Random Things I Learned From My Dad

It's hard for me to believe, but my dad's been gone eleven years tomorrow. I'm 49, so that means that nearly a quarter of my own life has passed since he lost his; exactly a quarter if you take away those five years or so when I was in my teens and I knew everything and he knew nothing.

Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of my father. He was a huge influence in my life and in determining the person I grew up to be. Hopefully that's a good thing.

Anyway, here is a random listing, in no particular order other than how they occurred to me, of things I learned from my dad.

- I learned the value of hard work. My father spent most of his life working for the telephone company. He wasn't an executive or a management guy, he was strictly blue collar. His union went on strike a number of times when I was a kid, and I remember him taking one of those jobs that people say Americans won't do any more to pay the bills - he worked as an apple picker. Those guys worked long days and he was no kid at the time, but he did it because he felt that a man who could work should work. End of story.

- I learned how to change my own oil and tires, and when to do it as well. My dad wasn't big on paying other people to do things he could do himself, so he did a lot of his own work on our cars when I was growing up. Before he died he had accepted that automobiles had become too complicated for backyard mechanics to work on very much anymore, especially if they didn't have all of the proper tools, but he still changed his own oil until he got too sick to do so.

- I learned how to swear emphatically and with gusto. One thing my dad wasn't blessed with was an overabundance of patience, and hanging around with him while he was working on those cars was a truly, shall we say, ear-opening experience for a little kid. I learned a lot of new vocabulary words that way, and most of them weren't ones you would ever learn in school.

- I learned to think for myself. Never one for following the crowd, my dad stressed to both my sister and I not to believe things just because they were trendy or hip, two things no one would ever have accused him of being. He was a pretty conservative guy, but he never once told me that I should think like him, only that I should think about all sides of an issue before coming to a conclusion about it. I still do that to this day, and more often than not, that technique leads me to conclusions I think he would have reached as well.

- I learned how to drive a stick shift. It's something he believed everyone should know, and I regret that I haven't been able to teach my kids.

- I learned how to approach a deadly, life-sucking illness with humor and grace. I hope I never get terminal cancer, because I know I could never live up to the standard he set as his life was slipping away.

- I learned how to be a Red Sox fan. It sounds like the easiest thing in the world to be now, with their success over the last few years, but my dad lived almost eighty years and all he ever experienced as a life-long Sox fan was heartbreak. He didn't live long enough to see the success, the two World Series wins in the last five years, but I know he's gloating about it right now wherever he is.

- I learned that who you are is more important than what you wear. Also what you drive, how much money you make, or how big your house is.

- I learned pretty much everything that has become important to me as my own life has ground on. I like to think my dad would be proud of me. I hope so, anyway.

I Took Your Advice, Mr. Literary Agent

When I was in New York last summer for Thrillerfest 2008 and had the opportunity to pitch my novel(s) to dozens of literary agents, one of them asked me, when it became clear he wasn't interested in the manuscript we were discussing, what I do for a living in the real world.

I told him I was an air traffic controller and he said something like, "Why don't you write an air traffic control thriller?"

It wasn't like the thought had never occurred to me. I realize that I have what a lot of people would consider to be a pretty cool job; a job which most people don't really understand.

The problem was that I have been doing this pretty cool job for almost 27 years and it really isn't all that interesting to me any more. Sure, it has its moments, when it gets tense and exciting and dramatic, but for the most part it is like any other job - kind of tedious. So I wanted to write books about other things, things which I personally find interesting.

Which I did. And so far, agents and/or publishers have not exactly been knocking down my door for those two manuscripts, not that I'm giving upon them, don't get me wrong. I still think they would both make very good books.

But in publishing, they really like an author, especially a new author, to have some sort of hook; to be an expert in the subject he or she is writing about. I thought about it and decided, sure, I can write an air traffic control thriller, why not?

Plenty of thrillers have been written from a pilot's perspective - hell, if anyone had written about a pilot landing his crippled, fully-loaded jet in the Hudson, saving everyone on board, publishers would probably have shied away from it, calling it unrealistic - but there aren't many books written from a controller's perspective, at least not that I'm aware of.

