The Lost Card

/ nicholasdaletaylor / Leave a comment

Many from Memphis know the actor in me and others from the Knoxville, TN area know the Musician in me and here in Chicago friends and acquaintances dub me the comedian or “the book guy.”  Jack of many trades is a term I’ve come to love.

Working in a book store for over three years has not only allowed for my vastly increased knowledge regarding contemporary literature but also for my ability to review said literature in succinct fashion in a program I’ve so named, “Nick’s Picks.”  Persnickety is a word that comes to mind considering the limited space allotted for these two to three sentence critiques.  Ever constant as I remain to self-edit these selections, occasionally an error of spelling or syntax or worse slips through the cracks.  One such crack involved The Lost Gate by highly recognized science-fiction writer, Orson Scott Card.  Following formula (in our humble book store), I always write the title at the top of the shelf label insert.  In this instance rather than writing, The Lost Gate, it read The Lost Card. This escaped my attention for a week or so until I swiped it from the shelf.

During the next week I chose the selection to be recommended at length as my weekly submission to local blog Uptown Update (see Nick’s Picks).  The response got my attention.  “After hearing what a homophobe OSC is, I will never buy another one of his books.”  Supposing this could simply be conjecture or damaging rumor I did a quick google search and found many heated arguments against OSC’s views on marriage equality many of which reference his article submissions to The Mormon Times. Essentially, his stance regarding same-sex marriage is that such an allowance for this equality robs heterosexual couples of their societal privilege and ultimately damages the sacrosanct integrity of this divine partnership.  His support of Prop 8 and praise for the youth who align with this support flesh out his opposition.

I am a proponent for marriage equality; however, details regarding my position on the matter remain for subsequent posts.  I come now to the dilemma.  Given the aforementioned book was my first reading of the author’s works, do I stand behind my recommendation or allow new insight and feelings to contradict my already published opinion?  Illumination should always temper ignorance.  Yet learning such news about this author doesn’t change the fact that it is, in fact, a good book.  This being said, I’ve confessed my ignorance.  While I could claim this new knowledge changed my opinion of the author I simply had no opinion of the author other than hearing tale of his being an ace among science-fictionists.

Sharing this conversations with many friends elicited the same state of surprise that such an imaginative author could subscribe to such a nebulous view.  Clear though it may seem to those aligning answers to a set of dogmatic principles, the institution of marriage is one that will evolve just as it has and just as we have.  Those who consider their way of life under attack need think again, for identifying a marriage to be solely between a man and a woman through an ordained sect for purpose of procreation sounds as robotic as a view from the next great dystopian novel.  The heart is missing.

In close I know Orson Scott Card from this one work as an amazing writer, an “Ace,” in a deck of many face cards.  And while such a figure may trump many hands it all depends on what you’re playing for in the game of Euchre the Jacks are the bowers.

Snowy Silhouette Skies

/ nicholasdaletaylor / 1 Comment

One month ago I was returning from the New Years trip of my life thus far, today I was reminded of those same skies of Glennie, Michigan.

Eastern dragonesque skies race across my memory as I fondly envision the wisps of Kate’s hair blending with crackles of the outdoor daylight fire while one of my newest friends Ryan sits pensively, occasionally nodding his head into his recently acquired shaman walking stick.  I have never seen a more beautiful sky.

While the road trip began 6 days before, driving ’round the great lake from Chicago with a pit stop in Indiana, passing past Bay City (Madonna’s birthplace) and on into the little bear property of 4 log cabins, the actual trip began about 5 hours before it ended.

In my mind I count 9 of us around the great table of the main lodge while we eat our small fill some of which are peanut butter, bananas and, of course, mushrooms before heading outside across the melting lake and into the enigmatic forest of shades.

I warn all that I am very much going my own way but that I would be in and out of their existence and whether they knew it or not that is exactly what we were all in store for that gorgeous day.

