The Gift of Laughter – NJ RenFaire!

Taking my family to the NJ RenFaire is a pilgrimage of fun, friendship and the stuff of legend – time with my daughters and summer memories! And as my little girls have now blossomed into young ladies, and my beard has an awful lot of grey, it becomes all the more vital to douse ourselves in the elixir of youth – fantasy, creativity, silliness, theatre, song, dance, absurdity, camaraderie – the list is too long!

We start with an opening picture of your wayward author and a fearsome sampling of The Eastern Tribe of the Hoarde. These folks are full throttle … eerie eyes and fierce cries, especially the horned fellow on the left!

My girls, along with their friend, also took a snap with one of our favorite creatures roaming Crossford’s town – Ser Oakheartt. When they were younger they simply called him Treebeard, in fondness of Tolkien’s Ents – also known as the Onodrim by the Elves.

Next, we made new friends with a young fantasy artist and his wife. You had me at “dragons,” but Piya Wannachaiwong’s works include so many other wonderful images. It was a pleasant surprise to find an illustrator at the NJ RenFaire, and with his genial smile and other-worldy art, he was very popular with the crowd. We now own two of his dragon prints, and he was gracious enough to sign both!

This year, courtesy of my youngest daughter who rides and cares for horses, we spent more time at the jousting ring. Both the riders and horses were impressive, the more so as they managed the crowd, the armor, the weather and the periodic firing of the Crossford cannon! Though not 100% sure of the breed, my daughter identified these as Quarter Horses and a Draft Horse. Watching the knights maneuvering them for mounted sword fighting – yes there was plenty of swinging steel – really emphasized how much skill the knights of old brought to the field of battle.

And an action picture in full armor!

Our visit to the town of Crossford would not be complete without taking in a show with the Lords of Adventure! TJ and John can serve up a triple threat – acting, music, and swordsmanship! As a father, I remain eternally grateful for their wise words to my daughters to not fall for the smooth wiles of Token Renaissance Guy! I give you a 20-second action video!

And then there’s Shakespeare! Shakespeare Approves is one of the finest gems of audience-interactive performance and family-friendly viewing at the NJ RenFaire! And this year, he included for the first time a more mature-oriented show, Bard After Dark: The Shakesperience! that took place at 7:00pm. Drinking an awesome porter beer courtesy of the Valenzano Winery folks, I knew it was going to be a rare treat. Katie Horahan’s opening standup comedy had the crowd roaring for more, and I barely stopped laughing as Shakespeare did his slightly bawdy and murder-filled fandom mash-up by the most heinous of means – death by fluffy kittens!  Did I mention that’s my daughter playing Juliet?! I think I spit my beer on the guy in front of me – drafted to play Prospero from the Tempest.

While resting in the afternoon on the main stage, aka the Amphitheater, we loved hearing the songs of Chaste Treasure. These ladies can be sweet, sultry, and downright pub fare. They have a family-friendly CD of songs, and two other CDs that are not so innocent!

At the end of the day, the cast of the NJ Faire sings a final farewell to all. Before this, the Duke and Duchess usually give a last goodbye message. This year, the Duke spoke of living life well, of participating, and of making moments count, as we never know if we will all meet again. These are words of truth, transcending the spectacle, and as I sat there with my family, on a sunny day in May, singing the last song with my daughters – yeah, I am a terrible singer, but so what – I thought that everyone needs a dose of this magic.

Fortunately, you have one more chance to write your adventure. The NJ RenFaire finishes its 10th season this weekend at Liberty Lake in Bordentown, NJ.

Other links:

The Eastern Tribe of the Hoarde on Facebook

Ser Oakheartt on Facebook

Piya Wannachaiwong Illustration

The Lords of Adventure on Facebook

Katie Horahan on Facebook

Shakespeare Approves on Facebook

Chaste Treasure on Facebook

Valenzano Family Winery

 

 

The Spice Must Flow … and That’s Not Sean Spicer, the Spice Girls, or Piquillo Peppers!

