A Local’s Summer Reading – Atlantic City Proof

 

Quincy Avenue is a beach where anything can happen. Without knowing its history, you might never guess this secret. Swimming on Quincy Avenue is officially prohibited by Margate City … at least during regular hours. It’s been that way my entire life. Instead, Quincy Avenue is the surfing beach, and also the spot where Hobie Cats and ocean rigs of more recent vintage like Windsurf boards, Paddle boards, and Kite boards are launched.

But harkening to my childhood, Quincy Avenue was the place where living legends roamed … these island folk were always doing “crazy” things as defined by most people. Joel Fogel and Chris Gilmore (along with Margot) come to mind, but there were others. These few stick, because from about the time when I was four years old and onward, I watched each summer as they lived life their way. Joel was always appearing like a bronzed native with only his “sock” to protect everyone else’s modesty. He would constantly venture into some new manner of craft to ride or sail above the waves. His ocean kayak skills were beyond everyone, and nobody can forget the flying boat! His exploits traveling the wilds of the world were inspirational, and it’s a safe bet that he still continues to seek such experiences.

Chris was tall, lean, gentle spoken, and with flowing locks (later gray) … and at first glance, he seemed like he would blow over in a stiff breeze. This fragile impression was obliterated once you saw him in action. Chris would pilot his Hobie Cat standing on the trampoline or the sidebar in most any wind, regardless of whether the boat was tipped on one pontoon. He was poetry in motion, shooting waves in and out of the surf with a casual mastery that I have yet to see repeated by anyone. Back then, I had just finished reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. I remember imagining Chris on his Hobie as Gandalf riding the skies on Gwaihir the Windlord, greatest of the Middle Earth eagles. Chris also served me my first Littleneck clam to taste; freshly harvested and cooked over a beach fire pit near the crumbling cement footers of the once-boardwalk on Quincy—remnants from the ’44 and ’62 storms. It might have been a Fourth of July, a Labor Day, or maybe he had just picked that day for a beach bonfire—I don’t remember. But I do recall the welcoming smile Chris broke into as he told me to try the clam and not to burn my mouth on the shell. It was salty, chewier than I expected, no butter, straight from the ocean … all good. I ate half-a-dozen more over the next hour.

These local legends all had an intangible quality … the “you know it when you see it” factor, and that was most evident when they interacted with the Atlantic. Chris, however, was also a writer. And in the summer of ’79—29 years to this very day—he presented my mom with a signed copy of his novel, Atlantic City Proof. Mom is not the easiest person to get along with for anyone outside our family. She is an introvert, old-fashioned, a gardener and not a fan of silliness that might lead to inner revelation. While Mom doesn’t always shine, I think over the years many people have pegged her wrong. Regardless, she always had an undeniable respect and an unspoken fondness for these Quincy Avenue denizens, and perhaps some of them knew this.

And so, we come to that day long ago, when a knock sounded on our front door in the midst of a cloudy summer day. It was Chris, and I recall Mom inviting him into the foyer. Dad was at the hospital making rounds on his patients. Chris had a book under his arm. I don’t know why he chose that particular day for his gift, but sitting in our living room he explained that Atlantic City Proof was a fictional adventure tale of two young characters—Minnie Creek and Garvey Leek—set during Absecon Island’s rumrunner past. He gave Mom the book, and she congratulated him. The inscription was: “Sweet sailing, Carol, I hope this book always brings fond memories – Love, Christopher Cook Gilmore, 10 July, 1979.”

 

As Chris left our house, it started to rain. Mom saw me at the dining room table, and immediately handed me the book. I flipped to its first page, and as I happened upon the mention of Lucy the Elephant, I was hooked. I finished the book two days later. For an island kid, whose babysitter was the back bay and the beach, and whose grandfather retold events from Atlantic City’s Prohibition Era, I related to almost every reference in the novel. From clam digging in the bay, to boat engines, to Captain Frye trying to arrest Minnie and Garvey, it all made sense. Heck, I often saw the real Captain Frye at the Margate City Yacht Club where I learned to sail—then a ramshackle bayfront home with docks, a crane, and a marsh-weed sandlot filled with dolly-tied Sunfish, Lasers, and GPs. Whether there was any truth to Captain Frye’s Coast Guard days patrolling for rumrunners, I cannot say, but this tanned, white-haired, suspender-wearing mariner had wrinkles in his wrinkles, and always kept a seafaring tool box nearby. Anyway, about a week after reading Chris’s book, I had the opportunity to tell Chris how much I loved it. The exchange was barely 30 seconds, as I had stopped him on the beach as he was headed to rig his Hobie. I remember his warmth and kindness, and the twinkle in his eyes when his long hair wasn’t blowing across his face.

As the years flew by, I had less encounters with Chris and the others as I became a beach lifeguard on Margate’s south end, and eventually disappeared to college and law school. Chris passed in 2004, and while as a child I sensed how unique he was, I never had the chance to talk with him as a man. I’m also a very different person now, at the beginning of my middle age, than I was as a younger man. I’m more open to life, to philosophy, and to dreams of a new reality. I often contemplate such matters as I sit with family on Quincy Avenue beach. I’ve also got a crew of friends who always return there, and it was an offhand remark at dinner with them this week regarding Chris’s book that awakened these memories. And so, I pulled Chris’s novel from Mom’s bookcase, and gave it a relook. For those of you who miss him or want to meet this Quincy Avenue legend, he’s alive in the pages of Atlantic City Proof. His book is a perfect choice for idle summer reading. Therein, you might also discover a bit of old-school Jersey Shore magic, as well as the invisible ties that unite my generation of island locals.

Good journey, Chris, and to others who have crossed. You too, Pop.

W.L. Hoffman

 

The Soulstealer War and The Pathway to Dragons – Book Expo / Book Con 2018 Roundup!

Waking pre-dawn to log the long drive each morning, and then returning late night exhausted, but oddly exhilarated, it was an honor to be an Exhibitor at this year’s Book Expo / Book Con! If you are launching a new book, you can’t miss this Show of Shows. Thus, the next installment of my fantasy and sci-fi series, The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm, carried me to New York City this past week. The Javits Center spectacle can be daunting, and it didn’t help that I was exercising rusty “Show” muscles. But what the heck, I always prefer the deep end of the pool!

