The Tuskegee Experiment

By Mark W. Danielson

George Lucas’ movie Red Tails has brought well-deserved acclaim to the Tuskegee Airmen. Besides being an action-packed movie, Lucas wanted to commemorate the significance of the so-called “Tuskegee Experiment”. As stated on the Tuskegee Airmen, Inc. web site, this was "the Army Air Corps program to train African Americans to fly and maintain combat aircraft. The Tuskegee Airmen included pilots, navigators, bombardiers, maintenance and support staff, instructors, and all the personnel who kept the planes in the air.”In World War II, few black Americans wore a United States uniform. Thankfully, a few Army Air Corps commanders saw through the inferiority labels and created the Tuskegee Experiment to prove blacks could fight for their country as well as any American. The resulting 332nd Fighter Group not only shattered the stereotype, they set a new standard of excellence.My generation, only one generation later, thought nothing of having black pilots and Weapons System Operators in my fighter squadrons. They had two names -- pilots and WSOs, and that mentality has never changed. As an airline captain, I pay no attention to my first officer’s race or gender. What matters is that they perform their job, and as one would expect, most pilots at this level perform exceptionally.The Tuskegee Airmen accomplished far more than having one of the best combat records in World War II and winning the “First Ever” Air Force Top Gun competition at what is now Nellis AFB in 1949. Racial bias hid this fact until 1995, and its associated trophy remained hidden in the Air Force Museum’s archives until 2004 when civil rights activist Ms. Zellie Rainey Orr tracked it down and rightfully demanded that it be displayed. Yes, the Tuskegee Airmen broke the stereotype that blacks were somehow inferior. Since then, most people realize that regardless of race, creed, color, and religion, people are capable of doing whatever they set their minds to. To me, the success of the 332nd Fighter Squadron comes as no surprise me because these people survived every humiliation and double-standard imaginable during their training, and the end result was a cohesive, highly disciplined fighting force known as the Red Tails. As for Hollywood’s portrayal of some of its characters, realize that the movie industry requires a romance story to appeal equally to men and women. TOPGUN was no different, and when my buddies tried to correct the producers on certain inaccuracies, the response was, “We’re not making a documentary.” So with this in mind, I strongly encourage everyone to see Red Tails. As executive producer Lucas said, “I have only one agenda, and that’s for a lot of young people to see this movie.” I agree that young people can gain inspiration from its characters and outstanding flying scenes. Red Tails may also help those unfamiliar with the racial struggles of the time understand what these brave men and women underwent to serve their country. It goes without saying that today’s full-integration policy in the military is the direct result of the Tuskegee Experiment’s success. Photos courtesy UC Riverside archives. For those interested in learning more, check out the Tuskegee Airmen site: http://www.tuskegeeairmen.org/lonelyeagles/default.aspx

Bye Bye Cataracts, Hello Bright Colors

By Chester Campbell

After reading my colleague Ben Small's recent post on the horrors of visiting your dentist's office, I thought I might give a more positive view on my experiences with the ophthalmologist. It won't be nearly as funny as Ben's hilarious piece, but it might give you a little better feeling if you or a friend run afoul of the dreaded cataract condition.

First, a little history. In the fall of 1947, about the time I started my junior year in journalism at the University of Tennessee, I got a job as a reporter for The Knoxville Journal, the city's morning daily newspaper. The offices were in a building on Gay Street that had once housed an arcade. The news room was on the second floor, which appeared to have been added by closing in the two-story open area. The ceiling was low, marked by a cross-hatch of wooden beams that kept the lights from illuminating beyond a limited area. I felt that poor lighting contributed to my need for glasses by 1950, when I was twenty-five.

Fast-forward some sixty years. My eye doctor had been telling me I had cataracts that were growing. She advised not doing anything about them unless it began to bother me as the surgery might affect the AMD, age-related macular degeneration, in my right eye. But since being diagnosed with AMD several years ago, the disease had not progressed thanks to high-powered vitamin pills called Preservision.

