tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143470430389358282024-03-13T22:21:46.242-07:00The BridgeBringing enlightenment, enjoyment and fulfillment to mid-life baby boomers.Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-78862036490774587012020-05-29T11:49:00.002-07:002020-05-29T11:49:53.894-07:00Ask Professor Wiseasski<br />
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<h4>
The Solar Tsunami</h4>
<br />
A while back the news covered a story about the Northern
Lights being visible further south than normal, due to sun activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend of mine sent me an email about it.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I looked at the Prescott sky last night and saw what looked
like a faint tunnel cloud across the sky. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the darndest thing. What are those
special lights supposed to look like? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please
respond in 300 pages or less. – K”<br />
<br />
<br />
Here is my response to her:<br />
<br />
<br />
"Hi K, I will start at the beginning, then I will skip to near the
end. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BANG!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Well, at least that is one theory of the
beginning.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Moving forward to now, we know that our sun is a huge, boiling
blob and it spits out stuff, just like a pot of spaghetti sauce boiling on the
stove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will spatter tomato sauce and
juices and bits of spices and herbs in all directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of those very recent spitting outs, from
the sun not the spaghetti sauce, spat directly at the Earth.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
So ... here’s what could happen when that wad of spit hits
us:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it’ll be like a huge tsunami wave
rolling in from the ocean, but instead of just water with a little salt in it,
it is filled with strange, electromagnetically charged particles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if It is a tsunami in the ocean and if that
tsunami comes right at you, it can run up on your beach there in paradise and
knock down your thatched roof house.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now I do not want to get too technical for you here, but a
tsunami of solar waves is a different animal, full of weird stuff, like
neutrons and ions and eons and other stuff like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those things can interfere in some way
with the protons and neutrons and morons and other types of matter that we already
have here on, and around, Earth.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
So, this tsunami first manifests itself by glowing in the
atmosphere like a neon light show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
is the cool part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then it starts
screwing with electrical gadgets and radio waves and things stop working
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things like our communication
satellites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it gets around to the rays
like UVs and UVAs and Bs and increases your chances of going blind with macular
degeneration and developing cataracts, so you better hope you have your
sunglasses on at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then
the trouble causing Xs.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of course, when those X-rays, hit you, they will just go <u>right</u>
through you just like getting an X-ray at the doctor’s office on your whole
body all at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not know how many
X rays you have had lately, but they seem to be coming at me fairly
regularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And no one seems to really
know how many of those you can have a year without getting sick or mutating
into another life form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we just got
another one, courtesy of the Sun deciding to spit at us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
So, here is the sun, suddenly aiming one right at us …
spitting directly into the "blue eye of earth" and maybe that ought
to be telling us something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
somebody or something is pissed … and trying to either pick a fight, straighten
us out, or maybe just letting us know the end is getting near.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
Danged if I know which.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t figure out
for sure if we need to start a movement to put up some kind of big defense
mirror out there in space to reflect it back to them, or to get down on our
knees and pray and promise to do better, or to just get our affairs in order in
case our entire existence comes to an end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><br />
<br />
Being conservative, I am going to hedge the bet and do at
least two out of the three.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh! …. K! …<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just
re-read your message … you simply asked me what those special lights are supposed
to <i>look </i>like. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
Well, from the Prescott sky at night, one would have seen
what looked like a faint tunnel cloud across the sky, like a darndest thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did that answer your question?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-Tom."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If you want a simple answer, ask a simple man.<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-22715914875836877492019-12-04T12:31:00.000-08:002019-12-04T12:31:23.789-08:00ORDER NOW<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #575757; font-family: Georgia,Utopia,"Palatino Linotype",Palatino,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.75em; orphans: 2; position: relative; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-34513133149739922742017-05-06T22:19:00.000-07:002017-05-06T22:19:18.122-07:00The Impossible Cure<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<a href="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/2b0c4c_119a6e78ac6845bdad6fe305080355f9~mv2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Tom Hays - Storyteller -" border="0" height="320" src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/2b0c4c_119a6e78ac6845bdad6fe305080355f9~mv2.jpg" title="" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">My friend Ben used to watch old Lewis hobble along the sidewalk of the downtown square back in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Enid</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Oklahoma</st1:state></st1:place>. Lewis always had his crutches, one under each arm, and he literally dragged his legs and feet along as he pivoted the crutches back and forth. He had gotten really good at it. Ben had seen him going along without missing a beat even when the streets and sidewalks were covered with a layer of ice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Ben never knew how Lewis became crippled, and he could not remember a time when Lewis was not using his crutches. His imagination led him down many paths: polio, a car wreck, thrown from a horse, a war injury, plane crash … Ben never knew. He had only heard it could not be fixed. Lewis would always be hopelessly crippled. Ben had to admire his spirit, though. He’d often whistle as he swung himself along and nearly always had a smile to share when anyone passed him on the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> One evening, Ben was having a Coke with Uncle Charlie who was having something a little stronger. Uncle Charlie was himself a fixture in town: red close-cropped hair in a flat top, and a huge red handlebar mustache that he kept neatly waxed and curled up at the ends. Ben and Charlie were not really related, but Ben, along with everyone else, called him Uncle Charlie. Ben thought he was kind of like that strange uncle every family seemed to have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> So, Uncle Charlie took a long drink of his adult beverage and ordered another one. Ben didn’t know how many he had finished before Ben got there, but Uncle Charlie did like to operate from a higher place than most people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Hey, did I tell you what happened to Lewis?