Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

John W Jones

The Six Sentence Story is a bloghop hosted by zoe. Each and every week she invites all those, so inclined, to write a story relating/related to a new prompt word. The stories are limited only by the number of sentences it has. Six. No more and no less. Otherwise it’s left to us, the writers, to decide what makes a story. And that’s where the fun is.  The Six Sentence Story can be anything, fiction, autobiographical, non-fiction or any combination of all. It’s an opportunity to witness ideas gathering words and forming tales, that others can enjoy. As has happened before, this week I got well into Wednesday with the belief I knew exactly (well, sketchy-exactly) what my Six would be about. And then my clarklike nature exerted it’s power. One reference in a comment on ‘the Facebook’ lead to ‘the Civil War’ and then to Andersonville and then Elmira (both prison camps). But the idea still had not sunk it’s ink-stained teeth into me until I got to a reference to the above picture man. …it then wouldn’t let go.


Each morning that might slip from night’s tenebrous grasp, the sun would blaze over the clouds of mist that would, each summers day, rise from Foster’s Pond. Columns of new sunlight lightly balanced on the surface of the stagnant water, suggesting a delicate crystal formation; yet the stench that floated down over dry land, whispered of disease and death. Both the terrain and the Earth’s pull on all things conspired to draw the water that fell from the sky and the fluids that flowed from un-healed battle wounds, down from the hills and through the canvas ghettos that were home to thousands of Confederate soldiers.

In A-tents housing six or more prisoners, at least two would die of disease before bullet wounds or shattered limbs, the older prisoners (and increasingly the guards) called this place in rural New York State, ‘Helmira’ and would tell dark, cautionary tales as welcome to newly interred, “Ah swear it’s true. God may be white, but his angel of death is a old colored man who moves through the camp collectin the dead and when he passes, ain’t not a sign of boot pressed in the mud.”

In every culture, even one grounded in a makeshift prisoner-of-war camp, rise tales intended to give comfort; fighting the goblin-clutch of diarrhea and small pox, dying men would grasp the nearest arm and beg,  “Jus promise that John W Jones will tend me when my time comes. I got no regrets, but that my mother won’t never know what became of me, Sexton Jones’ll make sure she knows her boy died brave.”







Source Credits: ‘The Elmira Prison Camp; a history of the military prison at Elmira NY’ by Clay W Holmes 1912      (p. 140-150)

John W Jones Museum


TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

‘Ola’s Tree’ (Landscape orientation) A photo of the area of our property we designated for Ola’s grave. The view is from just beyond the enclosed area, facing back towards the house, which dominates the upper third (center) of the photo. It (the house) is prominent as it’s an ‘orangey’ brown, while almost everything else is green. The eye is drawn first, however, to the rising diagonal line of a rail fence entering the scene from the lower right center. Only one rail is visible until it encounters a round, vertical post. The rail is inset into an oval hole about six inches from the top of the post, which in turns shows it’s post-like nature with the skewed circle of it’s top surface. The up slanting path of the fence has advanced enough that we can see two rails continue on past the post (like one of the fork-things in the kitchen that look cool but only get used when the cook is trying to lift something hot from a roasting pan and you know whatever is being moved is gonna try and escape). Both rails extend to the right at an up-slant until they terminate in an end post. The rails and the posts are light-wood color (which means ‘once brown, now faded pale-into-white brown’). The undersides of the rails have the darkness that lets us know they are round (as opposed to angular). Thin dark green squares overlay the trapezoid shape of the fence section. The squares are very regular and once enough of them are detected, they connect and look like what they are, interconnected space manifesting as green vinyl wire fencing. (Think: a strip of bubble wrap, except not rounded and doesn’t make the irresistibly fun sound when you squeeze them.) The central feature of the scene is not Ola’s grave, which is in the left center, and shows as three quarters of a rectangle. Even though there’s a young pine tree obscuring the lower left side-corner of the grave which, in turn is a mottled sand-color rectangle with a light gray border, it’s not what captures the viewer’s interest. The center of the photo (or perhaps better to say, center of attention) is what at first glance seems to be a tilted pine tree with a prominent, if not narrow trunk. Following the dark two-tone trunk (light on the top, darker on the lower half of it’s cylindrical shape) up, to the left it finally shows branches, like the brushes used by chimney sweeps, only green instead of black. If one follows the trunk downwards, slanting to the ground, an oblong of light catches the eye. (Another case of a dark cylinder lit from above, the light doesn’t bounce off the tree trunk as much as it embraces it.) The line of this new section rises in an arc and then immediately dives back to earth. Now the pre-cortical brain is in full archetype mode…. snake? (“nah, too big!’), pipe stuck in the ground?!’ (“yeah, right this is a well-thought out yard feature.“) Dragon? (?! … now that you mention it!”) lol

