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Ten Things of Thankful
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“follow me, if you want to ….read”


(“no! there is nothing at all about Christopher Lloyd and the author of this Post… you must be thinking of Daniel Craig”)


Item 1:   July 6 2013

Item 2:  New Facebook group: ‘My World at the Moment‘  started by Val... very cool

Item 3:  Six Sentence Story, by zoe

Item 4: the Gravity Challenge and the Graviteers  over at 2Mile Run

Item 5: RIRW

Item 6: Cynthia and her Book ‘Marina’s Broken Grave’ (if you haven’t gone to amazon (the online-buying-thing-place, not the huge jungle place) and bought this book, then you are missing out! go there and do this thing….we’ll wait.


Item 7: Phyllis and Una…. of course

Item 8: ‘Almira’  Chapter 31 due out by Sunday (Monday morning at the latest)…. St Louis! that’s the scene as Almira and Sterling take one last stop before going on to Kansas City and, from there, to a little old town by the name of Circe.  a sample?  ok…. just a short excerpt:

“I think we lost ’em. What do you say we slow down a little.”

I leaned forward, elbow on the dashboard and looked directly into Almira’s eyes. As focused as she was on the street ahead, I didn’t want to risk distracting her, as we barreled down Clark Ave in the dead of night.

“No, dear. I’m afraid we haven’t. Out the back, and over to the right. There’s a cross street coming up, watch and you’ll see their headlights.”

We must have been doing fifty miles an hour, fortunately the streets, even out towards the city limits were ruler straight. The blocks were pretty large and divided by compass-square cross-street intersections. I looked up ahead at the traffic signal swaying on cables over the four way intersection.

“Traffic light up ahead, babe.”

The car actually accelerated as Almira wanted to be sure I could see the other car running a parallel course to ours. Both cars racing for the center of St. Louis, which, in a peculiarly Midwestern literalness was actually the riverfront, where the city ended.

“Watch now…there, see it? Maybe three blocks back. They’re gaining on us. Our new friends are very much still on our tail. Not counting the winos and the occasional working girl, we’re the only two cars out on the streets of St Louis at 1:33 in the morning, so they’re not having all that much trouble keeping us in sight.”

Once I managed to look at the right spot at the right time, not as simple as it sounds, given the fact that I was a passenger in a car driven by my 8 months pregnant wife, the headlights on the car behind us were not hard to see. Flaring and fading as they raced past cross-streets and the occasional vacant lot in the city block that separated the two streets.

“Yeah, I see them now.”

Looking over at Almira, I was struck by an odd overlapping impression.

She was able to sit behind the wheel only because she was only 5′ 2″, on an optimistic day. That’s probably why, although being very pregnant, she could sit forward enough on the seat to reach the pedals, while not having her mid-section interfere with steering the car. Her posture was very upright, and, if one were able to ignore the buildings passing backwards at blurring speeds, my wife was the picture of a proper young woman, out for a bicycle ride through a park or country lane.

The other part of this overlapping impression happened when the sweep of an approaching streetlight lit the interior of the car. An odd effect, as the light coming in through the windshield illuminated her from the bottom upwards, her eyes being last. There was a feral intensity that, were I not intimately familiar with all aspects of the woman, would an atavistic fear, felt by every cave dweller when the night air was torn by the roar of a saber-toothed tiger.

Item 9: …. to be completed sunday.

Item 10: SR 1.3


2uesday -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

(yeah…that little bastard in the left rear did, in fact, throw something at our hero, who is trying to take the proffered advice to 'just ignore them and they'll get bored and move on…')*

I must confess to a somewhat sordid and ego-centric motivation for my writing a post today, the second on as many days and quite out of the ordinary for this blog, at least as of late. That I never tire of writing about the benefits of the Wakefield Doctrine is not surprising, the way the mind has of turning things around in a manner at once misleading, (in the actual effects of certain behavior) and somehow obviously not what the original intention, is.


At least my pendantric gland remains in robust good health! No, you’re right, I shouldn’t joke. This is serious.

…ok, I hear you. ( from the back of a classroom that, in my mind is as real as the plastic keys that shape the light into letters on my screen.) I hear “Hey! You’re writing about a personality theory that’s called, ‘the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers’!! Don’t worry about anyone taking this too seriously! And, since you’ve given voice to a character-in-a-visualization-of-an-idea, tell ’em what this ‘classroom’ looks like, why dont’cha.”)


