Dreams

     Do you remember your dreams?  I don’t mean the dreams you have when you’re asleep; I mean the ones you have when you are awake.  The ones you think about when you’re not on life’s merry go round.  Do you remember those dreams?
     When we are kids we dream all the time.  Back when I was in first grade in that little two-room schoolhouse in Center Groton I would dream about what I wanted to be when I got big.  I drew pictures of airplanes on the back of my schoolwork because I wanted to be a pilot.
     I always remembered wanting to fly planes but I had forgotten about drawing the pictures until about twenty years later when my motorcycle broke down on North Road.  There weren’t any cell phones back then so I went to the nearest house and knocked on the door.
     To my surprise one of my teachers from that little schoolhouse came to the door.  She let me use her phone to call for help and we sat and talked for a while.  She said she always remembered how I drew pictures on the back of my schoolwork.
     I was glad she didn’t remember me from the time I jumped out the cloak room window and wound up staying after school with my head down on the desk.  They knew how to teach you a lesson back then.  Absolutely nothing matched being put in the older kids’ classroom with your head down on the desk.

     When I think of dreams I think of the song “Dreams Go By” written and performed by Harry Chapin (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znsyWUDnDlY&noredirect=1).  I don’t know if you know who he was, but if you don’t you have missed some great music.  That song puts what happens to most of our dreams in perspective.  It begins like this….

There you stand in your dungarees
Looking so grown up and so very pleased
When you write your poems they have so much to say
When you speak your dreams it takes my breath away

You know I want to be a ball player
A regular slugging fool
But I guess our dreams must wait awhile
Until we finish school

     Isn’t that how our dreams seem to go?  There is usually something else that takes their spot.   Well, I guess if you think about it, when some one calls you a daydreamer, or even just a dreamer it isn’t usually a compliment.  In some ways being “practical” means ignoring our dreams.  And guess what happens…

And so you and I
We watch our years go by
We watch our sweet dreams fly
Far away, but maybe someday

     Yep, maybe someday, I’ve heard that tune more than once in my life.  In fact I’ve been guilty of singing it once or twice or, never mind how many times.  How about you?  Do you have a dream you keep hidden away for just the right time?  It just lies there waiting for the right time to jump up and say; “Hello it’s me, your dream come and get me!!”

I don’t know when
But we will dream again
And we’ll be happy then
Till our time just drifts away

     Once you let your dream slip away another might just sneak up on you.  It’s not over yet!!  Hey, you get older your likes and dislikes change.  You develop a new talent and bingo you have another dream.  I let my dream of flying through the air slip away.  In High School I learned you could fly along on the ground!  I got my license to drive!!!
     That’s when my love affair with the motorcar began.  I really liked sports cars and I owned several back then.  It started back in High School when I bought a 1963 TR-4.  I loved that car.  It had a little four-cylinder motor that pushed the car to 107 miles per hour.  That’s when I began to dream about racing.  Yep, another dream came along and replaced the old one!
     Has that happened to you?  Sure it has.  What did you do?  I’ll tell you what I did, I put my dream on hold while I visited my Uncle Sam and helped him out in a place called Viet Nam.  When I got back from that, another little thing came up that, well, sort of canceled the racecar thing.

There you stand in your wedding dress
You’re so beautiful that I must confess
I’m so proud you have chosen me
When a doctor is what you want to be

You know I want to be a painter, girl
A real artistic snob
But I guess we’ll have our children first
You’ll find a home I’ll get a job

     You guessed it I got married.  You’ve probably have the gist of the whole dream deal by now.  Dreams are what make us human.  I doubt that a Poodle dreams of being Saint Bernard (although I knew a Poodle who thought he was a Doberman).  I certainly doubt that a horse dreams of being the winner at Belmont.  And I really don’t believe that Charlie the Tuna dreamt of ending up in a can of StarKist.

     Listen it’s our dreams that make us special.  It’s when we pursue our dreams that we are building the world we want to live in.  When someone calls you a dreamer thank that individual for the compliment, because whether they mean it in that way or not, it is the highest compliment you can get.

Fight for your dreams!!!  They are worth it!!

     Are you willing to chase after your dream?  It can be a hard battle.  Then even when you have obtained that dream the struggle may not be over.  Sometimes when you think you have a dream firmly in your grasp someone comes along and tries to rip it away.  And sometimes they win….
     Take the case of Susette Kelo.  I know about her dream because of a book.  Hey, I write books.  But I write fiction.  I make them up from start to finish.  The people in my books have the dreams that I gave them.  At least that’s how I think it works.  Sometimes I wonder….
     Enough of that, back to Susette, you will find her story in a book called “Little Pink House” by Jeff Benedict, someone I’ve known since he was a teenager.  Jeff has skills.