Each week Josie Two-Shoes invites all to share whatever experiences that may have elicited a sense of gratitude. The standards for inclusion (of ‘Things of Thankful’) on a list are very liberal. Items, (for inclusion – on a list – in a post – linked to Josie’s blog) might arise as the result of encountering people (due to deliberate intention or frivolous whim), visiting places (familiar or exotic) or confronting things/events (both planned and spontaneous). The underlying theme is two-fold (ish): by reflecting on circumstances that create a feeling of gratitude, one is more likely to encounter it again. And by posting it (here in the bloghop) one has the opportunity (privilege) to see a portion of another’s world. (As the followers of the Doctrine will attest to, the more you can appreciate the reality of another, the more enhanced is your capability to not be limited by the time-worn shackles of ‘everyone knows’ and ‘that’s just the way things are’. We accept that we all live in a what is, to a degree, a personal reality and, paradoxically, it is only by developing the capacity to accept that fact, are we able to change in improve how our own personal lives play out. ya know?)

Suspect I don’t need to include a comforting statement about how this here bloghop here is totally ‘Freedom Hall’ and the only requirement for acceptance is good intent. Now that I think of it, ‘I think we’re all bozos on this bus‘. (Totally beyond the chronological reach of most, if not all readers, at least in the direct, contemporaneous experience. That last line is from the incredible Firesign Theatre. Go ahead click on the first link, it won’t be awful…ok, maybe confusing, but funny. I think I’ll make that Item One!)

So on with the show!

1) The Firesign Theatre the only true comedy album(s)

2) Exception to implied (but not intended) inference of Item 1, the albums of Bob Newhart. Now, before someone says, ‘yeah, but Robert Klein, David Steinberg and Albert Brooks, all funny guys, they had albums! What about them? Well, the thing is, what (imo) Bob Newhart did as comedy was meant to be heard and was, (still imo) independent of the visual element. Think about any comedian/comedienne, you watch them as much as listen to them, because they’re constantly sending all sorts of non-verbal messages. Very much a part of what makes us laugh.

3) (Keeping in the theme of the things of the distant past), shout out to zoe and her Six Sentence Story bloghop. The writers who participate in her bloghop cover the waterfront in terms of writing styles and, of importance to me, remarkable writing skill. That last is important to me, as, ever since coming to this place, I’ve been trying to learn the writing thing. Nothing better than to hang out with them whats got the thing you seek.

4) Speaking of groups of remarkable humans, lets hear it for the Graviteers! Val, Joy, May, Lisa, Sarah and Kristi

5) Una

6) Una Garden, Phyllis and Una

Phyllis gathers produce and Una stands watch. *(landscape orientation) Center left: Una sits on the bench that runs along the edge of the deck on the back of the house. Her body is facing the camera (sorta) and, being fairly close is quite identifiable as a dog. As opposed to other, more at-a-distance photos, where she presents as a shiny black shape with legs and triangular ears. Una has her head turned to her left, watching Phyllis who is standing, (slightly bent at the waist), between the ‘n’ and the ‘a’ of the garden. She is adding a green vegetable-thing to the yellow vegetable-thing in her left hand. Phyllis is wearing a blue tee shirt and blue and white striped (vertical stripes) pants. Rumour has it that she’s wearing her pajamas to pick the morning harvest. But, for the record, you didn’t hear it from me. Una, as usual, is a study in black, with beige forelegs and paws. She is watching Phyllis intently, as although our backyard is not visible to the neighbors, it is sometimes the rabbit equivalent of the local burger joint (veggie burgers, of course). The grass surrounding the garden is varying shades of green and a bit over-grown. The background (behind Phyllis) is comprised of pine trees which show as telephone-pole-vertical-trunks of a variety of diameters, cross-hatched with green needled branches. If you stare just at the trees, it has a decidedly oriental painting feel.