I love writing about the Realm of Weir – the characters, the creatures, the cultures, the folklore, the languages, the songs – but as an author, I also love meeting the readers. Give me a conversation, and I’m hooked. I come to the Booth with an open mind. This means I don’t care who you are (and usually I can’t tell until 10 minutes into a conversation anyway). Sure, I’m there as the point man for the Realms (Weir and my daughter’s Pyranis), but I also want to hear your story, your business, and your interests. Just as I sometimes delve into the nature of true magic (see my website), the only way a nexus will manifest is by letting the flow occur. I look for awareness in the folks who cross my path, and brief eye contact sends me into a flurry of possibilities. This flight of fancy then lands on firmer ground once the conversation begins.

Book Expo was heavy on people seeking swag, signings, and freebies, and there is a balance to be struck. The Show doesn’t really want you to be selling, but you can take orders and fulfill them amazingly fast! And there is always karma; I give away a fair share of books for goodwill and to see what the Universe will manifest. My Booth was by chance a stone’s throw from the big players – Simon & Shuster, Baker & Taylor, Ingram, IPG, etc. – and I was a wee minnow in that sea, but there was an abundance of synergy. I met foreign licensing contacts, reviewers, librarians, printers, buyers, publishers, literary agents, marketers, translators, artists, designers, social media experts, radio folks, podcasters, authors (aspiring and established) and a few other wild cards. All good. This is a marathon, and not a sprint. I will abide; everything unfolds in due time.

Book Con was the exact opposite of the industry insiders – finally, the public! Here be readers of the genres that are my passion, and possibly dragons too! Teenage girls and women dominated the crowd. I’m talking 80% as a rough guess. That was a surprise, but live and learn. There are too many wonderful encounters to detail, but here’s a few favorites:

To the young women who live near the Appalachian Trail with the software coder who will find my website’s hidden access portals (without hacking it to shreds as promised) … your group rocks!

To the pregnant mom who is an aspiring author – my hopes that you put one foot in front of the other and take the road less traveled – get your writing out there! This advice was a common theme as I met many unpublished authors, and I was happy to impart what wisdom (and foolishness) I could. I’ve been there. I get it.

To Meg-a-Watt – thank you for a great conversation on fantasy, sci-fi and life. At first, I thought you said you were Megatron … then you added the “Queen Bee” to clarify, and I still apologized because that didn’t mean anything to me. Finally, you said you were LitBuzz, and helped further my information gap with discussion on how you began and grew that endeavor.

To purple-haired Kristin and her dad – your spark is bright enough to set the world on fire – and that you read my book (and Hannah’s) that night after buying them, and loved them, and came back to tell me the next day at the Booth … there is no more amazing way to start a day as an author!

To the man who was pushing his niece in a stroller, who was dragged to Book Con with his girlfriend and who never picks up books, let alone reads them … it was my privilege to hand you Book One and Two. The real reward was your girlfriend’s joy watching your willingness to venture into her world, and the long embrace you two shared a booth away.

To Tim, the bow-tied literary guy, who now knows that my alter-ego wears a vest with a pocket watch, often topped in a worn Stetson hat, thank you for the chat and your advice on my Boris Vallejo/Julie Bell front cover banner.

To Janine, author of The Puzzle Quests: Shimmer’s Eggs (and other books), whose son succumbed to cancer – your story is inspirational and our conversation will stay with me.

To the librarians and teachers – there were so many – I wish I could have given you more free copies of Hannah’s middle school chapter book The Pathway to Dragons: The Portal to Pyranis – you have one of the hardest, thankless and yet, most important careers on the planet! That cannot be said enough.

To the group of three teen girls who had their Mikey (a classic commercial, where one brother serves as the guinea pig for tasting a new cereal – and the girls had no clue on this dated reference) be the designated reader for any new book series – that you returned a short while after buying Book One to tell me that during the Show you read the first 50 pages and loved it, that the writing was awesome – thank you for that thoughtful gift.

To my immediate Booth neighbors on either side of the Show floor – Cameron and Rebecca the jewelry gurus of Stern Design Works, and to Anne Wheaton (Piggy and Pug children’s book author) with her outgoing publicist Susan Peters – your cheerful company was an unexpected pleasure!

Though not a meeting, I need to give a shout-out to Dog Ear Publishing and founder Ray Robinson – your support during the Show was invaluable. And indeed, another Dog Ear author stopped by my Booth for conversation.

Also, to Amy and Julie from Reed Exhibition, and Scott from Freeman – your assistance helped make my Show experience a success, and the Booth “check-ins” were greatly appreciated.

Finally, as a reminder, a portion of our book proceeds are donated to The NJ Center for Tourette Syndrome, Special Strides, and The Bridge of Books Foundation. Any additional support you can provide to these worthwhile charities will make a difference!

With utmost gratitude to all of you,

W.L. Hoffman – breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve!

Author of The Soulstealer War (and other tales) – www.WLHoffman.com
Proud Father of the Author of The Pathway to Dragons –  www.HannahBrookeHoffman.com

The Soulstealer War – Finally on NOOK in E-Pub Format and Discounted!

There’s a master blacksmith at the NJ RenFaire who forges serious weapons… truly artistic and elegant battle steel. At our last few “hail and hearty” greetings, besides testing a blade or two, and chatting of things metal, he has asked me in earnest, “Bill, when will The Soulstealer War be available in E-Pub format?”

After much angst, of which I will spare everyone, you can now purchase The Soulstealer War on Nook in E-Pub format! This version is priced at a 50% discount from the hard copy… for a limited period.

As a reminder, my work remains available on Kindle, Amazon, B&N and at various independent shops.

My author “to-do” list now includes completing the Audiobook version, as well as the next installment of the series – The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm. Yes, I know folks expected this earlier… thus, let me part with simple words of wisdom from the esteemed poet Robert Burns:

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men, Gang aft agley…”

With gratitude,

W.L. Hoffman – breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve.

Hurricane Sandy – Update 6 – Princeton and Atlantic City, NJ Regions

For those not familiar, I am a fantasy and sci-fi author currently working on Book II of The Soulstealer War. While that series is fiction, this account of Hurricane Sandy is not. It is an e-mail update (#6 – scroll down and read Updates 1-5 first as they are in chronological order) that I provided to concerned friends and family, so the writing style is clipped. I live with my wife and two daughters in the Princeton, NJ region and my mother lives in Margate City, NJ (beach block) on the same barrier island as Atlantic City.

Storm Update #6 – Written Tuesday morning, more than a week after Hurricane Sandy – 11/6/12

Margate City: Not much to add… it’s a mess. Clean-up at the Shore continues, and incoming weather will exacerbate the problems. Mom is energized, edgy and emotional – can’t imagine why. I’ll drive down this weekend if she needs me.