As a dad, I don’t often get feedback on my job performance. Sometimes, the plan is to throw everything on the wall and see what sticks. This mish-mosh style acknowledges that my children may do the opposite of what I say. I liken this behavior to a parental remix of Schrodinger’s Cat of quantum physics fame—while multiple possible outcomes are superimposed in the quantum wave before observing the child, upon fixing the parental eye on the target, all that momentary potential collapses to the least desired result!

Once in a while, however, I abandon the scatter-shot parenting and take the direct approach. Included in this wishful category are books I consider a must for my children to experience. Thus, my tale today concerns science fiction novels—specifically, books that forever transformed my worldview. I have a long list, but for the teen years, my top four reads—and many of you may disagree—are Foundation (Asimov), Rendezvous with Rama (Clarke), Stranger in a Strange Land (Heinlein), and Dune (Herbert). These are generally not for the early teen years. Certainly, any good reader can get through these novels, but the magic occurs with a mindset mature enough to “grok” the beyond.

I have previously quoted many a Dune reference to my daughters with no avail. And so, with my eldest leaving the nest for college, I had almost given up hope that she would crack the book’s pages. Two weeks ago, she walked quietly into my home office, where I was working at my desk. She pulled up a chair, and then began the conversation in a measured tone, “Dad, I have some questions.”

I had immediate feelings of dread and gratitude—could this be about boys, and hadn’t her mother handled that topic … and she still wants my advice.

Taking a deep breath, and turning off my computer, I prompted, “Okay, what’s up?”

She let loose with, “I’m confused about the relationships between the Imperium, the Great Houses and the Emperor. How does the CHOAM company fit in, and is the Spacing Guild more powerful? Does the Emperor control the Bene Gesserit?”

Cue the huge smile on my relieved face. Inside, I was laughing with pure joy. Outside, I nodded and asked, “How far into Dune are you?”

“Not very,” she admitted tentatively. Then she quickly added, “His writing style is amazing. I can see why it’s one of your favorites.”

Not wanting to leave her questions hanging, I managed a half-reply along the lines of, “Herbert’s world-building—organizations, governance, trade, religion—is a lot to process. These are great questions. There are layers within layers within layers. It’s not unlike real life. The CHOAM … “

We chatted iteratively for five minutes on a framework. The rest was for her to discover. I finished with, “I’d love to hear your ideas after the next hundred pages.”

Addendum: I took my daughters to the Jersey Shore to visit Grandmom, and this gave my wife a staycation break. My eldest daughter forgot to pack hair conditioner, a brush, extra shoes, and other sundry items, but the big win—she remembered Dune in a plastic bag for reading on the beach!

Question: Regardless of the reader’s age, what are your top five transformative science fiction novels? If I had to provide a fifth choice, it would be from Zelazny, Gibson, or Niven.

Breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply, and evolve.

W.L. Hoffman

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

Book Launch – May 1 – The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm – Fantasy & Sci-fi

You are invited to the BOOK LAUNCH for the next installment of my fantasy and sci-fi novel series – The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm. All are welcome on May 1, 2018, and/or you can go to the Facebook Livestream https://www.facebook.com/WLHoffmanAuthor/ from Small World Coffee in Princeton, NJ – 8:00 am to 11:00 am. This is also a good day to order copies in stores and online via Amazon, B&N, etc., and anyone purchasing more than 5 hardcovers or 10 paperbacks will receive a special enlarged wall poster of the Book Launch signed by me. Book Two is available in multiple formats, and Book One has just been re-released in Hardcover! The Boris Vallejo/Julie Bell artwork on the Hardcover Dust Jackets is fabulous! My website http://www.WLHoffman.com has been redesigned and includes hidden secrets. Finally, while a share of this book’s net profits will go to the NJ Center for Tourette Syndrome, please consider offering your additional support to this worthy non-profit – https://njcts.org/

With gratitude,

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

RenFaire? – “You’re mad, bonkers…But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.” Lewis Carroll

Under a folding card table serving as a writing desk, our youngest daughter, Hannah, claimed a living room corner. Sheltered. Quiet. The space spoke to her.

Hannah called, “How old do you have to be to stop making forts?”

