Stories Relating to Life

Casanova front cover (2)

I was excited.  It was the day my latest western fiction came into the world during a conversation on air with Cyrus Webb, the penultimate book reviewer who was doing interviews in Los Angles not his home town in Louisana.

“It’s been over  seven years since we talked,” he said beginning the interview.  “What are some of the amazing things that have happened to you during the journey of writing this book?”

With Cyrus listening as intently as would the Casanova Cowboy, I mentioned that once again a character came forward so strongly that I had to make her one of the main characters.

“That also happened in Lebensborn,” I said.  “Remember, I told you seven years ago about the little boy who had just appeared at of no where in the beginning of this WWII story, and who became the main protagonist to explain the lives of all the major characters?”

Cyrus is also like many reviewers of Casanova Cowboy have told me.  He felt I could truly put into words the beauty as well as the challenges of living in the country.  “But, the places you write about could be anywhere,” he said.  “The situations could happen to anyone. Readers like to bring about discussions among themselves in order to understand more fully their own lives.”

“Of course,” I said, “The most interesting thing we like to discuss is our selves.  And, we feel the most alive during two times in our lives.  These times are when we are children or when we are in love.  And, that’s the beauty of the Casanova.  He listens in a way that his eyes let a person know that he’s present, intent, encouraging.   It’s almost as good as being in love.”

Somewhere in the interview, I mentioned that my favorite author Nelson DeMille could give me unexpected treasured moments: I’m reading along and suddenly I’m either laughing or cringing in fear.

“That’s interesting, you should mention him,” said Cyrus.  “I interviewed him last year when I was in Los Angles and we talked about his new book.”

“Oh, please tell me how I can hear that interview,” I gasped. Cyrus said he’d link up my site to his via my Facebook.com/BenderAssoc.  so I can listen.  Now that my computer has just come out of repair, I’ll be able to do it.

So please dear readers, please continue to follow my writing journey on my weekly blog.  Like Nelson, although I’m Swedish, I attempt my best to give you a laugh or two.  You see, when visiting Sweden, I was told by a newspaper publisher, “We love to laugh but we’re not very good at it, so we have to hire comedy writers.”

Maybe the Polish half of my genes can give me that ability.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Living in the Rusty Springs Valley

 

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Spring Cleaning with UTube

Spring Cleaning

I needed a new vacuum cleaner.   Spring was in the air and I wanted to start purging and cleaning.  Seeking a new vacuum, I went to UTube for inspiration and review of vacuums.

My recent experience going to UTube for information turned out great.  That was when I had to cook rice for 50 people. From a guy wearing a white turban I learned to first wash the rice three times before adding it to water and then baking it in an oven for an hour.  The formula for the amount of water needed for the rice came from another chef.  It turned out delicious.  The left-overs went and came out of the freezer perfectly.

On UTube I compared vacuums and ended up buying one of the many versions sold by the Shark company.  I knew I didn’t want a robot due to the true story of one of my neighbors who liked to brag about theirs until the vacuum ran over a pile of leavings from their cat.  The clean up of that cat mess took hours.

But, the best thing that happened was to run across a UTube photo of a lovely woman who lives economically in her car.  In her enthusiastic video of how she showers and gets exercise at a fitness center and how much money she saves by not paying rent, I became hooked and learned much more about how to live in a vehicle from the comments of others around the world.

People wanted to know where she parked and suggested places like industrial centers, worried about how she keeps warm in the winter, about her toilet options (truck stops offer the largest and most comprehensive showers).

In between a handful of good suggestions for her were these:

  1. come live with me
  2. I’m retired and have acreage
  3. I’d like to live with you
  4. move in with me
  5. you’re too beautiful to be living like this
  6. I’ll bet you’re not telling the truth

Comments were from people in the U.S., Finland, Australia, Alaska, a lot from Ohio.

Also, I learned that you can use the setting option under the UTube video if you want captions and therefore will be able to glean every word.  Some UTube instructors don’t enunciate very well.

Best of all, I laughed so hard at the comments generated by the- woman-in-the car video.  As for spring cleaning, the Tornado Shark has become my new best friend.

(A PhotoPin photo)

A Charismatic Cowboy

Casanova front cover (2)

You could see it in the way he did most anything.  His manner of even holding a chair in his hands before sliding into it could made it a mesmerizing sight to see.