This classroom that’s providing me with a subtly engaging context for today’s discussion of the use of the Wakefield Doctrine? The desks have wrought-iron frames that are bolted to the floor, they aren’t simply uprights to support the desk and the seat. These frameworks have curves and almost classical lines, filigree in dark bronze. The desk itself is a slanted surface of wood (maybe maple… yeah, probably maple) that’s hinged along the top edge, where there continues a 3 inch level band of wood, with a groove running from left to right for pencils and a circular hole on the right side for the bottle of ink that you’ll never be given. Inside is simply space for your dotted-middle lined pad of paper, spare flash cards and a chipped-and-picked-at (for ammunition) brick of flesh-colored gum eraser. Oh, yeah and two Lindy pens well-tooth-indented.

The classroom is 5 rows across and seven deep. The nuns are nothing if they’re not orderly. In the very back of the room is what you love to hear referred to as ‘the wardrobes’… pretty much closets with folding doors and a double row of brass coat hooks. There are two doors to the corridor with windows at adult height and a single inward-tilting transom window. There is a pole in the back of the room to operate these windows. The blackboard is black and there are 4 black felt erasers (with a red and white label on the non-erasing surface) in a metal tray running along the lower edge. Across the wall, just above the blackboard are the letters of the alphabet, (capital and small) in script. Above the row of letters, in the dead center is a crucifix. The teacher’s desk is entirely wooden, and her chair does not have wheels. The floors are tile (greenish and black in a checkerboard pattern). There is a black and white clock on the inside wall, well above reach. All your friends are there…


hey, sorry!  wordisthenics time is over for the morning. Will try to get back later in the day. Feel free to leave any (additional) classroom details in the Comments


Six (0:01!) Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

All kinds of ambitious, here at Doctrine Central, at 6:01 am Wednesday, the 3rd-of-where-the-hell-did-the-summer-go 2016

So the word of the week is ‘Minute’ (the word being the prompt, ‘of the week’ implying the recurring suggestion by zoe to write a story, a Six Sentence Story, using six and only six words).

“I promised I’d have you back to your cookout before anyone notices we’re missing, I need only one more minute,”  his wife stood before the mirror, brushing long, passion-tangled hair, her reflection smiling at the man in the doorway.

Dark eyes, with a mix of love and passion, held him in a life-practiced embrace, head bent to the side as her brush fell through a dark waterfall of hair, that crashed softly on smooth pale shoulders.

“I bought you a tee-shirt,” he stepped behind her, holding out a gift that was now very different from what he bought on a whim, fortunately for him, enough of the young man within (just recently roused from life’s slumber), remained to banish his misgivings as he handed her the very small and very lightweight cotton tee-shirt, which had silk screened figure a woman on the front.

She looked, laughed affectionately and said, ‘Well, you’ve earned it, I’m willing to try it on,” pulled it over her head, adding, “I think I can manage by myself” through a veil of dark brown hair and sheer white cotton, as he ran his hands down from her shoulders.

As his hand gently caressed across the top of her right breast he encountered an obstruction, a slight rise, unnoticeable to the eye, almost even to the touch of his fingers, it seemed nothing more than a small bind in cotton fabric that refused to smooth out.

The reflection of her face in the mirror changed, like the last person to leave a boat caught in a suddenly rising tide, she held onto his hand and unable to prevent the distance from growing, he stepped to her side and together they watched, in the last seconds of the minute he foolishly thought was his to give, as their familiar life faded into the distance.



TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


Item Once: Una

Itemo Secundo: Phyllis

Ometi Trieste: work and home

Quartro Itemae: Gravity Challenge

Cinque: the joy of remarkably lax filters, at least when it comes to the written thought

Sex: (for everytime I miss-type a small handful of words, get the word ‘sex’ and invariably laugh. This, I submit, is proof of the immortality of adolescence)

Seven: I just remembered that, of late, zoe and doug seem to, somehow, miss the connection over here on this oT, I will attempt to remedy this by the simple expedient of linking both at Lizzi’s and z’s. (hell, I’ll link pretty much anywhere that I’m not, actively and actually barred from… we need a new term for the courage that’s sometimes imparted by the fact of virtuality! There’ss little doubt that everyone, most of us, ok, clarks….. sure, sure…just me have a certain confidence that comes with the existential anonymity of being in the virtual world.  damn! can’t think of one! I’ll work on it and get back to ya.  (online suave? virtual balls?  lol! no! digital chutzpah… lol enough for now!)

