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View Article  Lake Hefner

Oklahoma City has many creeks but no natural lakes nearby.  City fathers dammed one of these streams to form Lake Hefner and to provide for a reliable water supply.  The lake is located at one of the area’s highest topographic spots.  Oklahoma City is naturally windy, and that includes Lake Hefner.  Because of this, the lake is known as perhaps the best inland sailing lake in the nation.  Problem is, a persistent drought has gripped the State for the last few years leaving Lake Hefner’s water level (and Oklahoma City’s water supply) at an all time low mark.

OKC has had two days of torrential rain (almost 8”) greatly increasing the lake’s water level.  Still, it is very low, as you can see in some of the pics I took today (03–31–07).

Hefner Tower Closer  Hefner Looking South  Hefner Sailboats Hefner Low Water http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  The Rain in Spain

What a difference a year makes.  Amid a five-year long drought, Oklahoma City reported just a tad more than 3" this time last year.  Yesterday, it rained 1.4" in the City.  Today, it rained at least that much and rain is in the forecast at least through the weekend.  It's damp, gloomy and muddy, but I say "bring on the rain."

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Muffuletta Sandwich with Olive Salad

When I worked in New Orleans many years ago, I often walked down St. Charles to a little sandwich shop near Canal Street.  Their specialty was the Muffuletta, a sandwich conceived in a culture like no other on the earth’s face.  I found this article on the web.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

Muffuletta Sandwich with Olive Salad

View Article  Belly Up

Belly Up

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Spring has Sprung

A few frontyard flowers, blooming like crazy.

Frontyard Tulip 4  Frontyard Daffodils  Frontyard Tulips  Frontyard Tulips 2  http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Fallen Arch

Oh, my aching arch!

Fallen Arch

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Name of the Game Review

Name of the Game is Eric Wilder’s book of short stories.  Here is a review of the title story, Name of the Game:

Great story! Sexy, engaging, and an "Ah-ha" ending. I loved it. And I didn't see it coming. On reflection, it reminds me a little of "Body Heat" where William Hurt is in Miami preparing to do Catherine Turner's dirty work for her when he sees a clown driving down the street in a 1940's-ish convertible. Their eyes lock as the clown drives by, his face sad, portending the future. The same as your narrator's powder-blue Mercedes. And when it's over, the reader thinks back and his head nods slowly realizing what it all meant.  I'm afraid I have no technical criticism to offer. I thought your story was tight, focused and well written. I look forward to reading more of your work.  Thanks for a fun read.

http://www.ericwilder.com

Name Front Cover Name back cover available all over the web, and at http://www.amazon.com  http://www.bn.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Imminent Spring

Spring is rampant in Oklahoma.  Even the blackjacks are blooming.  Blackjacks, I am told, never bloom if another freeze is imminent.  I hope not, because all my plants and flowers are now outside.  Go blackjacks!

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Oh Purple Fragrant Flower

Lie quietly please

oh purple fragrant flower

your nectar is sweet

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  East Texas Hillside

East Texas Hillside

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Vernal Equinox

Tomorrow is the vernal equinox.  Here is the complete definition provided by Wikepedia, the web's free encyclopedia:

An equinox in astronomy is the event when the Sun can be observed to be directly above the Earth's equator, occurring around March 20 and September 23 each year. More technically, the equinox happens when the Sun is at one of two opposite points on the celestial sphere where the celestial equator and ecliptic intersect. In a wider sense, the equinoxes are the two days each year when the center of the Sun spends an equal amount of time above and below the horizon at every location on Earth. The word equinox derives from the Latin words aequus (equal) and nox (night).

In practice, the day is longer than the night. Commonly the day is defined as the period that sunlight reaches the ground in the absence of local obstacles. The Sun is a disc and not a single point of light, so when the center of the Sun is below the horizon, the upper edge is visible. Furthermore, the atmosphere refracts light, so even when the upper limb of the Sun is below the horizon, its rays reach over the horizon to the ground. In sunrise/sunset tables, the assumed semidiameter is 16 minutes of arc (minutes refering to parts of a degree, not minutes of daylight) and the assumed refraction is 34 minutes of arc. On average, their combination means that when the upper limb of Sun is on the visible horizon its center is 50 minutes of arc below the geometric horizon, which is the intersection with the celestial sphere of a horizontal plane through the eye of the observer. These effects together make the day about 14 minutes longer than the night at the equator, and longer still at sites toward the poles. The real equality of day and night only happens at places far enough from the equator to have at least a seasonal difference in daylength of 7 minutes and occurs a few days towards the winter side of each equinox.