     Under the title on the cover of the book is the subtitle “A True Story of Defiance and Courage”.  In addition to that this story is about the willingness for someone to fight against seemingly insurmountable odds to keep her dream, that “Little Pink House”.
     If you have ever had a dream that you gave up because the fight got the best of you, you need to read this book.  I know that it makes my dream battles seem rather small and makes me think I gave up too soon on more than one occasion.  Please visit Jeff’s website, JeffBenedict.com and learn more about what it means to fight for a dream.
     If you don’t seek after your dreams you will be singing right along with good old Harry Chapin…..

There you stand in your tailored suit
So many years gone by but you’re still so cute
You take the car to go and meet the bus
When our grandchildren come to visit us

You say you should have been a ballerina, babe
There are songs I should have sung
But I guess our dreams have come and gone
You’ve gotta dream when you are young

     If you have a dream that you can wrap yourself around, go get it.  Just one word of advice though, if your dream is to get a job as a Ninja (like my son’s when he was 10) it might be a hard sale.
Until next time, keep dreaming and if you are married to a dreamer fasten your seat belt because you are in for the ride of your life!!!

     Just a reminder before you go, I am donating 50% of the royalties from my novel “Operation Armageddon” go to Veterans help organizations because it’s those guys who protect our right to catch our dreams.  Please visit me at http://tagewright.blogspot.com/ right after you go see Jeff at http://www.jeffbenedict.com/

Happy dreams to you until we meet again!!!!!!! 

Planning Ahead

          My Brother and I

          Don’t life’s trials just seem to sneak up on you sometimes?  If we could see into the future it would make planning ahead so much easier.
          When my brother was a little guy he was pretty good at planning ahead.
I remember this one time when he committed a spanking offense. That was back when you could get a spanking without the cops coming and taking dad away to jail. I don’t remember what he did but he knew well in advance that he was going to get it.  He planned ahead.
          Our father came in and put him over his knee and gave him the spanking.  Charlie cried and generally made a good show of it.  My father put him back on his feet and left the room.   As soon as he was out of ear shot my brother wiped away the crocodile tears and started to laugh.  I was confused ,to say the least.
           My father always said that giving us a spanking hurt him more than it did us.  In this case he was literally correct.  My brother had really planned ahead this time.  He had put some comic books in his pants to shield his butt.  It worked like a charm.
          To this day I can’t explain my father not knowing the comic books were there.  I suspect that he went into the living room and told my mother about Chuck and his armored butt.  They probably laughed even harder than my brother did.
          If we only knew when it was time to stuff the comic books in our pants a lot of life’s difficulties could be avoided or maybe softened just a little.  Unfortunately that isn’t the way it is a most of the time.  Most of the time, they occur without much warning.

 Chuck in France trying to remember where he put the comic books.

          Quite a while back my wife began filling empty bottles with water and storing them all over the place.  I complained more than once about the water filled bottles.  They took up space.  They got in the way of the stuff I wanted to store.  Besides I couldn’t picture myself drinking water from any of them.  Who knew how long the bottle was sitting there building up unseen critters that would turn into something nasty inside of you.
          But like my own mother, the mother of our children, my wife is generally right about a lot of things.  She was right about the water.  When a hurricane came through and the power went out we had water for something I hadn’t thought of.  We had water to flush the toilets.  So if there were some unseen critters in those bottles they have now been processed by our septic system.
          We eventually got a generator so we can pump water even when the power is out.  But guess what, we still have the water bottles hanging around the house and I am not going to complain.  I wouldn’t want to be wrong two times in a row about the same thing.
          That reminds me about something else I better stop complaining about.  There is a bunch of stuff in the trunk of our car that I have been complaining about.  It’s some food and, get this, water bottles filled with, well, water.  There is some of our old clothes and some other stuff I hesitate to describe in there as well.  It’s called a 72-hour kit.  My wife put it together.  It’s for us if we have to go on the lam.  I complained because it takes up space in the trunk.  I figured you should put it in the garage.  Hey, the trunk is needed for other things like golf clubs and such. Of course I don’t play golf, but I might take it up someday.
          The other day a house in town burned down. I listened to the news report and was glad to hear that the family got out safely.  That’s when I figured something out.  If that happened to us I guess the food and stuff in the garage wouldn’t’ be of much use.  My wife was right again.
          So even if life sneaks up on you there are some things you can prepare for.  Keep some water around even if it is only to flush the toilet.  Have a 72-hour kit stuffed in the trunk of your car. Keep some cash aside you can grab if you have to run for the hills.
         