Princeton: Power was finally restored on Sunday. I sent the promised Text messages to all those neighbors that had left for greener pastures. House by house, life returned. We are lucky. My understanding is that several hundred thousand PSEG New Jersey customers remain in the dark, including people in our township. This was also confirmed by an informal poll at school yesterday. The teachers had gathered the children to discuss storm experiences, and one of the questions related to how many were still without power. My wife reported about 25% raised their hands – the school had invited parents to stay for coffee and assurance that everything was safe. The estimate from PSEG is that everyone in our township should have power by Friday. For those counting, that would be twelve days from Hurricane Sandy’s landfall! Consider that reality next time someone mentions storm preparations.

The load of firewood that I requested on Saturday was delivered around noon Sunday. It was the largest “cord” of wood that I have ever seen…  I greeted the contractor warmly, offered coffee and overpaid for the emergency service. I then sorted and stacked for the next few hours. After that, I scooped the mounting ash from our fireplace (it went into our mulch pile), and then reloaded it with kindling and fresh logs – an old habit – I like it ready for the match after each use. During this time, my wife ferried the girls to quilting lessons and pottery. Gas lines at the local borough stations were fairly short – though we are still under the odd/even rationing order. As you travel to the main highways and north of here – gas remains an issue.

In the late afternoon, I serviced and filled the genny, and then stowed it in the garage. The five gallon safety cans will be topped off with gas today. That Nor’easter is coming, and I won’t lay odds on whether the shaken power systems in our area will hold.

On Monday, I finished returning the house systems to their pre-storm configuration. Cable is still down, but so what… we don’t watch much TV anyway. Work – yes I do have a job – once the Internet Wifi was operating as well as the office phone and my desktop computer… I began the process of catching-up on client communications and transactions. I also phoned my youngest brother at his office in New York City, and to my surprise, discovered that his entire team had procured a U-Haul, filled it with food, blankets, toiletries, etc., and had driven to Queens for direct distribution to folks. Well done little brother.

Halloween had been rescheduled for Monday night. My heart wasn’t into it, but our daughters were so looking forward to the costumes and fun. We all got dressed, and we were joined by another young girl who lives a few miles away – her dad was out of town. I took care of the shuttle service. I told the girls not to expect much and that we would only knock on houses with an obvious welcome mat. I also let them know that we would reverse the tradition in part – I was giving away light glow sticks (12-hour green chemical version) and a bottles of wine for a handful of close neighbors. The night was abbreviated, but we had a nice time after all. I spoke with every family (renewing ties and asking as to status) and then dispersed them gifts. We all needed a break.

This morning, I have one eye focused on work, and the other on that Nor’easter. A penetrating rain with 50 mph wind gusts is not the prescription we were hoping to hear. Later today, we will take the girls to Vote as a family. They know about the Constitution and our voting system… we also discuss candidates and their parties – Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Tea, Green, Constitutional, etc., and even write-in possibilities. I make no prediction as to the Election outcome, and I truly wish for peace regardless of who wins.

The switch has been flipped – we have grid power – and yet, the events of this past week have made an indelible mark. Things aren’t normal. Folks are discussing house-wide generators, food supplies, solar energy systems, and water sources. Fireplaces that were either non-functional or which served as little more than interior decoration, are being inspected for duty. I don’t anticipate these sentiments will last… it’s so easy to fall into society’s Lotus-flower sleep… but for the moment, I’m encouraged.

With gratitude.

W.L. Hoffman

Hurricane Sandy – Update 5 – Princeton and Atlantic City, NJ Regions

For those not familiar, I am a fantasy and sci-fi author currently working on Book II of The Soulstealer War. While that series is fiction, this account of Hurricane Sandy is not. It is an e-mail update (#5 – scroll down and read Updates 1-4 first as they are in chronological order) that I provided to concerned friends and family, so the writing style is clipped. I live with my wife and two daughters in the Princeton, NJ region and my mother lives in Margate City, NJ (beach block) on the same barrier island as Atlantic City.

Storm Update #5 – Written Sunday morning, almost a week after Hurricane Sandy – 11/4/12

Relationships. They matter more than ever in an emergency. Yesterday, we burned through the decent firewood. We are now down to the rot. Before Sandy, I had contacted a landscaper to remove this stuff to make space for a new load. However, it fell to the wayside, in part because I had other priorities, and also because I was using this junk wood in our backyard fire pit. I logged in a call to the contractor who had provided us with firewood for the last seven years – his Fall advertisement was still on my desk. He remembered us, and though he was delivering in upstate Pennsylvania with orders backed-up, he understood the circumstances here and promised to deliver a heaping cord tomorrow. I thanked him, and headed out to clean our wood stack. This took several hours. The rot went into the mulch piles, which left two empty six-by-six inch railroad ties clear for the incoming wood. I also repositioned our eight-foot metal fireplace holder. Good to go.

Next, I turned to refilling the genny. I was mixing the stabilized emergency gasoline that had been under the tarp since last Spring, with the new gasoline I had obtained Friday. Normally, I would do first in, first out, but I didn’t want to risk the genny with bad fuel. While pouring the gas, our neighbor from behind the house (Mike) surprised me with a visit. He lives on a different street, and our last encounter had been testy as he had attempted to dig a drainage line over our property without permission. Don’t get me wrong, we resolved that episode. He had apologized, laying the blame on his contractor. Without rehashing the details, suffice to say that this was a knowing incursion onto our property. Still, I was of a mind to let there be peace.

Mike and I chatted for a while. He was barbecuing the last of his freezer meat – thus he had seen me – and was also a bit freaked. Though our prior meeting had not been the warmest, he was looking for camaraderie. Most of the neighbors on his side were also gone, and he never imagined that power-down could happen for a week in NJ! His genny, like ours, was also wired into critical systems. He had gasoline issues, food supplies in his basement and a baseball bat by the bed. He and his wife were “creeped out” at night. They had signed up for firearm instruction, but that was next month. Short story – I extended the olive branch, and told him I’d watch his back and to let me know if he needs anything. He agreed to do the same for us. I didn’t give him every detail on our situation, but enough. Relationships – they do matter. Perhaps one can be an island as a “prepper” in a hardened bunker in the Redoubt, but in my experience the folks that truly understand survival always acknowledge that it takes cooperation by a team of like-minded adults and children.

While I was busy at the house, my wife was making a run to Whole Foods to see about fresh food. We got word through our friends on Twitter/Text that the store was open, had generator power and had received a delivery. I reminded her that as the pet store was in the same shopping center, try to buy whatever bags they had available of Aslan’s dry dog food. I had bought two 20-pound bags pre-Sandy, but he’s a 70 pound shepherd and he rips through the chow.