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Creature of Habit - a short story

CREATURE OF HABIT

Eric Wilder 

Donny Collins rolled in his sleeping bag, unmindful that the moon had just crested above the fir trees surrounding the tent where he slept. An insistent hand on his shoulder roused him. He scratched his head and rubbed his neck, stiff from lying on the hard ground.

"Listen, Donny. There's something out there."

Donny blinked, then gazed at the dim figure of his pal Jamie. When his eyes focused, he saw Jamie's freckled face barely visible in the dim light filtering through the tent.

"What?" he asked, voice still dull with sleep.

Jamie put his finger to his lips. "Shhhhh! There's something outside the tent."

Donny listened and heard muffled footsteps. "It must be the coons again," he said.

Jamie shook his head doubtfully. "It's too big for coons. I think it's a bear."

"If it is," Donny whispered, holding his nose, "he must have taken a dip in a sewer."

"Gross!" Jamie said, making a face. "Maybe we should wake your dad."

Donny shook his head. "If it's a bear, we're probably better off staying quiet until it goes away."

Realizing the merit in the suggestion, the two boys pulled their sleeping bags up around their ears. The commotion outside the tent soon ceased and they drifted back to sleep.

Next morning, a deep voice awakened them from their stupors. "Are you boys going to sleep all day? Breakfast is almost ready."

Donny Collins rolled over, opened his eyes and immediately smelled bacon and eggs cooking outside the tent.

He shook the sleeping bag beside him. "Wake up, Jamie." The bag moved and a head protruded, Jamie brushing red hair from his face. Slowly, he unzipped his bag and followed Donny, already outside the tent.

"Did you hear the bear last night, Dad?" Donny asked.

Sam Collins stared blankly at the boy. "Bear?"

Jamie stuck his head out of the tent and looked around the campsite. "There was a bear all right, Mr. Collins. Have you checked the food yet?"

"You bet," Sam Collins said with a grin. "I'm cooking it."

Donny glanced dubiously at Jamie. "You sure, Dad?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, the abruptness of the action almost causing him to lose his lure-decorated fishing hat. "Look for yourself. You boys must have had a bad dream or something."

Donny quickly glanced around the campsite. Jamie joined him and they combed the area for some sign of a nocturnal visitor.

"Anything missing?" Sam Collins asked.

"All but a half dozen pieces of my peppermint candy," the portly Jamie replied.

"You boys must have drunk some bad pop," Sam Collins said, laughing. "Lets eat or the fish will be in Canada before we reach the lake."

Forgetting the bear, the boys attacked the breakfast. When they finished, they hiked a forest trail to a clear mountain lake. Many trout later the boys had all but forgotten the episode with the bear.

"Gotta go to the bathroom," Jamie said, reeling in his line.

He leaned his rod against a tree and then disappeared into the forest. In a minute, Donny and his father heard a screech.

"Donny! Mr. Collins! Come quick!"

They found Jamie staring at something on the straw-matted ground. "What is it?" Donny asked.

Jamie shook his head, his freckled face even whiter than normal. Donny and Sam saw a giant footprint that, other than its size, looked vaguely human. They stood in a semi-circle, mesmerized by the mark in the dirt. Suddenly, a branch snapped; its sound echoed like the crack of a rifle. Jamie glanced nervously at Donny. Whatever had broken the branch was moving rapidly in their direction. Sam Collins pushed the boys behind him and picked up a fallen branch from the ground. When the noise maker sprang from the bushes the two boys jumped and Sam flinched, knocking his hat to the ground.