Anyway, I concocted what I believe to be a pretty tight, realistic plot, and wrote what I believe to be a pretty tight, hopefully exciting manuscript. I'm just about done with my first round of editing and rewriting and the end is in sight. I still have more work to do on it but I'm beginning to get that nervous, excited feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes when I'm ready to start sending queries out to agents.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, other than that you clicked on my blog and so, in a way, you asked for it. Wish me luck if you're so inclined; I have high hopes for this one.

Quick, I Need Those Nuclear Launch Codes!

Just before cell technology took off and the price of cellphones dropped to the point where any teenage girl could afford to buy one and use it as the perfect driving accessory - because, let's face it, driving isn't enough of a challenge for most teenage girls, it's good to add a little more of a handicap, just for fun - mobile phones were all the rage.

Remember them? They were sort of like the precursor to cellphones. You could make and receive calls in your car, but the phone was hard-wired to the vehicle. They were the dinosaur in the portable-phone-evolution-chain.

Anyway, I used to drive an hour each way to work, and I remember being amazed at the number of people who absolutely had to be yakking on their mobile phones while they drove up and down the highway, usually at speeds that would make Dale Earnhart Jr. blush. At the time, I figured that at least fifty percent, and probably more, of the people making these calls were just faking it - trying to look impressive to all the peons like me looking out our side windows as they passed by.

Then technology evolved to the point I mentioned above, where even a Luddite like me has a cell phone and actually even uses it once in a while. So it's not unusual to see people talking on their cell phones pretty much anywhere. I expect to go into a restaurant sometime soon and see my server chatting with a phone to his ear as he tosses my overpriced entree onto the table and forgets my silverware.

But I was picking my son up at work this afternoon - he will be getting his license in a couple of months, but until then, needs rides back and forth to work - and I saw a guy walk into the grocery store where my son works, accompanied by, presumably, his wife and two young children. As he passed, I saw he had one of those ridiculously pretentious Bluetooth wireless headsets stuck to his face.

This guy was with his family and couldn't even be bothered to remove the thing that looks like a cancerous growth long enough to actually, you know, pay attention to them. Wonder how that makes his kids feel? Do they think, "Wow, dad's so cool and important he has to be in touch with his minions at ALL TIMES!"

Or do they maybe look at him and go, "Dad's an asshole. I sure wish he'd take that stupid thing off and have a conversation with me for a change."

Now, I know I'm making sweeping generalizations here. Maybe the guy's a bigshot investment banker and he needs to be in constant contact with his lawyer. Or his parole officer. Or maybe he's a bigshot surgeon whose patient is at a critical point in his recovery and it's imperative that he be available at all times, should the patient slip into a coma or something. It happens all the time on "Grey's Anatomy," right?

Or maybe the guy's an arrogant, self-important gasbag who's a little too impressed with himself. Hopefully the headset thingie is really important to him because he has to know everyone is snickering behind his back. I know I was.

Oh, wait - I was right in front of him. That's okay. I'm sure he was far too busy to notice, anyway.

The Long and the Short of It

In a fascinating display of synchronicity (I'm not really sure if it is truly synchronicitous or not, but I really love that word), both the longest and the shortest short stories I have written to date recently got accepted for publication within days of each other.

My long short story, "Uncle Brick and Jimmy Kills," weighing in at roughly nine thousand words, will be featured in the summer, 2009 issue of Mysterical-E. This is the longest thing I have ever penned (Or keyboarded, if you're really a stickler for accuracy) if you exclude my three novels.

I had almost given up on anyone except my loyal circle of readers (Hereafter referred to as my loving family, or Those Who Don't Have A Choice In The Matter), ever seeing this story, simply because of its length. Most print and online short-story venues have upper limits of anywhere from 3500 to 6000 words, meaning that when I wrote it, my verbosity nearly doomed "Uncle Brick and Jimmy Kills" to the very same Island of Inactivity in which my novels currently reside, despite the fact that it really is a good story.

