Earlier this month, I had a book signing for my new murder mystery Big Easy.  It was on the patio of Kang’s Asian Bistro in Edmond, here in Oklahoma, and about a hundred people attended.  Here is a link to the video on YouTube.  Please check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JL-E9a5i-rw 

Growing up in Vivian, days ran the gamut from boring to even more boring.  Nothing ever seemed to happen much in the sleepy bayou town.  At least that's how we excitement-hungry teens usually felt.  I recall only one murder in Vivian - maybe the only one ever.  It involved the parents of one of my high school classmates.  The mother was going out every night to Mrs. Ray's, one of the local honky tonks, and carousing until the wee hours.  Supposedly, when her husband found her undies in the glove compartment of their car he went berserk and killed her with a ball peen hammer.

He tossed the murder weapon into the Myrtis Mill Pond (not a smart move as the pond is less than ten feet deep.)  When confronted, he readily confessed the killing.

The Myrtis Mill Pond lies on the west side of town, about five miles from the Texas border, and became an important destination for Vivianites, on dates with little else to see or do.  Whenever I visit, I have to pass the location, and my psyche never fails to overflow with poignant memories.

The pond plays an important role in my short story Southern Fried Murder.

P.S. – The sheriff and his deputy in Southern Fried Murder became the models for the sheriff and deputy in my first novel Ghost of a Chance.  For those of you that may have missed it, here is a link to the YouTube video for Ghost.  While there, please check out my other book trailer videos.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdOBGlCBVGc

Here is a link to my new trailer for Ghost of a Chance.  Please check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdOBGlCBVGc 

Immortal song stylist Billy Holiday is credited with writing and performing the first anti-racist song called Strange Fruit.  The song is about lynching, more particularly the lynching of black men, sometimes in the south, but not always.  This haunting song is still as powerful as it was during its first performance.  Here is a link to a YouTube video (mostly audio).  Please check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXdnD39GYVU

http://www.ericwilder.com

Here is a link to the book trailer for A Gathering of Diamonds, soon to be available in hard cover.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DLdvE6prJ0

As I mentioned in my last post, my camera is fritzing.  Here are a few pics that I took of the full moon the other night.  They turned out rather strange and I thought I would share them with you.

Here is the link to my Monday book signing video at Kang’s (great place) in Edmond, OK.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JL-E9a5i-rw

After working on some little gas wells in Noble County today, I had lunch at the Kumback Café in Perry.  The little café is across the street from the county courthouse, the centerpiece of the town square.  Many if not most of the shops and stores are closed – lack of business I suppose.  It is a pity because the little town has the ambience and uniqueness of such places as Eureka Springs, Arkansas and Branson, Missouri.

I digress.  The Kumback Café, I learned, started business in 1926 and has had only three owners.  I had the barbecue platter (ribs, brisket, and Polish sausage).  The baked beans were wonderful and the potato salad the best I have ever tasted.  I am not kidding!

Full beyond the point of bursting, I was unable to resist one of the twelve different kinds of homemade pie.  I had butterscotch pie.  Matt, the person with me had strawberry.  His looked as good as mine tasted but he didn’t offer to share.  Come to think of it neither did I.

My digital camera malfunctioned so I have no pics to show you.  That’s all right because I’ll be back!  Meantime, here’s a link to my Monday booksigning at Kang’s in Edmond, OK.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JL-E9a5i-rw

Earlier this year I posted a story called Summer of Bologna, about my misadventures at geology summer field camp in Arkansas.  As I read through the story again tonight, I remembered a couple of other things that happened to me that summer.  Although funny now, they were not so funny then.

The man that taught the course, Dr. D, had brought along his wife and two children, and his two-year-old son Tommy was quite a handful.  You may remember my mapping partner Roy.  Our friendship went from good, to bad, to even worse before finally turning in the right direction.  We were friends again by the end of our project and had borrowed the D’s tiny barbecue pit to grill a couple of steaks.  It was the weekend; we had time off and a few extra bucks to purchase steaks, bakes and two six-packs of beer in a plastic cooler.

Dr. D had offered the use of his barbecue pit with the proviso that we would return it cleaner than we got it.  No problem, we thought.  That was before we began drinking beer and eating watermelon – yes we had also purchased a watermelon and had chilled it to perfection in the very chilly White River.

Our beer was half gone by the time we had eaten our steaks and started on the icy watermelon.  It was about then that Dr. Ds son Tommy came running down the stairs.  Feeling giddy, Roy spat a watermelon seed at him and it stuck on his bare chest.  Maybe it doesn’t sound so funny now, but Roy and I had drunk just enough beer to think so.  Between hysterical laughter, we both began spitting seeds at the kid.

At first, Tommy joined in the joke but soon realized that he was the butt of it.  Covered with sticky watermelon seeds, he rushed back up the stairs, wailing like a banshee as he did.  He soon returned with Dr. D.  The Professor was not happy.

“Having a good time, boys?” he asked.

Dr. D’s question sent us both into a belly-rolling fit of laughter.  Grabbing his tattle-tale kid by the hand, Dr. D did an angry about face and huffed away up the stairs.  Too inebriated to clean the barbecue pit, we left it outside with the intention of cleaning it the next day.  It rained that night, making a mess of the little stove.  Tommy found it the next morning before Roy and I, getting soot and barbecue sauce all over his best Sunday church clothes.

Our good grades were already pretty much beyond hope.  That is true, but one more incident occurred the last week of field camp that further sealed my fate.  I had a cheap typewriter and I was using it to prepare my final report.  It was so hot in the basement that I took the machine outside to a picnic table.  After trying unsuccessfully to correctly seat the ribbon, I ripped it off the reel and threw it down the hill.  Yes, you got it.  Tommy found the ribbon.  Covered with ink and wrapped in the inky tape, he was in a full-blown crying snit when he finally found his father.

Well, I passed the course anyway, albeit with a cee.  Years later, I realize none of this story so.

http://www.ericwilder.com