It was a little man wearing an Australian bush cap. Sam picked up his hat as Donny and Jamie grinned sheepishly. The stranger had a bushy, Teddy Roosevelt moustache. When he smiled the gap between his front teeth enhanced the similarity.

"I'm Horace Miser, professor of anthropology ," he explained in a clipped British accent. "Seems you've beaten me to the proverbial punch."

"I’m sorry, but I don’t have a clue what you are talking about," Sam answered.

The little man rubbed his chin, trying to ascertain if the big man with booming voice was pulling his leg. Finally, he said, "I saw you looking at the footprint. Surely, you know what it is?"

The two boys exchanged dumbfounded glances and Sam said, "I do? Maybe you should tell us."

Professor looked at his watch. "I wish I had time but I haven’t as yet established a base camp."

"We have a camp about a hundred yards from here. You are welcome to join us," Sam said.

Professor Miser thought about Sam’s offer for only a moment before accepting. "Very kind of you, sir. My knapsack is behind the tree."

"Let me help you," Sam said, following him behind the tree and retrieving the heavy pack before Miser had a chance to protest. "Follow me," he instructed.

That night, after dinner, they waited by the fire for the Professor to explain about the giant footprint. After a nip from a silver flask he produced from one of the buttoned pockets in his safari jacket, he finally began:

"I've traveled the world searching for the fabled link between ourselves and our ancestry," he began, smoothing his unruly moustache. "I first heard of the creature while exploring Nepal as an apprentice anthropologist. I'm obsessed with finding the elusive creature they called yeti. The creature is also called abominable snowman, stink-bear, and bigfoot." The old man's words trailed into the darkness.

Sam Collins cast a doubtful look. "Professor Miser, you're telling us some giant, mythical monster made the footprint?"

His father's words sent a chill down Donny Collin's spine. He glanced at Jamie, his freckles faded in muted moonlight. He looked frightened.

"Giant, yes -- monster, no -- mythical, never," the Professor replied, solemnly. "I've tracked one of the beasts right here," he said, pointing to the log on which he sat. "The far reaches of the Great North Woods."

Unable to contain themselves, Donny and Jamie told the professor, as Donny’s father stared at them incredulously, about the commotion they had heard the previous night. Donny, finally, gazed nervously into the darkness. "The footprint in the woods looked like a man's, only bigger."

"Primate, yes -- human, no," the Professor answered.

"Pardon me, Professor," Sam Collins interrupted. "How can non-intelligent creatures continue to elude capture -- assuming, of course, they do exist?"

"Chimps and apes are intelligent, but just not human and neither is this creature," Professor Miser explained. "We have the benefit of our humanity and, therefore, an advantage." "Then why haven't you captured one?" Donny asked.

"We will remedy that situation tonight, my boy," the Professor answered, frowning.

"You're going to catch one tonight?" Jamie asked.

"Not catch, my boy," Miser answered with a toothy grin. "Simply document. The bigfoot is a creature of habit. According to what your lads just told me, he visited your camp last night looking for food. He'll return again tonight. I have a wildlife camera system complete with flashes and trip wires. If my hypothesis is correct, tomorrow we'll have proof of the creature's existence."

Sam Collins looked concerned. "Isn't it risky drawing him into camp?"

"Nonsense," Miser answered. "There isn't a single documented case of a bigfoot attacking a human. They are, quite simply, a non-violent species."

Only half-convinced, Sam Collins and the boys helped Professor Miser rig the automatic camera using the remainder of the peppermint candy as bait. The flashes and trip wires installed, they retired to their tents for the night.

"Do you think Bigfoot will show?" Donny asked, resting his hands behind his head.

"I don't know," Jamie answered. "I just wish we didn't have to use the last of my candy as bait."

Donny grinned. "You can have all the candy you want when we go home. Poor Bigfoot may never have peppermint again."

"I didn't think about that," Jamie said.

Donny asked another question. "Jamie, do you think Bigfoot is human?"

Jamie frowned. "Who cares?"

"Why did he take the candy and not the bologna?"

"Maybe he's a vegetarian," Jamie suggested. "Go to sleep."

Donny fell asleep listening to a distant owl and the wind in the trees. Several hours later, the same insistent hand shook him awake again.