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Suddenly, Ben’s heart sank. Had something happened to Lewis? “No … what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Uncle Charlie wiped the beer foam from the bottom of his mustache. “I saw him the other evening out at the big tent revival, you know, up there on that vacant lot at the north end of town. Some traveling preacher came into town and put up a big tent. The preacher claimed that God talks to him personally and tells him to travel around and spread His word. Says God gave him the power to heal just by placing his hands on people of faith, and all he asks of them is donations to keep him going. There were a lot of people there, and old Lewis was one of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “I never knew Lewis was particularly religious,” Ben said, “and I thought he had long given up any thought of ever walking again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Well, Lewis was there nonetheless, a lot of people were, the place was packed. It was a warm night and the preacher was really wound up. I’m telling you, he had the people standing up and shouting out praises right along with him. And then he got to the healing part. Lewis was standing with a crutch under each arm yelling just about as loud as everyone else. The preacher spotted Lewis in the crowd and came right down off the little stage he’d set up and walked right over to him.” Uncle Charlie took another drink and continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “That preacher had already taken off his coat, and he was sweating and swinging his arms around and practically shouting at the top of his lungs. He stopped directly in front of Lewis and slapped his right hand firmly down on the top of his head, almost knocking him over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Do you believe?” the preacher shouted to Lewis. “Do you believe that the Lord God Almighty gave me the power to heal you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Lewis started shaking. The preacher asked the audience to join him in calling up the power. He pressed down harder on the top of Lewis’s head.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “If you truly believe that God gave me this power, you will be healed! You will walk again! I command you now, <i>be healed!</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Uncle Charlie went on. “He took the crutch from under Lewis’s right arm, held it high in the air, and then tossed it into the crowd. The place went wild. Women and men were weeping and raising their arms and shouting praises. Lewis was staring straight ahead in disbelief.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Then the preacher, with his hand still on Lewis’s head, again shouted, ‘God told me to heal you … <i>be healed!</i>’ and took the crutch from under Lewis’s left arm, held it in the air and threw it nearly to the back of the crowd in the tent. Again, the crowd went crazy, more so than before. It was truly a sight to see; I’ll never forget it as long as I live.” Uncle Charlie took another long drink of his beverage and then carefully wiped the foam from his mustache as before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Ben couldn’t wait any longer to hear the rest. “What happened next, Uncle Charlie?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Uncle Charlie gave the tip of his red mustache a little twist and turned right to Ben. “Well, Lewis fell on his ass. He’s crippled you know.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>From the book "Twisted by the Wind" by Tom Hays</i></span></div>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-70776390682876772732016-06-30T14:44:00.000-07:002016-06-30T14:50:15.681-07:00Story Two of a Trilogy entitled "316 East Boulevard - "Beulah's Curse"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sNdydyE7p-A/V3WKmLA_FdI/AAAAAAAAAvo/kKqYvO92kgYUkkl4oInx95K1mjXAGc9LgCLcB/s1600/Beulah%2527s%2BCurse%2BReviews.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sNdydyE7p-A/V3WKmLA_FdI/AAAAAAAAAvo/kKqYvO92kgYUkkl4oInx95K1mjXAGc9LgCLcB/s400/Beulah%2527s%2BCurse%2BReviews.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beulahs-Curse-316-East-Boulevard/dp/0692710469/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"></span><br /></a>
<span style="line-height: 22.4px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beulahs-Curse-316-East-Boulevard/dp/0692710469/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">"BEULAH'S CURSE"</a></span><br />
A fiction noir novella by Tom Hays,<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">The Civil War had just begun. Young plantation slave Ahracee had a dream that one day he would be able to put down his hoe and shovel and do something more with his life. Ahracee thought to himself that watching, learning, picking up skills beyond the job he was assigned, and making himself more valuable as a human being, were the keys to success.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">Ahracee’s young girlfriend Sheika supposed that one day she would convince Ahracee to marry her. But life sometimes takes strange turns.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">Ahracee left the plantation to join the Union Army. Enter Beulah, and her black magic. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">The first novella in the trilogy "316 East Boulevard" is titled "There Were Several Ladies Present". "Beulah's Curse" is the prequel to that story.</span><br />
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<ul style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; list-style-type: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style: none; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700;">ISBN-10:</span> 0692710469</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style: none; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700;">ISBN-13:</span> 978-0692710463</li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box; list-style: none; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;">Click for more information <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beulahs-Curse-316-East-Boulevard/dp/0692710469/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"> Beulah's Curse</a></li>
</ul>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-21646417255914534052016-02-03T14:21:00.002-08:002016-02-03T14:21:19.778-08:00<h2>
NEW!! NEW!! NEW!!</h2>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xm1lsSEjRH4/VrJ6ZssEB4I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/DEa6mUlvLT4/s320/There_Were_Several_L_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" width="200" /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 16.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">A Fiction-Noir novella. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">The date was August 22, 1968. The gathering was in the home of one Clarisse Jones, 316 East Boulevard, Birmingham, Alabama. The imposing residence had been the scene of hundreds of these society luncheons over its long history. as the home of a long time pillar of Black society, Mrs. Christine Brown-Jones and, for that matter, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">her family before her. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">Now, however, the house was presided over by Mrs. Clarisse Jones, a very recent arrival. There were a lot of questions to be answered about the circumstances surrounding this change in occupancy of the house. Persistent rumors had certainly flamed the east Birmingham ladies’ interest in attending this “hot ticket” event.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.8px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/There-Several-Ladies-Present-Boulevard/dp/0692627324/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1454536218&sr=1-1&keywords=there+were+several+ladies+present" target="_blank"><b>More Info</b></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.8px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.8px;">Available now i</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">n paperback o</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;">r Kindle.</span></span>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-5193054561278943102016-01-01T18:25:00.002-08:002016-01-01T18:25:44.355-08:00<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>NEW RELEASE!!!!</b></h2>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bait-Healthy-Horror-Tom-Hays/dp/0692604243/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Frs0KrxQjkY/VocC9CvSyYI/AAAAAAAAAsc/52vDHwHkl6I/s400/Bait_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">VEGETARIAN? THERE ARE THOSE WHO WOULD PREY ON YOU! BAIT - A Healthy Dose of Horror, a novella by Tom Hays, is a cautionary tale of two healthy, personable young women who, through their own naivety, willingly become the prey in a high stakes business of nutrition and… death! Angela, a talented and beautiful blonde, and her room-mate and best friend Lacey, become easy targets in the hands of Robb, a handsome young businessman. Will you be the next victim? Beware. You are what you eat. Previous books by this author include TWISTED BY THE WIND : A Journal of Inspirations, Conversations and Imaginations, and SEEDS INTO THE WIND : One Thousand Days of Timeless Wisdom</span>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-17810298364750680992015-01-08T13:18:00.000-08:002015-01-08T13:18:21.874-08:00File this in your library under “Business Opportunities”.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XYFYUv6OebM/VK7yi323naI/AAAAAAAAAqo/yxl_xBE4a90/s1600/6fd3900d12c09685e1928905b49fafa6%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XYFYUv6OebM/VK7yi323naI/AAAAAAAAAqo/yxl_xBE4a90/s1600/6fd3900d12c09685e1928905b49fafa6%5B1%5D.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Grape-Nuts are not really made from grape seeds are they? </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">In fact, there are no parts from grapes in the cereal, and grapes