My wife returned a few hours later with groceries. The entire shopping center was dark except Whole Foods. Fortunately, the pet store owners had set up a table outside and were walking customers in one at a time with a flashlight – cash only of course. She bought their last 20-pound bag and a few chewy treats.

Goods were unloaded, dishes hand washed, fireplace stoked, lanterns checked (fresh batteries for the non-rechargeables), dog walked and dinner cooked. My wife had purchased a mashed cauliflower side from Whole Foods, but upon sampling it in the pan with the onions, she tossed it. Spoiled. Lesson learned… she would ask for a taste at the store before buying any prepared items. After dinner – it’s dark, cold and windy – I did the genny refueling for the night, and observed that it was running a hair rougher to my ear. Note to self: could be the fuel mix, but six days of 24-hour running means that tomorrow I need to check the oil, carburetor, fuel line, etc.

Turning to the Shore, and a bit of positive news: I confirmed that mom had checked into the hotel. Eventually, we spoke via the mobile. Her phone battery charger had died the other day and she was otherwise busy with contractors, insurance adjusters, FEMA reps, etc. She had brought enough food with her from Pennsylvania, and in South Jersey, gasoline was not as much of a problem. As for our family home on the beach block, pretty much as expected. The garage had four feet of sand, the doors were destroyed from the waves and everything inside was history. The basement of the home (which is more like a first floor due to the home’s elevation) was trashed, a total loss of all systems (HVAC, pumps, washer, dryer, electrical, freezer, etc.). There was a foot of sand to dig out and everything will have to be removed to the foundation before the mold gets a grip. Thankfully, the first floor and above – having been built high in 1938 and all windows were boarded-up for Sandy – suffered minimal damage. Mom told me that the local supermarket will not open for several days, but that other stores are beginning to show signs of life. The overall damage to the City is huge, and there is a foul “smell” in the air. She will do the back-and-forth from the house to the hotel until things are repaired. The only dependable contractor that has been helping her is the carpenter that our family has known for decades. Again, it’s all about relationships.

This isn’t the most riveting update, but life is all about the little things. Sometimes they take more energy than we imagine, and it wears you down. Our family realizes that our situation is so much better than that of others in NJ and NY, as well as other regions of the country. In part, that’s through our decisions and actions, but luck also plays a role. I’m told that power should be restored today, and that although our daughters’ school has one building without power or fire alarms, the main building will be open for classes tomorrow – Monday.

Best wishes to all. This might be the last update – in a good way.

Hurricane Sandy – Update 4 – Princeton and Atlantic City, NJ Regions

For those not familiar, I am a fantasy and sci-fi author currently working on Book II of The Soulstealer War. While that series is fiction, this account of Hurricane Sandy is not. It is an e-mail update (#4 – scroll down and read Updates 1, 2 and 3 first as they are in chronological order) that I provided to concerned friends and family, so the writing style is clipped. I live with my wife and two daughters in the Princeton, NJ region and my mother lives in Margate City, NJ (beach block) on the same barrier island as Atlantic City.

Storm Update #4 – Written Saturday morning after Hurricane Sandy – 11/3/12

No power still at our home in the Princeton area. Lost another neighbor yesterday. The one with the rental genny, family of five, they left for their mother’s home in Pennsylvania. Last night was cold, and I imagine dealing with one space heater in a bedroom was not comfortable, coupled with the shower situation. We are all on well water here. So, if the genny isn’t hard-wired into the system, no power for water. If I had to figure the circuit connection on the fly, I’m guessing I could MacGyver it – though it would obviously not pass inspection and there would be a risk factor – but they had other options and this is not Mad Max world. Again, my wife and I offered our home, but they politely declined. Another neighbor to text when our utilities are restored.

Yesterday, we gave both of our daughters a break. My wife initially planned to drive them to a horse stable about 10 miles way – this is where my youngest helps around the barn, mucks, cleans gear, and brushes/feeds/grooms the horses. In exchange, she gets to ride – though we do contribute small payments to the owner (a middle-aged woman who has managed horses her entire life). After the stable, there would be a play date with another family – they were on the way back to our home. I had the discussion with my wife about gasoline for the SUV. I’ll take the hits here for having a guzzler, but when it comes to driving my most precious possessions in the Universe, I got my wife the biggest four wheel drive vehicle I could with height clearance, a massive engine and room to spare for all of us and the dog. To my surprise, my wife acknowledged the gas concern (over the years, she has an amused, but accepting tolerance for my prepping), but she felt the benefits outweighed the costs. I agreed, and noted that our use had already lowered the gas level so we would have to find a refill.

Back to the stable, with 20+ horses needing daily care, the owner had a back-up generator for water, but this was unnecessary as power was restored two days ago. Well, upon arrival, the owner informed us that the utility company had cut the power to restore other areas of priority. Her genny at the main farm building (a good distance away) was pulling water slowly, and she was busy ferrying water in her pick-up truck and caring for the horses. The kids helped for a while, but no riding. When they arrived at our friend’s home, they were greeted by the sight of 34 trees on the front of the property (more than 15 wooded acres) blown over by Sandy. My theory is that a mini-twister must have touched down, but perhaps it just took hours of sustained high winds. Power was out there too, but they had a great time exploring the grounds. I should mention that the mom is a botanist who regularly spends months in the Amazon. I trust her with my family.

While my wife was out, I rigged up power to our water softener system, and ran it through a regeneration cycle. Our well water is super hard – lots of minerals, but fine for drinking. The water softener has other effects for soap, laundry, the pipes, etc.  Next, I hopped into the garden, grabbed two leeks and an onion, dinner was going to be a stir fry. The genny also needed refueling. One issue, no matter how careful I am when pouring the gas/funnels, I cannot seem to shake the odor of gasoline. Yeah it would be nice to have a pump, and perhaps I will rig one up when I have spare time. For now, the family tolerates it, and after scrubbing, the aroma eventually fades. Aslan, our pooch, also got in a great run in our backyard with a neighbor’s dog. They were visiting their home across the street to check status, and then returning to their parents in a section of Princeton that has power.

My wife and kids returned, and I later reviewed pictures of the fallen trees. After raising the garage door for my wife (no power and it’s heavy even with the spring tension), I noted that the SUV’s gas gauge showed just over half full. I was also thinking about the empty gas cans from the genny usage. The report was that gas lines were still absurd. Our town was e-mailing updates and our friends in the area had formed a network that was using Twitter/Texting to communicate open gas locations. The Airport was offering gasoline for genny use only (aviation gas with lead and other additives) for $6.00 a gallon! Knowing that I might have to fill the SUV, I opted to stay with regular gas stations – for now.