"Wake up Donny," Jamie whispered. "It's out there."

Donny opened his eyes and listened. He heard the gentle padding of something outside the tent, and then a crackling pop. A brilliant flash lit the camp and a giant shadow darkened the canvas. They heard a whimpering squeal as something very large moved away into the forest.

Donny and Jamie sat bolt upright in their sleeping bags. They found Sam and Professor Miser searching the perimeter of the camp. When the Professor returned he quickly checked three of the cameras.

"Blast!" He said loudly. "Nothing on these three. I presume, from his squeal of terror, the first flash must have frightened him away."

"He managed to find the rest of my peppermint," Jamie said.

"The squeal we heard wasn't from fright," Donny said.

The Professor, Jamie, and Donny's dad looked at the boy standing by the fourth camera -- an instant picture developing in his hand.

"Then what was it, my boy?" The Professor asked.

"He was laughing," Donny stated. "At us," he added.

The Professor frowned and took the picture, peering at it over the top of his glasses.

"What is it?" Jamie asked.

Sam Collins grinned and winked. "Looks like a big hairy rear-end to me. It seems your creature played a little joke on us."

Jamie bit his lip to stifle a giggle and Donny laughed out loud. The boys returned to their tent leaving the little Professor alone in the darkness with only his puzzled thoughts.

THE END

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Vivian Louisiana Cemetery

The Vivian cemetery is on a hill, about a mile from the Texas border.  Here is a single pic.

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

Vivian Cemetary

View Article  Oklahoma City Bricktown

Yesterday was St. Patty’s Day and I joined into the festivities in Bricktown, downtown Oklahoma City.  Bricktown is the old industrial portion of OKC.  Restaurant and nightclub development in the district began more than a decade ago.  It now boasts a scenic canal and beautiful baseball park.

Two decades ago, downtown OKC had only two hotels and almost no nightlife.  Today, there are a half dozen hotels, including the recently restored, historic Skirvin Hotel.  Most of Oklahoma now has liquor by the drink (instead of liquor by the wink, but that’s another story), and many restaurants and nightclubs that stay open until the wee hours.

Here are a few pics that I took last night:

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

Bricktown Bourbon St Bar  Bricktown Canal  Bricktown Canal 2  Bricktown Footlong  Bricktown Near Canal

View Article  Wearing of the Green

I tore away from watching the NCAA tourney on TV and joined in the festivities in Bricktown, downtown Oklahoma City.  Thousands of people, loud music and green beer.  That’s what it’s all about.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Ides of March

Beware the ides of March.  An unnecessary  worry?  I think not.  Ask Duke, beaten in the first round of the NCAA Tournament by 11th seed Virginia Commonwealth.  Hey, it’s the ides of March.

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  A Cherokee Warrior

What an amazing story.  Walkabout, a Cherokee from Oklahoma, was a true hero.

Billy Walkabout, 57, highly decorated Vietnam veteran - Newsday.com

View Article  Vivian Mainstreet

Located on Louisiana Highway 1, and only 10 miles from the Texas-Arkansas state lines, is Vivian.  Nestled in the piney woods and rolling hills of northwest Louisiana, the little town is the gateway to Caddo Lake, Jeems and Black Bayou where swollen cypress trunks and water moccassins abound.  The pace of the town is slow, like that of much of the south.  Here is a pic shot down the main street.

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

Vivian Mainstreet

View Article  March Madness

I'm a basketball nut and I love March.  I always cheer for Oklahoma and Oklahoma State - when they're not playing each other - and Arkansas. OU and OSU fell by the wayside this year.  Neither made the Tourney.  Arkansas, a great team in a tough conference, struggled through much of the year but made a run in the Southeastern Conference Tournament.  They made it to the finals with last year's national champ Florida.  When Florida blew them out, I prepared myself for another year with no favorite for which to cheer.