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

8) (hey! what’s a reflective* post without a music video?)

9) * ‘reflective’: in this context, the word ‘reflective’ is what is referred to in the Wakefield Doctrine as a ‘rogerian expression’ (pronunciation: roe jeer ree ann) This linguistic filigree is the equivalent of the sparkling shiny teeth of the scott and the paralyzing complexity of (any) effort of a clark to explain the simplest of things. As readers should know, rogers are the personality type that are associated with being ‘a Herd Member’. The mainstay character of the reality that causes people to grow up as a roger is contained in a single word: quantifiable. (In the personal reality) of a roger, the world is quantifiable, understandable and… in that wildly out-of-left-field way that makes the Wakefield Doctrine the fun insight that it is, emotion, Yep! rogers exist in a reality grounded in emotion, yet manifestly quantifiable. Better take a run over to the page on rogers. (If you’re a new reader, it’ll help. Although, if you’re a new reader and you’ve read this far…. welcome to the Doctrine!)

Anyway, a rogerian expression is a delightfully incorrect use of a word, the ’10’ in the world of malapropisms. As a matter of fact, a sure sign that you’re being hit by a rogerian expression is the outburst of shocked laughter that serves as a buffer against the assault (of perfect incorrectness). Anyway, that link in the previous paragraph? The page on rogers will have an entire section on ‘rogerian expressions’. Try not to surpass on reading it.

10) SR 1.3

Click on this, yo



Wednexday -the Wakefield Doctrine- (‘…of old sayings and songs from the mid-seventies’)

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


Funny, but I’ll still get to feeling like writing a post whenever a favorite song happens to coincide with my accomplishing something and, I’m relaxing with that odd, though undeniably right, feeling that I don’t have to run and/or hide. (see bottom of Post)

It’s been said that ‘Anyone who deliberately reads the Wakefield Doctrine blog more than three times, (or twice, provided the second time is by themselves) is a clark. Or they’re a roger or a scott with a significant secondary clarklike aspect’.

Why is that true? Because scotts and rogers as not in search of an alternative. There’s another old saying, ’round this Doctrine, goes, “If you have a large group of people in, like an auditorium or something, and need to identify the clarks real quick, just get on the intercom and say, “Anyone who would like to be someone else, please raise your hand.”  Those readers who just smiled: clarks. Those readers who smile and wonder, ‘Why on earth does he think that?’ scotts and rogers.

The reason? clarks are those people who grew up (and developed social skills, coping mechanism and life strategies to contend with) (in) a world in which they are Outsiders. As a result, they are driven to learn what they think they missed growing up, all while trying to avoid being identified as Outsiders. Not an easy task. Like fricken prehistoric lemurs, we stay low, keep to the underbrush and avoid the T Rex and Sabre Tooth tigers, all while trying to survive on a diet deemed insufficient for the surrounding massively qualified-to-thrive population. We dash out to the watering holes when the predators are sleeping off a big kill and return to our hiding to dream about a day when we don’t have to look over our slightly rounded shoulders. And yet, despite being the totally least-qualified among the quick killer predators or the over-sized grazers of vegetation, we persist. At times it’s almost as if we believe we’re at least as qualified to live as our cold-blooded reptilian ‘friends’. And …and! we display a tenacity and persistence that has no correlates or supporting evidence whatsoever, at least to any casual observer. But we survive. By blending in…sorta.

