It's a Heart Thing

When I was in grade school, September and the first day of school was my favorite time of year. The odor of freshly waxed floors and chalk was intoxicating. My brand new supply of No. 2 pencils, my Big Chief tablet, my pristine eraser and my see through plastic ruler seemed to assure me there would be an absolutely perfect year ahead. My heart was gladdened with virtue and resolution.

Excitement ruled. There was a rush of pure joy in seeing my classmates once again. They never changed in the small community of Lone Elm, Kansas where I attended school. First, second, and third grades were all taught in one room. 

Recess was wildly vigorous and mostly spent in violent running games; Red Rover, 23 Scadoo, Statues, Ante-Over, New Orleans and others that would not be permitted today. They were an outlet for pent-up energy.

Come winter, the girls switched to jacks. Then, an all school project of coloring the spaces on our Big Chief tablets seemed to emerge every February. These pieces were then taped and linked together into a huge chain until it circled the outside of the whole school. My heart was warmed by this friendly comraderie. It was a group thing. By the time this worthy goal was achieved, winter had passed and we gleefully rushed outdoors again. 

Our teacher read to us after lunch. Years later, people have told me their fondest memory of school was when the teacher read stories to them. Often it's a student's only exposure to reading for pleasure.

 Another highlight was the traveling music teacher. She went from school to school throughout out county and we learned about people through their country's songs. To this day, during the opening of the Olympics I recall the line "but other hearts in other lands are beating, with hopes and dreams as high and pure as mine." Right now, my heart aches for the people whose "hopes and dreams" are broken through war. Even the Olympics are tainted with controversy. 

Much of my interest of African American history can be traced to the stirring of my heart when Teresa Shurr led us in traditional spirituals. Music played a huge role in my educational experience. Folk music added to my understanding of geography.

Newspapers this week are filled with tales of little children terrified to go back to school. No wonder! As a highly sensitive child, I don't know how I would have survived emotionally if my school had been subjected to carnage. My heart would have stopped.

How can today's children focus? Is their terror lessened when they see armed officers patrolling the halls, or does their presence add to the children's unease? What about the mental health of the poor teachers who are expected to be brave, self-sacrificing, and ever alert to the threat of danger? 

The contrast between my school days and the experiences of today's children could not be greater. Each new school shooting breaks my heart. 

Is There a Place For Social Commentary in Our Novels?

How much social commentary should a writer put into their work? Should they put any in at all?

I think we all know how polarized our country is right now. Say the wrong thing in your novel and you’re liable to lose fifty percent of your readers. For that reason, I stay the heck away from politics.

Mostly.

These days, the strangest things set up a political firestorm. Masks, vaccines, mandates. Instead of following the science, we follow the rhetoric.

In my fourth book, Shadow Hill, I touch upon LBGTQ bias, school shootings, and climate change.

One of my characters, fifteen-year-old Caroline Bell, writes a column for her high school newspaper that centers on school shootings. Without pontificating about gun rights or gun control, she very simply talks about how many children have died in horrific, senseless mass murder events. And how, with semi-automatic weapons easily at people’s disposal, how fast it can happen and how bad the body count can be.

Caroline goes on to interview her teachers and fellow students about how they feel as they practice lockdown drills. The queasy stomachs, the nightmares, the headaches are the resulting trauma of having to train for a possible mass murder event.

When I talk about climate change in the novel, I talk about the science of the greenhouse gas effect, primarily as a result of burning fossil fuels. I also talk about insane amounts of subsidies the United States Government gives to oil and gas companies. I also mention how much money the fossil fuel industry spends on lobbying against climate change policies.

Have I lost any readers over it? I don’t think so. I’ve had neighbors on both sides of the political spectrum tell me how much they enjoyed the book. One of them even mentioned a character I introduced who was a United States Senator. The congressman in the book is sexist, hypocritical, and an opportunistic liar.

One of the hats I wear here on the coast of North Carolina is that I serve as the president of a non-profit organization called the Business Alliance for Protecting the Atlantic Coast. BAPAC represents 43,000 businesses from Maine to Florida and 500,000 commercial fishing families. Our primary goal is to oppose the offshore drilling for oil and gas. The Deepwater Horizon disaster is fresh in our minds even though it happened eleven years ago.

I’ve been to Washington DC three times and testified in front of a US House committee stating our position and why. There are presently a number of bills moving through the House that would permanently ban offshore drilling off both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts.

Do I I know of any politicians as bad as the one I describe in the book? No comment.

I just finished reading a wonderful mystery by my good friend Warren Easley entitled No Witness. He spends a great deal of time in his novel talking about how immigration laws affect the Hispanic community and the distrust that they create. It too is kind of a political book but without being preachy. Will he lose any readers over it? I hope not.

So, back to my original question. How much social commentary should you put into your book? Heck, I lost a reader because I once took a shot at Fox news.

I guess it’s all about how passionate you are.

Sick Society

I'm too sad to blog. Two days ago, Colorado experienced another school shooting. I've been weepy off and on all day. I can't imagine the terror some of these children must be experiencing.

There comes a time when one becomes saturated with tragedy. I have no idea how we got to this point. Schools are no longer a safe haven. Neither are churches. Is there no place on God's green earth where people can peaceably assemble as a group?

Ironically many of the guns used in school and church shootings were obtained legally. I believe in sensible gun control legislation. I believe registration is a good idea. So is banning assault rifles. I'm not sure any of this will have a marked effect on the violence, but it's a start. The problem goes deeper. However I'm not sure what the problem is.

I'm absolutely fed up with politicians who are sure they have the answers but do not risk their careers to evoke change. Frankly, I admire the stance of the prime minister of New Zealand, Jacinda Ardern, who responded to a shooting there by immediately implementing a ban on assault rifles and forbidding the press to print the shooter's name. We have different rules here in America. No one has the authority to do that. But denying the instigator publicity certainly would thwart episodes here driven by a perverse desire for lasting notoriety.

On my refrigeration is a photo of the sweetest little terrorist. He's a bewildered little four-year-old boy hugging a Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy for dear life. He appears to be escorted somewhere in a barred van. Minus his parents, I suspect.

I'm with the kid. How in the world did it come to this?