My luck has changed.  Somehow, the NCAA selection committee chose them as a low seed.  They will play Southern Cal in the first round.  Am I happy?  You bet I am.  They are in the same bracket as Texas and if both teams win, I could be treated to a long-awaited repeat of one of many such meetings in the now defunct Southwest Conference.  What's old becomes new again.

http://www.ericwilder.com  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Leaving Seiling

I spent a good part of yesterday in Seiling, a little town situated in the high plains of northwest Oklahoma.  Home of legendary weatherman Gary England, Seiling has seen its share of tornadoes and bad weather.  Here are a few of the pics I took, including one of a long stretch of flat road between Seiling and Watonga.

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

Seiling Mainstreet Seiling Mural Seiling Mural 2 Leaving Seiling

View Article  Drilling Rig

Here is a picture of a drilling rig near dawn in Major County, Oklahoma – artistic filters applied, but quite extraordinary even without.

http://www.gondwanapress.com  http://www.ericwilder.com

Sondra Kay watercolor sponge

View Article  Out of Gas

Rusty Old Car Medium

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Full Moon in March

http://www.gondwanapress.com

0007

View Article  Sunset

Far away the sun sets

in colors of crimson

bleeding day’s last breath

Sunflower  http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Magical Jeems Bayou

Jeems Bayou 1

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  More Uncertain Texas

I couldn’t resist.  Here are a few more pics of Uncertain.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Uncertain City Limits Johnson's Landing Uncertain Boat Channel House on Stilts

View Article  Near Uncertain, Texas

Uncertain (yes, there is such a place) is an ecletic little town on the banks of scenic Caddo Lake.  Here are a few pics to give you a feel for the place.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Alligator Heaven Bait Shop Uncertain Caddo Near Uncertain Knees Near Uncertain

View Article  Pixie Beneath Caddo Mushroom

Another pixie shot from near Caddo Lake.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Blue Nude Pixie beneath Mushroom

View Article  Pads on Caddo

The fauna of Caddo Lake is diverse and exotic.  Here are two pics to show what I mean.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Cypress Knees  Pad Flowers  Pads Caddo 

View Article  Lucky and Rouge

Here are a couple of pics of two of my babies, Lucky and Rouge. Hey, and one of Kate, too.

http://gondwanapress.com

    Rouge Yawn  Lucky on His Back  Kate Kitchen

View Article  Jeems Bayou Pixie

Much of the area from Shreveport, Louisiana to Jefferson, Texas was once covered with a body of water known loosely as the Fairie Lakes.  Fairie, supposedly, was a place-name rather than a reference to tiny magic beings.  Most of the water is gone but many gloriously beautiful places still exist.  And like in times past, the area is still one of the most mysterious places on the face of the earth.  Are there fairies to be found?  Well, check out this pic I took a while back near the Jeems Bayou Bridge.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Jeems Bayou Pixie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

f

View Article  Jeems Bayou Bridge

A short distance from Vivian, Louisiana is the Jeems Bayou Bridge.  Continue on this highway and you will soon reach Jefferson, Texas.  Jeems Bayou offers much in the way of beautiful southern scenery.  Here are a couple of pictures.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Beneath Jeems Bayou Bridge  Jeems Bayou Bridge

View Article  Mushroom Girl

Mushrooms in Dead Tree w girl

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Let's Party!

It’s Mardi Gras day and this year’s Fat Tuesday signals continued recovery from the devastation of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.  This year, there are more available hotel rooms and 95 % of them are occupied.  Many more restaurants and night clubs are up and running and signs of hurricane destruction are gone from the parade course.  There is much more to do, but this year’s Mardi Gras shows that New Orleans survived the storms and continues to recover.  Way to go, NO!  Happy Mardi Gras Day.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Bigfoot Spotting in Atoka County, Oklahoma

I just came across this report of a bigfoot sighting near Caney, Oklahoma.  The tiny town of Caney is located in rural southeast Oklahoma.  Several locals reported seeing the creature prompting bigfoot researchers to fly in from California to investigate.  Below is a proported picture of a bigfoot captured by a wildlife camera.  To me, it looks like a hairy creature with a wolf pelt (?) on its back.  Who knows?

