Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 19, 2023

Cowboy Mike

 by Charlotte Hinger



A beloved member of Western Writers of America, Michael Searles, died the day before our annual convention in Rapid City. I was devastated. He was always at this event. 

In this era of bitter culture wars he was a diplomatic ambassador and deeply loved. He joyfully shared his heritage and had the most infectious laugh I've ever heard.

This year, he received the prestigious Homestead Award and it was to be presented at the awards ceremony. He received it early and made a video thanking the organization. Below is a paragraph written in History Net that describes his abilities far better than any of my attempts to capsulize his vibrant well lived life in mere words. For those of you who have a Facebook account, look up his video. 

From History Net:

Beneath his black hat and behind his boisterous laugh beats the heart of a diligent historian. Michael N. “Cowboy Mike” Searles spent a career as a teacher, engaging students from elementary school through college age before retiring as a professor emeritus from Augusta State University in Georgia. The focus of his classes was the American West, specifically the experience of black cowboys and buffalo soldiers. As a writer and editor Cowboy Mike continues to tackle both subjects. He wrote a chapter of Black Cowboys of Texas (2000) and with Bruce A. Glasrud edited Buffalo Soldiers in the West: A Black Soldiers Anthology (2007). The two also collaborated on Black Cowboys in the American West: On the Range, on the Stage, Behind the Badge (2016).

When asked when 19 century black men came to be cowboys, Mike told the interviewer:

Black men ventured west as trappers and mountain men before the era of the cowboy. Some even migrated with the Spanish from Mexico. The largest influx of blacks into cow country came as slaves and mastered the craft of cowboying, which they continued when slavery ended. Being a cowboy lacked the romance found in Western films. Not everyone was suited to the cowboy life, so once a man seemed to adapt to the lifestyle, he often found continuous work on ranches. The largest influx of blacks into cow country came as slaves and mastered the craft of cowboying, which they continued when slavery ended.

Mike was such a gentle and effective educator. I wish teachers everywhere had his magical touch. I wish those who are intent on turning education into a battleground would magically acquire the ability to listen.


Friday, September 13, 2019

Politics, Anyone?


I don't discuss politics when I'm at a signing or asked to speak at an organization. I stay away from giving my opinion about controversial subjects. This is a matter of courtesy to me. People doing me the courtesy of attending an event don't come to be subjected to political tirades.

Politics in these United States have taken a savage turn. Discussions turn mean fast. I suspect that is true for my British Type M'ers over Brexit.

I'm liberal by choice and because I was instilled with fervor for the Democratic party by my father whose family came from the Deep South: Haversham County in Georgia. Politics were discussed passionately and often in the Southerland household.

Nevertheless, I'm not a "Yellow Dog Democrat." This term refers to people who would vote Democrat even if the party's only candidate was an old yellow dog. The phrase was coined after the Civil War during a heated Presidential campaign. I always vote. I'm most likely to be swayed by statements on a candidates website.

It's hard to gather accurate information about issues and personalities in today's world of sound bites. I would love to hear unopinionated news.

I can think for myself, thank you. I want to know what our candidates say and think, without immediate exposure to some political wonk's professional opinion about what a speaker "really" meant.

Friday, June 16, 2017

Characters and Seasons

Donis's blog yesterday about summer reading reminded me of what I've always liked about summer. As a child (student) and as an adult (teacher), I have three months of "summer vacation." Of course, now that I'm a grown-up, I do need to use my summer to get some work done. But summer is the time when I can stay up late reading a book or go to a matinee in the middle of the day (Wonder Woman is at the top of my list).

What has changed is that I don't go outside as much as I did when I was a child. Of course, I've never been a fan of summer heat and bug bites. But growing up in the country in Virginia with a big back yard and paths through woods and dogs, I would never have thought of wasting a summer day inside. Nowadays, living in a house in the city, I've been contemplating setting up my empty (until winter) garage as an "outdoor" space. The problem with the grass in my small yard is that it might have ticks. And, besides, even with sunscreen, I could get too much sun. Grilling -- I remember those wonder family barbecues in the front yard under the big old tree. But I could blow myself up trying to start a grill and what about the health risks of hot dogs?

My seasonal preferences have carried over to my characters. My Southern-born protagonist, Lizzie Stuart, loves the South but hates heat and storms. Hannah McCabe, my police detective, lives in Albany, New York, and is dealing with the sizzling summers produced by climate change. I've set some books during the summer, but haven't had to think like a "summer person".

That brings me to my challenge with one of my major characters in my 1939 historical thriller. He lives in Georgia, and summer is his season. The heat and the sun. The smell of his own sweat. He stands out in a field watching the black clouds roll in. Then he sits on his porch with a drink watching the storm erupt.

He loves the land and the smell of the soil. If I don't capture this part of who this character is, then his motivation for the things he does will fall flat. But I need to step into his work boots.

So in answer to Donis's question about summer reading, I'm heading South with books (fiction and non-fiction) written during the 1930s. Books about summer, with heat and sweat and storms. And I'm hoping that the weather here in Albany will not echo what I'm reading.

Does your character have a favorite season? A time of year that he or she loves, but you don't?