Rigel

Just to note, aside from plot: This chapter is written in an interesting style--more poetic than narrative. The unique ways each character looks at the happenings of the trip and the peculiar comments each of them makes creates an entertaining mode of storytelling. A good chance for LB to show off his writing skills!

I need to put in a plug for New Haven pizza--a Neapolitan-style pizza prepared in a very hot coal-fired oven with char on the crust. Actually, it's apizza (pronounced ah-BEETZ). It's the pizza of where I grew up in Connecticut. When I was a child many decades ago, pizza hadn't yet caught on as a common food in America; it was still a strange Italian ethnic food, and to encourage others to try it, apizzerias back then often offered the explanation "tomato pie" to help explain it to the uninitiated. DIfferent cheeses (including mozzarella) are available, but they are optional and must be requested.

Great story. I love it when ghosts aren't merely the spooks of a jump tale, but three-dimensional spirits with histories and the ability for emotions. After all, Halloween is a time when the barriers are thin between the spirit world and the one we live in, and thinking about crossing that line is easiest then. I remember one visitation late in the middle of the night on Halloween, someone sitting on my bed, near the foot on the left side. It was several days later that I got a phone call and learned that my good friend had been killed Halloween night when the car he was riding in as a passenger crashed into a lamppost. I did the arithmetic to adjust for time zones, and nodded my head, because the timing worked out. We had been members of a singing group for many years, and learned how to breathe together--or rather, not together--so that the notes could sustain themselves through our sneak breaths. Shared breathing was truly an intimate relationship, and I'm convinced he stopped by to sit silently on the foot of my bed and say good-bye. My alma mater boarding school had at least two ghosts; one was a Revolutionary-war-era tavern wench who had been (as investigations during a later building renovation discovered) buried in or beneath the basement. The other was a beloved faculty member who committed suicide just a couple of years before I arrived, an English teacher, the school organist, and also a trained Sanskrit scholar who decided that his time to reach Nirvana had come. I accidentally reincarnated him while practicing Eastern meditation in a different room in that same building--the chapel, which had been his favorite room. So this story brought back fond memories as well as giving me a good hour or two of enjoyment at a well-crafted tale.

Ah, for the days gone by, when you lived close enough that I could take you out for an Ethiopian dinner. SInce then, that particular restaurant has closed, but it's been replaced by more than a dozen new Ethiopian places in the immediate neighborhood.

This is the best chapter so far. All of the plot developments have been well discussed so far, but it was while reading the segment of the broken glass in the kitchen that I realized how well written this story is. Not just the clever plotting and the deep character developments that have me worried in a personal way about the fates of the protagonists, but the style and poetry in the way you write it. I've noticed some small flaws in details; for example, it's not until almost seven that Nick gets an update on Jack and he and his Mom are ready to go home, but by then the sunrise you describe would long have been past (particularly in early summer when the sun comes up early, by 6 am even in Michigan in the westernmost part of the Eastern Time Zone). But nitpicking is irrelevant in a story so well crafted. Of course, I can't wait to see what happens next!

As someone who went to a prep school (albeit in New England rather than Michigan), it doesn't strike me as particularly odd. I still remember the final exam essay question from History 2B: "Is man's attitude toward war or peace a question of nature or nurture? Back up your ideas with citations from this semester's readings." After i graduated, the classes were dealing with then-current theories of deconstructionism. We got to do history using primary sources and multiple historians' interpretations rather than textbooks. I can't speak for what's been/being taught in public schools, though.

Here's a song that's almost an entire GA short story unto itself. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVQ-zXG_qXc

What if the Pleiades symbol references not a star cluster in the sky, but seven sisters?

The slow and methodical excavation of artifacts that carefully documents their siting contexts can seem like tedious work--although it's often performed by a team of diggers who provide social companionship for one another and keep each other entertained. The most fun part is the opportunity for speculation of what you've found. Yes, the scholars need to temper the possibilities against history and scholarly literature when they publish, but in the meanwhile, fun flights of fancy can run rampant through the diggers' imaginations, who are often volunteers in it for the enjoyment. It's also fun to see what becomes of your efforts as layers of theories gel into history. I remember returning to a site in Israel decades after digging there during a few weeks of summer vacation when I was a college student, fascinated by an elaborate city and underground water-storage reservoir that later generations had unearthed. And the camp and dining hall where we had been housed as volunteers had morphed into a wedding hall and venue.

Fascinating story thus far. It brings me back to the archaeological explorations of my high school and college days (not in Germany, but in Connecticut and then Israel). And I looked up "Sonnenobservatorium Goseck" on the web, and found pictures of not only the solar observatory, but the Nebra Sky Disk. Now I know what the things look like! https://www.himmelswege.de/ The Nebra Sky Disk: https://www.landesmuseum-vorgeschichte.de/en/nebra-sky-disc.html#&gid=lightbox-group-901&pid=0 --Rigel p.s. -- Love the music of J.S. Bach! He's a perfect introduction for anybody who doesn't think he likes classical (or actually, baroque) music. Start with Brandenburg Concerto #3. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLj_gMBqHX8

Dagnabbit! I'll never be able to listen to that song again without thinking of "bears"!

The song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSGTND0aFeI As sung by Gordon Bok, Ed Trickett, and Ann Mayo Muir Originally released as Folk Legacy FSI-110, now available through Smithsonian Folkways. My introduction to the song was either through these folks, or Sandy and Caroline Paton, who ran Folk Legacy Records.

Glad that you're back after a long absence. I look forward to reading the continuation of your tale. You've got a wonderful premise for a good story.