Ocotpie: ‘there’s always enough to go around’

Item 9th: ‘Almira‘  Chapter 10 due this weekend. It’s about ‘time’. The fleeting nature of it and the ephemeral character of all things that are tied too tightly to the passage of time. In this week’s Chapter: Emily Gale pays a visit to Ephraim Hardesty and reminds him of her Offer (an Offer she will not permit be refused). Eliza Thornberg has dreams of being in the movies and discovers that, while desire (when fulfilled) is always good, want (with the risk of disappointment) is decidedly not. Finally, Dr Thaddeus Morgan talks with Nurse Griswold. (Why, no! of course it was only the two of them! Can you think of anytime that two people were in the room with Nurse Griswold …at the same time?)  Hey, I trust everyone noticed the soon-to-be-significant-character, Sterling Gulch, back a couple of chapters ago! Yes, his last name is, in fact, Gulch.

10. SR 1.3  (from the Book of Secret Rules aka the Secret Book of Rules), this particular Rule states that ‘the completion of a List of Ten Things of Thankful can be considered to constitute a thankful thing, in and of itself. The aforementioned List can, therefore, remain pre-terminus with Item 9, the completion citation (along with appropriate reference(s) to the BoSR/SB0R and, applicable Rule substituted as Number 10. et its fit!


Lets get ourselfs some music.  Since we have a photo of a dog, lets use the song, ‘All Dead’ by Queen. Because, (as the story goes), it was written by Brian May for his dog and is quite touching. And, no, nothing wrong with Una. But looking at the photo made me think of Ola.

Ten Things of Thankful
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-the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘special Friday the Fridayth Post!’

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


Hey, this being the week of remembering the fun of the old days of writing for the Doctrine, to wit, the spontaneous, single thought or sentence or idea which amounts to the push of the sled down the icy street.*

So I was just researching the famous ‘Bread and Roses Strike’ (Lawrence Ma 1912) for ‘Almira‘.   (Non-Spoiler Alert!!: Almira Gulch, at the time of the Strike was 16 year old, not yet married and therefore was Almira Ristani, not only witnessed the Strike, but become involved in it on a very personal level. Hint: she tried to send her younger brothers off to relatives during the ill-fated ‘Children Affair’, which, as I’ve come to learn, sort of marks the nadir of the Strike.) Anyway. I was reading a book on the strike and the author wrote,

“Many (Historians) have also come across the saying, “The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.”

I’d not come across that expression before, and, like in the early Doctrine days, I was all, ‘damn, what a great way to say it’

Anyway. There it is. Our public past is of the record, engraved in the collective memory of family and friends, communities and cultures. While it is a given that the rise of commercials for genealogy websites and companies that offer to help you discover your past (or, at least, the cast of that ‘longest running of plays’), is pretty much a rogerian thing, it nevertheless represents a need we all share. Especially nowadays among all, in response to an increasingly institutionalized present to seek out one’s personal past. Of course, our tour guide for a trip like this is surely suspect. These tour guides not only are not professional or otherwise trained, rather are amateurs who happen to seem like nice and well-meaning enough that we think, yeah, sure…. lets go explore my past history for the last (fill in years since born), why not?

“...the past is a foreign country: they do things differently.”


Gotta get back to work!

(Now! if only Kristi and them at Finish the Sentence Friday did a sentence fragment that has to do with our personal history, I’m golden.)



*when I was young…. lol  wait, wait!! hear me out!! winter? we had sleds then, these wooden things with metal skids and pointed (metal!) ends that you twisted (the metal!!) rails to steer… anyway, there was one street, Penguin Ave (I know! I have trouble remembering appointments coming up this weekend, but you want to know the name of a street that I didn’t live on when I was 10 years old? I totally got it covered!!) anyway, it was steep and ended in an intersection with a cross street, Potowomut Rd. The town workers used to ‘forget’ to sand the street, for at least a day after a snowstorm, so as not to wreck the excellent sledding. Now that’s a common occurrence nowadays, isn’t it?