A few days later, I learned that my first and thus far only foray into the murky world of one hundred word flash fiction stories, "Ned and Helen," at a lean and mean ninety-five words, will be featured in the February 16 issue of FlashShot. If you've ever scuffled with your spouse over the television remote - and who hasn't? - you will want to check out this story. At least I hope you will. After all, what have you got to lose but maybe thirty seconds of your time?

I've discovered that all of the stuff I write, whether a 95,000 word novel or a 95 word flash piece, are like my children. I've birthed them, agonized over them, and eventually set them free to make their way in the world, so I love them all. But I'm particularly happy that these two stories found a home, since I wondered whether either of them ever would.

I'll be bugging you about both of them, as well as my other material, as they get closer to publication, so you can rest easy; I won't let you forget. But I would appreciate it very much if you let me know what you think of them, if you're so inclined, when they come out. Thanks for reading!

Peace on Earth and Comfortable Socks

Okay, so one of the presents I received this year on Christmas morning was a pair of socks - actually, it was three pairs of socks - and I have to tell you, these socks are unbelievable.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Just how old do you have to be to get socks for Christmas and be all excited? What's next, a cane? A walker? Depends undergarments?

Believe me, I know just how ridiculous it sounds to be going on and on about socks, but still, these things are awesome. For one thing, they are suitable for work. Before the silly changes my employer mandated two years ago, all I ever used to wear to work were white athletic socks, since all I ever wore over them were jeans and sneakers.

Now, however, the geniuses in charge of my agency have decided that all air traffic controllers must dress "business casual," never mind the fact that we don't deal face-to-face with a single customer all day, and that we work inside a dark room surrounded by barbed wire fences and guarded by men with guns. "Business casual," whatever that means, is now the order of the day, and has been since September 2, 2006.

These socks I got for Christmas can be worn with my khakis, which are now all I ever wear to work, and they look great. Not only that, they feel great. I pulled them on for the first time and suddenly understood why all those Wall Street types lie, cheat and steal all day - So they can make enough money to buy socks like these!

Donald Trump probably wears nicer socks when he's just hanging around the house in his underwear watching football every Sunday, but for me, these things were like a little slice of heaven. Not only are they comfortable, they have little tiny holes all through them for ventilation. The holes are invisible to anyone admiring you in your new socks, but believe me, you can tell they're there. My feet stay nice and dry, even when I'm wearing shoes in the house, which, as most people know, is the kiss of death if you're stuck with feet that tend to sweat a lot, as mine do. (Sorry for being so graphic)

Unfortunately, I can't recommend them to you by brand-name, because I tore them out of the packaging and threw it away before I tried them out, and as far as I can tell, there is no logo on them or any sort of identification whatsoever, which I suppose must be another sign that they are really fancy socks.

All I can tell you is that they have a gold toe and are, in fact, called "Gold Toe" socks. Who manufactures them is anyone's guess, but if you happen to be walking around the mall and see socks called "Gold Toe" for sale, do yourself a favor and buy some immediately. You won't regret it if you're like me and you have to dress "Business Casual" for work. Whatever that means.

A Litany of Christmas Thanks

As someone whose natural tendency is to see the glass as half empty - unless, of course, it's completely empty - I really appreciate the Christmas season, with its invitation to look inward and think about what is really important in life. When I do that, I realize just how blessed I've been.

Without further ado (That makes me wonder, if you really aren't going to have any more ado, why bother saying, "Without further ado?" Why not just get on with it?) here are a few of the things I am most thankful for during the holiday season, 2008:


1) My wife, Sue.

You've heard of marrying up? Boy, did I marry up.

I'm not talking about in terms of money or social standing or any of the other stuff that lots of people use to define success. I'm talking about goodness and caring and big-heartedness - the stuff more of us should use to measure our standing in the world. If we did, it just might be a better place.

I'm amazed every day that this woman agreed to take me on. It's been over a quarter-century and I still can't figure out why she did, I'm just glad she hasn't changed her mind. She makes me a better person in every way.


2) My three children and my grandchild.