I've had problems seeing to drive at night for a good while, which the doctor attributed to my cataracts. When we got caught out after dark a couple of months ago and I was unable to see an interstate access ramp because of the lights from oncoming cars, I decided it was time for a change. The doctor agreed and set me up for cataract surgery. I didn't realize that along with removing the cataracts, which are a clouding of the lens, they can make permanent improvements in your vision by replacing the old lens with an implant that corrects your problem, which in my case was severe nearsightedness.

The surgery itself was simple, totally without pain. I went into the day surgery center, got set up with an IV (the only pain was a small stick when the needle went in), had a bunch of drops put in my eye, then got a dose of anesthesia which left me able to talk to the doctor but feel nothing of what she was doing. After the operation, she put a patch over my eye, I got dressed, and went home.

She did the right eye first, which was the weaker and also the one with AMD. The day following surgery, I went to the doctor's office and they took off the bandage. Voila! I could see things across the room without glasses. Colors were brighter. Whites were whiter. Two weeks later, she did the left eye. The acid test came tonight (I'm writing this on Monday) when I drove for the first time since surgery. The darkness didn't bother me at all. I could see great without glasses. It's miraculous.

Because I was so nearsighted, the doctor put in a lens to correct my far vision, but I still need a slight magnification for reading and using the computer. Currently I'm using a pair of drug store glasses with minimum magnification, which works fine.

The only problem, which is hardly a problem, is that I have three little bottles of drops I have to use in both eyes. Four times a day for the first week, then tapering off. They're primarily to prevent infection, which is the major complication, and inflammation. I have two sets of bottles, since each eye is on a different schedule.

We walk daily (as much as possible) at the mall, and it's a real treat to see all the colorful stores in bright array. Since I thought I could see pretty well before with my glasses, I didn't realize how dull my vision had become. For the past few years, I've also had a bit of trouble separating blue from green. I can now see blue big and bright again. I'm currently wearing sunglasses even if it's only a cloudy bright day, since the whiteness of the clouds is so striking. I'm told it takes about a month for your eyes to settle down to the way they're going to be, but if it gets any better I don't know if I can stand it.

Bottom line: if you have cataract problems, get rid of 'em.

Chester Campbell
Visit me at Mystery Mania

The Uirapuru

by Leighton Gage

The Guarani people of the Amazon tell of a handsome young warrior, whose love was sought by all the maidens of his tribe, and who was treacherously murdered by a rival for their affections.

When they went to prepare his body for burial, they found it gone.

He’d been transformed into a bird that filled the forest with song, but disappeared when approached.

The uirapuru.

They say that when the uirapuru sings, the sound of its notes is so beautiful that all the other birds of the forest stop singing - and listen.

Legend?

Only in part.

Because the uirapuru really does exist.

But is seldom seen, and rarely heard.

It's a shy creature with coloring that blends in with that of the forest.

And it sings only at dawn, and at sunset, and for little more than two weeks in any given year.

Those two weeks are the period in which the bird is building his nest.

He’s singing out of love, hoping to attract a mate.

All Brazilians know about the uirapuru...

...but few have been fortunate enough to hear its voice in nature.

The people who live in the Amazon jungle are constantly on the lookout for uirapuru feathers on the forest floor, because the possession of one is thought to bring good luck to both men and women.

But especially to women.

Who are said to use them to capture the passion of their loved ones – forever.

Click here to listen the song of the uirapuru:

World Book Night

by Jaden Terrell

I got a an email today from Greg and Mary Bruss of Mysteries & More (the wonderful independent bookstore in Lenox Village near Nashville). Because I think what they had to say is very important, I'm including it here. I'm pretty sure they won't mind.

The message said:

Want to be part of a million-book giveaway? To volunteer to change a life? You can, as part of World Book Night, on April 23, 2012. The deadline to sign up to be a book giver has just been extended to February 6.