don’t even have nuts, they have seeds.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">So why would they claim that’s what they are? Nuts or grape seeds,
either way they are not from grapes.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">That’s false advertising in my book, and we have been eating them
most of our lives under this purposeful false and misleading claim.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anyone with me for a class action lawsuit?</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-64796152828964089782014-12-09T15:48:00.000-08:002014-12-09T15:50:20.499-08:00Quotes<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mMPzSi2Jpo8/VIeICF_SH2I/AAAAAAAAAqY/f66UGd4KuYo/s1600/Four%2BMillion%2BYears.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mMPzSi2Jpo8/VIeICF_SH2I/AAAAAAAAAqY/f66UGd4KuYo/s1600/Four%2BMillion%2BYears.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mMPzSi2Jpo8/VIeICF_SH2I/AAAAAAAAAqY/f66UGd4KuYo/s1600/Four%2BMillion%2BYears.gif" height="335" title="Quote" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://postwoodpress.com/">http://postwoodpress.com</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-76518078744640189512014-08-15T15:33:00.000-07:002019-12-04T11:02:50.566-08:00SEEDS INTO THE WIND: One Thousand Days of Timeless Wisdom<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><a href="https://www.createspace.com/4878178" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Order NOW for Christmas presents!!</a> </b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"> </b><span class="projectSummaryEmphasize" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;"> </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qVHK5SKr6is/U-570TjKbWI/AAAAAAAAApE/OKDQVxDDUPM/s1600/Seeds_Into_the_Wind_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #ffed32; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qVHK5SKr6is/U-570TjKbWI/AAAAAAAAApE/OKDQVxDDUPM/s1600/Seeds_Into_the_Wind_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="207" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;">NEW! From the author of <i>Twisted By The Wind</i>. <i>SEEDS INTO THE WIND</i> is a collection of over one thousand inspirational, motivational, witty and sometimes humorous quotations selected from “Here’s Your Pearl of the Day® from Tom Hays”, a daily “thought starter” email sent to subscribers and featured on selected websites for over fourteen years. The book features quotations from famous and infamous thinkers throughout history to the present day. <i>Readers are encouraged to. each day. choose a random number between one and one thousand, look up that numbered quotation in the book and see what "Pearl of Wisdom" fate brings them that day.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"></span>
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<span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">List Price:</span> <span class="projectSummaryEmphasize" style="font-weight: bold;">$12.95 </span><span class="projectSummaryEmphasize" style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: bold;"> https://www.amazon.com/dp/0692262466</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></div>
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<span class="projectSummaryEmphasize" style="font-weight: bold;">5.5" x 8.5" </span><span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">(13.97 x 21.59 cm) </span><br />
Black & White on White paper<br />
160 pages</div>
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Postwood Press<br />
<span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">ISBN-13:</span> 978-0692262467 <span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">(Custom)</span><br />
<span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">ISBN-10:</span> 0692262466<br />
<span class="projectSummaryLight" style="color: #666666;">BISAC:</span> Philosophy / Ethics & Moral Philosophy </div>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-19452349780009959832013-09-12T15:50:00.000-07:002013-09-12T15:50:28.061-07:00¡¡Aprender Los Sonidos Del Inglés!!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lFSkRFmXir4/UjJDmcDbf6I/AAAAAAAAAnM/5I8DeBX4X68/s1600/AHA!+Front+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lFSkRFmXir4/UjJDmcDbf6I/AAAAAAAAAnM/5I8DeBX4X68/s400/AHA!+Front+Cover.jpg" width="285" /></a>Now ... for the first time!
Help for the Spanish-speaking child in the English language reading environment!
Available on DVD.</div>
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<b>Welcome to AHA!</b>
The English Language Sound Spectacular.
AHA! is a self-contained dual-language phonics enrichment program custom
designed for native Spanish-speaking students.
Used in conjunction with Beginning English reading programs, it aids the
child in unlocking English language sound-symbol relationships. Used in conjunction with beginning Spanish reading
programs, it teaches, in the language with which the </div>
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child is most
comfortable, the concept of decoding.</div>
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HIGH INTEREST FORMAT</div>
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High-interest, lavishly illustrated detective format helps
the student solve the mystery of English
sounds and symbols via dual-language adventures including Sweet Thing and the
Green Bean Beast, the Mighty Pie-in-the-Eye Sniper Caper, Mugs Money, the
Truck-Driving Duck Thug, the Case of the
Vain Viper, and many others. </div>
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OVERVIEW</div>
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Lesson 1 - Long English Vowels</div>
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Lesson 2 - Short English Vowels</div>
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Lesson 3 - Consonants; with </div>
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special emphasis</div>
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on
letters B,V,R,H, </div>
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and
J, the most difficult </div>
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for
Spanish speakers.</div>
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<span style="color: red;"><b>Order Aha! English Language Sound Spectacular at <a href="https://www.createspace.com/371449" target="_blank">https://www.createspace.com/371449</a>or thru Amazon and other DVD sellers.</b></span></div>
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<b>¡¡Aprender Los
Sonidos Del Inglés!<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EA0swsLrOcw/UjJDojYzyXI/AAAAAAAAAnU/asjniynGZgw/s1600/AHA!+Back+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EA0swsLrOcw/UjJDojYzyXI/AAAAAAAAAnU/asjniynGZgw/s400/AHA!+Back+Cover.jpg" width="278" /></a>Ahora ... por primera vez! Ayuda para el niño de habla
española en el idioma Inglés entorno de lectura! Disponible en DVD.</div>
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<b>Bienvenido a AHA!</b>
Espectacular El Idioma Inglés Sound. AHA! es un programa personalizado autónomo
bilingüe fonética enriquecimiento diseñada para los estudiantes de habla
española de origen. Utilizado junto con el comienzo de los programas de lectura
en inglés, que ayuda al niño en el desbloqueo de inglés relaciones entre
sonidos y símbolos. Utilizado junto con el comienzo de los programas de lectura
en español, que enseña en el idioma con el que el niño se sienta más cómodo, el
concepto de decodificación. </div>
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GRAN FORMATO INTERÉS alto interés, formato
detective profusamente ilustrado ayuda al estudiante a resolver el misterio de
los sonidos y los símbolos en inglés a través de aventuras en dos idiomas como
Sweet Thing y la bestia de la haba verde, el Poderoso Pie-en-el-ojo
Francotirador Caper, tazas Dinero , el pato Thug Truck-Driving, el caso de la
víbora Vain, y muchos otros.</div>
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PANORAMA</div>
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Lección 1 - Long Inglés Vocales Lección 2 - Short Inglés
Vocales Lección 3 - Las consonantes, con especial énfasis en las letras B, V,
R, H y J, el más difícil para los hispanohablantes.</div>
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<b>Ordene Ajá! Idioma Inglés Sound Spectacular en <a href="https://www.createspace.com/371449">https://www.createspace.com/371449</a>
