A Very Good Read......................

I picked up a pretty darn good book a few days ago and am about 1/2 of the way through it. The title just about says it all:

Absinthe & Flamethrowers
projects and ruminations on the art of living dangerously

By: William Gurstelle

Not only do the projects sound very interesting and fun, the book is very thought provoking. It explores the need that some people have to sometimes do dangerous things.

Pick up a copy and give it a try.

What A Beautiful Sight...................

I've been sitting on the front porch admiring that absolutely gorgeous full moon tonight. I'm reminded of the old gypsy woman in the movie from 1941, The Wolfman, and the poem that she recited:

Even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night,
May become a wolf, when the wolfsbane blooms,
And the moon is full and bright............

Catch Up Time..............

I've been doing quite a bit since the beginning of the New Year. Not enough time to make blog entries and do all the other stuff that has been getting my attention too. In January, I went on several road trips as well as a trip to a primitive rendezvous in Florida when I stayed in a canvas tent for 8 days. It was interesting to say the least. I picked up a bunch of raw materials for various projects I have in mind to do and I also picked up a stock and barrel for a flint-lock rifle I have planned out in my head. It will be a very simple, semi-plain weapon, 45 caliber modeled after an original I saw in a book covering North Carolina muzzle loading rifles.

While I have done a bunch of restoration work as well as modifications on Muzzle loaders over the years, this will be the first time I have ever tried to put all the pieces together and make a functioning firearm. It should be interesting and a good ride on my learning curve. I will even try to document my progress with posted pictures (I know Mac, this is useless without photos) but I will have to remember how to do it first. So bear with me.

Of course, I will have various road trips coming up, several orders to fill, and I am going to introduce my best buddy, Ms. Nancy to the art and mystery of horn work, to include engraving and carving. I can't wait to see what she can get accomplished since she has a wonderful eye and I think, a bunch of untapped talent just below the surface.

Now, lets see how it goes.

Getting In The Proper Spirit For St. Patrick's Day.............

So this man walks into a bar in Dublin with a package in his hands. The bartender, notices him while wiping down the bar and ask the man, "What do you have there lad?" The man replies "Three kilos of Semtex" The bartender smiles and says "Praise be to the Lord. For a minute there, I thought you had a Bohran."

(grin)

Ta Daaaaaaaa..........

O.K. at long last, I can spill my guts. I finished up two knives and they were delivered to the parties so let me tell you about them.

The first went to my blog step-daddy, Jay G. It seems that he has been bit by the Highlander bug and was kitting himself out with kilt and all the other accouterments. While he was reviewing his list o' stuff, he mentioned to my buddy, Ms. Nancy that he was going to get a Sgian Dubh the traditional "black knife" of the highlands. But the fly in the buttermilk was that he was looking at a PLASTIC copy. Friends, a plastic knife is like a Non-alcoholic beer, what's the point? (pun intended) Some time back I had been involved in a a bit of swapping and had picked up a Sgian Dubh that had been tossed in to sweeten the deal I was working on. Now all I had to do is figure out what I had did with it. After a archeological dig in my study/junk room I located it but also discovered that a container of browning solution had leaked on it, corroding the mounts and turning it several different colors. A trip down to my shop corrected those problems and Jay was very pleased with the results.

The second went to Ms. Breda, the world's most dangerous librarian. Again, I heard from Ms. Nancy that Breda was contemplating doing a wee bit of living history/renfair stuff, so knowing that she has a affection for knives I figured that she might like a middle age period style of knife. I had a blade I thought would work well, I turned out a horn grip and put it together with a poured pewter ferrule and a silver buttplate. It is very similar to knives that have been dated to the late 1300's to the early 1400's. I knocked out a leather belt scabbard and it was good to go. Again, I believe Ms. Breda was pleased with the result.

I enjoy turning out knives and this has given me a chance to get a few of my creations to people I respect and admire. Plus it makes more room for other creations that are currently floating around in the "rat nest" I call my brain. (grin)

Oh yeah, one more thing. If you ever get a knife from me, as a "gift" it will also come with a penny. My people are hill people, with deep roots from the north of Ireland, Ulster to be specific. I am not a overly superstitious person, but I figure, why tempt fate? The penny is because you NEVER gift a person with a knife, or it will cut a friendship. That's why I always ask for the penny back, thus you are "buying" the knife. Sounds silly, but it's the way I roll.