If you lived in the Rusty Springs Valley, many women were, of course, fascinated by him.  The new cowboy had such a confident stride.   If his blue-gray eyes glanced at you, it was plain to see there was an uncanny interest in them for you.  An extremely effective gesture.  It’s a rare man who could do so, such a little thing, but, it could bring such remarkable feelings, such joy.

His lifestyle was fascinating, scary perhaps to a few, but one woman later said that he had been, “her hero.”

Award-winning Western artist, Debbie Hughbanks, corralled him one day at work and captured this image.

His story and the adventures he took part in during his time in the Rusty Springs Valley appears soon on Amazon and Kindle.  Perhaps it be read some day by Books in Motion, who will be  releasing the audio book Rusty Springs, the first in a series of how the Old Wild West lives on there in that Valley.

As one male reviewer says: “The people and places seem like the ones I know.  A “hot” cowboy, the women chasing him, a Vietnam Vet, the ranches of the West, all make it seem as if I am one of the characters.  Many can put themselves in the story as either one that lived some of that life, or one that fantasies about being there.”

 

 

 

It might have been the casual attitude that he wore a long-sleeved blue-denim shirt, the well-worn cowboy hat, or the broken-in boots.

 

Casanova Escapes from Prison

Italian Casanova

This portrait of an Italian Casanova thanks to Photo Pin.  Here continues the story of how Casanova escaped from his Venice Prison in the Doges Palace when no one had done so in the early 1700’s.

It gives us an idea of who the REAL Casanova really was, not my story’s version of a Casanova cowboy, the book available late this April.

In one of the seven cells in The Leads,  it is dark, with little ventilation in the heat of a Venetian summer with millions of fleas.  During one of his walks in the prison garret, he finds a piece of black marble and an iron bar which he smuggles back to hide in the folds of his arm chair and waits for the chance to sharpen the bar on the stone in between cell mates.

He starts gorging through the floor under his pallet bed directly over the Inquisitor’s Chamber.  He plans to leave during a festival, a time when no one would be in the Chamber.  Just days before the festival, guards come to move him to a larger, more lighted cell with a view in response to his to a friend’s plea that he have a larger cell with a view and better food.

He protests, saying, “But I’m perfectly happy here,” but persuades the guards to bring his armchair to the new cell.  He’s stunned and feeling low.  The only thing he can do is not to think of the future. Hope returns when he hatches another plan upon meeting a priest in the cell next door.  He talks a guard into carrying the bar to the priest under a big bowl of pasta, who then makes a hole and climbs across to Casanova’s cell.

The priest is so afraid of the consequences of being caught, he’ll help Casanova to escape but he’ll stay behind.  The two pry through the roof’s lead plates and make it onto the sloping roof of the Palace where Casanova opens a grate over a dormer window.  They break the window and with a ladder they find on the roof and a bed-sheet rope,  they go down 25 feet below into the room below and rest until morning.

They find a change of clothing, break a small lock on an exit door, sneak through galleries and chambers and go down the stairs where they convince a guard that they have inadvertently been locked inside the Palace after an official function.  Casanova takes off at 6 a.m. in a gondola heading for Paris.

Later, he writes in, The Story of My Life, –Thus did God provide me with what I needed for an escape  which was a wonder if not a miracle.  I admit that I am proud of it; but my pride does not come from my having succeeded, for luck had a good deal to do with that; it comes from my having concluded that the thing could be done and having the courage to  undertake it. 

This is a good premise to remember as you face your world today.

 

 

How Is the Real Casnova Like My Casanova?

Italian Casanova

Authors write about the places and things they know.  I have written the western fiction, Casanova Cowboy, because I have stood on the Bridge of Sighs in Venice, Italy, which leads to the prison in the Doges Palace where the famous Giacomo Casanova was imprisoned.

His presence centuries later lingered where I stood–this legendary lover, writer, a man who traveled from one end of the other in Europe, seeking answers beyond the conventional.

The charming and masterful lover was an adventurer much like Lance, the cowboy I write about in my story.  He was first of six children born to an actress on April 2, 1702 in Venice.

By vocation and self pronouncement, he was among many other things, a lawyer, clergyman, military officer, violinist, con man, dancer, diplomat, spy, politician, playwright and writer of over 20 works of plays, essays and letters.