oa través de Amazon y otros vendedores de DVD.</b></div>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-7694813418251095842013-06-05T10:52:00.000-07:002013-06-05T10:57:00.764-07:00New from Postwood Press... for your children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV25HYAOcU4/Ua9x6V1HvMI/AAAAAAAAAkc/r678Eew3Neo/s1600/Ann+in+Musicland+MP3+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CV25HYAOcU4/Ua9x6V1HvMI/AAAAAAAAAkc/r678Eew3Neo/s200/Ann+in+Musicland+MP3+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><b>ANNE IN MUSICLAND</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">An introduction to the sounds of the orchestra. For pre-school, kindergarten and early grade school children. A young girl, Anne, finds herself in MusicLand and meets the various musical instruments.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">This program was designed to introduce pre-school, kindergarten and early grade school children to the basic orchestra and band instruments. Basic emphasis in the program is on recognition of sounds of the instruments. The method employed is the utilization of a story theme and the development of a personality for each instrument introduced.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">A young girl, Anne, is the vehicle through which </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">the story progresses and the instruments are </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">introduced to the listener. It is anticipated that the children will more readily recognize instruments with which they can associate a character or story.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Anne wakes up to the clash of cymbals at the gate of Musicland. She receives permission from Cymbal the Great to enter Musicland. Anne becomes involved in a disagreement between violins and "fiddles", searches for the missing Silent Sam the Cello, and meets many inhabitants of MusicLand, including Grandpa Bass, Violet Viola, Flighty Flute, Tiny Piccolo, Blacky Clarinet, Ruby Oboe, Bob Bassoon, and Jax the Sax. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">In Chapter Two, Anne continues her search for Silent Sam the Cello so he can play in a special Musicland Concert. While searching for Silent Sam, she meets Boom-Boom the Bass Drum, Rat-a-tat Snare Drum, and Ting-a-ling Triangle. They invite her to join their parade in honor of Terry and Timmy Timpani who are returning to MusicLand after their successful debut at Carnegie Hall. She meets Big George the Tuba, Slipper Slide Trombone, Frenchy the French Horn, Mr. Trumpet, and the Timpani. Anne's adventures in MusicLand end with the successful concert appearance of Silent Sam, and a promise from Cymbal the Great that she can return to meet more MusicLand citizens in the future.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">The children in your life will love this interesting story, while developing a new interest in music and the various instruments. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">This fun recording is available through Amazon</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">, </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00D3PMGIS/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00D3PMGIS&linkCode=as2&tag=inertmediacom-20" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Anne in MusicLand</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"> as an instant download. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Or, </span><a href="https://www.createspace.com/2161986" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Click here to order the CD</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">.</span></a>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-14359333064949857792012-09-21T20:45:00.001-07:002012-09-21T20:46:43.568-07:00Minister vs. Preacher<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cqzb4aKMBcE/UF0zmMTgKCI/AAAAAAAAAb4/lyJwHxSW4O0/s1600/muirwood.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cqzb4aKMBcE/UF0zmMTgKCI/AAAAAAAAAb4/lyJwHxSW4O0/s200/muirwood.JPG" width="139" /></a></div>
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<b>From the book <i>Twisted by the Wind </i>by Tom Hays</b></div>
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I don't know where this “ministry” will
eventually lead. I only know that I have
a calling, and I have to follow … wherever it leads. Presently, I feel it is to provide
enlightenment and encouragement to others around me; to somehow have a positive
influence on their daily life, to open doors of understanding, and compassion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is not important to me what your particular
religious or spiritual beliefs are, nor do I want to make you believe mine.
The important thing is we both have them, and there are probably many more
similarities than differences. I happen
to feel that a superior power, known by many names, including God, resides
within us and can be called upon at any time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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To me, being a good or "Christian"
person is not so much about "talking the talk" as it is about
"walking the walk". It is a
way to live life, some variation of the golden rule, wherein we live in such a
way that we treat others the way they would like to be treated ... and to not
let them change us when they don't do the same for us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My prayer is to be able to find ways to live a
better life, with more kindness, more compassion, more understanding, more
fulfillment and more smiles. I ask the
Great Spirit for those things, for me, and for you.</div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">- Reverend Tom -</span></div>
Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-22837481765502891932012-08-21T15:33:00.000-07:002012-08-22T13:29:48.684-07:00Ben Had the Music Up Loud<br />
From an upcoming new book by <b><a href="http://www.twistedbythewind.com/" target="_blank">Tom Hays</a></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>B</b></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">en had
been alone in a monastery for five years and back home in Oklahoma only a short
while when he decided to move to Arizona. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He liked the desert. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He liked the mysticism of the people who had
inhabited the place before, way before, who lived in caves and crude dwellings
but had somehow figured out how to live on the harsh land and get along with
the spirits and powers that inhabited the area along with them. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Thousands of years of human history laid bare,
open to discovery and study.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The good vibes, given
off by the rocks, the soil and the spirits of the ancients, filled the desert
air. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ben felt them calling
him, and he and his soul mate settled in and started calling it home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Home was a pueblo style,
adobe house in a sparse desert suburban area. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">A large area had been cleared for a patio,
surrounded by a low adobe wall, high enough to perhaps keep the javelinas out
but the more agile coyotes could come and go at will. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ben had seen them walking atop six foot walls,
so he knew any attempt to keep them out was futile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Tonight was a dinner
party with two other couples, good friends with an equal love for the desert,
its plants and folklore. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Never mind that the days
had been running 109 to 112, it was summer and expected. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ben was in a good mood and looking forward to
the get together. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He had volunteered to
make the homemade Mexican vanilla ice cream, grill the pork tenderloin and
prepare his famous salsa to serve over the sliced meat. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Life was good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ben had the music up
loud, grooving on Steely Dan’s phenomenal bass licks. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Even Albert the cat was tapping his paw in time
with the beat, eyes closed and laying next to the stone fireplace. There
was harmony playing nearby, the sounds of the ice cream maker churning away in
the background, just outside the patio door, seemed to compliment the music, as
if it too was coming from the sound system. The tenderloin had been
seasoned with the rub and it was anticipating placement on the outdoor grill,
and the vegetables were carefully chopped and marinating in the salsa bowl.
