes, kinda weird, I know.

We’ve all heard about people who always find a parking spot close to the entrance in a crowded mall lot simply because they think they will.  Those who favor this theory say that their belief doesn’t create the spot, but it does heighten their awareness of looking for the clues—for example, red taillights indicating someone backing out.

This leads me to my Chasing the Fed Ex truck.

I had to return some documents that required my signature to my financial planner in Colorado.

He provided a self-addressed and postage paid Fed-ex envelope for me to use. I told him I would send them Friday and he could expect them on Monday. Come Friday, I discovered that finding a Fed-ex drop off was not as easy as it had been when I lived in Ahwatukee and merely zipped down Ray Road to the Fed Ex center.

When I googled the nearest drop box to my new home in Sun Lakes, I found it was about 10 miles away.  Not a big deal but I had to work that jaunt around other activities I had already planned for the day.  I had a Bible Study at 1 pm and decided to make the drop afterwards as the home where we had the study was at least one mile closer to the drop.

Then I kept thinking about how constantly I see the FedEx truck in this retirement community of 5000 homes making deliveries. Wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, if I ran across one this day and could hand him my package? I even said a little prayer or sorts.

As I was waiting for a red light to turn green at a busy intersection, sure enough, I saw a small Fed-Ex van up ahead across the street headed south—not the direction I was going. So instead of making a left turn to go East, I went straight when the light turned green.  I could still see the van. However, it went past the entrance to  the country club and golf course and I had to slow down in case golf carts were crossing (hundreds of those in Sun Lakes-they frown on us hitting one).  I lost sight of the van and soon came to a T in the road. Had the van made a left or right turn? I turned right and drove for about a mile. No van and lots of little side streets it could have turned into.

I turned around and went  the other way past the T  for several miles through a residential area, also with many side streets. No van. Now I needed to abandon this project or I would be late for Bible Study which is small group around a table --can’t slip into a back row unnoticed. 

I wasn’t sure how to get back to the main road without backtracking but saw a man in one of those little golf carts who kindly pointed me in the right direction. North and East.  I got back on track, knowing I would be a few minutes late and feeling foolish for pursuing the van. I mean so what if I had to drive 10 miles down the road? Not a big deal.

Just as I was pulling into the gated entrance to the neighborhood where Bible study was, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Just  ahead of me was a Fed Ex Van!  We both had to slow down and stop in line to get past the gate house which raised the gate for entry. I had to get to the driver before he went thru the gate or I would surely lose him as I had lost the other one.

So as he was slowing to get in line, I pulled up beside him, almost cutting him off as if I rudely wanted to get ahead of him.  I got so close to his side of the van he couldn’t help but notice me. I lowered my window and waved my package, asking if he would wait for me after he went thru the gate. He did and when I pulled up behind, he even jumped out and took the package from me.

I thought, Wow, God does answer prayers. Even beyond my expectations.  I didn’t even have to get out of my car. 

Of course, I was a little late to the study but when I explained why and tied it to my belief that sometimes God answers even our simplest prayers if only we ask, they were sympathetic. 

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 

  Matthew 7: 7 

I know this prayer request may seem petty when people are praying for healing from cancers and important life issues, but still it was an evidence of God in my life. And here comes the symbolism.

I have been chasing many things in my 78 years. Sometimes like the first fed-ex van, I’ve seen something I really wanted to capture, only to lose sight of it or get lost in the pursuit by going down the wrong road.  Yes, many detours and wrong roads.

Just recently I  began my  earnest search for God, wanting so much to have a stronger faith and trusting him to show me the way.  One of the first verses I memorized and say to myself often.

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.  Proverbs. 3: 5 - 6

And a little more  symbolism? The van appeared at the gate to the Bible Study. It was clearly a message that I am on the right road as I seek God’s wisdom and direction through the study of his word.

One ironic note. As if God wanted to put an exclamation point on my prayer, the very next day a Fed-Ex truck made a delivery to my door.  J  Twice blessed or Is there a scripture about patience?  

 A NEW YEAR AWAITS

Blog Feb 1, 2020

It’s been a year since I posted to my blog!  Well, 357 days to be exact.  Excuses? Oh, I have plenty.  I finished two books, traveled to Italy with the Duffy family, did the beach week with the family in San Diego, did a Grandmother-Grandaughter trip with Marielle to Kansas (Space camp) and then the unplanned spontaneous biggee-- moved from 30 years in Ahwatukee to Sun Lakes.  Photo above was the sunrise my first morning here. God’s way of telling me it was the right move.