Crossing the beaver bridge lent to my moment of filling it come, in the moment, and filling in the others with feelings of welcome as I say, “Welcome to the other side.” Up the hill just a few steps is when it hits Erik, he apologizes, “sorry guys,” only to kneel before the forest to vomit a couple of times.  Walking by, I notice he’s alright and continue on my way with the flighty fairy named Amanda close behind immersed in moment after moment of fantastic jubilation.

At one point, I stopped, overwhelmed, noting where I was, standing, as just two nights previous I heard Kate’s voice scream across the lake, “Help!  Wolves!”  Eric and I had been searching for a concerned minute as she had disappeared for the last hour.  She screamed;  I bolted as quickly as one can through 2 feet snow drifts, down the hill towards the lake;  We met.  She collapsed once she reached snowy footing away from the ice.  It was night.  “There were eyes, all around me, eleven of them,” Kate said.  “It’s o.k., you’re safe now.  I had my knife ready, you see?  Just in case I had to fight them away.”  She took no notice past her own racing heart, aching knees and prolonged breaths.  Eric reached us, “Why would you do that Kate?”  After a breath, “I was just walking; I don’t know.  I just wanted to be alone man.”

But I realize I’m in the past now and keep walking past the place I’ve never seen but know only to well.  I hear another yell, this time from the other side of the lake; I’m in her place and she in mine.  Dennis is with her as Eric was with me.  “Wooooooooooooo-uh!”  She calls with vivid lingering echo through our isolated heaven of escape.  I quicken my pace walking through overwhelming colors of autumn somehow left untouched by the breath of mother winter.  The ground plants appear monstrous and somehow I know that I’m a part of this great vision that I can somehow view and yet simultaneously realize I am not separate from any form I see.  I stand at the edge of the lake flooded with arrays of light breaking the stratus and bending off glacious fragments of iridescent ice.  The bridge I crossed is now across from me in this sight.  It is day.  Flowing winds are my emotions as they carry me closer to the lodge and away from my crossed over companions some of which remain very new to this bifurcated reality.  Andrew and Cristin, Ryan’s brother Kevin and his friend Brendan some of which were and some of which were not but all of which were still on the other side in their own adventures and mesmerizing laughs and guffaws are a few to name.

Yet here I am knowing my story, past the fire and the ice and the strands of Kate’s hair on up into the breath-taking sight of the glorious sky and full on touches from an ever moving pugnaciously effervescent gale.  It was mine.  It was ours.  We were loved and smiled upon. And amidst today’s state of emergency blizzard aftermath of Chicago 2011, on a walk with Robert, I saw an almost same sky beyond the outline of reminiscence.

The Female Dog of Retail

/ nicholasdaletaylor / Leave a comment

The true “nightmare,” before Christmas comes in the form of varied shapes sizes and levels of volatility and is more commonly called the customer.  Anyone that has worked retail albeit in the realm of clothing, video games, books or heaven forbid a huge department store knows the terror of these present holidays.

Expectations of exceptional customer service have gone beyond absurdity leaving what was once known as the “exception,” to be expected as rule, customer rule.  May we all take pause together for one brief moment to truly ponder the expression, “The customer is always right.”  In all honesty, the customer is usually wrong presents a better reality.  For sake of generic example think of a person asking you to find something, “I don’t know really know the name of it,” but it was over here in this “part of the store last year… and it’s green.”  Great!  Depending on your store of choice this informed holiday shopper could be looking for bosc pears, some form of The Incredible Hulk or the latest sweater fashion fresh off the coast of the Pacific Rim.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love a challenge and always approach such requests with the utmost integrity.  This proves easier when a customer prefaces a request with some equivalent line or “I know this is a long-shot but…”

Not always getting what you want doesn’t always justify reasons for calling to the big guy upstairs.

Being immersed in the industry during the last three years gives me first hand knowledge of both how ridiculous in store attacks can become and how faintly it has approved since six years ago when my ear caught wind of an incident involving death by stampede on Black Friday.  Evolve a little more this season on into next year and remember the person across a counter or on the other end of the line to be your equal, not your bitch.