My wife and I agreed that late tonight (Friday still) might provide a decent window for short lines, so long as the stations stayed open. Short story – I left the house at 10:00 pm and found one of our local stations, waited in line for an hour and twenty minutes. It was unreal, and so was the “look” of the people filling up. As I got closer, I could see folks pulling all manner of gas containers from their trunks – from one gallon grime-encased plastic to ten gallon suitcase sized plastic that was difficult to lift. I half expected to see milk jugs. When I finally got to the pump, I was told either the car or the gas cans, but not both. They were running low. I told the attendant to fill the SUV. In the interim, I removed four five gallon safety cans and one five gallon plastic container from the trunk, and got ready to fill them. He came back and looked on dubiously. I followed my gut. I said, “I’m a local, come here all the time. You must be part of Horhay’s extended family or a friend.” He nodded affirmatively and said, “Family.”  I continued, “Here’s money for the gas, we’ll round it up, you keep the rest. These cans are powering the genny for our home.” With that, I started filling, and he left for another customer – they had six pumps going. By the way, I paid $5.00 per gallon of regular. Free market economics at work: supply and demand. I peeled off $200.00 in twenties – these are the largest denomination that I keep on hand – this was for 25 gallons in the cans and 12 gallons in the SUV.

On the way home, I got a text from our neighbor friend April – she was looking for gas for her car but had bypassed the crazy long line at the same station I had just left. I advised her immediately – she’s young – I told her to get back in that line ASAP and wait it out. Back home, as I skimmed online news after midnight, I saw that the Governor has enacted gas rationing, aka Jimmy Carter style. Beginning today, there is now an odd/even license plate system for filling up. The last number in the plate has to match the odd or even of that day of the month in order to be serviced. That’s going to go over well. Forget commuting to work, and traveling up and down the state for family, unless you have enough gas to get back or can wait a few days for a reliable station.

Turning to the Jersey Shore, mom has gone dark. She was supposed to make her way from Pennsylvania to the hotel near our home in Margate, NJ. We have called her mobile phone and the house line several times with no response. I’m not worried yet, but this morning I will track down the hotel and see if she checked in. One of our local crew who lives in Ventnor City (shut down for infrastructure, but residents allowed back), the town next to Margate, described the area in a text message this way, “It’s the Twilight Zone down here.” He sent a picture of our garage – the waves had knocked the doors out and sand/seaweed/muck was piled high. No one was at the house, and he couldn’t get in to see the first floor or basement. He is going to visit our house again today and see if mom is around. On a separate note, I saw a post on Facebook from another Shore friend, stating that she reported potential looting. There was a private truck driving around her neighborhood and loading up with appliances and similar items at the curb. One Facebook commenter told her to relax, this was acceptable. She replied, “Yeah, but not at 11:00pm, and they were driving way too slow and using a flash light to shine in peoples’ yards.” She notified the police. I have not received an update on this yet.

One final comment for the preppers of the world – the Oyster Creek nuclear power plant confirmed near-total cooling pump failure, and power failure. The back-up diesels saved the day on the spent fuel pool. Salem I, which had the emergency steam release, has been quiet. No further news that I can find. In a real long-term grid down scenario… there are more than a hundred nuclear power plants/reactors in the US alone. And so I ask, with all seriousness, are we doomed under such circumstances regardless of our plans?

I understand that other parts of NJ and NY are in far worse shape than here, and that a Nor’easter might be approaching early next week. However, I keep thinking that things will change in the Princeton area with the flip of a switch, i.e., power restored. But until then, we are in crisis mode, and there are strange concerns occupying my mind while this lasts.

This is neither exciting, nor fun. But I will remain upbeat for my family.

Hurricane Sandy – Update 2 – Princeton and Atlantic City, NJ Regions

For those not familiar, I am a fantasy and sci-fi author currently working on Book II of The Soulstealer War. While that series is fiction, this account of Hurricane Sandy is not. It is an e-mail update (#2 – scroll down and read Update #1 first as they are in chronological order) that I provided to concerned friends and family, so the writing style is clipped. I live with my wife and two daughters in the Princeton, NJ region and my mother lives in Margate City, NJ (our family home on the beach block) on the same barrier island as Atlantic City.

Storm Update #2 – Written Thursday morning after Hurricane Sandy – 11/1/12

Yesterday, Halloween was cancelled by executive order, but I spent the day doing more clean-up anyway. Chain saws were buzzing in the neighborhood, and I was stacking wood for the fireplace even though green. I helped the neighbors across the street who had a rental genny. Offered showers and heat as their genny is only extension cords for the refrigerator and small appliances. My girls had a bit of cabin fever and it doesn’t help that my wife is not feeling good. Made tea, soup and fresh wholesome food left in the refrigerator. Also, we still have kale, onions, scallions, leeks and herbs in the garden. These are my winter hardy plants that last well into the cold weather. They survived the storm winds being low to the ground and well rooted. The girls are also helping somewhat with the hand washing of the dishes… not fun.

Also took some time to walk the dog… Aslan needed a romp for his mental exercise. Spent an hour fixing the back fence so Aslan could be let outside without a leash and deer could be kept out. The fence will probably need total replacement, but at the moment, there are no gaping holes. The power drill and deck screws worked like a charm. Lots of periodic sirens – I’m guessing medical and fires related to generators/space heaters failures and accidents.

The girls don’t have school this week. We got word that power was restored late yesterday to the school, but that the roads were still impassable. There is an order from the Governor to stay off the roads unless essential travel only. It gets dark early, so by 3:30 pm things are winding down and the lanterns are on for reading and general action around the living room. I have rechargeable lanterns and battery throw away… no issue for now.

The temperature all day yesterday was cool and very chilly by evening. People without power were warming themselves in their cars. On Aslan’s evening walk, I could see the car headlights in various driveways. I think it also let people charge cell phones. This brings up the glaring problem for the moment – gasoline. Our genny is doing very well on gas consumption… but between it and the chain saw, we are burning a fair amount. Same with the neighbors, and especially the ones using the cars for heaters. The town has opened the Rec/Senior centers for temporary warmth and water – but not after 8:00pm. Don’t know how many people are driving to use these facilities. Anyway, back to gas. While I used on/off shutdowns for the genny for a few hours of the time to save gas – I had the living room fireplace raging yesterday – this is not optimal especially for the refrigerators. Yesterday, I heard from two neighbors that they had found open gas stations with ridiculous lines and rationing. As it was getting late, I opted to stay home and deal with it today.

