Peaceful. Grateful. Thankful.

Powerful words.

Respected and cherished by many.

Forgotten and abused by others.

Truly the backbone of our culture.

“These are troubled times …” they say.

From time to time, we must agree. Especially during contentious times. We (the collective we) often wonder and ponder over who they might be. Most likely at any given time, it could be me or you, or anyone that either of us know. Or even those who love to lecture and pontificate, either from a moral, a political, a religious, or even a general I-like-to-argue standpoint.

I had a cousin like that. It didn’t matter what the subject was, he would take the opposite side and work diligently to prove his point to you. Whether he believed it or not, he just wanted to convince you. I suspect there are people like that in positions of power even now in our country. Fortunately, most of us truly believe in what we choose to argue for or against.

We are not afraid to fight and defend ourselves when needed 

No matter our political or moral beliefs, we Americans love our country. Patriotism is alive and well, though at times, the way it is exhibited can be based on what any one of us might consider misplaced values while others consider it the only way to be. But that is the beauty of America, provided we can all remember the maxim we grew up with. “Do unto others as you would like to have done unto you.” Sometimes in the heat of the moment, that becomes a forgotten tenet. 

Grateful to be living in the United States 

I have lived in many places in my lifetime, and I have to say, no matter our issues, I prefer America. Our taxes may not be what we would like, but they are much lower than many of the European countries. I have had people in a couple of the poorer countries I have lived in say, “But your taxes are so high in America.” To which I reply, “Maybe to you, but the infrastructure functions, and the firetrucks and ambulances come when called. Police too.” And that is worth it.

 

 An optimistic look to the future

I am writing this piece before Election Day on Tuesday. It is a tight race, and we are all concerned. By the time this publishes on the weekend we will know the results. But no matter what, if we don’t like the outcome on Tuesday, each and every one of us has four years of opportunity to work to change it.

Do I hope my candidate wins tomorrow? Absolutely. If not, however, I will do my best to make sure it is different next time. I am an American. I have the right and privilege to do that. And so do you.

My books and website

 You can find information about me and my books on my website at https://darilaroche.com.

I am also in three of the most recent Windtree Press Anthologies which you can find on Amazon Books or at your favorite vendor.

Respect, Mystery and Ancient Reptiles

By Linda Lovely

Growing up in Iowa, I became personally acquainted with my fair share of barnyard animals—cows, pigs, horses, goats, and chickens. My sister and I also fussed over an assortment of household pets—goldfish, parakeets, and dogs. On circus and zoo visits, we oohed and ahhed over the jungle’s more exotic inhabitants from elephants and monkeys to lions and hippos.   

Yet none of these inter-species encounters prepared me for cohabitation with the wet and wild creatures we met during the dozen years we lived on barrier islands in the South Carolina Lowcountry.

On Fripp Island, a feisty ten-foot mama alligator, our closest neighbor, frequented the drainage canal that ran about 25 feet from our house. The reptile considered this shallow stretch her personal nursery, and we met her newborns each spring. En route to our mailbox, I once counted 18 vocal babies crawling on her back. These youngsters chirped like baby birds, and their bright green, almost neon, coloring wasn’t exactly camouflage. Guess if your mama has 80 razor sharp teeth and jaws that could snap a Suma wrestler’s neck in two, you don’t worry about calling attention to your living sundeck.

This gator did change our lawn-mowing practices. My husband always kept the blades between his size 13 shoes and the drainage canal. If mama crawled up on the bank and started doing push-ups—that’s exactly what they looked like—he did not interpret her open yap as a grin. That’s when Tom decided it was Miller time and headed inside.

We saw gators most days. Our house was on the golf course and the gators appeared to have their own favorite holes. Our golf foursome adopted home rules for lost balls whenever errant shots landed near gators—even if they appeared to be mid-snooze.

I’m told large gators—those in the say the 12-foot and up range—can only run 11 miles per hour, and they can’t keep up that pace for any distance. I’m also told humans aren’t a preferred food source. These ancient reptiles prefer bite-size meals.

Yet observation encouraged me to respect these creatures and give them a wide berth. I’ve seen them spring from the water in a blur of fury to capture a wading heron. And, even though the creatures might prefer multiple small snacks to a giant meal, I’ve seen a gator push a full-grown deer down a waterway. En route to a dinner party? Not an answer I’m keen to know.       

With regularity, we saw tourists (residents called this particular human subspecies “tourons”) feed marshmallows to gators and poke and tease them with sticks. Once I even watched a golfer smack an alligator on the snout to get him to move away from a golf ball. I’m still surprised the alligator didn’t attack. Maybe he was allergic to dumbbells.

Now that we live in Upstate South Carolina, I like being able to dive off my dock without first scanning the surface of our lake for floating “sticks” that might turn out to be alligators.

Nonetheless, I’m glad I shared their territory for a time. To me, alligators will always remain mysterious, alien creatures that inspire awe and fear that my characters can experience in a variety of situations—even with no reptiles in sight. Alligators also are certain to have at least walk-on parts in any novel I set in the Lowcountry. (They earned more than a walk-on in DEAR KILLER, my first Marley Clark Mystery.) 

So what animals do you find mysterious? Do you use the emotions that creature encounters evoke to color your human characters’ reactions?