World Book Night is a campaign to find light or non-readers in the community and hand them each a book. Person-to-person.

It was started in the U.K. last year, and it is coming to our shores on April 23, 2012 – Shakespeare’s birthday, not coincidentally – as well!

The World Book Night organization is printing hundreds of thousands of special free paperback editions, and they are looking for thousands of volunteers to go out on April 23 and give books out across America to get more people reading.

You pick the place: hospital or diner, school or ... well, lots of possibilities. Be creative.

Sign up by February 6 to be a book giver on World Book Night! Please go the website to read up on its mission, the books you can choose from to give away, and some rules and regulations. All you need to become a giver is a little time, a love of books, and the desire to give something to your community.

Think about where you’d like to give away the books before you go online to apply. And thank you!

NOTE: Mysteries & More has been selected as a reception and pick-up point for World Book Night! Literacy can be a powerful resourse in solving the world's problems. Count me in!

For more information, check out http://www.worldbooknight.org.

Anthem for Doomed Youth, US paperback edition

by Carola Dunn

Anthem for Doomed Youth, the nineteenth Daisy Dalrymple mystery, comes out in paperback in the US today.

Kirkus: "amusing and sprightly"

Mysterious Women: "gripping and fascinating" 

An interesting contrast! Just goes to show every reader finds something different.


This is the poem that inspired the book, and provided its title:

ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH,
by Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them from prayers or bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,--
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen died a week before the Armistice.

Revenge of the Dentist

by Ben Small


I know why people shy away from dentists, professionally and socially. You don't want to get too close to those guys. They know pain; they inflict it.

You know the anticipatory sensations of an upcoming appointment: a slick sweat across the forehead; the stomach that just won't settle; those last few moments sitting in your car when you calculate any number of fake excuses only to realize nobody will believe you.

Face it: You're chicken, just like me. No dentists, thank you. I don't want no lolipops.

Not long ago, I reported on my ailing tooth problem, the filling which fell out and finally started throbbing on a Friday with no dentists working until Monday. I reported how I called a dentist only to discover he was skiing in Colorado, and that he suggested a temporary filling from Walgreen's until I could see him the next week.

Well, I saw him, and he scraped away the Walgreen's junk that had hardened around my teeth like some form of smooth cement, and squashed in his own temporary junk, then set me up for another appointment when he'd provide a permanent solution.

It's all about more appointments, you know, more fees to do the same thing he could have done a month ago. And no doubt, my dentist wanted me to sweat, to think about that big drill for a month or so.

I know this because during my first visit, when my dentist wasn't laughing at my predicament, he was twirling drilling irons and blood napkins like a cheerleader with a flag-draped baton and cackling like a mad Lawrence Olivier poised with a Black & Decker in a shaky hand.

Okay, so Olivier didn't cackle, just asked, "Is it safe?" Still, Olivier left me this impression, so ingrained in my throbbing jaw that every time I visit a dentist,  I look for chair-straps and a head-vice.

Well, tomorrow is the day of reckoning, and I'm busy arranging all my affairs, anticipating it may be a while -- if ever -- before I have another fear-free, clear-headed day. Post traumatic stress, you know. Yes, it's been known to happen to dental patients.

Another reason nobody likes dentists.

My sister is married to a dentist. Now, her husband has always been nice to me, but I do get an eerie feeling whenever I see him. Perhaps, it's because he always recommends a dentist whether I need one or not, then chuckles to himself each time I stare back at him.

"Painless," they say.

Right. Doc Holliday said the same thing, but instead of Novocaine, Doc used a Derringer to put his patients out of their misery. If they awoke, the pain of an aching tooth was nothing compared to a hole in the chest.

So I've developed a game-plan for tomorrow. First, I'll pop a couple Vicodin an hour before the appointment, followed by a maximum dose of Naproxin. Pain and inflammation anxiety: the tools to prevention -- maybe...

Okay, I'll add some Xanax.