Woke up today (Thursday) at 6:30 am, and headed out with 4 five gallon safety cans looking for open gas stations. The traffic lights were still out and only the main artery roads are dependable to be open. I was lucky to find two gas stations within six miles of the house. Gas stations that were open yesterday were now empty of gas. As to these two that were open, they already had lines of cars 50 deep. They also had police officers enforcing the lines, gas rationing (ten gallon maximum per person) and general traffic flow order. It took me and hour plus, and it was cash only as I expected, but I started home with twenty gallons of gas. I thought about coffee on the way, and pulled into our main shopping center with a Thomas Sweet, or in the alternative, a Dunkin Donuts in the ShopRite Supermarket. The entire center was closed. ShopRite was open with minimal lighting and I had hope, but when I got to the door, there was a sign saying they only had non-perishable items for sale. The mini-Dunkin Donut stand was closed. By the way, we are hearing from other supermarkets… same story. They cooked what they could, donated to soup kitchens and have thrown out the rest of the spoiled food. At this point, I think Whole Foods on Route 1 may be our best bet for fresh food. As you guys know, I have plenty of non-perishables. And yes, I do have organic coffee at the house, so I am enjoying a cup as I type. I just have to unplug other stuff to brew it.

I am breaking to refill our genny with gas. Next agenda once things warm up is to get the fireplace going, and then I will rig up extension cords so that we can do laundry for the first time since Sunday morning. Bear in mind, my genny is only hard-wired into the home for critical systems, and that didn’t include the washer and dryer. So I will need to power them and the house water system – should be fine – but they are energy hogs.

We also got word that five nuclear power plants had issues during the storm, and that Salem actually had a “controlled” emergency steam release and pump failures. Nice. I’m sure it was only safe levels of radiation, no harm to the public. Right. Oyster Creek was offline anyway, but had cooling issues with the spent fuel pool. I’m assuming that the state and federal folks are on top of this. Hopefully.

The update on the Shore is pretty dim. We still don’t have good onsite intel. Island access is closed and the residents are upset/trapped. On the positive side, there are parts of Margate with power. There is limited non-perishable food and no fresh items, and water remains contaminated. Some areas are still flooded – though its draining. Ventnor City which is right next to Margate, is sealed off due to city septic failure and more than 1,000 homes with moderate to severe damage. We have received limited pictures of our home from locals and a Sheriff friend. The sand is piled against the house three feet deep which means the five feet of water on top of that probably got into the entire first floor and basement. All critical systems will be trashed. We are beginning the process of talking to contractors and getting mom situated at a nearby hotel to make daily trips to the home to coordinate. She’s upset, but holding up – tough nut.

I’ll provide another update later.

Cheers. I mean that… single malt whiskey does not need refrigeration, is good for brushing teeth and warms the soul.

2013 NJ RenFaire – Preview

Like atrophied muscle, IMAGINATION withers if not exercised. One delightful cure:  a day-trip to the 2013 New Jersey Renaissance Faire! My family loves to dress the roles and meld into the live-action performances. Here’s the preview video of this year’s RenFaire theme: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm4G1kLQ3kk&feature=youtu.be

…and while my cupboard holds ample Highland Single Malt Whiskeys, a Kilt requires more creativity. What a perfect winter sewing project for my eldest daughter!

Breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve.

W.L Hoffman

http://www.SoulstealerWar.com

All for RenFaire, and RenFaire for All!

Have no doubt, my friends, these are serious times. And for this reason, I have never been more appreciative of the revelry that converges at the NJ Renaissance Faire at Liberty Lake.  http://www.njrenfaire.com

This weekend my family strolled in costume among the RenFaire community, savoring the spontaneous interaction with the inhabitants of Crossford. The village welcomed me with a hearty “M’Lord,” and my daughters each garnered a gentle “M’Lady.” Indeed, Hallie and Hannah giggled uncontrollably upon discovering that the players bowed in their presence until released. “Rise, good sir,” had a pleasant lilt from the lips of my pre-teen princesses.

Hannah roamed the merchant stands with discerning and fickle taste, while her older sister marked treasures with practiced confidence. My girls opened their hearts and imaginations, and prepared for barter and baubles, as the townsfolk were ever-so-gracious in their dealings. To mention only some, is a disservice to the rest – we cherished them all.

Similarly, there are not enough words to adequately describe the amazing performers! Impromptu stage and troubadour skits, music and jest, song and rhyme, flames and daring acrobatics, archery and swordplay, a living chess match and fine spirits to imbibe… it was too much to absorb in a single outing.

My compliments to Phil Leipf as the villainous Comte de Rochefort, to Melissa L.E. Baker as his temptress co-conspirator Milady de Winter, and to Katie Horahan as the charming Duchess of Northumberland, and still, there are more notes of special attention…

 At mid-afternoon, we sheltered from a passing thunderstorm within the Willows Stage structure. Therein, my little girls were drafted by the Bard of Avon – William Shakespeare – as he organized an abbreviated and raucous audience participation version of “Twelfth Night and The Three Little Bears.” The good natured folks in the crowd were hilarious in their guided acting, and Will’s wit was sharper than all the nearby swords.

Thereafter, and harkening to the days of old, we experienced true artisanship. We stood spellbound at the forge of “Historical Glassworks,” as master glass blower Jason Klein crafted a Renaissance-style fluted wine decanter before our eyes. With absolutely no pressure from the onlookers, and between ample puffing breaths of creation, Jason explained his techniques, issued commands to apprentices, and orchestrated a delicate dance of molten glass.

Meandering away from that skillful glass menagerie, we happened upon a fearsome couple arrayed for the Zombie Apocalypse! They offered my daughters a copy of the Adventurer’s Handbook – a publication by TJ Miller and John A. Williams a/k/a The Lords of Adventure: Roger Awesome and Jack Bold. My girls boldly whispered to these armor-bound warriors that we owned two copies already, and then demurely asked if they would consent to pose for a picture.

After snapping the above cameo, we thought it wise to retreat to the jousting arena for our fill of knights, horses and chivalry. But along the way, we spied the Royal Falconer and his avian charges. Perched at rest, the birds were beautiful and majestic. During the falconry demonstration it was simply nature’s magic, as they soared aloft the entire encampment, banked a few feet over our heads, and launched talons-a-ready upon the Falconer’s twirling lure.

