Honoring Our Eighth by Remembering Age Eight

By Robin Weaver

Eight-million congrats to the Genre-ists on our "Eighth Anniversary!!"  A special thanks to Judith
and Sarah for inviting me to be a part of this awesome group.

Time really does fly.  In honor of our eighth, I'm re-posting one of my previous blogs about when "I was eight (or close enough)."  Hope you enjoy.

Near-Death After School Program

I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and since my parents worked long hours and had a lengthy commute, my non-school time involved very little supervision. In those days (and it really wasn’t that long ago), leaving eight- and ten-year-old children alone during the time between school bus drop-off and arrival of the parents after a day at the factory didn’t constitute child-neglect. My eight-year-old brother had a more structured existence.  He was supervised by ten-year-old me. Translation: it’s amazing we survived childhood. 

What could possibly happen in those three hours each day? We had chores to keep us busy, right?

Here’s what we actually did…

• Had races. On real horses. At full gallop, through the woods.
• Had tin can fights. Did I mention we loaded the cans with rocks because the weight made the throw more accurate?
• Went swimming in the lake. Said-lake had been created from a gravel pit, and thus had a very deep drop-off.
• Went fishing in the beaver pond. Several water moccasins enjoyed the same water.
• Had contests to see who could climb the highest tree. And jump down.
• Played circus knife-thrower. You guessed it—with the kitchen butcher knife.
• Tried to create fire by rubbing stones together. Fortunately for the hundred-acre forest, we never succeeded.
• Had target practice with B-B guns. Enough said.
• Played Zorro. Sword fights involved sticks sharpened with the circus-play butcher knife.
• Tested bed sheets to determine if they could be used as parachutes. Testing involved jumping from the roof. Note: Bed sheets do not make good parachutes.
• Drove the tractor to the neighbor’s house (in first gear the entire trip). Note: The neighbor gave us a lecture but never ratted us out. I don’t think the tractor ever ran the same.
• Made up stories. Probably the only safe thing we did. At least until we turned the stories into live-action plays.

Did my mom know about our activities? Of course not. She would have killed us.

My childhood didn’t seem like a near-death experience at the time, but a few years later, I freaked because my five-year-old daughter went roller skating without a helmet. I guess times really have changed. J

You might also enjoy what happens to thirty-eight & forty-eight year olds who try to date after divorce, loss, and bra fat.  Take a peek at The Boy Box.

As If By Magic

By Robin Weaver

This month's theme--My Writing Dreams Come True--instantly made me think of magic.  Because the fulfillment of any of my dreams: authoring a bestseller, having one of my books scripted for the big screen, or simply having a reader say, "I enjoyed the read," would indeed be magical.


Only... Do I believe in magic?  

Do you?

If you’re geekishly inclined (like moi), you might want to pause before you respond with a resounding “NO.” While we hardcore logical types tend to mistrust anything we can’t reduce to an equation, I ask you to consider the following:

Soundwaves: Most of us have some understanding of the principles of sound. We agree our cellphones can transmit data, voice and images across the country because of science. But exactly why do soundwaves (radio waves, microwaves, etc., etc.) exist? Why do they work the way they do? One could successfully argue that the existence of this phenomenon is, in itself, magical.

The Reproductive Process: An egg is fertilized, cells start to divide and grow. For humans, a new member of our species is delivered nine-plus months later.  Pure science, right? But exactly what drives that cell to divide? For that matter, what drives mankind to reproduce in the first place? We call it the “miracle of birth” for a reason.

Our Habitable Planet: We can explain, in scientific terms, what makes life possible on Earth, but think about the exact combination of factors that must exist for humanoid life:

            **  We must be the right distance from the sun.

            **  A magnet field is required to protect us from deadly radiation.

            **  Water (and carbon, and a host of other stuff) must be in plentiful supply.

            ** An atmosphere is essential.

            ** We need rock; not to mention our planet must be the right size, with a molten core, and tectonic plates.

            ** A moon, rotating at the appropriate distance from the planet.  The big, shiny object in the night sky is directly responsible for the Earth's orbital tilt angle, and thus responsible for our climate and tides.  Without the Moon, the Earth would wander in response to the gravitational pulls of the sun and Jupiter. Translation, no more life as we know it. In other words, we’d be Mars.

            **  Etc., etc., etc. While all the reasons for our planet’s habitability can be explained scientifically, the combination of unique factors that must coexist to constitute our living planet is mind-boggling. Perhaps our uniqueness id the reason we’ve found no other signs of humanoid life in this vast universe.

Falling in Love: Enough said.

Dictionary.com defines magic as:

“the art of producing a desired effect or result through the use of incantation or various other techniques that presumably assure human control of supernatural agencies or the forces of nature.” If you substitute “invention” or “industry” for the word “incantation,” isn’t that also a definition for science?

Until we magically get the answer (to this question and a plethora of other philosophical ones), I will simply "hope" your dreams come true.

Happy reading!

Robin