So lots of changes in my life.  But the biggest change is that the Lord is now very present.  I am grateful for so many blessings and mainly that he has opened my heart to daily joy after several years of grieving.  My new favorite song is “Why Me Lord” sung by Roy Clark but written by Kris Kristofferson. (a little trvia from Ken Burns’ Country Music special, which by the way is excellent.)  But I digress.

The words in the song that speak to me are “What have I ever done to deserve even one of the pleasures I’ve known?”  This move has made me aware, once again, of how kind people are. I had so much help moving—both emotionally and physically!  People loading the trunks of their cars, their trucks, hanging pictures, packing and unpacking, and expressing their good wishes for my new home. 

I’ve  also gained a new confidence (sort of) in doing things I never did before. Simple things that most people already knew or did, but let’s face it, I have been spoiled by having strong men in my life who insisted on doing the “man” thing. Lifting, pounding ,installing, driving, and in general taking really good care of me. 

At age 78, I’m learning to be more self-sufficient. I even hung some pictures the other day without slamming my thumb. My tool box consists of 3 hammers, (one regular and two gold girly ones), a few screwdrivers, and a pair of pliers. Anything that requires more than those tools will be hired out.  I discovered Task Rabbit…more about that after they finish their first job for me next Tuesday. Or should I say first “task”?

It feels good to be blogging again—my goal is to not wait another year to continue.

I close with Proverbs 3:5-6. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”

A Night to Shine. February 8,2019

I participated in A Night To Shine last night.  A night dedicated to disabled teens but 

It caused my heart to glow as well.

Sponsored by the Tim Tebow Foundation,  this Prom for teens, who might not experience one otherwise, was started four years ago in 40 churches. Last night over 600 churches held this special magical night across the country.

The Phoenix location is at Price and Baseline at the 29:11 Church which has a huge layout in a strip mall of all places. It occupies most of the strip but there are a few restaurants there as well.

There were 100 participants with over 250 volunteers.  Everyone was dressed up for prom and had a variety of activities to participate in during the evening. A stretch limo ride, the red carpet, kareoke, a game room, corsages, make-up, photos, dinner, a king and queen crowning ceremony (every participant was crowned) and best of all was the dance floor. They danced their hearts out and their unadulterated joy was beautiful.  

Every teen is assigned a buddy.  My “date” for the evening was 19-year old Bailly, a senior in high school who recently had a heart transplant. It did not slow her down one bit as we danced each dance. Her enthusiasm was contagious. The floor was packed, including those in wheelchairs whose dates twirled them around and around.  When you witness such happiness in those who might have reason to not be so happy, you are truly inspired to appreciate your health and good fortune.

There was a respite room for parents and caregivers who could relax while their child was with a buddy. They could enjoy chair massages, TV shows, a chocolate fondue fountain and many other goodies.

As I drove home I thought of how fortunate I was to participate in this event and witness the love poured out to these children in so many ways. It truly was a night to shine, and even today, the light that this love spread filled my heart and  is still glowing within me.

MANIPULATED LIVES by Helene Leuschel

The author of Manipulated Lives studied journalism and communications but one would think she had a PhD in psychology.  In this collection of five short novellas with a common theme, she has created true-to-life scenarios of how people are manipulated by others.  I am certain you will recognize someone you know. 

She captures our interest and raises our awareness of these occurrences with characters we have all met at some point in our lives as we sadly watch them become victims of manipulators—often by those closest to them acting in the guise of love.  Or worse yet, we might recognize ourselves as having been the manipulator in someone else’s life. These stories may cause you to squirm a bit.

The writing is skillful as she draws us into the story much the same way the character is drawn to the manipulator, a seemingly innocent and believable attraction that slowly deteriorates into something unmanageable and quite twisted.  I found myself cheering for the main character to become aware of what was happening in their lives and to run—to run quickly and not look back.   

I think it was quite masterful that the author carried out this theme with such a variety of characters, some young, some old, some vulnerable desperately seeking love and acceptance while others seemed confident and not likely to fall prey to such manipulation, yet they do. Is anyone safe?

These stories, though short, pack a powerful punch.  This book would be an excellent book club choice with its thought provoking situations.  Holly’s story would be an especially interesting assignment for teens. 

Someone said the sign of a good book is when you continue to think about it once you are finished.  It certainly has me thinking!