Leonard “Red” Bird

Born:  June 3, 1936

Died:  October 22, 2010

Survived by his wife Jane, daughter Maria, and son David.

Also survived by hundreds of creative writing students.

I’m proud to be one.

I leave you with my favorite verse from one of Red’s poems, “Walter Mitty.”  It illustrates how profoundly he respected the craft of writing, as well as how important was love in his life.

 

But in the glare of morning light
I sweat to write one crooked line
Sip my cup of sugared tea
And stretch to touch your hand.

— Leonard Bird, “Walter Mitty”, River of Lost Souls, Tooth of Time Press, 1977.

 

 

Only One Space?

I was always taught that two spaces follow a period. When I got into web design, I was disturbed that HTML only acknowledges one space, but I was able to get past it because it’s a programming language. Two spaces can be ambiguous in code.

Now, a writer friend tells me that the Chicago Manual of Style recommends using only one space after a period. I like to think of myself as an open-minded, transformational grammarian, but some changes–like this one–really stick in my craw.

I wrote this entire post using single spaces, and it almost hurt to do it.

Back to the Roots

Until recently, there was a giant tree next door to my house that was diseased and had to be removed.  All that’s left is a large, flat stump perched upon a gnarled root system spanning at least thirty feet.

Part of that root system extends into my yard.  Since there is no longer a tree for it to feed, fast-growing shoots are popping up from the roots right next to my driveway.

I keep waffling between sadness for the tree that was removed, enthusiasm for the shoots trying to come back, and annoyance at having to keep cutting them back.

A Thing of Shining Beauty

I watched the International Space Station fly over again tonight.  As I scanned the western sky, she leaped out from behind Venus and arched over my house, a thing of shining beauty slipping between clouds, stars, and silhouettes of trees.  She passed from the muted blue of dusk through the gradient into night, and I smiled.  In her wake, I felt hope. I felt peace and inspiration, and the wonder that Ray Bradbury had awakened in me when I was a child.

Nature’s beauty is always there, but sometimes it takes a pinpoint of light to make me look.

Tweets from a Twoll

There’s a science fiction writer whose work I admire, and whose personal integrity and discipline I admire even more.  I’ve known for some time that this writer has a group of anti-fans and Twitter trolls (twolls?) but I never expected to interact with them.  However, after I sent out a tweet mentioning the writer yesterday, I received responses from one of the twolls shortly thereafter, insulting the writer’s abilities and success.

What drives people like that?  Why do they hate this writer so much that they resort to baiting and taunting him in a public forum?

Is it just jealousy?