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Bigfoot1

View Article  On Emily Dickenson

A rejection of four of her works by Atlantic Montly convinced Emily Dickenson to keep the nearly 1800 poems she had written during her lifetime to herself. Only a couple of her poems were published while she lived. What a pity for her contemporaries but what a blessing that her poetry was posthumously released. For those of us fortunate enough to read and experience the poetry of here genius, here is but a single example:

IX

Have you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?

And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there;
And let your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there.

Then look out for the little brook in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
And the bridges often go.

And later, in August it may be,
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life
Some burning noon go dry!

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Storm Hawk Over Edmond

Storm Hawk

http://www.gondwanapress.com

View Article  Top 10 Most Expensive Sci-Fi Books Sold at AbeBooks.com in 2006

Abe Books, the large new and used book store, is highlighting their science fiction and fantasy section.  In an e-mail from them received today they listed the top ten most expensive sci-fi editions they sold in 2006.  The list is quite interesting and here it is:

10). The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien – $3,000

9). Brave New World (1st Edition), Aldous Huxley – $3,250

8). Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang, Kate Wilhelm – $3,975

7). The Ship That Sailed to Mars, William Timlin – $3,995

6). Brave New World (true 1st Edition), Aldous Huxley – $4,025

4). (tie)  The Healer’s War, Elizabeth Scarborough – $4,500

4). (tie) I Robot, Isaac Asimov – $4,500

2). (tie) The Dark Tower – The Gunslinger, Stephen King – $7,500

2). (tie) Neuromancer (2), Count Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive, William Gibson – $7,500

1). 1984, George Orwell – $8,258.40

Check out more wonderful books at http://www.gondwanapress.com although none so expensive.

View Article  Excerpt from New Orleans' Novel Blink of an Eye

It’s the 2nd Mardi Gras since Katrina and Rita.  Fat Tuesday is February 20, 2007.  I am writing a sequel to the Big Easy called Blink of an Eye.  It starts out with two cops, Tony Nicosia and his partner, staking out a Mardi Gras Parade.  The book won’t be out for some time.  Meanwhile, if you have an insatiable need to experience New Orleans – and who doesn’t? – then please read Big Easy or Murder Etouffee.  Both are available at http://www.gondwanapress.com.

Big Easy Front Cover   Murder Front Cover

BLINK OF AN EYE

A Novel by Eric Wilder

CHAPTER ONE  

Lieutenant Anthony Nicosia didn’t look like a cop. He didn’t feel like one either, and his baggy green shorts, black Reeboks, white socks and plaid windbreaker did little to change anyone’s first impression. Along with his thinning hair, sallow complexion and dumpy physique, he looked like a middle-aged. couch potato, more interested in soap operas than crime. His muscles ached from months of disuse and he vowed to visit the Y soon as Mardi Gras ended. Now, sore muscles or not, the world’s biggest block party was swinging and he was on duty.

Although the Muses parade had barely begun, crowds of observers already agitated into a state of mass hysteria jammed Canal Street. Consecutive days of policing parties, parades and revelry had left Tony Nicosia’s nerves frayed, his temper short. His extra ten pounds of body weight resulting from his recently failed diet pounded away at his legs, sore knees and tired feet. His shoulder holster chafed his chest raw and he felt like screaming. No one would have noticed. The sea of frantic people surrounding him raised the chaos level to an ear-splitting roar when Nicosia’s younger, red-headed partner, Sergeant Tommy Blackburn, tapped his shoulder.

"You look like hell, Tony."

"Yeah, and Fat Tuesday still a week away!"

"Not to mention we missed lunch."

Nicosia hadn’t forgotten. Piquant aroma of boiled crawfish from a nearby tailgate party wafted toward them in an enticing and unattainable cloud of tasty temptation. Blackburn looked more like a defensive end then his older partner’s middle-aged beer drinker image conveyed. He and Nicosia, along with fifty other cops and state troopers, mingled with the Mardi Gras crowds, trying to quell the growing spate of violence and vandalism. The plan worked but every over-stressed man on the force felt ready to drop from exhaustion.