 My Dad- 90 years old, and still the best father a son could have.

          Before I close this time I’d like to say a little about my dad who just turned 90 in February.  He has always been a great father when we were growing up and even now at 90 years old he is still a great dad.  He lives in Florida and I call him every day and never hang up without telling him I love him.  For you men out there who might just take the time to read this blog.  Start planning ahead so that when you son or daughter talks about you when you’re ninety they will say he is a great dad.
Remember this you guys out there, nothing you do out there in the world will count if you have failed as a father and a husband.  For the two of you, husband and wife if you want your spouse and your children to love you, you need to love them first.
          The best preparation advice I can give is love each other.  Contrary to what Ryan O’Neal said in “Love Story” love doesn’t mean never having to say you’re sorry.  Love is knowing when to say you’re sorry.
          Until next time, keep the comic books stuffed in your pants and the water bottles in the trunk and I almost forgot, keep a smile on your face.  After all, it’s the most attractive thing you can put on and it doesn’t cost a thing.
          To find out about my novel “Operation Armageddon” please visit my web site at Tagewright.blogspot.com for details and remember that 50% of the royalties will be donated to help our veterans.  You may email me at any time at tagewright@aol.com for a free preview of the book.

A Look Between the Pages

I’ve got a story to tell that you just might enjoy.

I’m going to try something different this time.  You may be aware that I am donating 50% of the royalties from my novel “Operation Armageddon” to various Veterans help organizations including Soldier On and The Wounded Warrior Project.  In this segment I would like to present you with a portion of the prolog from “Operation Armageddon” If you enjoy this segment please email me at tagewright@aol.com and I will send you the first two chapters and the prologue for your review.  Here we go………

A look Between the Pages

They came that night.  They were dressed for battle.  Helmets that resembled the one worn by the stone statue protected their heads.  They were wearing loincloths and breastplates of wooden mail. 
They were ancient warriors.  The long dead warriors came only to Elias.  They spoke to him in a language that he had never heard before yet he understood all that they said.  It was as if the strange language were his.

They told him of the city.  They told him of the treasure.  They told him where it lay.  By morning he knew where to look.  His true destiny was taking shape.

Elias kicked at Jacob's prone body.  Jacob woke with a grunt of pain.  Squinting to see in the bright morning light he looked up at Elias.

“What is it?”  He managed.

“Get up.  I need your help.  I've found the city.”

“You've what?”  Jacob was still trying to shake the cobwebs from his sleepy brain.

“Come, I'll show you.”

Following Elias's direction they cut long poles from the jungle and used them to pry a large oblong stone that lie near the corner of the building.  With a great deal of effort they moved the stone.  Under it they found stone stairs that descended into the darkness.

“I'll make some torches,” Jacob said.

“We won't need them.”

“It's dark down there.  We'll need them to see.”

“Come, I'll show you.”

Again Jacob followed Elias.  Again he was right.  Once their eyes adjusted to the light they could see.  The stairs led into an underground world lit by the light that filtered in through the white boulders set like skylights into the stone ceiling.  There was a soft yellow glow as well.  It confused Jacob at first.  Then he realized its source.  It was a reflection from the paved floor beneath their feet.

“My Lord,” Jacob gasped, “the floor is paved in gold!”

Indeed this was true.  The floors were paved with gold bricks.  As near as they could tell the entire clearing was undermined by what appeared to be a small city whose entire floor was paved in gold.
Jacob was unnerved by the way that Elias strolled casually through the chambers.  It was as if he knew exactly where everything was, as if he had been here before.

When they reached what Jacob estimated was the center of the underground city heavy wooden doors barred their way.  Inexplicably Jacob felt the urge to run.  He saw a smile come over Elias's face.  Even in the poor light he saw it clearly enough.  The smile brimmed with evil, frightened him.

“It's in here,” Elias said.

“What's in here?”  Jacob asked.

“The sword, it's in here,” Elias answered.

The chamber was dark.  There were no stones placed in the ceiling to bring in the light.  Instead there were torch holders set in the walls.  Outside the chamber set in racks were torches.  They must have been placed there long ago for those who would enter.

To Jacob's amazement the torches still lit.  After all the years that had passed the ancient torches still burned.  They cast a yellow light into the vast expanse of the chamber, pushing back the darkness only a few feet.

Elias did not hesitate.  He went forward holding his torch high above his head.  Jacob followed him as he marched toward a yet unknown goal.  On either side of the path that they strode Jacob saw what was missing from the rest of the dead city.  He saw the remains of what had once been people.  Not much was left to decorate the floor.  There was enough for him to recognize what they were.  They had found the final resting place of the people who had populated this underworld.