On our way back to the main amphitheatre, I was waylaid at “LaForge Weapons.” Sparks flew both in the blazing furnace and on the sturdy anvil. There were regal decorative weapons a’plenty, but I required a combat blade capable

of enduring full throttle impact – steel on steel. I selected a likely candidate off the rack and then asked the master smith if its edge would stay keen in hard battle. No words echoed in reply, though I think a slight growl ensued… he then gripped the sword from my hand, moved his anvil into position, bade me step back, and firmly struck the blade’s edge upon the anvil with not one, but three ringing blows. With a satisfed grin on his face, the weapon was returned for my inspection. I anticipated a chip given the enthusiasm of his test… I found not even the hint of a scratch.

At day’s end, the girls and I lounged at the Lakeside Amphitheatre enjoying a cornucopia of musicians and performers. I sipped a glass of cabernet-merlot courtesy of the Valenzano Winery. Within the hour, the primary acting Troupe escorted a horde of Faire-goers to our venue for the final reconciliation between D’Artagnon and Constance, and the Comte de Rochefort and Countess de Winter. Yes, as you may have guessed, regards to Alexandre Dumas, for this year’s RenFaire theme is the Three Musketeers. After due ceremonies, the players serenaded the crowd with a last ballad and a simple wish – that we may all be present to do this again. Amen. As I listened with Hallie and Hannah, I thought of my wife: she was absent from our festivities in order to comfort a dying friend of the family. My eyes blurred, and I thanked the powers-that-be for my blessings and the opportunity to share our day among such joyful and talented folk.

You can yet partake, for I’m told that the 2012 NJ Renaissance Faire will continue for at least one more weekend – June 9th and 10th. Failing that, perhaps it will be another worthy RenFaire in your home state. For let it be written and let it be said: we can all do with more laughter and love!

Humanity’s Epitaph: Space Colonization, Extinction, Jane Goodall and the Medieval Vikings

Recently, our family attended an evening program featuring a conversation with Dr. Jane Goodall. This graceful and passionate elder was a role model extraordinaire for my adolescent daughters. Dr. Goodall talked of humble beginnings, her family’s unwavering support, bold adventures and the future conservation of this ship we call “Earth.” What a “lived” life! We were fortunate that night to be accompanied by an ethnobotanist who personally knows Dr. Goodall. The after-lecture thoughts were profound and spicy, in contrast to the sleet frosting the streets of New Brunswick. I respected Dr. Goodall’s message, but pushed the envelope much further – from a terrestrial boundary to the boundless. Yes, I’m referring to the Universe. And yes, I acknowledge the possibility that the Universe might be bounded. But for purposes of this discussion, I’m not delving into spatial expansion or contraction under Big Bang Theory, Inflationary Cosmology or any other model – let’s just say that from a practical perspective, the Cosmos may as well be infinite.

While I continue to take responsibility for my actions, and will do my utmost to launch the maximum positive ripples into this linked firmament of earthbound life, i.e., the George Bailey effect, part of me was distracted from Dr. Goodall’s worthy admonitions. Maybe it’s the generational difference or that Africa is less of the “undiscovered country” these days, but I have always been enthralled by the stars. Perhaps, it was too many episodes of Star Trek, an excess of science fiction novels and movies, or an innate awareness that simply gazing into the night sky stirs my thoughts to realms of wonder. Regardless of the source of my fascination, my instincts are irrepressible. Thus, as I sat listening to Dr. Goodall, my mind argued the pros and cons for humanity’s extraterrestrial ambitions.

The need is paramount for us to establish multiple fountainheads in Space. The very survival of the human species demands this result – a manifest destiny. My mother always told me not to put my eggs in one basket. It was a lesson I took to heart. So too, must humanity. Will it be a rogue meteor strike, an unstoppable Andromeda Strain, environmental toxins, cataclysmic climate change, nuclear annihilation, a gamma ray burst, or simply death by a thousand cuts as we careen into the unyielding barrier of our little fish bowl? I don’t have the answer. These events may not happen in this lifetime, or even a hundred lifetimes. I’m not a doomer – it’s a basic probability calculation of time and odds. As a realist, I see the need to diversify our portfolio… to increase our chances of Universal sustainability. So, whether it’s a moonbase, a fleet of city-size starships, another planet, a separate dimension, a deviant time-scape or an alternate universe – our race must formulate strategic plans and allocate resources now. And yet, beyond raw survival, there is a less quantifiable reason that I’m shooting-for-the-moon. 

Historians now recognize that apart from raiding voyages to Britain, and settlements in Greenland, the Medieval Vikings established a presence in the New World (Newfoundland circa 1000) far earlier than Christopher Columbus. They journeyed over perilous seas to strange lands and unknown destinies. What spirit drove them to such extremes? Surely not everyone wished for an express Valkyrian escort into Valhalla? Perhaps more intrinsic urges held sway. There were vast resources, territories where families could thrive, and freedom – an awakened Soul-searing, Fate-be-damned FREEDOM.

 In the realm of legend, these Norsemen (men and women) are larger than life, as were their Gods. The Mighty Thor battled endlessly with the Frost Jotnar and other giant creatures. Their heroes like Beowulf and Siegfried had the strength of ten men and single-handedly destroyed monsters of epic scale. This perception of robust and virile peoples continues in several related mythologies. An apt example from the Celtic mythos is the tale of the Irish hero Oisin (Fin McCool’s son) and the fabled land of Tir na nog. Niamh of the Golden Hair guides Oisin to this faerie kingdom beyond the western horizon. He rides with her across the ocean on a magic horse. Once there, he resides for a brief time with Niamh, but longing for home, he departs on her steed with a warning not to let his feet touch the ground. When he regains the shores of Eire, he is bewildered to find that the primeval forests have been transformed into tame pastures. Asking after the fortunes of his family – the Fianna – he is told they are the stuff of legend and three hundred years have passed while he visited with Niamh. He encounters a group of Irishmen, whom he thinks are boys by their small stature and inability to move a boulder. He offers to help, and mindful of Niamh’s caution, he leans over in the saddle and uses one hand to fling the boulder aside. Unfortunately for him, the girth breaks and he falls to the ground. In seconds, old age catches him.

This Oisin tale is a fascinating transition from the legends of old to the beginning of the modern period. Why are the modern peoples portrayed as shrunken and weak? Could this unflattering physical depiction in mythology reflect a decline of the human spirit? Or is the answer something more scientific such as that the Norse/Celtic genetic lineage was forged from closer ties with that of our Ice Age Cro-Magnon ancestors? Well, I have two responses for you to ponder. In the first instance, there may indeed be more powerful physical features that flourished in a Darwinian lottery. Humans were massive and stronger because that’s representative of those that endured to successfully reproduce. The very actions of a questing life, exploring uncharted oceans and lands, and waging a contest with all that Mother Nature had to offer may have spawned “legendary” human biological characteristics. However, equally relevant is the “joie de vivre”… the spiritual energy that fed the “liberated being” of those early humans and inspired them to deeds seemingly beyond mere mortals. 