Ben was looking forward to a fun evening with friends, unlike the five
years of silent aloneness in the monastery. Company was coming, people to talk
and laugh with, everything was perfect and Ben’s mood was building higher and
higher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Suddenly, a shot! Then
another--and another in quick succession!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ben quickly turned to
face the noise only to see ………. !!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Tune in next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-26821775905221583412012-08-02T13:36:00.000-07:002012-08-02T13:36:25.716-07:00Shocked Listeners Hear Civilized Life on Planet Amphibia!<br />
By <span style="font-weight: bold;">Tom Hays</span><br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my experiences a few years ago in a recording studio in Oklahoma, in which we were fortunate to have recorded <a href="http://www.starbasetoad.com/">strange signals from a distant planet</a>.<br />
<br />
I invited readers to visit a web page where they could hear <a href="http://www.starbasetoad.com/">actual samples</a> of those recordings and, if they wished, order the complete collection of those recordings. The results have been gratifying.<br />
<br />
As predicted, some felt compelled to question my sanity, but many were amazed (or perhaps amused) and immediately ordered the CD’s by mail or simply downloaded them in audiobook format from the internet. In my view, those who responded with an order were the smartest ones. They are already listening to every exciting episode in this historic series of recordings.<br />
<br />
Now, it is your turn. If you have not yet listened to this series I urge you to <a href="http://www.starbasetoad.com/">listen and order now!</a><br />
<br />
Are there really little green men from outer space? Here is where you find out.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fUrvv-m5BMI/UBrisaL7jkI/AAAAAAAAAbE/-SqCbVEH8Wk/s1600/Wak+Et+Bong+copy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fUrvv-m5BMI/UBrisaL7jkI/AAAAAAAAAbE/-SqCbVEH8Wk/s200/Wak+Et+Bong+copy.gif" width="183" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wak et Bong the Merciless Salamander</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.starbasetoad.com/" target="_blank">http://www.starbasetoad.com</a>.<br />Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-82209019188860294772012-06-27T16:16:00.000-07:002012-06-27T16:20:11.808-07:00New Audio Books Reveal Secret Discovery of Civilized Life on Distant Planet.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; color: #222222; float: left; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-right: 1em; padding: 5px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT0InW_t4Tw/T9QA-cj2uwI/AAAAAAAAAZs/nebFLl7R6QY/s1600/B065_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #888888; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT0InW_t4Tw/T9QA-cj2uwI/AAAAAAAAAZs/nebFLl7R6QY/s320/B065_web.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 0px 0px 0px; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 11px; text-align: center;">Tom Hays, Writer/Producer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I</span>t was a few years back, a time when life had a different feel to it. The air in the recording studio seemed electric … sparking … crackling with activity and creativity, spiced by the smells of stale pizza, herb and cigarette smoke, filled with the amplified sounds of voices, music and sound effects.</span><br />
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As my friend John and I worked into the fuzzy hours of the night building commercials for my advertising clients, we had little knowledge of just what was coming our way, courtesy of an errant sound mixing console.<br />
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My agency studio was filled with second hand equipment, mostly acquired from radio stations. That old broadcast console and the Ampex recorders had some miles on them, but I had a good consulting engineer go through the place on a regular basis who kept it right up to specs. Maybe too good.<br />
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As I said, it was late, and we were trying to finish up, but as we were listening to a playback, we started to hear some sounds that were not coming from what we had just recorded, faint sounds as if from far, far away. We were in a soundproof studio. Nothing was on except the tape player, the console and the speakers. What was that noise? We turned off the tape playback, but the far away sound persisted. We turned the speakers all the way down, and still the strange sounds came. With our ears we followed the sound to the source, the small broadcast monitor speaker in the console. We were not a radio station. We were not “broadcasting” anything. It got weird after that.<br />
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“If we’re not broadcasting,” I said, “then we must be receiving.” John turned up the volume on the console monitor and the sound became more audible. It was like nothing we had ever heard before, like a microphone was on in a strange place and no one knew it was on, and it was being transmitted. Somehow, my old radio broadcast console was picking up that transmission. Strange indeed, for the sounds were like an old radio serial from days gone by. “John,” I said, “we’d better get this while we can.” John turned on one of the recorders and we started recording.<br />
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The recordings continued, night after night, and in time we came to discover that what we were hearing was some sort of transmission from a small planet named Amphibia, in a far away galaxy known as Croakatoria. All in all, we managed to piece together 40 of these recordings. Astounded as we were, but fearing how the government dealt with those people telling stories about "hearing people from outer space", we dared not release the recordings to the public. The project was code named “Star Base Toad”.<br />
<br />
Kept secretly and securely in my vault for all these years, I have now decided to risk ridicule and share these recordings with others who may find them of interest … people who may wish to hear about life on other planets, about alien civilizations and the distant reaches of space and time. It is important to me that the world has the opportunity, through these recordings, to study the society that exists on Amphibia so that we may try to better understand our own. There has never been a time when we needed that more than right now.<br />
<br />
In order to share this amazing audio discovery with as many people as possible, I have transferred the 40 recorded Star Base Toad episodes to 4 audio books, which have been published and are being distributed online by <a href="http://openbookaudio.com/audiobook/star-base-toad-complete-series" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">OpenBookAudio.com</a>. They are now available at most audio book dealers including iTunes and Audible.com. The four audio books are also available in CD format at <a href="http://www.starbasetoad.com/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">StarBaseToad.com</a>.</div>
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If your imagination will allow you to believe that life exists elsewhere, you can now listen and learn about the strange and exciting life on Amphibia. I urge you to listen carefully to the entire series.</div>
</blockquote>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-50892860788122756942012-04-25T09:56:00.000-07:002012-04-25T09:56:50.136-07:00Not For Babies Only...<br />