Jacob had no idea how large the chamber actually was.  He was aware that they walked a considerable distance into it before Elias stopped.  They had entered a circle ringed by a gold chain held up by silver stanchions.  In the center of this circle a golden statue stood.  It was a duplicate of the stone effigy they found in the jungle.

It was indeed a warrior with a weapon at the ready.  This statue suffered none of the weather damage of its stone counterpart.  It was complete.  Jacob saw that the projections under the arms were indeed a second set of arms that held an infant close to the warrior's body, protecting it.  The warrior had a breastplate made of wood that covered the massive chest.  The muscular arms that held the sword and shield ended in hands that were certainly not human.  They had only two fingers and a thumb.  The digits had claw like nails.  This figure had a tail that had been missing from the stone statue in the jungle.  Its feet were bare and possessed only two toes with animal like claws.  Jacob could only stare in awe at the grotesque figure.

“What manner of god is this?”  Jacob muttered.  Then his eyes fell upon the crumpled figure that lay at the feet of the statue.  It was impossibly well preserved.  The hooded figure, lie on its back.  The eye sockets that should have been empty hollows held eyes.  They were staring up at the statue.  Flesh remained on the body.  It looked to be only hours old instead of the hundreds of years old that it must be.

Stuck between the ribs of the shrouded remains was a sword.  The hilt was embedded with jewels while the blade was ornately engraved.  The beauty of it was exhilarating.  The blood (on its blade) looked wet in the torchlight.  All this was not possible.  Jacob could not believe his eyes.

Elias knelt reverently by the body.  His manner was that of a mourner at a close friend's funeral.  Jacob felt again the urge to run from where he stood.  His mind and soul screamed a warning to the muscles of his body.  “Run, run”, he heard a voice inside his head shout.  Jacob Campbell the learned man ignored the warning and stood fast; his intellect forcing its will on the rebellion that was taking place in his mind.

Elias put his torch into a holder in front of the statue and took the hilt of the sword in his right hand.  As he did, a blue spark leapt from its hilt to the fingers that grasped it.  Elias spoke in a voice and language that Jacob did not understand.

“What are you saying?  What language is that?” Jacob croaked.

Elias slowly turned to Jacob.  He still held the hilt of the gilded sword as he spoke.  There was a fire deep in his eyes.  It terrified Jacob.

“I'm saying good bye to my brother.”  Elias pulled the sword from the body as he spoke.  He held it aloft as if to salute the statue.  As he did, Jacob looked back at the figure lying on the floor.  It began to disintegrate before his eyes.  It turned literally to dust as he watched.

When it finally ended the process a luminescent mist rose from the remains until it reached the ceiling and then it vanished.  Jacob looked in time to see the sword arcing down toward him.  It was too late to run now.  He felt the blade bite into his neck as it flashed down and across.  Surprisingly there was little pain.  He felt a strange sense of pressure and then the world slowed down.  Jacob tumbled to the floor.  Somehow he had escaped the descending blade.  At least that's what he thought until his eyes focused on the scene above him.  He blinked his eyes in disbelief.  He tried to scream but that of course was impossible.  His last mortal thought was of how silly his body looked standing headless spewing blood from the stump of its neck before the warrior god whose name he now knew.

If you have enjoyed this segment please email me at tagewright@aol.com to continue the story.  You may join me at my web site, tagewright.blogspot.com to learn more.

Until next time keep smiling and try to do one good thing a day.  You will feel better and so will the one you helped.

My Mom Got It Right

    
     Have you ever wondered where good manners have gone?  Does anyone teach that stuff anymore?  When I was a kid my mother taught me to say please and thank you and to be polite to my elders.  Where has that idea gone?  Now I think they give lessons in being rude because there are so many people that are really good at it.
     My mother was generally right about most things.  Not all the time though.  She told us kids that if we didn’t rinse the soap out from under our arms we would get a fever.  She was wrong about that.  I know because I tried that in boot camp so I could go on sick call.  I just got itchy armpits.
     There are some lessons that you just don’t figure out until you are older.  Kind of like the itchy armpit thing.  Other lessons are best understood when we are young before we let all the other adult stuff get in the way.  Take pride for instance.  Babies don’t let pride get in the way when its time to be fed.  Adults allow pride get in the way all the time.  Someone offers help and pride jumps up and says, “I don’t need any help!”

I’d like to tell you a little story about how I learned a lesson……..