Then, I'll hit the vodka bottle. Old timers used booze to null the pain of amputations. This combo -- if it doesn't kill me -- should work for an extraction, root canal, or thorough cleaning, don'cha think?

Of course, there's another advantage to this approach: If I get pulled over for DUI or pass out and go to the Emergency Room in an ambulance, that's an excuse any dentist will accept and I'll have a written record to prove it.

Or maybe this guy is really evil, and he'll check my temporary filling, tell me he's too busy, pass a cleaning pic over my pearlies, and schedule me for yet another visit, thereby ratcheting up the fear factor and the post traumatic stress for yet another period of weeks while finding another way to bill an extra appointment.

Now, I must admit, I'm not a total coward. I can take a needle. But someone poised just over my delicate facial features with a jack-hammer so big it must be held in two hands, with a whirling, buzzing blade that to my ear -- eyes, jaw and forehead too -- vibrates like a Norelco electric razor amplified so it's like I'm inside a cranked up Bose, well, the thought just terrifies me.

And meanwhile, some hairy-armed assistant that may have once been on the East German female shotputting team thirty years ago is reaching for my jaw, saying as sweetly as possible for someone with such a large Adam's Apple, "Now, open up, you."

I think of Rosa Klebb, the shoe-blade.

Then, when the procedure actually begins, and smoke rises in a white plume from my open and defenseless mouth, I think about my tongue.

My tongue. Where is it supposed to go? There's a war going on inside my mouth: shrapnel spraying, heat rising...

Did I mention the smoke?

How do I protect a tongue I can't see, touch or feel?

I panic.

And that's where the leather straps come in. I've seen them before. They leave welts, you know.

Since I didn't see straps on my first visit to this guy, I suspect he uses the Auto-Strap, a hidden robotic device that's the latest in dental office supplies. I saw an ADTA (American Dental Torture Association) catalog in the waiting room.

So tomorrow, I get strapped in and discover just how pissed my dentist really was that I called him during his vacation.

And this may be the last you hear of me...

With Age Comes Wisdom

By Mark W. Danielson

Ever wonder why so many authors are older? Two reasons come to mind; experience and opportunity. Experience comes with age, and for many, the opportunity to write comes with retirement. For those of you who have achieved financial independence by writing novels, I salute you. For the rest of us who enjoy writing and are able to accept meager royalties, read on.

Since we only stop aging once in our lives, I’ll forego any further discussion on that topic and move on to experience. It is safe to say that our frame of reference comes from whatever we do and see. The more experience we gain, the more things we have to write about and describe with accuracy. Quality writing comes from being able to incorporate our experiences into meaningful settings and dialogue. To “write what you know” is more than an old adage. While it is possible to research topics and then write about them, the prose that follows is usually less exciting than if you had written with first-hand knowledge.

A lack of expertise becomes obvious when writing about technical items. To write and be technically wrong will cost you your credibility. To avoid this pitfall, consider interviewing experts and then write them into your story as characters. I have done this several times because I believe if I required an expert’s opinion on something, then my character probably did, too. Since my lead detective is an average guy, this technique works well. I prefer him not being all-knowing and seeing.

I would wager there are more novelists who are retired than not. I say this based on observation and without authority, but it makes perfect sense. After all, people with full-time jobs must choose how to spend their free time, and for some reason, most that have families tend to prefer spending time with their loved ones rather than pinging on a keyboard. This is where retired folks have the advantage. Their only downside is they never get a day off. Retired or not, creative writing always comes down to time management.

If you want to write, then open your eyes as if you are seeing something for the first time. Wherever you go, take in the scene, its sounds, its smells, its grit. Note the dust on the light bulbs, the scratches on the doors, the wafting drapes, the creaking floors. Build your experience one day at a time, and when you sit down to write, draw upon your experience and fill your pages with emotion. While age may provide more opportunities to write, it’s the words that count. In this respect, the playing field is level.