All's Quiet On The Western Front.................

It's been remarkably quiet around the Casa W.

Been doing a great deal of running up and down the road, between visits with good friends and reenactments I have been away more than I've been around and the writing muses just haven't caught up to me yet. I have several projects I've been working on, but can't release any details until the parties involved are notified. I know it sounds a bit "secret squirrel" but it's a surprise for some people so I will keep my mouth shut. I will spill the beans in a wee bit. (grin)

More later................

Christmas Eve and Day.......

Back in the days when I was still working, I was a cop and I worked more holidays than I can remember. I never really minded, the long suffering and sainted Mrs. W and I never had any kids so Christmas to a small degree lacked a certain magic. Plus it gave me a chance to help out the guys and gals that worked with me who DID have kids to fill in for them. (plus getting time and a half didn't hurt one bit.)

A friend of mine sent this to me, I liked it, some of the folks I sent it to liked it also, so I thought I would share it with you all.

Again, a very Merry Christmas to you all!

In Valor There is Hope

Working Christmas Eve

In 1968 when I became a Cop, I knew there would be special occasions my family would spend without me. Knowing that fact didn't make the task any easier. The celebrations I missed those first year's depressed me and sometimes made me feel bitter. Working on Christmas Eve was always the worst.

On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that blessings can come disguised as misfortune, and honor is more than just a word.

I was riding one-man patrol on the 4×12 shift. The night was cold. Everywhere I looked I saw reminders of the holiday: families packing their cars with presents, beautifully decorated trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny sleighs. It all added to my holiday funk.

The evening had been relatively quiet; there were calls for barking dogs and a residential false burglar alarm. There was nothing to make the night pass any quicker. I thought of my own family and sunk further into depression.

Shortly after 2200 hours I got a radio call to the home of an elderly, terminally ill man. I parked my patrol car in front of a simple cape cod style home. First aid kit in hand, I walked up the short path to the front door. As I approached, a woman who seemed to be about 80 years old opened the door. He's in here she said, leading me to a back bedroom.

We passed through a living room that was furnished in a style I had come to associate with older people. The sofa has an afghan blanket draped over it's back and a dark, solid, Queen Anne chair sat next to an unused fireplace. The mantle was cluttered with an eccentric mix of several photos, some ceramic figurines and an antique clock. A floor lamp provided soft lighting.

We entered a small bedroom where a frail looking man lay in bed with a blanket pulled up to his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal face. His breathing was shallow and labored. He was barely alive.

The trappings of illness lay all around his bed. The nightstand was littered with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle stood nearby. Its plastic hose, with facemask attached rested on the blanket.

I asked the old woman why she called the police. She simply shrugged and nodded sadly toward her husband, indicating it was his request. I looked at him and he stared intently into my eyes. He seemed relaxed now. I didn't understand the suddenly calm expression on his face. I looked around the room again. A dresser stood along the wall to the left of the bed. On it was the usual memorabilia: ornate perfume bottles, a white porcelain pin case, and a wooden jewelry case. There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my eye and I walked closer to the dresser for a closer look. The picture showed a young man dressed in a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of the man in bed. I knew then why I was there.

I looked at the old man and he motioned with his hand toward the side of the bed. I walked over and stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand. Soon, I felt his hand go limp. I looked at his face. There was no fear there. I saw only peace.

He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very near. I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted the protection of a fellow cop on his journey. A caring God had seen to it that his child would be delivered safely to him. The honor of being his escort fell to me.

When I left at the end of my tour that night, the temperature had seemed to have risen considerably, and all the holiday displays I saw on the way home made me smile.

I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve. I have chosen an honorable profession. I pray that when it's my turn to leave this world here will be a Cop there to hold my hand and remind me that I have nothing to fear.

I wish all my brothers and sisters who have to work this Christmas Eve all the Joy and warmth of the Season.