The Hitch Hiker
A Lesson in Gratitude
     When I was in the Navy I didn’t have much money.  I didn’t have a car and I never had enough cash for a bus ticket so I hitch hiked.  I hitch hiked all over the place.  I hitch hiked the five hundred miles from Norfolk, Virginia to Groton, Connecticut just about every weekend I could get a 72 hour liberty.
     On this one occasion I was stuck on the road coming out of New York City into Connecticut.  I never liked standing on the side of the road.  You never knew who would stop to pick you up.  I use to go to gas stations and look around at the potential rides and ask the people that looked promising if they would give me a lift.  That way I got to pick the people I asked.  I looked for families and fellow members of the military and out of state plates.
     On this particular day I wound up on the side of the road no where near a gas station.  I had been standing there for quite a while when finally a guy stopped to offer me a ride.  He didn’t look too threatening so I climbed in.  About five minutes into the ride I noticed that he had a gun under his shirt.  That got me a little nervous.
      Skillfully (I thought) I began working into the conversation that I was broke.  It was true, I was broke I had a whole $2.50 on me.  I was thinking that if he intended to rob me he would figure it was a waste of time.  That was my usual strategy for robbery avoidance.  I had used it on more than one occasion and since, up to that point, I hadn’t been robbed I figured it worked.I figured it worked again because he didn’t stick me up and throw me out of his car.  We talked about a bunch of unimportant things that I have long sense forgotten.  Eventually we reached the place where I was going to get out.  He started to reach back to where he had the gun holstered and I thought here goes my $2.50.  Instead of pulling out his gun he pulled out his wallet.  He gave me every dollar that he had.  He apologized for what he gave me because, in his words, it wasn’t much, but it was all he had on him.  He went on to say that if he had more he would have gladly given it to me.
     You see, he was a New York City cop on his way home from work.  That explained the gun.  He had a brother in the service and he knew what I was going through.  He figured that if he could help me he would be doing something good that day.
     I don’t know much about cops.  I do know that they do something good just about every day.  I also know that they don’t make huge salaries.  They risk their life everyday to keep the bad guys from taking the $2.50 we have stuffed in our pockets.
     I know something else about that particular cop.  There is a place in heaven marked out for him and the guys like him.  That cop taught me about charity and about gratitude.  He gave me a sense of gratitude that I will never forget.
    
     There goes that hymn again sounding off in my head.  “Have you done any good in the world today?  Have you helped anyone in need?”
     If by some really odd circumstance that cop reads this story I hope he will give me a call so that I can thank him for making me a better man than I was before I got into his car.
     Until the next time keep smiling and when you see someone in need help them out even if it is just a little act of kindness.

Who is Tage Wright?

          Who is Tage Wright?  That’s a question I have often asked myself. When I was a kid I wanted to be a pilot.  I had plans to join the Air Force.  In Junior High I pictured myself flying a jet fighter across the sky.  Then, just like the billboard in the movie “Kuffs” said, “Life is what happens while you are making other plans”. 

Acting in "The Odd Couple"

          I’ve been a sailor, a soldier, an auto mechanic, an aircraft electrician, a welder, an instrument technician, a carpenter, a hero, a villain, a playwright, a writer of fiction and about ten other things I might just want to forget.  But through it all the most important things I’ve been are a husband and a father.  The measure of a man is not the things he does in the world but that which he does within the walls of his own home.  For me, I would like to be known as a good husband and father everything else is just bragging.

          Now after over sixty three years of waking up on the green side of the grass I’m finally getting to tell stories that I hope other people will want to read.  I have these characters running around in my head itching to jump into print to tell their story.  I hope that you will want to find out what they are up to as much as I do.

          The Brotherhood of the Sword Trilogy is the story of some very bad people.  They are more than just bad guys.  They are looking to control the government of the most powerful country in the world, the United States of America.  The Trilogy consists of “Operation Armageddon”, “Project Vengeance” and the final story still in the works, “Project Doppelganger”.

          “Project Vengeance” will be available soon as a kindle download.

          Enough about that!!!  One of my goals is to help my fellow veterans who aren’t as fortunate as I am.  I’m not a rich man or a famous writer but I am a veteran who shares a common bond with everyone else who put on the uniform.  We were willing to fight for this country and if required die for it.  It is that bond that ties all veterans together.  If I can help even a little then I have done something good.

          This is why I am pledging 50% of the royalties from The Armageddon over this year to my fellow veterans.  Please visit the Soldier On web site to see what fellow veterans are doing for our comrades in arms who are in need.

          My question for all of you is a simple one that comes from a hymn I like very much “Have you done any good in the world today?  Have you helped anyone in need?”