I was cooking in the kitchen, and my wife was nearby doing research. Our answers were simultaneous, “Never.”

Hannah scrambled out, and eyed the throw quilts on the sofa. “Daaaad,” she began sweetly, “do we need both of these blankets?”

I knew where this was heading. “I’d prefer if they stayed on the sofa. I’m sure you can find something else. Need help?”

“Nope,” Hannah replied, flashing a mischievous grin. For the briefest moment, I felt that parental twinge…the reluctant and joyful realization that my little girl is growing up. She’s making her own magic. That’s how it should be.

I returned to dinner. Ten minutes later, pillows served as the third wall, a huge knitted cotton blanket softened the floor, and bathing towels draped over the desktop for the fourth wall. Voila! Fort complete…Hannah disappeared underneath…doing Hannah things. Mad scientist, budding superheroine, relaxing with electronics – it was all good. Yes, even the technology. You can’t deny the future, but I dare to think it can be shaped; cause and effect, unless were playing Queen’s Rules in Wonderland, which, by the way, we also do when the “Willy Wonka” mood strikes, for indeed, “a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

A person needs a hidden lair to do things…a secret lair…or an open Faire! A bizarre of creativity, an elixir of life, a realm to explore, with characters to delight – why of course, it’s the New Jersey Renaissance Faire!

As a parent, I’m constantly assessing the “moments” I share with my children. It’s the actions and experiences that will stick with them, not the words. Opportunity, as defined in Merriam Webster, is a favorable juncture of circumstances; a good chance for advancement or progress. To be able to recognize opportunity, and to convert opportunity while ensnared by a vibrant live-stream of pungent wit, witless pun, and timeless fun – those gifts I’ll gladly serve to my children.

The annual pilgrimage to Liberty Lake is less than a week away, and I keep looking over my shoulder for the Pardoner, the Knight and the Wife of Bath. You still have time to change your plans, and perhaps your life. My girls are already choosing frocks, dusting boots and eyeing swords. The leather grips on their blades bear a slight stickiness with the humidity. The steel is not polished…a drop of oil perhaps to remove the dirt. There’s no fanciful etching, but these master works from the RenFaire blacksmith are cherished. So are the trinkets and odd tokens, the purses and corsets, the music and company; this medieval community is like visiting an eccentric grandfather who tilts at windmills. Rain or shine, you can breathe deeply in the Faire’s rural air. Although, it’s the twinkling in the Faire Folk’s eyes that that you inhale the deepest. It’s infectious merriment, unless you’re dead, but even the dead can be resurrected with the proper dice roll. Let’s see, is that 2d6 on the System Shock check and how many Level/Constitution points?

RenFaire can hoist the anchor, but traveling beyond the harbor is up to you. Venture the quest! “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” (Tennyson). What price can you put upon generosity of spirit? “How little is the cost I have bestowed, In purchasing the semblance of my soul, From out the state of hellish cruelty!” (Shakespeare).

How old do you have to be to stop going to RenFaire?

Never.

 

Start your journey – New Jersey Renaissance Faire

 

Actions Have Outcomes – Digging into the Soil of Life

Spring, for me, means planting. On this topic, there is a treasure trove of technical and intuitive gardening information to discuss. While I’ve absorbed a fair share, I’m not tackling that beast for this entry. Instead, I feel compelled to share what I love most about gardening . . . drum roll please . . . the process.

Sure, gardening is a stress reliever, delivers good exercise, and enables you to feed delights to your family – both visual and culinary. And there’s an undeniable joy to smelling good earth after a rainstorm. But in a world of digital digression, exacerbated with moments of feeling stuck on a phantasmal merry-go-round, I am rescued from despair by a lesson from my garden: actions have outcomes. Seems obvious right? And yet, how often do I succumb to digital nirvana only to wake after an hour goes by and ask – what the hell just happened? I get this “dirty” feeling, a self-guilt far worse than the grimiest recess in my garden. Please avoid the lurid conclusions. Yes, that Content is pervasive on the Internet, and hey, I’m a guy – happily married with children – but still a guy. Curiosity and an open mind are healthy human traits. So, putting aside those distractions, the feeling I’m struggling to convey is one of life passing me by while I run like a hamster on the treadmill.