It's really easy to get caught up in the day-to-day parenting stuff and lose sight of what's important. My kids are healthy, vibrant young people with bright futures. They care about others, they work hard, and most importantly, they are intrinsically good. I know they will all live productive lives, and for that I am incredibly thankful.

My little granddaughter is almost two now and she is a blessing in every way. Smart, cheerful, healthy and happy, she fills our little house with toddler noises that haven't been heard here in a long, long time.


3) My job.

I work for the FAA as an air traffic controller, and while I can never forgive the current management structure for what they have done to the career I've devoted my entire adult life to - cutting pay, slashing retirement benefits, poisoning working conditions - I still consider myself fortunate to have a well-respected, high-paying job. Hell, in this economy, I'm glad I even have a job.

My career has enabled me to raise a family and begin sending my children to college. I own my own home and, more importantly, can still afford to make the payments on it. I am blessed.


4) My writing.

I love to write, and while I haven't exactly begun making Stephen King money, I am steadily making inroads, like getting more short stories published and working now on finishing my third novel.

It amazes me to think anyone would be interested in what I write, whether it be my sports blog at Foxsports, my blog at Allanleverone.com or at Myspace, or any of the magazines and anthologies who have published or will be publishing my work.

Thank you so much to:

-Crime and Suspense editor Tony Burton, who published my very first short story, "The Road to Olathe," and then included it in the Ten for Ten anthology. He also took on "Independence Day," one of my all-time favorite stories. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

-Trei Magazine's C.L. Freire. Unfortunately, the ezine is now defunct, but she published "Regrets, I've Had a Few," and has now moved on to bigger and better things.

-Shroud Publishing's Tim Deal. His anthology, Northern Haunts, will be released any minute now and includes my story, "Heart and Sole."

-FlashShot's Esther Schrader, who has accepted "Ned and Helen" for upcoming publication.

-Twisted Dreams Magazine and editor Andrea Dean Von Scoyoc, who has accepted "The Bridal Veil" for publication in the June, 2009 issue.

-Mysterical-E and Joe DeMarco for accepting "Uncle Brick and Jimmy Kills," my 9000 word story which will be featured this coming summer.

-Anyone who has read any of my stuff. I so much appreciate you spending your valuable time in the little worlds I try to construct that I can't even begin to express my appreciation. Thank you, and hopefully I'll be seeing more of you!


Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and here's to a safe, happy and productive 2009!

I Love Electricity

I've never been so happy to wake up before 5:00 a.m. as I was this morning. At 4:55 the lights blazed on in my bedroom, signaling the end of over one hundred hours without electricity. 101 hours and ten minutes to be exact, but, really, who's counting? Besides me, that is.

The power in my neighborhood had vanished like a David Copperfield elephant at 11:45 Thursday night, during the height of the ice storm that crippled the Northeast, plunging us into darkness and disappearing for more than four days. When the electricity finally came back, it did so with remarkably little fanfare considering how much it had been missed. One barely perceptible click and that was it - we had power again!

Some people in this area are still without light or heat and according to New Hampshire Governor David Lynch, could remain so until the end of next week, meaning, if true, a cold and dark Christmas for those still affected. An emergency shelter has been set up at our local high school and I'm told administrators will be holding a meeting tomorrow to decide whether to just forget about trying to get the students back to school until after the first of the year. You can probably guess where my kids stand on that issue.

Anyway, my thanks go out to all of the anonymous, hardworking individuals who have been, and continue to be, putting in long hours under difficult conditions, working day and night to get power restored, to clear debris from roadways and power lines, and in general to do all of the work that people tend to take for granted until they are affected by a situation of this magnitude.

Now, of course, forecasters are calling for an old-time Nor'Easter to strike the area on Friday, dropping six inches or more of snow. Normally that doesn't even qualify as a big storm, at least here where I live, but with so many people still unable to heat their homes it could make a difficult situation that much worse.

A week ago I would never have believed it if someone had told me we would be without power for well over four days. Now I'm just glad it's back. If you're so inclined, spare a prayer or just a good thought for the people who are still shivering or unable to return to their homes.