He was fond of gambling, just like me.  In his day, it would have been faro, basset, piquet, whist, a game like bridge, of which I’m also fond.  He said about gambling, “I had neither prudence enough to leave off when fortune was adverse, no sufficient control over myself when I had won.”

Like my protagonist, he often avoided “sustained” work, got into trouble when prudent action would have been better.  He lived largely by quick wits, steely nerves, and social charm.

His writing reveals that he liked to use soft words when speaking to a woman.  He said, “A man who makes known his love by words is a fool.  Verbal communication, however, is essential, because without speech, the pleasure of love is diminished by at least two thirds.  Words of love must be implied.”  (He did use “assurance caps” to protect women.)

One of the more fascinating parts of Casanova’s life was his imprisonment at The Leads at the Palace.  At the age of 30, he was taken there without a trial for speaking out in public against religion.

The Leads, which took its name from the plates covering the Palace roof, had seven cells on the top floor of the east wing wing of Doges Place reserved for those of high status or for political prisoners.  His sentence was for five years.

He was placed in a dark, drab place, alone.  It was the worst cells in the bunch and he looked for a way to escape.

In Part Two of my tale of Casanova, you’ll learn how he escaped and was later allowed to return to Venice if he’d only tell officials how he managed to do it.

 

 

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The Beautiful Visitor

woman thinking
“Here she is — the prettiest girl in the West.”

Lance has a visitor at the Oliver Ranch where he has come to be a hired hand for the summer.  He told the Olivers no one knows where he was going.

He comes in with her on his arm.  The Olivers who are almost beside themselves with  curiosity almost trip over the throw rug in front of the sofa in their haste to get up to meet her.

Joy Ann Oliver has a wide smile on her face openly admiring the woman as she takes her extended hand.  Her husband, Larry, comes up eager to meet the lady, but Joy Ann now has placed a second hand over the visitors.  “Pleasure,” he says, angling in closer in a loud voice as he attempts to get his wife’s attention and move her away.

Lance chuckles at the sensation she is causing.

Later, after Lance escorts his guest back to his room, Joy Ann says to Larry, “Doesn’t she have the most beautiful name.  Imagine a name like Ferris.  It’s as beautiful as she is. Ferris, it rhymes with Paris.  Didn’t she have the most beautiful hair?  Have you ever seen more beautiful eyes?  Or hair?  Soft like a halo around her head and silver in color.  Can you believe silver hair.  Never saw anything like it.”

“What face?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“Couldn’t get past lookin’ at the tight little getup she was wearing. Besides she’s the best looking gal we’ve ever seen in these parts.  Now Joy Ann don’t you think about getting anything like what she has on.”

“I’d never get any work done around the ranch would I?” said Joy Ann, who had grown accustomed to a husband who never pays her a compliment.

As the summer goes on, Lance will become Joy Ann’s hero.

As

 

 

What Is the Rancher’s Wife Missing?

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Joy Ann Oliver has always yearned for a man who appreciated her feminine qualities. A person who offered adventure and romance like the cowboy could not be resisted.  His face spoke a language if pleasure, giving a woman, or yet, a man, something to feed their fantasies.

Now she had the chance to pry information from him.  She was so nervous she almost forgot what she was going to do.  The phone rang and her husband left the room so she could go ahead with her plan.

Her heart began pounding.

She sat down beside the cowboy, not daring to look directly at him.  His eyes could take the thoughts right out of her head.  Their light-blue color seemed to chance to deep, dark blue.

“I’ve never known anyone who takes to the road like you do,” she said with a sigh, “Someone who actually lives in a tipi.”   She wondered what he was thinking.  He did seem to have a sixth sense about women.  Does he know that I’m trying to pin him down, analyze his actions, and then put him into some type of container with an appropriate label–safe, unsafe, friend or lover?

“You’ve been kind to me since I’ve been here,” he said.  “Would you like me to tell you why I have come?”

She about fell off the chair.  Joy Ann looked up at him, suddenly worried about what she might learn.  His voice was soft, his tone sincere, giving her the feeling he was at least going to tell the truth.

She didn’t move one little bit.  She craved to know things about this charming man.  The urge to uncover his mysterious past kept building.  The reasons for him being at their ranch twisted and turned.  Now was her chance to find out — that’s if her husband didn’t return too soon and she wouldn’t find out what her heart yearned to know.