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<b><span style="color: #9e498b; font-size: large;"><img align="left" border="0" height="124" src="http://www.platinumpearls.com/platinumpearls/images/bath.jpg" width="156" /></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: left;">As I turned on the water to draw my bath, I glanced at the shelf by the tub lined with bottles of bath oils and lotions, reflecting various colors of the sky, the earth and flowering desert plants. Many of those bottles were given to me by friends at a birthday party who said, "Be kind to yourself, take a warm, long bath, relax, luxuriate and treat yourself like a baby." Hmmm...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I began by dipping my elbow into the bath water to check the temperature. As I slowly stepped into the water, the warmth of it engulfed my leg, and my foot felt the security of the smooth mat on the bottom. I lowered myself into the tub and cradled my neck in a soft pillow and breathed in the rising steam scented by a mild eucalyptus oil. Closing my eyes, covered by a cool eye mask, I consciously relaxed every muscle in my body. I listened to my deliberate, steady breathing, felt my heart beat ever so slowly and I fell peacefully asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Upon awakening I ran a hot shower and washed my hair, massaging my scalp with the hardness of my fingernails and the softness of my fingertips, making thick lather. Using one of my scented soaps and loufa, I washed my body, the roughness of the loufa scrubbing away dead skin, the faint lavender scent of the soap making me feel lusciously clean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Stepping out of the bath, I wrapped myself in a large, soft towel, heated by the towel warmer. As I poured the cool moisturizing lotion into my hands to warm it and smoothed it over my body, I luxuriated in the silky feel it was giving my skin, and it reminded me of the obvious joy a baby feels when rubbed with baby lotion after a warm bath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Babies are touched, caressed, massaged, nurtured for a reason. It gives them a feeling of security, love and acceptance. The human touch is so immensely important, not only to babies, but to all of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Even if we don't have the time or resources to indulge in professional massages, manicures, shampoos, or aromatherapy treatments, there's nothing to keep us from pampering ourselves and recalling those same feelings a baby feels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> As I dry my hair and dress, I think how I feel nurtured, loved, safe and relaxed, and it makes me recall those same feelings as when I was growing up. And I'm the one who made me feel this way. Pamper yourself -- treat yourself like a baby!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Warmly,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Susan Hays</span></div>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-50280450949032459892012-03-11T14:12:00.000-07:002012-03-11T14:12:03.272-07:00Tucson Book Fetival 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xzkvy1mQPzU/T10TLS_EldI/AAAAAAAAAZI/sgKByjTIuOA/s1600/DSCN0309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xzkvy1mQPzU/T10TLS_EldI/AAAAAAAAAZI/sgKByjTIuOA/s320/DSCN0309.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Tom Hays welcoming visitors to his book signing at the HUGE Tucson Festival of Books. A great spring day on the University of Arizona campus.Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-91603238614557992682011-12-31T10:02:00.000-08:002011-12-31T10:02:32.515-08:00WINTER'S ENDBen lay in a darkened room, motionless, staring at the ceiling fan above as it made involuntary, slow circles, pushed by the air register on the wall above his head. Apart from that, Ben was conscious of nothing else in his surroundings. He had no feeling, the pain driven away by the narcotics administered by the nurse minutes before.<br />
<br />
She had come in, asked him how he felt and, although the only response she received were a blank stare and a slight grimace, she knew what he was telling her. She pulled a syringe and small vial out of her uniform pocket, filled the syringe, injected the needle and his grimace slowly eased away to stoic nothingness.<br />
<br />
As she left the room, the overhead fan blades became like a shutter on a movie projector through which Ben watched snippets of his life, in no particular order.<br />
<br />
He saw his mother leaning over him, tending to him as he lay in his crib and remembering her beautiful smile. Then he recalled the last time he saw her before she passed away, with the loving, pleased look in her eyes as she gazed at him as an adult standing over her bed.<br />
<br />
In quick succession he saw scenes from his childhood, his years of discovery and growth through the spring of his teen years, then through the summer years of his young adult life with the activity of building a place for himself in the world.<br />
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He visualized the relative comfort and beauty of his maturity as if the events of that time had all been in fall colors, warm and relaxing. Then he watched his doctor’s face turn winter white pale as he read the test findings to him and pause briefly before he uttered the word “cancer”.<br />
<br />
It had been a long winter at the end of the series of seasons in his life. Ben was a fighter, never giving up easily, but he always chose his battles carefully. This one chose him. Somehow he knew this was one he could not win. Winter had closed in, and this long, late winter’s night was to be his last.<br />
<br />
As dawn finally broke, a thin sliver of bright, white light made its way past the window frame and into the still dark room, crossing Ben’s motionless face. He moved his eyes toward the light and looked directly into it. A slight smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. Staring fixedly into the brilliant, white light, Ben followed it to the eternal spring.<br />
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copyright 2011 Tom HaysTom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-64381381176232522382011-12-11T11:47:00.000-08:002011-12-11T11:47:23.273-08:00Christmas Interview<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/avL3fv61wyQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-46442220650637658182011-09-07T14:20:00.000-07:002011-09-07T14:20:30.717-07:00Twisted by the Wind1A short movie about the book TWISTED BY THE WIND written by Tom Hays<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pTriYKgsies?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-52648352816188940752011-07-19T14:39:00.000-07:002011-07-19T15:21:40.542-07:00"Life is Just a Picnic in the Park" -Tom Hays<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mable’s Boys </span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">(From the book <i>Twisted by the Wind </i>by Tom Hays)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-42tjZVmIkbQ/TiX3_TFujSI/AAAAAAAAAT8/fAo0HGx8GCs/s1600/FREE+PIE+WITH+EACH+BOOK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-42tjZVmIkbQ/TiX3_TFujSI/AAAAAAAAAT8/fAo0HGx8GCs/s320/FREE+PIE+WITH+EACH+BOOK.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ben used to go down to the park on Sundays with Frankie, his cousin. They were about nine or ten at the most. One particular summer, things got real interesting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frankie had learned how to look out for himself by that time. He could squeeze himself into about anything interesting that was going on, and make it work out for his own benefit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">His momma spent a lot of time working, and, with no father to turn to, Frankie kind of grabbed onto Ben’s family. He and Ben were almost like brothers for awhile. Frankie, a little older and more experienced, tried everything first, and sooner or later, Ben would follow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So, on most Sundays that summer, Frankie and Ben would be down at the park. They’d swing, and then slide, and then swing some more and then slide some more, climb on the monkey bars and run up and down the paths. Sooner or later they would work up quite an appetite.