The ‘sorta’ refers to the most jarring of contradictions that identifies clarks, best expressed in the saying, ‘clarks abhor being the center of attention, but will not tolerate being ignored’. (yeah, I know! what’s an Outsider to do?)

While clarks are driven to learn what everyone else, (in the surrounding world of ‘real’ people), apparently has known all along, we also have a deep abiding need to create. This, of course, is constantly negating our efforts to don protective coloration. Sure, we can be quiet and not talk a lot, but then we insist on dyeing something blue. We can find a spot in the crowd, (at work, at the PTA meeting or the classroom) that’s not in front, nor totally in back, only to be unable to resist the fun quip/aside or smart-ass observation which invariably causes heads to turn.

Time this morning is running out, here at Doctrine Central. Before I cue up the music, let me say this: when you’re out there today, in the world? Look around and try to see the clarks. Wait until you’re in the company of a number of people, otherwise they’re going to spot you looking and will be in the underbrush before you can say, “Hey wait! I won’t do anything mean, the Wakefield Doctrine said I had to find you and try to get you to not hide.”  Won’t work, but you’ll stop and say, ‘holy smoke! they are there!’

One last old saying: ‘The Wakefield Doctrine is for you, not them.” All of the effects and benefits, insights and self-improvements you experience from the use of the alternative perspective that this personality theory avails us of, is nothing that can change or alter or modify the other person. It will enhance your relationships, but it will not change anyone other than you.

music (warning! very hum-able song)


TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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


Item 8. Phyllis and Una sittin in a tree(house). This photo is taller than wide. The left half is clearly in the foreground and it is half of a bird house made in the shape of a man with a large nose. (Think: Grumpy of Seven Dwarves of Snow White fame) The bird house is stuck to the tree that rises above (and behind) the two downward angles of the roof of the bird house). The bark of the tree is very visible. Like peanut brittle or trying to smooth out corduroy pants that you found at the bottom of a suitcase that didn’t get un-packed. The texture of the trunk is primarily vertical ridges and un-even valleys. The right half of this (taller than wide) photo is of the door to Phyllis’s treehouse. The opening that shows has a dog at the edge of the door and Phyllis in the background sitting in a beach chair. (You know it’s a beach chair because: it’s low to the floor, the legs are thin and chrome-shiny and the back of the chair shows has horizontal stripes of greens-trying-to-escape-into being blue. There is pea-soup green, aqua-marine-ish blue and real blue. You know they’re strips ’cause there are white dividers between them. Sort of a prism of light from the Planet Beach.) Una appears to be glancing around the left edge of the doorway at the bird house. Half her face and most of her tongue shows. Tongue is pink with its central groove (just like humans) lined with a row of white teeth (like some humans). Her right eye shows enough to be able to see the small beige marking in her otherwise black fur. Think: apostrophe mark at the start of her eyebrow.

Lots to cover, it having been a fairly busy week. As I was mentioning to Kerry (in a reply to her comment) this week: The Rock, The Bridge, The Garden and Visitors from another dimension (it’s virtual but only sometimes scary).

First things first. This is the Ten Things of Thankful bloghop. (New Readers: a bloghop is a type of blog that is centered on interaction among the participants. Now, that last part is not as awkwardly-half-redundant as it might read. What our Host, Josie Two Shoes, does is host (ok, that might be a touch redundant), an exchange of things that we (collectively) have experienced (individually) during that past week (month/year/lifetime) that inspires us to say, “I’m grateful that happened’, or ‘They add a certain thing to life that I would be loath to be without’. The exchange part is where Josie provides an invaluable service. Go to her site, (through the link in the icon at the bottom of this post or HERE), and you will be able to read any number of reflections/recounting of/ recollection/remembering of things that made the writer include them on their list, and, ...and! you get to link your own post and be included in the ‘hop, which makes for easy commentationing and such. So come on down. If you’re concerned with following a format that a part of your mind might be whispering to you, at this very moment, ‘Yeah, sounds like fun but suppose you don’t have enough things to list or, worse, suppose you don’t follow some protocol and they laugh. Although, this Doctrine guy seems to be pretty comfortable writing what charitably can be called stream-of-caffiene-metaphysics in his post.’ That’s the spirit! This week only, the Wakefield Doctrine is offering a newcomer special offer! ‘Write 8 (or less) Items and Get One Free! Just let us know that you might be coming up short and we’ll dig through our archives and send you a Grat Item!’  (Offer subject to restrictions and limited to one or three or whatever per participants. Participant accepts full responsibility for dealing with the “what the heck?!!” comments that a ‘Wakefield Doctrine Write 8 (or less) Items and Get One Free!’ Grat Item might generate or instigate.)