Nicosia and Blackburn had little time for conversation as the parade’s lead float rumbled off St. Charles Avenue and headed toward the Mississippi River, down Canal Street. The raucous crowd grew more animated and nosier as masked Musers rained beads, baubles and souvenir doubloons from the gaudily decorated floats. Costumes mimicked float colors, each Muser dressed in the Krewe’s theme for the year. Burgundy tunics draped black tights on the lead float and grotesque masks made it impossible to determine the sex or race of the souvenir tossers. Canal Street revelers didn’t care, parting in human waves as the lead float approached.

Gorgeous southern college girls, middle-aged tourists and a multitude of locals that had seen it all before, comprised the crowd. They all had something in common — loss of inhibitions and lack of common sense. One female, not much older than Nicosia’s youngest, bared her breasts and hugged his neck, caking crimson lipstick on his cheek as she wobbled away down the street. Nicosia wondered if she would make it home okay and why at least a few parade watchers weren’t crushed every year beneath the wheels of the floats. He had little time to ponder the question.

An explosion of sound erupted and several bullets passed over his head, riveting his attention to more pressing matters. An unknown shooter had just unloaded the contents of a semi-automatic pistol into the crowd. A local gang-banger, Nicosia quickly decided. Someone nearby had incurred his wrath and she lay on the ground, hugging her bullet-nicked arm. Mostly unhurt, her boyfriend jumped to her immediate rescue. The bullets, as if by miracle, struck no one else in the crowd.

It wasn’t Lieutenant Tony Nicosia’s first dance. He’d been shot at before. Whirling around, he dropped to his knee and drew his revolver. Tommy Blackburn, ten years younger and several steps faster, had already reacted, racing after the shooter, trying to exit the scene. The crowd, mostly unaware that someone had unloaded an automatic weapon in their midst, resisted the burly sergeant as he shouldered his way after the fleeing perp. Seeing the unfolding fray, Nicosia rose to his feet only to have his leg collapse beneath his weight. Grabbing his left knee, he squeezed as searing pain surged through his extremity. The crowd didn’t notice or care.

Floats passed, beads raining from the Musers. Gray, February clouds further darkened the gloomy day, the third float passing on Canal. Lieutenant Nicosia shielded his face as the crowd, intent on catching flying beads and dated doubloons, stepped on and over him.

Unaware of his partner’s injury, Sergeant Tommy Blackburn bullied his way through animated spectators, bowling over revelers in his wake. The going was slow but the man he pursued had the same problem. His pistol empty, the gang-banger swung it ineffectively at people crushing around him. Most of them didn’t notice, their attentions focused on flying beads and trinkets. Blood flew from a woman’s mouth when he nailed her with the barrel of his gun. She dropped to her knees in pain, her husband oblivious to her plight.

As Tommy Blackburn gained ground on the shooter, he saw the injured woman but didn’t stop. Close enough to recognize gang tattoos on the back of the man he pursued, it caused blood to surge up Blackburn’s shoulders. Rising blood pressure turned his thick neck and florid face an angry red. Redoubling his efforts, he fought to within six feet of the shooter, his stare focused on the back of the man’s head. When he finally saw his opening, he dived forward, grabbed a pair of legs he prayed were the right ones and rolled the person to the ground, knocking down half a dozen unsuspecting revelers along with them.

Blackburn transferred his grip to the man’s tee shirt. The young Chicano gang member backhanded Tommy, ripped the shirt down the front, tore it away and was back on his feet in a single fluid motion. Blackburn, ignoring his broken lip and skinned knees, didn’t bother yelling for him to halt, charging after the gang-banger instead.

Six-four and two hundred twenty pounds, Tommy Blackburn was an imposing man. Ten years out of high school, he still held the State shot put record. When his hand snagged the strap of a digital camera, he slammed it into the fleeing man’s back. The gang member dropped in pain. Just enough time for Blackburn to overtake him, rolling him bodily through the crowd.

Tommy Blackburn wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The young Chicano retrieved a knife from his baggy pants. Opening it with a flip, he stabbed it into Blackburn’s mid-section. Yanking the blade free, he went for Tommy’s throat, trying to end the larger man’s attack. Tommy grabbed a strong wrist and held on, his own strength quickly ebbing as blood gushed from an open stomach wound. Realizing the life-or-death struggle at their feet, people drew back in horror, forming a barrier around the two combatants. Mesmerized by the struggle, no one stepped forward to help the desperately injured police sergeant.