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frankie would go first, over to the picnic area where he would carefully survey the situation. Then he’d pick out a table, one with a big family around it and a lot of other kids milling around to provide cover.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frankie would slide up to the buffet and Ben would follow. They would take a plate and start filling it. Fried chicken, red jello with fruit cocktail in it, deviled eggs and pie … lots of pie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Some woman standing by the potato salad would look them up and down, and ask them, “Now just whose boys are you two?” Frankie knew to stuff a roll in his mouth before she got to the “you two?” He’d use an exaggerated munching motion, moving his whole face up and down, and he would mumble with his mouth full. Ben quickly stuffed his mouth, too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frankie would keep up his munching, and before he could finish his entire act, the woman would say, “You must be some of Mable’s! My, you boys are sure growing. Bet you’ll both be about as big as your daddy some day!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Frankie would just nod his head up and down, and Ben would catch on and start nodding his, too, in agreement. Then, two very agreeable young boys would slowly back away from the scene with full plates of delicious, genuine, Sunday picnic food. Life was sweet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That gambit worked all summer, perfectly every time … well, except for that <u>one</u> time … with the black family.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ben figured the real moral to the story, politics and race aside, is to just approach life like you belong there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sooner or later, the world will tell you who it wants you to be to make it happy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">You just have to nod your head up and down, and enjoy the picnic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-51107220382483463512011-06-04T17:10:00.000-07:002011-06-04T17:10:10.064-07:00Presentation at Chandler AZ Book Club<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfMpxBLV508/TeqyGtifSeI/AAAAAAAAARI/yXUsAXqBY-8/s1600/The+Line+Up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfMpxBLV508/TeqyGtifSeI/AAAAAAAAARI/yXUsAXqBY-8/s320/The+Line+Up.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>All this and dinner too!</b> Susan and I had a great time discussing <i>Twisted by the Wind</i> with this book club group in Chandler, Arizona. They had each read the book prior to the meeting, so it was really fun to hear their comments and share some of the inspirations that led to the stories related in the book.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ynmu8VaYdDs/Teqz1o_U7HI/AAAAAAAAARM/Hi7QB5emaC4/s1600/Tina+%2526+Karyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ynmu8VaYdDs/Teqz1o_U7HI/AAAAAAAAARM/Hi7QB5emaC4/s320/Tina+%2526+Karyn.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Members Tina and Karyn dishing up a delicious shrimp salad.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4gLm6p64XA4/Teqz-EKSI2I/AAAAAAAAARQ/0jbg1ifaUu8/s1600/Karyn+%2526+Katherine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4gLm6p64XA4/Teqz-EKSI2I/AAAAAAAAARQ/0jbg1ifaUu8/s320/Karyn+%2526+Katherine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karyn & hostess Katherine share a laugh.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lR3jdlrOaww/Teq0Cw0MvdI/AAAAAAAAARU/ZPxbpYzvt4Y/s1600/Susan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lR3jdlrOaww/Teq0Cw0MvdI/AAAAAAAAARU/ZPxbpYzvt4Y/s320/Susan.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Member Susan joins in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EBhLRvBLEQo/Teq0dZDwibI/AAAAAAAAARY/BVgBy0uuRxw/s1600/Susan+%2526+Tom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EBhLRvBLEQo/Teq0dZDwibI/AAAAAAAAARY/BVgBy0uuRxw/s320/Susan+%2526+Tom.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When they started pulling out their copies of my book, I knew I was talking to my kind of people.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xFxECKziipo/Teq0lwS6IsI/AAAAAAAAARc/gLBKZTEFEek/s1600/Table+Conversation+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xFxECKziipo/Teq0lwS6IsI/AAAAAAAAARc/gLBKZTEFEek/s320/Table+Conversation+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A good time was had by all! Great food, wonderful conversation and good wine. What could be better?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Thanks to my wonderful wife Susan for taking the pictures and being such a supportive partner, and to Katherine for inviting me to share my book with the nice ladies in her book club.Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-14797291493884151432011-05-10T16:00:00.000-07:002011-05-10T16:00:40.368-07:00Living the Nashville Dream(from the book <i>Twisted by the Wind</i> by Tom Hays)<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Cody walked onstage and surveyed the huge, cheering crowd, soaking in the excitement and energy radiated by thousands of adoring fans, the flashing effects lighting, the fog, and fireworks spewing from the pillars behind him. The warm-up band had been good … but the huge audience had evidently come to see him, Cody, the star attraction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Cody! Cody! Cody!” Their chant filled the huge auditorium to the rafters.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He threw his right arm up in the air with his guitar pick in-hand in a gesturing salute to the crowd, and the cheers grew even louder, more demanding!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Turning his head slightly to the right, he gave a shallow nod to the keyboard player, and his band began the set. The crowd was still screaming over the first, familiar bars of the first song.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He stepped to the mike, sang the first line, and the crowd noise swelled again. It was one of his signature songs, one he had written himself, one of many that had placed him on the top of the charts over and over again. At the chorus, everyone in the audience sang the hook with him. They knew it as well as he did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Women in the front rows charged the foot of the stage, trying to get closer, reaching for a touch of his pant leg, tossing flowers along with notes, phone numbers, and undergarments onto the stage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Cody smiled broadly, his pearl-white teeth gleaming in the spotlights. The crowd grew more frenzied and their sing-along turned to cheering at the top of their lungs, louder and louder, a constant high-pitched roar!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The loud buzzer on the timer over his head brought him to now. He suddenly realized the French fries were done. He lifted them from the cooker and dumped them into the draining tray. He salted them liberally and scooped them into small, red cardboard sleeves and placed the packages one by one onto the serving rack.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">His dream had brought him to Nashville for his big break nearly five years earlier.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking through the small opening over the rack holding the cooked fries, out to the serving counter and beyond to those waiting in line, he saw a collection of other wannabe dreamers on both sides of the counter, all playing the lottery in some form or other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Some, like him, playing the “Nashville Lottery” and hoping for a chance at fame.