1) A Bridge Too Far


The Bridge Before. Photo is taller than wide. The surrounding woods are shades of green ranging from pale to dark, with tree trunks showing as black. The water that divides the scene’s top of green and bottom of browns and pale (and which is is the raison d’être for the bridge) is reflective black. You know it’s water because all you see are the trees reflected. Although, ironically, the only blue is the sky reflected in the black-appearing water. The  color of the bridge is browns into nearly white beige. There are two parallel wood beams running from the immediate foreground up the middle of the scene to a patch of light brown (where the vegetation has been cleared on the far shore) for the other end of the bridge to rest. There are rectangular planks that are attached across the two beams. Originally there was a complete walkway of these planks. The majority have been removed. Now its two adjacent planks-space-then two planks, then space. Like a film strip. This bridge, including the two carrying beams, will be taken apart and removed as the new beams (and eventually, planks for the walkway are built in it’s place)


Construction of the new bridge. Regular landscape orientation photo. Top half is of the deck off the back of our house where Phyllis and Denise assemble the beams. The lower half is Una keeping watch over their work. The beam is quite long, twenty-eight feet to be precise. It is made up of two fourteen foot lengths end-to-end. They are (both) secured to a second fourteen foot board which is runs seven feet along both of them. Sistering, I believe is the carpentatory term for joining boards, side-by-each (which, I believe, is a local Franco-Canadian expression). Denise is standing at the left end of the beam, which is long enough to overhang the deck to both sides. Phyllis is to the right at the far end. Denise is drilling holes for the bolts that attach the boards together. Phyllis is hammering the bolts in and securing them with nuts which must be quite tight. Una is keeping an eye out for job site safety. I’m taking the photo…. lol (I know, work, work, work)


Phase One Complete! The scene (another photo, taller than wide, due to the subject matter) from the opposite shore shows two parallel beams resting on top of the old bridge, spanning the stream. The new beams are a very light brown almost cream-colored. Being spruce, the dark brown, circular knots show at seemingly random points along the length of the beams. The beams are closer together, starting in the lower foreground (where you can see the square cement pad that supports the beams), over to the other side. Phyllis and Denise stand at the far end of the bridge, on the opposite shore, justifiably proud of our accomplishment. (The house and deck where we assembled the beams are about five hundred feet away. The beams had to be carried, one at a time, out of the backyard, past the Rock-at-the-Edge-of-the-Forest, down a hill through pines and ferns and thorns (oh my) to the site.) This photo would not have existed had they not been there.

2) A Rock at the Edge of the Forest


The Rock at the edge of the woods. Tough to make out much about the rock in this photo, due to the lighting. It is generally ovoid in shape, rough-smooth granite of a size that if you interlaced your fingers and held the rock it would touch the insides of your arm at least to the elbows. (It would then touch your toes, ’cause its got to weigh 150 pounds) The rock sits on a low tree stump that is not visible due to the shadow cast by the rock, towards the camera. The ground around the rock is low green growth, mostly vines and low bushes. In the foreground left there is a good-sized tree trunk (branches too high to see). The trunk is sorts smooth, being a white pine. There are small, vertical streaks of very light green which is moss. Oh, yeah, that structure in the background, above to the left of the rock, is the remains of a wood swing. Two triangles joined at the top by a single pole. There used to be a swing suspended from the horizontal piece. Now there are bird feeders that Phyllis adds food to. (lol… I included that last to remind myself to write about what is in the photo for real, as opposed to… never mind)

3) A Dog at a Window (to follow on Sunday be sure to stop back!)


