Writing "Worn at the Edges"

 BASSICS The letter had been unexpected.  Through it I learned that I had been left a property in the town of Stow-on-the-Wold in the UK. It had belonged to someone called Angie Beauchamp. This Angie Beauchamp had died without family and she left me her worldly goods. Well, some of them, at least.  "Is this a scam?" I thought. You see, as a Professor of Cyber Security and consulting Cyber Security Architect, I spent a lot of my time warning people about this sort of "grift," Social Engineering aimed at people who thought that maybe this time, finally, the Universe had listened. It took me a while to convince myself that this was something else. Or, to put it another way, it took me a while to realize that Angie Beauchamp was not a stranger. Or, she hadn't been..  The name hadn't exactly rung a bell at first. It was a French sounding surname and that threw me. Beauchamp added a kind of air of nobility that seemed possibly fictional and definitely unfamiliar. ...

 THE WAY BACK DOWN I knew that there would be a lot of walking when I ultimately decided to accept the invitation to go to England. Now, with anesthesia mask over my face, the surgery bed at my back was feeling softer and the decision to take the trip faded as I went under.  I had put off this knee surgery for years and it had taken multiple doctor visits, insurance forms and EKGs to finally get it scheduled. I decided to put off the trip for a few months and to get this done. In the meantime, a property manager for the estate was hired at my direction by the attorney for the estate. It is not so much the going up that hurts in mountain climbing. Years of daily running, lifting heavy objects (remember to bend at the knees), tennis quick starts and stops, football, baseball, basketball, soccer, kickboxing, Downhills and descents after climbs can make a dent, even to a marvel of Nature's making. I emulated miler Sebastian Coe (later to become a Member of Parliament) in my downhi...

GIVE ME A TICKET As his eyes blinked open to the soft gray light seeping through the curtains, the details of the dream began to fade, replaced by the familiar contours of his bedroom: the light from the bathroom skylight, the bedside lamp and the digital clock that read 5:37. He stretched his stiff limbs and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The old ache in his knees had mostly retreated with the knee replacement surgeries. But this morning it greeted him like an old friend. He moved through his morning routine with the same quiet precision he always did: a cup of strong black coffee, meditating in the small bedroom sauna to keep his joints loose, a series of stretches and crunches to remind his body it was still alive, an hour of yard work under the rising sun, the smell of fresh-cut grass mingling with the scent of damp earth. Only then, when he felt the familiar pang of hunger, did he allow himself breakfast. Later, as he rode his golf cart down to the mailbox, the dream ret...

APNEA The old man awoke with the fading edges of a dream still clinging to him like the last wisps of morning mist. In the dream, he had been standing on a hill, a letter in his hand, overlooking a landscape dotted with sparse stone houses, their chimneys whispering threads of smoke into the cold sky. Below, the fields stretched out in shades of green and brown, sheep grazing lazily as if unaware of his presence. There had been a sense of waiting, a pause in the world, and he could not shake the feeling that the letter he held was heavier than paper, heavier than any words it might contain.

PADDYWHACK Once upon a time there was a particular old man who lived the most boring life in the universe. That man rarely left his pre-manufactured home except to see the doctor or buy groceries or maybe play a little tennis. He gardened less now that the raised bed was gone. Sometimes the grass was overgrown and the flowerbeds were full of weeds.  He lived in the Villages - the original part of the Villages that started as a mobile home park and became the birthplace of a retirement empire. Florida was a big change after a lifetime of moving to new houses and traveling to foreign lands. But, after exposure through his wife Susan, her family and friends, it had grown on him. Now it was the setting for his post-employment retired life.  You may have formed some impressions of the place without ever visiting. Truly, it wasn’t so bad. Its streets saw traffic that was mostly golf carts. Behind the house was a comfortable porch and a great view of the Orange Blossom golf course. T...

A recent trip to London and the Cotswolds gave me some time to relax and to think about starting a new writing project. Actually, long periods of sitting on airplanes are not always relaxing. But for me, having spent so much time flying, where the number of distractions are severely limited, the sky has become a place where the ideas just flow.