There are online interactions that are worthy, humorous, social, informative . . .  I acknowledge these positives. The problem is striking the balance. Our minds crave data. This is concurrently our great strength and our weakness. It takes effort and time to sort through a seemingly infinite field of electronic Content, and the few actions we take in the digital realm rarely have outcomes that we can predict, let alone recognize when they manifest. There is such a thing as too much connectivity, with too little impact. That largesse of other people’s stories, available with a finger swipe or keystroke, overwhelms us subconsciously, if not outright – paralysis by analysis. Or perhaps, it’s all too illusory, in that we think we have gotten somewhere only to glance askew at a mirror of empty dreams, and then turn away.  For who among us truly wants to stare into that abyss?

Little steps, joined together, inevitably produce results. Rather than being a voyeur, I jump into the fray. I stand, stretch and walk outside. The fresh air awakens my spirit. My garden is neither fancy, nor expansive, and I won’t win any prizes. The chicken wire needs fixing in places, and I have to constantly excise rotten wood in the raised beds and stakes. At night, I scrub the black soil from under my nails. My muscles ache with a soreness that is satisfying. My girls have become experts in removing my splinters. My thoughts alight with compost, companion plantings, succession crops, pest remedies and seed experiments. The preparation began in December. In February, seeds were ordered and pulled from my reserves. Then as March arrived, the clean-up hit me in earnest. Those days were cold, the wind raw and the weeds tenacious. I had cuts, thorns and reptile skin on my hands. I could sand wood with my palm, and that touch certainly wasn’t going to win over my wife. Early April saw pruning and mulch, and with the soil finally ready, I savored our seed choices. The girls had their favorites, too. I visualized the growth patterns and light sources, checked the day and overnight temperatures, and noted the weather forecast. Perennials that we had labored over last year began budding. Those ferns that seemed dead and gone . . . their fiddlehead fronds continue unfurling today. In a week, we should have vegetable sprouts poking through to the sun.

Slowly, taking these myriad tiny strides, our garden comes into awareness. There will be outcomes, both good and unexpected. There’s no “easy button” to push. Gardening is patient work. But the process harkens to everything else we do in life – actions have outcomes – and sometimes when I’m lost, I rejoice in the comfort and motivation of that simple wisdom.

Smile When Your Child Says, “No.”

This past week, my inner voice drove me to abandon work and attend an afternoon lecture on “Free Will & Philosophy” given by a Philosophy Professor from a top University. As an aside, we all need to listen to those subtle instincts and energies that guide our paths. That’s a hard task for many… filtering the white noise of life to note signals in the system that have deeper personal meaning.

Returning to philosophy, the topic wasn’t quite what I expected, but it was nonetheless captivating. As a bonus, the Professor was entertaining, energetic and nimble. At one point, the presentation focused upon the Yale University Milgram Experiment on obedience: why seemingly normal people when put in the role of “teacher” (and encouraged by a lab-coated authority figure) will administer electric shocks to a “learner” test subject in another room even though they can hear the person screaming. Hold the objections, the electric shocks were faked. The learner responses were pre-recorded theatre to observe each teacher’s reaction. The Professor then mentioned another famous psychology experiment: the Stanford University Prison Study where ordinary people were randomly assigned roles of guards and prisoners. Guards were told to be firm, but their actions grew steadily more brutal. So much so, that the two week experiment was prematurely terminated after only six days.

Perhaps you are now asking “what do these studies have to do with my children or my parenting style?” The Professor viewed the discussion from a philosophical perspective of questioning Society’s idea of morals and blame, and whether we live in a deterministic clockwork world of no free will. This is an oversimplification for brevity, so my apologies to the good Professor. Still, why did more than 60% of the people in the classic Milgram Experiment keep shocking the learner subject until the occurrence of what might have been death or permanent injury, simply for a wrong answer? Why didn’t more people refuse the instruction, or acknowledge the desperate pleas (pre-recorded) of the learner subject? Did the teacher volunteer have free will or was another mechanism running the show? Well, such questions remain under avid scrutiny today, although there are several theories for the unexpected results. As you may have already guessed, I’m tossing out a proposal for you to consider, both as to your children and your parenting choices.