The gang-banger’s blade cut his face but Tommy resisted, even though he no longer felt sharp pain that set his stomach afire. Nor could he feel his arms and legs, his mind dulling, threatening to shut down completely. He could only see his mother’s face, and his grandmother’s, and they were both crying. Consciousness had faded when what next happened.

Strong hands grabbed the gang-banger’s neck and squeezed.. The gang-banger’s body went limp and he dropped the knife. Lieutenant Tony Nicosia pulled the slack body off his fallen partner, kicked the perp in the head for good measure, then turned his attention to Blackburn. Quickly assessing the situation, he removed his windbreaker, stuffing it into the flowing wound. Grabbing his walkie-talkie, he called for backup and medical assistance. Each cop carried a GPS device and reinforcements would quickly reach them.

Lieutenant Tony Nicosia, after surviving the weight of the crowd, pushed off the ground and dragged his useless leg through the melee, following the fleeing man and his partner.

"Police," he yelled, waving his badge. "Move it out of the way!"

Nicosia’s knee hurt like hell, the beignet he’d eaten earlier lying like a rock in his stomach. His inner warning sirens screamed. Tommy Blackburn was in deep shit and needed his immediate assistance. He kept moving, trying unsuccessfully to focus on something other than searing pain racing through his leg, knocking people out of his way to enter the circle where his partner gasped his last breaths. When he reached the two men on the ground, Nicosia reacted. Almost too late for his fallen partner. Tommy’s eyes were closed and pluming blood painted a growing stop sign on his chest. Nicosia had learned the choke hold in police academy. It was no longer taught, at least officially, and no longer used. Again, at least officially.

It didn’t matter to Lieutenant Tony Nicosia. With the situation dire, it was either the choke hold or a bullet through the gang-banger’s brain. If he could have grabbed his service revolver before the man slit Blackburn’s throat, there would have been nothing to decide. As it was, he had only enough time to dive for the throat, grab it and squeeze.

http://www.ericwilder.com

View Article  Mardi Gras, 2007

Some disbelievers said it would never happen again, but New Orleans is in the throes of Mardi Gras for the second time following the devastation of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. The venerable city and its heroic citizens survived a near-fatal blow from the brace of wild storms. Mardi Gras Day, known by everyone as Fat Tuesday, provides its own brand of wildness this year on February 20, 2007. Take my advice and experience the festivities for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.

If you simply can’t make it to Mardi Gras, at least read my new novel Big Easy.  It’ll give you a thirst for the City you won’t be able to quench without a visit there.

Available at http://www.gondwanapress.com

Big Easy Front Cover

View Article  More Jeems Bayou

Driving east of Vivian on Louisiana Highway 1, you will soon encounter the road to Trees City.  A large filling station, convenience store, restaurant and casino called The Station marks the intersection.  Follow the winding road a few miles and you will reach the Harts Ferry Bridge that crosses Jeems (sometimes called James) Bayou.  Years ago, there was a very old oil well on the north side of the road.  The well is gone but snowy egrets, waterlogged cypress trees, lily pads and acres of marvelous scenery remains.

Growing up in north Louisiana, I remember traversing the road with my parents following heavy rain.  High water would rise almost to the asphalt, old cars and trucks having transported families, fishing with cane poles on both sides of the road.  The old bridge would be under water, passage to Trees City impossible except by boat.

Here is a topo map of the present Harts Ferry bridge, and a pic of some of that marvelous scenery.

http://www.gondwanapress.com

Harts Ferry Bridge  101_1008

View Article  Oklahoma Snowdrops

Winter weather in Oklahoma, like much of the country, is bitter this year.  Still, Okies are tough, as are Oklahoma animals and plants.  Here is a pic taken less than an hour ago in my front yard.  Yes, they are blooming flowers – Oklahoma snowdrops.

http://www.ericwilder.com

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View Article  Evil Eye Palm
Evil Eye Palm_000001827293Large http://www.ericwilder.com