While sipping a fresh blend of coffee with a wonderful friend, we had the debate. He posed the question of whether that yearning for discovery within humanity is a fatal flaw – an anachronistic leftover of genetic recombination after a dark prehistory. As a self-proclaimed proud and hardy scion of peasant stock from the Old Country, he would rather spend his years on a hundred acre farm savoring good food, loving his family and laughing with friends. I admit to the allure of this vision. But looking within, I must also face the reality that for me there may be no such rest without a little voice whispering in my ear… that undeniable twitching of the psyche that wants to know what’s behind Door Number Two even if it means losing everything. I cannot say whether this restless trait is our saving grace or our undoing. But I informed my friend that if I could seize the opportunity, I would take my family to the stars. Like the early pioneers, we would forge a new life. In part, I think the days of his halcyon retirement scenario are dwindling. Assuming the requisite level of prosperity, he can still do so in this lifetime – but what of his children, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren? This world on which we live is shrinking, just like the image of civilized man in the legends. No, the Earth is not contracting, other than a minor tectonic plate shift now and again. I’m speaking metaphorically about “freedom.” Population continues to explode across the globe, resources remain finite, and the Hobbesian compact of civilization that was made long ago is tightening with chain-like strength around our bulging necks.

I’m too young to have any memory of the Apollo moon missions. But you can feel the excitement even from the news reels. The average Joe on the street was enthralled by Space exploration. Dinner conversations had more than their share of prognostications on aliens, other worlds and future technological innovation. It was a time when anything seemed possible and when the “best” in us rose to the forefront. A generation of children grew up wanting to be astronauts and scientists. Can you say the same today? Let me clarify that I have no problem with humans in other careers, but if the Sirens of the digital age lure our brightest into a Lotus Eater sleep of the living dead – well, you can understand my concern. As I write, NASA has been essentially cancelled, and society’s “bread and circus” atmosphere is overwhelming. Even with my own children, I don’t merely fight, I wage WAR every single day to limit the video games, the meaningless TV dribble, the consumerism, the media brainwashing, the presence of impure foods (GMO, sugar, syrups, chemicals, contaminants) and most importantly, the dulling effects of an educational system that dims the light in their eyes. We desperately need critical thinkers, innovators and dreamers.

There were some readers who viewed me as anti-technology after my recent science fiction spin piece “Regards to the Father of Aviation.” However, don’t sign me up for the Amish just yet, and that lost Amazon tribe will have to subsist without one more mouth to feed. What I was arguing for therein, was fundamental liberty – the right to be free from encroachment and to follow the dictates of the Soul. Try to name one creature that has improved for having been tamed, that has not been tragically lessened in the transformation. A gilded cage may keep you safe and alive, but what is the measure of that existence? I’m not advocating anarchy. However, I am suggesting that we inherently need to ride the storm’s edge. It is on that threshold that our actions rise to the heights of Heaven or fall to the depths of Hell. For now, technology is a necessary partner along that continuum to help us understand the Universe, to propel human achievement and to insure our survival. But we need to evolve humanistic mechanisms alongside technical inspiration to preserve that which makes us “heroically” human. With each passing year, we are advancing our metaphysical understanding of the Cosmos. We have a lexicon of quantum particles in the Standard Model to supplement electron, proton and neutron, and we are creeping toward resolution of such mysteries as the Higgs Boson, Dark Matter, and Dark Energy. However, while acknowledging the genius of our machines, I believe our greatest advancement has been programmed within our very being. I have no doubt that one day our curiosity, perseverance and desire for inner exploration will enable human consciousness to make the leap between worlds and realities. Everything we are and experience, may have started as ONE interconnected incredibly dense singularity. Even if this proves overstated, our experiments are revealing what more of us are intuitively recognizing – there are varying levels of quantum entanglement in all matter and energy. For now, we might employ descriptive euphemisms like Einstein’s “spooky action at a distance” or endearing analogies like Schrodinger’s Cat. In the future, however, the wave-like nature of the subatomic particles that comprise the nearly empty space that we call matter might be transported to an infinite locale simply by consciousness “willing” it so. Perhaps, this type of journey is possible today in limited aspects for literally a handful of people. Admittedly, evolution may require another million years for this “breakthrough” – I like that word as it nicely captures the essence of the task. However, until such capabilities can be effectively harnessed, the imperative for more accessible human colonization beyond Earth must be embraced and actualized.

My friend from the coffee session also suggested that we might be alone in the Universe… that life might be unique to Earth. Putting religion aside, he cited the improbable chain of causation that must have occurred for life to have arisen here, and then calculated the astronomical odds of duplicating that elsewhere. Taking this supposition as true for the moment, this implies that we have a higher obligation to colonize “life” throughout the Cosmos. For such a wondrous creation as the Universe cannot have been engendered for an inanimate and meaningless death dance across infinity. However, let me shatter this premise of solitude with the same reply that I gave to my friend, “Nonsense!” I explained that when you look at the vast scope of existence, the sheer number of stars (estimated currently between ten sextillion and one septillion) that inhabit the known Universe, those incredible odds don’t seem all that compelling anymore. I then reminded my friend of a counterargument intrinsic to our world: the millimeter size Water Bear (Tardigrade). Water Bears are able to survive a wide array of brutal environments that include temperatures approaching absolute zero, a thousand times more radiation than would kill a human, the absence of water for a decade, and most relevant to this conversation: the vacuum of Interstellar Space. On this note, he relented, and qualified his statement to mean the absence of carbon-based life. In this alternate path, I maintained to my friend that even if humans are members of a vast orchestra of life spread across the Universe, we yet have qualities that argue for reserving our seat at the Galactic table: love, creativity, altruism, curiosity, compassion, and intelligence.

Humanity must arise from its slumber! Now is the time for our collective consciousness to lift its ostrich head from the illusory sands of this tipping vessel, and to focus our intentions on the expansive reality of the Universe. We are mandated to shatter the confines of our planetary lifeboat. Yes, there will be unbearable sacrifices, appalling death and strange adaptations that may fracture our species, but these will be offset by a legacy of freedom and glory that will forever rescue humanity from an epitaph of ignominy and irrelevance.