After the Professor’s formal presentation, I took the opportunity to ask questions (as did others). For a while, I listened to everyone… absorbing the ebb and flow. The Professor suggested that humans have a behavioral template that influences choice even when their actions have horrible effects. He posited that in a situation of conflicting data (i.e., I don’t like administering electric shocks that severely hurt a normal person, but the esteemed scientist standing over my shoulder calmly says to continue doing so), humans have a predisposition to obey the person that we think has more information or authority. This may stem from our early evolution, where snap decisions to follow the leader – a person appearing to have better data in a confusing situation – resulted in survival. Standing among the crowd circling the Professor, I agreed that this adaptive “Darwinian” strategy was a component to the equation, but my thoughts drifted to conclusions that would challenge that paradigm.

Before you ask for my academic credentials on such matters of the mind, the short story is “nothing formal.” I am a father, a fan of metaphysics, I believe in critical thinking, and my opinions rely on observation and theory. If that’s not enough, feel free to stop reading here.

As the conversation hit a lull, I asked the Professor, “Have you considered the implications of the Industrial Age public education model on the obedience found in the Milgram Experiment?” He seemed uncomfortable… there was a camera man filming the exchange… I waited, but was disappointed as his reply effectively dodged my question.

I wasn’t about to let the Professor off the hook. After another minute, I politely pressed, “Is it possible that the behavioral template evidenced in Milgram is being dramatically reinforced by our educational model of teacher/student that begins at pre-K? Teachers tell students they must sit down quietly, must memorize what is said, must study the knowledge presented and must be a productive worker/member in society.” I paused, and silence ensued. So, I fired away, “How often can students disagree with their teachers without receiving punishment or social stigma?” I really wanted to add mandatory prescription drugs for ADHD or similar en vogue behavioral disorders to the litany, but opening that door would have muddied the waters.

This time, the Professor launched a counterargument. He knew of a Milgram Experiment variation using test subjects in cultures without public education, and the results were essentially unchanged. Before I could ask him if the experiment’s designers had truly verified if they had a sampling with neither public education, nor a surrogate teacher/student learning system, he moved to another question… another philosophy twist.

I thought about his answer. While that study might have unexplored pitfalls in the analysis and conclusions, what would happen if I assumed for argument purposes that his Milgram variation had merit? This logic pushed my thoughts to another common factor that would reinforce such disturbing behavior. I again wedged my voice into the conversation, “Professor, what about the earliest form of education, the parent/child relationship? Those roles pre-condition an obedience template from birth that is not much different from teacher/student. Could our relatively modern parenting style, from the Victorian Era forward, which emphasizes discipline, respect, and obedience be unintentionally hard-wiring our children’s cognitive weakness?”

I could see him thinking about this… and the camera kept filming. Then, another audience member interrupted with a book reference to a related psychology topic, and after a moment, the Professor shifted to his core material, leaving my supposition dangling over the cliff in the company of Wile E. Coyote.

So, what’s my “takeaway” from this pleasant interlude of philosophical thought? I’m admittedly surprised at the outcome, though maybe I shouldn’t be: when you “select” the path, things happen.

Rather than knee-jerk disagreement or admonitions of impracticality, I hope that some of you will perceive the faint glimmer of light roiling against the darkness. To that end:

Life Lesson: Be open to letting your child explore asymmetrical or unconventional forms of education: apprenticeship, travel, homeschooling, independent study, art, experiential investigation, play, etc. Mainstream public education can be a positive (I have met teachers that give heart and soul to the kids), but as applied across the board in its lowest denominator, today’s public education is designed as a compliance oriented Industrial Age necessity for managing the masses, instilling societal programming and producing workers.