I'm awestruck by the economy of writing and elegance with which you wrapped up this tale. We got to see Avery finally accepting the family relationship with Bill and Anna, and realizing that they really do care for him (which no doubt contributes to his ease with himself and his ability to grow into a good, secure adulthood). Joseph's police comrades are perfectly accepting of his gayness and his wedding to Orson. O, sunny day, indeed! Harlan gets to show that he's a good person at heart, despite his mobster origins, through his help to Lee. And that it's a recommendation for an acquaintance like an ordinary person, rather than an enforceable order, came through. And Lee and Avery have both matured, showing themselves capable of an independent life, and they are set up for a realistic continued relationship, even perhaps the hint of a possible (though not proven) happy-ever-after ending. --Rigel, who wants to get back to the redwood forests of the Smith River valley one of these years (which is quite a tribute, because he doesn't often need to go back to places he's already been to, albeit decades ago)--but he'll see the area with new eyes thanks to the characters of Camp Refuge

I was always fascinated by the deep thought that went into her writing, probably not so surprising given that her parents, Alfred and Theodora Kroeber, were a couple of very famous anthropologists in California and she grew up with Ishi, the last Indian of his Yahi tribe, whom her parents studied. Always Coming Home was a completely fictional anthropological textbook her parents would have been proud of, and its greatest joy may that it introduced me to a tense in English I had never previously encountered, about a tribe that "might be going to have lived a long, long time from now in Northern California." (future perfect conditional?) --Rigel

Some of the t-shirts offered by the place get truly weird! https://uranusmissouri.com/uranus-t-shirts/

I love the idea of a mass pee-in (or is it a piss-off?)! They can call the action "Void Where Prohibited." --Rigel

This obsession with pi is irrational! But there's no end to it.

Wonderful chapter! I'm curious--Zander's bus coming home being delayed by snow echoes this past weekend's news of the Duquesne University basketball team and Temple University gymnastic team being stranded by snow on the Pennsylvania Turnpike for almost 24 hours. Is this just happenstance, or did the news have anything to do with the way the chapter was written? It almost seems like current events barging their way into the fictional story! I loved Nonna. She reminds me a little of the character played by Olympia Dukakis in Moonstruck--an old woman worrying so sympathetically about the love life of her children and grandchildren, with spot-on advice from the ages. And it seemed like Andy was such a cautious driver that Monica might, for the first time, be at ease with a teen-age vehicle operator. Looking forward to the next chapter... --Rigel

Some of the most wonderful double entendres! Loved this chapter! Thank you for writing it. --RIgel

At last, Andy seems to be running toward instead of running from: A major development, in both Andy's mind and the story plot. I can second Oxala's comments below (or above?) about the skill of the writing of this chapter, successfully conveying perfectly both the behavior and thoughts of a socially-awkward first-time partygoer and pool-player, and the gentle symbolism of stopping at the state line and turning of the year as a place and time for Andy's turn-around. Looking forward to next installment!

I finished reading this story a few weeks ago, but the subsequent statements of the LDS church on gays have brought my mind back to it. The new rules ostracizing the children of Mormon parents in a same-sex relationship until they (1) reach the age of majority and then (2) denounce their parents' relationship put me in mind of Chris's situation in your story. Almost all the reading of the news articles I did was filtered by memories of your story. Congratulations on telling a tale that's not only a good story, but very timely. --Rigel

It's long overdue for an update of the story of Jay and Scott and the "Pastel Warrior." Just a modest kick from an eager reader impatiently awaiting further chapters. (After all, you did promise that you would finish the story this time.) Hoping all is well in your non-writing world of real life. --Rigel

I remember Trebs organizing a GA gathering when he and Dan came to DC for the first inauguration of Barack Obama back in January of 2009. Trebs was a great organizer of things, and put together a dinner at a restaurant in Union Station. It was unusually cold that weekend, and the cold leaked into the atrium of the station where the cafe was located, but the warmth of the gathered crowd (assisted by a few sweaters and vests) defeated the cold of the weather. He and DK were very much in love at the time, and as a local resident who knew the town, I remember showing them around the shops of the station, where they purchased amethyst bling for each other. Happy memories of someone who only got to meet him in person that once... Hard to believe someone so young, vital, and important is gone. --Rigel

Nice story! I just discovered it this weekend. Your English is very good--I'm surprised to learn that it isn't your regular language, and even more so that you've never been to the United States or any other English-speaking country. I'm the kind of person who catches geographical inconsistencies, and your presentation of Albany, N.Y. hasn't presented any really serious incongruities with the real Albany. The only odd note for me is that the level of Mr. Adams's anti-gay rhetoric seems a little extreme for someone in politics in Albany. I go to a gathering every June in Albany (actually, one of its suburbs), and two years ago, the crowd cheered loudly on Friday night when news came that the New York state legislature had just passed same-sex marriage. Most New York Republicans I know aren't quite as socially conservative as Republicans in other parts of the U.S. Don't let that bother you for the purposes of telling your story, though. Maybe the Republicans I know temper their speech when they're in the presence of Democrats and other liberals. And Mr. Adams may well be venting his personal homophobia in the privacy of his home rather than letting it be known among his constituents. I particularly like that both Jacob and Joshua, in the process of having to fake being the other, come to work on their weaknesses--Joshua's problems deriving from his introverted personality, and Jacob's problems from not wanting to pay attention in class. I wonder whether it's Josh or Jacob who will goof in their behavior and lead to discovery of the switch. Even more than that, I wonder how the set of twins was broken up for adoption--were the Adamses responsible for adopting only one of the two twins? The Bakers don't strike me as the sort of folks who would have broken up a pair and adopted only one twin. Or is there another explanation? It's one of the revelations I eagerly await in a future chapter. Looking forward to the next chapter(s)...