4) Friends from the Virtual World, in Three D! (accompanied by canine companion)


Visitors! (Landscape orientation photo) Cynthia and John and Vinny say goodbye to Denise as they continue on their Summer Journey. (I just laughed because I saw something in the photo that I hadn’t seen before, and even then I would only see it, remembering that it was raining at the moment.) Anyway Cynthia and John are standing and looking down at their Labrador (with a white chest) and Vinny is looking back at them, his tail caught in mid-wag. Denise is bent at the waist over Vinny patting him. She is holding an umbrella. This is where I just lol’ed. The only umbrella is over Vinny who is the center of attention of the three humans. I personally agree with those priorities.

5) The Wakefield Doctrine simply one of the coolest, most entertaining and useful perspectives on the world and reality and such.

6) Una’s Garden


7) Home and Heart ( ‘a Sister Margaret Ryan novel’)

8) Phyllis and Una (here in Number 8 but photo at the top of  Post)

9) Sunday feature

10) SR 1.3  (Book of Secret Rules (aka Secret Book of Rules) First discovered Rule which states, in part, “…approaching completion of a List of Ten Things, is, of and unto itself, something to be grateful for; [therefore] as an Item (precedentus repeatus pro quo: try to make this discovery at or near Item 9 or so) therefore may serve as the 10th and/or concluding Item in said List…. er, factorum yo.”



Bonus music vid


Six Sentence Noir -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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


Here we are again! Wednesday and we’re preparing to participate in zoe’s most excellent bloghop, the Six Sentence Story. (Damn, if I’d of perceived my schoolwork anywhere close to the way I’m currently chasing skills at this writing thing, who knows where I’d be today!) oh well, better late than never, ya know?

In any event, what we gots here is a bloghop that invites all to write (and post through the link thing at z’s blog) a story of six and only six sentences. And, this is the important part, (the) story must utilize the prompt word. Each week we are provided a new prompt word, the grain of sand, destined to become a pearl.

This week the word is ‘Well’.

(Note this week we will rejoin our as-yet unidentified detective as he meets his client in, ‘The Mystery of the Lost Starr’. If you want to follow along, here is Chapter 1) (oh, yeah… if you want some background music for your read, here’s some Miles)

Looking as out-of-place as a Persian cat at a dry cleaners, the woman gave my office a once-over that confirmed that she didn’t get down to this part of town all that much and pulled her raincoat tight around her body, making sure nothing accidentally touched her, while guaranteeing that my attention didn’t wander.

I thought about standing up, but since I had no plans to offer her my chair, I cleared the files off the top of my desk; without the yellow-lined pads and 8×11 photos from a recent case, a once-dark square of wood showed opposite the leather upholstered chair in front of my desk; I nodded, she glanced at the door, held her handbag in front of her like a medieval breastplate and sat down.

“I have a problem and I need your help,” now that the pool of light on my desk worked up the nerve to touch the sleeve that rested on the arm of the chair, I noticed she wore a blonde wig, as effective a disguise as a seven-year-old boy’s Zorro mask; the hair was cheap, the makeup professional and her watch cost more than my last divorce. She stared at me with the look of the man forced to sit in a doctor’s office and wait for the results of a paternity test, resigned but angry at the wrong person, on this rainy Thursday morning it looked like she thought that should be me.

“I’m a licensed PI, I have half a law degree, a black belt and when I’m not having lunch standing at the strip club down the street, I wonder if I’ve made the best career choices, that said, it’s 1:30 in the morning; so you might as well spill it, and since my per diem is determined by my clients FICO score, I’ll spot you 15 minutes, off the clock.”

“I want you to find my sister, Starr,” every neurolinguistic telltale started going off as soon as she said the word, ‘want’ and, by the time she finished, pronouncing ‘sister’ with the ‘S’ in jealousy, I decided I needed to get in the habit of locking my door after nine pm.