Life Lesson: From this point on, I will do my utmost to look beyond the surface when my child says “No,” whether it’s to me as a parent, to a teacher or to anyone. Safety concerns aside, I will encourage my child’s instincts, independence and critical analysis skills. I don’t want to produce another cog in the great wheel of Society. This approach won’t be easy, convenient, or peaceful. I will suffer a fair amount of impingement upon my existence to the extent that I freely choose to sacrifice my expectations for the sake of my child. Of course, it’s maddening to hear your child reject your direction, and there are certainly risks to encouraging a non-conformist model. But I’m going to reap the wind, and think of it in terms of a contemporary film metaphor:

Neo must awaken from the Matrix.

Extra Credit: anyone recognize the picture reference below?

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.

Ground Control to Major Tom – Anyone Listening?

Absent extraterrestrials accelerating our learning curve by letting us ride their alien coattails as Space-faring vagabonds, humanity’s future rests with colonizing the final frontier. The hazards of this gamble will be severe. We may even splinter into multiple subspecies as we adapt to conditions on other worlds. So be it. I don’t like rolling the dice with existence, but incredibly, that’s civilization’s daily lottery purchase while governments squabble, squander, and potentially degenerate into Orwell’s 1984 or the movie Idiocracy. Neither of these fictional options bodes well. Let me remind everyone that although the odds of winning the Powerball Lottery jackpot are a daunting 1 in 175 million… it happens frequently. Now think about those statistical results in relation to the occurrence of an Extinction Level Event. It’s not as farfetched as you thought.

To those who say we aren’t ready…  my riposte is that we damn sure won’t be without setting into motion dedicated resource allocation and systemic planning. Sadly, I cannot repudiate the fact that humanity is an immature and imperfect life form. However, long before we gain enough wisdom to govern our base nature, we will need to ascend to the stars if we wish to survive. Show me the corner of our shrinking planet that remains untouched by our sphere of influence – it’s impossible. While our population is ceaselessly smashing against our terrestrial boundaries, what of incurable pandemics, deadly environmental degradation, gamma-ray bursts, rogue asteroid collisions – pick your cause, but the only effect question is “when,” not “if.”

I have opined on this topic before and will continue to do so. Today, my outcry is sparked by a news article on China launching astronauts to their Tiangong 1 experimental Space Module. The article seems to mock China’s description of the task as “glorious and sacred,” denigrates their national support as “Communist Party propaganda,” includes ridicule of their children “dressed as happy ethnic minorities waving,” cites a Twitter comment that charges China of wasting money for this mission, and finishes with the coup de grace – accusations of an interstellar arms race. Really, that’s objective, agenda-free reporting? Of all the critical discussions that this worthy event could have engendered, why is the public instead served a cold dish of short-sighted, fear mongering drivel?

At a time when NASA’s current role in Space exploration is that of an armchair cheerleader, are we truly going to hurl stones at any culture that pursues advanced strategies for our race’s sustainability? Why is it that in the last decade the most memorable moment of Space ambassadorship is a song performed in orbit by a Canadian astronaut? Bravo, Commander Chris Hadfield!  Someone must awaken the people, and your rendition of David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” aboard the International Space Station was magical… my hope is that it calls to those among us, young and old, who still harbor enough imagination and pioneering spirit to propel our species to a wondrous adventure among the heavens.

I am an American, and I love my country. The US Constitution stands as a singular social triumph over an otherwise turbulent human history. Though the freedoms enshrined therein may be under siege these days, I derive no comfort from petty attacks on foreign nations. I am not defending China’s human rights record or similar politics. I am speaking of their effort to embrace a common destiny, one that should unite humanity. Indeed, one of my greatest concerns is that my country has cut the legs out from under what could be our existential salvation – NASA. While I agree that permitting and incentivizing private companies to enter the foray into Space makes good sense, I am steadfast in my belief that such a galactic endeavor really does require global cooperation. For that reality, we need our governments and elected leaders to be stakeholders in this higher vision.

What happened to the grandiose dreams of the generations following Neil Armstrong’s “one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind?” Does nobody look in amazement to the sky, to the Universe? If only every one of us could reflect upon our blue jewel from Space… Earth… humbling, magnificent, and yet, merely a dew drop in the vast Cosmic ocean.