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Others, perhaps with an equal chance, simply purchased their lottery tickets at the quick mart, hoping for the big hand of chance to point to them and say, “You!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Cody’s dream had followed him from Oklahoma all the way to Nashville. It was as real as any dream had ever been. He had lived it over and over … but after five years it was still just a dream. And it was still no closer to reality than it ever was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He dumped more frozen fries into the cooker and hit the button to start the timer again. As the white fries sizzled in the oil, Cody slipped slowly back into his dream.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The crowd was still roaring as he began the second song. Cody tipped his cowboy hat and gave them a thumbs up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">There are people all over the world who wished they could be in Nashville, living the dream. Cody had made it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Others, like Ben, knew about dreaming, but they knew about waking up too. Ben wanted to live in the best reality he could imagine.</span></div>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-89595956620255416912011-04-25T12:57:00.000-07:002011-04-25T13:00:01.567-07:00Oklahoma, Where The Wind Comes Sweeping Down the Plains.<h3 class="post-title entry-title"> <a href="http://tomhaystoday.blogspot.com/2011/04/oklahoma-where-wind-comes-sweeping-down.html"><br /></a> </h3> <div class="post-header"> </div> <div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4257826268485878515"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGtE1uCBybU/TbS9XTy-rzI/AAAAAAAAAOg/eN8c9WW4JFs/s1600/Acorn%2BPresentation.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGtE1uCBybU/TbS9XTy-rzI/AAAAAAAAAOg/eN8c9WW4JFs/s200/Acorn%2BPresentation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599308444877106994" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IhlhYy5WXWI/TbS8vW6On_I/AAAAAAAAAOY/t9h6kAFe0o4/s1600/OKC%2BWill%2BRogers%2BAirport.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IhlhYy5WXWI/TbS8vW6On_I/AAAAAAAAAOY/t9h6kAFe0o4/s200/OKC%2BWill%2BRogers%2BAirport.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599307758518050802" border="0" /></a>What a grand time! <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aREkNgjzEYM/TbS9ZOMfMBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/cHaxGbGFT-I/s1600/The%2BParty.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aREkNgjzEYM/TbS9ZOMfMBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/cHaxGbGFT-I/s200/The%2BParty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599308477733220370" border="0" /></a>Visiting good friends, presenting the book and taking a trip down memory lane!<br /><br />Susan and I braved the 50+ mile per hour winds, just like the Oklahoma natives we are, and experienced the warmth and hospitality of the great people in our old home state.<br /><br />Presenting to the legendary Acorn Book Club, formed before Oklahoma was even a state, was an honor and a privilege. The ladies were very kind and I enjoyed it very much.<br /><br />A special thanks to Martha Roth for hosting a reception for us in her home, and to the folks who came to help us celebrate my book.<br /><br />And while I am passing out thank you's, Barnes & Noble at 6100 N. May Avenue in Oklahoma City and Hastings Books in Enid both did a great job for us at our signings. Thank you to them and the wonderful folks who came and spent some time with us.<br /><br />A great, great time.<br /><br />Makes me want to write another book.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6SxYk5wKLaY/TbS9XkeBasI/AAAAAAAAAOo/POu4_47g0NQ/s1600/B%2B%2526%2BN%2BSigning.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6SxYk5wKLaY/TbS9XkeBasI/AAAAAAAAAOo/POu4_47g0NQ/s200/B%2B%2526%2BN%2BSigning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599308449352608450" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xvRhBJd7jLE/TbS8vcU5xFI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/5fF1i6ubhWk/s1600/Enid%2BHastings.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xvRhBJd7jLE/TbS8vcU5xFI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/5fF1i6ubhWk/s200/Enid%2BHastings.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599307759972107346" border="0" /></a> </div> <span class="post-author vcard"> </span>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-214347043038935828.post-45538657541579513932011-04-10T14:48:00.000-07:002011-04-26T15:07:46.984-07:00<table class="vebar1" style="padding: 0pt; margin: 0pt; height: 23px; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: arial,times,verdana,sans-serif; background-color: rgb(161, 161, 161);" title="Click and drag to move" id="title_LETTER.BLOCK7" width="100%"><tbody><tr style="display: table-row;" id="edit_LETTER.BLOCK7"><td class="ve-edit-title-drag" rowspan="1" colspan="1" align="left">Susan and Tom are coming to Oklahoma this week! Please Come By and Say Hello.<br /></td></tr><tr style="display: none;" id="done_LETTER.BLOCK7"><td class="ve-edit-buttons" rowspan="1" colspan="1" nowrap="nowrap"> <input value="Save" title="Save" type="button"> <input value="Cancel" title="Cancel" type="button"> </td><td class="ve-edit-title-no-drag" rowspan="1" colspan="1"> </td></tr></tbody></table><table style="display: table;" class="BlockMargin" id="content_LETTER.BLOCK7" width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td style="text-align: left; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" align="left"><img style="text-align: right;" name="ACCOUNT.IMAGE.12" alt="Catching up on the OKC News" src="https://origin.ih.constantcontact.com/fs027/1103873591350/img/12.jpg" vspace="5" width="355" align="right" border="0" /> <div> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;">Hi Friends,</p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;">Susan and I will be in Oklahoma City and Enid </p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;">this week, and we are very excited to get the chance to see you.</p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;">Please join us for some fun at one or more of our events, and bring some friends! </p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;">We will try our best to bring rain. </p> </div> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"> </p> <div>Tom Hays</div> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table><table style="" class="ve-edit-wrap ui-droppable ui-draggable" id="block_LETTER.BLOCK8" width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td><table class="BlockMargin Divider" id="content_LETTER.BLOCK8" width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody><tr> <td rowspan="1" colspan="1" height="1" align="left"> <br /></td></tr> </tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table style="" class="ve-edit-wrap ui-droppable ui-draggable" id="block_LETTER.BLOCK9" width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td><table class="vebar1" style="padding: 0pt; margin: 0pt; height: 23px; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: arial,times,verdana,sans-serif; background-color: rgb(161, 161, 161);" title="Click and drag to move" id="title_LETTER.BLOCK9" width="100%"><tbody><tr id="edit_LETTER.BLOCK9"><td class="leftside-grab" rowspan="1" colspan="1"><br /></td><td class="ve-edit-buttons " rowspan="1" colspan="1" nowrap="nowrap"><br /></td><td class="ve-edit-title-drag" rowspan="1" colspan="1" align="left"><div id="caption_LETTER.BLOCK9"><div class="ve-title-text-drag">See You Soon!</div></div></td></tr><tr style="display: none;" id="done_LETTER.BLOCK9"><td class="ve-edit-buttons" rowspan="1" colspan="1" nowrap="nowrap"></td><td class="ve-edit-title-no-drag" rowspan="1" colspan="1"></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Tom Hayshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494171514150608572noreply@blogger.com0